Gena Showalter Bundle: The Stone Prince / The Pleasure Slave / Heart of the Dragon

Aye, he was close….

AFTER JORLAN DINED on more fried chicken and mashed potatoes than should have been humanly possible, and Katie had consumed a normal amount, they worked six more hours at the Victorian. When she finally decided they’d accomplished enough for one day, her muscles were burning with fatigue. As she drove home, her stomach began churning with anticipation and nerves. All afternoon, she’d imagined making love with Jorlan.

Cool air blasted from the truck’s air conditioner. Katie kept her attention on the road and off the man at her side. Her body was primed for contact, demanding no less than total and complete satisfaction. If she took her brother’s advice, she should drop her clothes the moment she stepped inside her house. Perhaps then Jorlan would take over. He would jerk her into his arms, slam the door shut with his foot, then kiss her into readiness.

The idea thrilled her, brought to mind all the wonderful things they’d done earlier, but once they stepped inside her house, Katie lost her nerve and didn’t give Jorlan a chance to embrace her. She clutched her keys in her hand and inched back into the doorway. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

He turned and faced her, frowning. Was he disappointed? “What type of errand?”

“Be good while I’m gone,” she said, ignoring his question. “No leaving the house. You might get lost.”

His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Quick as a snap, she was on the porch, slamming the door behind her. Quicker still, she shoved her key in the gold clasp, gave a twist of her wrist and effectively clicked the lock in place. Then, she waited. The warm evening breeze penetrated the thin tank top she’d changed into. She watched the high, arching door, praying Jorlan wouldn’t follow her. One minute ticked by, two. The cherry wood remained closed. Relieved, she hopped off the porch and glanced behind her. Her house gleamed in dusk’s fading light. The white stucco, stained glass windows and crenellated rooftop created a pretty, if flashy, sight upon the hilltop.

The drive to the store required a little more than fifteen minutes. Katie strolled down aisle after aisle. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants, two pairs of black slacks and a pair of jeans for Jorlan, thinking—happily—that he would be with her for a bit longer while he tried to win her over. Plus, they still had to find a true psychic. She scrounged through a pile of T-shirts, picking out the largest ones and praying they’d fit a WWE wrestler-type frame. Shoes came next, but she was unsure about size.

If he’s big everywhere else, she thought, it figures his feet are also large. Katie didn’t want to contemplate the direction her thoughts went after that, but she had to. Boxers? Or briefs? Cheeks red, body overheated, she threw a packet of each in the basket.

Next came condoms. There were so many brands, she simply didn’t know which to choose. She reached out to grab a box, any box, then froze. What if her brothers were hiding nearby, waiting to jump out and scream “Boo”? She jerked her chin left and right to make sure no one hovered nearby. Finding herself alone, Katie swiftly gathered up a box of neon-colored ribbed, two boxes of lubricated and a box of nonlubricated. No telling which type Jorlan would favor.

She also snatched up a tube of spermicide and a tube of vaginal lubricant. She wasn’t sure if either was necessary, but wanted to err on the side of caution. Beyond a doubt, Jorlan had been with many, many women—all women who were sophisticated and knew exactly how to please him, she was sure. Katie didn’t want to rate as the worst lover across the galaxies.

Jorlan had once mentioned massage oil and feathers. Perhaps that was a fantasy of his, a fantasy she could fulfill. After finding the oil, she stumbled upon a rainbow-colored feather duster. Perfect.

Hmm, what next? Obviously, Jorlan liked to get kinky. He’d mentioned spanking her once, not that she planned to remind him of that anytime soon. However, Katie didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle a little bondage, so she marched to the toy aisle and snagged a pair of plastic handcuffs and a parcel of rope. (She decided against the straw cowboy hat.)

At the register, a fierce blush spread like wildfire across her cheeks and collarbone. The sales clerk, a tall, gangly boy of no more than twenty, lifted a box of condoms and gave her an I-know-what-you’re-doing-tonight chuckle, followed shortly by, “Want me to do a price check on this? I think it’s on sale.”

“Uh, no. I’ll pay full price.” Thankfully she would never have to face the guffawing teenager again.

Driving home, Katie wondered just how Jorlan would react to her purchases. Would he give her that slow, bone-melting smile of his, then jerk her into his arms? Oh, yes. That was exactly what he would do, and she didn’t need magic abilities to predict what would happen after that.

Katie parked her car in the driveway and hefted the bags from the passenger seat. She practically floated to the front door—which was unlocked, she noticed, frowning now. Hadn’t she specifically told Jorlan to stay inside?

Just where had her alien warrior gone?

“He better be here,” she muttered fiercely.

Scowling now, she shoved open the front door and marched inside. The first thing she noticed was that the TV volume was up way too high. She could hear multiple male voices laughing, joking and burping. But Jorlan wasn’t in the living room, she soon discovered, and the TV wasn’t on.

The voices were coming from her kitchen.

Katie experienced a flash of confusion and dread. Not knowing what to expect, she gulped and slowly stepped one foot in front of the other until she stood inside the kitchen. When she saw the source of the noise, her eyes widened and her jaw almost dropped to the floor.

“Hey,” her brother Denver called. He sat on the bar stool at the counter, a beer in one hand and a margarita in the other. His bottom lip was swollen and bloody. “Did you come to join the party?”

Before she could answer, her other three brothers called, “Look who finally got here,” in disjointed harmony.

“What’s going on?” Katie eyed each one of her siblings through narrowed eyes. “And where are your cars?”

“We parked in back,” Erik explained. His sandy-colored hair, which was normally smoothed back from his forehead, was standing on end and in complete disarray.

Nick rubbed his fingers over his black and blue cheek. “When I told the boys what you asked me earlier, they decided to bring the party here.”

Katie wanted to stomp her foot. She settled for growling, “You promised not to tell!”

He shrugged. “I lied.”

“We wanted to meet Jordie boy,” Gray piped in, his voice slurred. Grinning, he threw his arm around Jorlan’s shoulder. Gray had a black eye; Jorlan had a cut lip. Both men wavered a bit on their feet. “We sure are glad we met him. Got to work out some tension.”

“Worked out some tension,” Jorlan echoed. He nodded, swayed. Nodded again.

“You’ve been fighting?” Her incredulity echoed off the walls, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised at all. These were her brothers, after all, and they derived great joy from pounding the hell out of each other.

Nick swaggered to her and planted a kiss on the end of her nose. He darted away before she could slap him. “We had to make some things clear to Lover Boy.”

“What kind of things?”

“How to treat our baby sister, for one.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” When no one spoke, she gave in to her previous impulse and stomped her foot. Once. Twice. “I could kill you all. I really could.” She jerked a hand through her hair. “Besides using Jorlan as a punching bag, what else did you do to him?”

“Nothing.” Erik held up his left hand in the Boy Scout salute. “Honest.”

Jorlan moaned and clasped a hand to his head. “The chamber is spinning. Make it stop.” His golden complexion was slowly turning green.

Concerned he might have a concussion, Katie dropped her shopping bags and raced to his side. His pungent scent invaded her nostrils, and she suddenly knew his condition had nothing to do with a head injury. Good Lord. She waved the air in front of her face. “You got him drunk,” she accused.

“Sure did.” Gray frowned. “Didn’t realize Anguillaers were such lousy drunks, though. The man can’t hold his booze worth a damn.”

“That’s because he’s never had any, you idiot.” She hadn’t meant to scream the words, but honest to God, she was about to surpass her big-brother tolerance level. “Just how many beers did you give him?”

“We didn’t give him beer. Precisely,” Nick hedged.

“Then what precisely did you give him?”

“Tequila. Straight from the bottle.” That from Gray, law enforcer extraordinaire.

Jorlan swayed. He almost fell, but she managed to hold him up with her hip. She just couldn’t freaking believe this. Her alien warrior was wasted. Totally and completely smashed.

“Katya,” he said slowly, carefully articulating each syllable. “I think I am dying.”

“You’re not dying,” she replied dryly. She led him to the living-room couch and helped him ease down. With every motion, he groaned. Sitting beside him, she smoothed his forehead. “But by morning, you’ll wish you were already dead.”

Jorlan slapped a hand over his eyes and moaned. He muttered something in a language she didn’t understand, but she knew by his tone that the words weren’t pleasant.

“I’m sorry, Jorlan,” she said, her voice now soft and gentle. “I don’t know what you’re saying.” She traced his eyebrows with her fingertips, and would have been surprised had she seen the I-told-you-so look Nick gave the rest of her brothers.