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

“Whatever you wish to know about me, I will gladly tell you. After.”

“No! Yesterday I was a necessary burden to you, and now I’m supposed to melt at your feet because you’re a great kisser? No!”

Jorlan shoved a hand through his hair. Women had their place. And this one belonged directly under him. Katie might deny her attraction to him, but he would spend every one of the next thirteen days overcoming such false resistance. And false it was, he had no doubt. The woman came alive in his arms, like a molten river erupting from a mountain.

But by the holy laws, such a contrary female annoyed him. Why couldn’t she be like the complacent, unassuming women he was used to? A woman who rarely strayed from what she was told? Jorlan knew how to deal with that type of female. But this one…

“You want me, katya. Think you I cannot smell your desire?”

Her jaw dropped. Closed with a snap. “What you’re smelling is last night’s turkey sandwich,” she growled. Then her face flushed with embarrassment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said.

“If you use your tongue as expertly in bed as you do to turn me away, a man would die quite happily in your arms.” With barely a breath, he added crossly, “You do realize, do you not, that your stubbornness punishes us both?”

The golden amber of her eyes hardened with anger. “I could very easily toss you on your ass. Again! How’s that for punishment?”

“You are most welcome to try and fight me.” He almost wished she would, so that he could allow her to win. The thought of her standing over him, chest heaving…He sliced that image to a close, knowing it would do him no good now.

“Look,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I haven’t had my protein shake this morning, so I’m in a bad mood. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go eat breakfast. Like I said, we’ll find you another psychic tomorrow.”

Forget? Long would the image of her passion-glazed features remain in his mind. Long would the sweet taste of her linger in his mouth. Forgetting their kiss wasn’t an option for him, and it infuriated him that the little witch thought she could so easily push him from her thoughts. He almost ripped the clothes from her body then and there so that he could brand his touch upon her as she had done him—an eternal brand that would haunt her long after he’d left her.

“Nay,” he finally said. “We will search for another sorcerer now.”

“If you give me another day, I can do some research and hopefully we’ll bypass all the frauds.”

He watched her through lowered lids for a long while. “Very well. I will go with you to find nourishment, but do not think for one moment that I am finished with you. Next time, I will not release you until we are both weak with pleasure.”

UNTIL I’M ALONE, I will not think about our kiss. I will not think about our kiss.

Katie made her way through the restaurant, muttering those words under her breath with every step. Crackling voices and the tantalizing aroma of fresh, gourmet coffee wafted around her. Lights were dimmed for effect and the walls were painted a rich toffee brown.

She’d discovered the place the day she closed on the Victorian. She’d come here every morning since. The food was decent, the protein shakes divine and the employees entertaining.

She adored the place.

Frances, a middle-aged waitress who liked to bash the male species with anyone who would listen, was Katie’s favorite.

“Hey, doll,” Frances called when she noticed her. “I’ll be right with you.”

Katie slid into the only available booth. The shiny purple vinyl squeaked with the movement. Jorlan folded his long legs beside her, and scooted until their sides were touching. His weapon—aka: the spatula—had to be digging into his skin, but he was too entranced with the goings-on around him to notice the discomfort.

A family of four sat to their right, arguing over the need for chocolate this early in the morning. Katie agreed with the kids; there was never a bad time for chocolate. A silver-headed man was just in front of her, trying to eat his eggs and read his paper at the same time. It wasn’t working. To her left was a young woman who was a regular patron of the place. The girl was in her early twenties, had rumpled red hair, two dimples in her cheeks and breasts the size of watermelons. Katie’s own sun-ripe tomatoes paled in comparison, and she resisted the urge to slump her shoulders.

Today the girl wore a pair of baggy jeans and a plain, oversized T-shirt. Every couple of seconds, she shivered as if a block of ice surrounded her. Delicate and pretty, she should have radiated happiness. She didn’t. The lines of fatigue and sadness around her eyes and mouth made her appear ancient.

As if sensing her scrutiny, she sparked a glance in Katie’s direction. Their gazes collided. Dark-brown eyes narrowed a split second before the girl looked away. Then that chocolate gaze swung back to Katie, this time with purpose, and moved pointedly on to Jorlan. Something exotic and knowing flashed in the girl’s eyes, making her appear fresher and utterly beautiful. A foreign emotion swam through Katie as she turned in time to see Jorlan return the silent greeting.

Katie fisted her hands and stayed the urge to launch over the table, a catapult of kicking legs and swinging arms. Deep breath in; deep breath out. This isn’t jealousy, she assured herself. Jorlan was her responsibility, and she had to look out for his best interests.

“Do you know her?” Jorlan asked, indicating the brown-eyed girl.

“No. Why do you ask?” Katie’s hands flexed more tightly. A muscle cramp, nothing more.

Jorlan scratched a hand over the dark stubble covering his jaw. “She seems unhappy. Lost, even. I was thinking that mayhap she is in need of a good pummeling.” He paused, then glanced back at Katie. “What think you of that?”

Katie stiffened as though her entire body had turned to stone. “You can get those thoughts out of your head,” she snapped. “For all you know that girl charges a fee to get naked and pummeled.” Which Katie highly doubted, but still!

Intrigued, Jorlan looked from the girl to Katie, from Katie to the girl, and then back to Katie. “How much do you think she charges?” he asked, continuing to stroke his chin as if he were picturing the scenario and liking it.

“How much doesn’t matter, you pervert. You have no money, and I’m not giving you any. Besides, I said she might be a hooker, not that she actually is.”

Instead of sputtering with indignity as she’d hoped, he chuckled. “You sound jealous, katya.”

“Jealous?” She snorted, doing her best impression of a carefree woman with hundreds of lovers. “I’m not jealous. Jealousy is for those who actually care romantically about the other person. What I feel for you is similar to what I feel for my brothers.”

Jorlan’s quirky, confident smile faded. His features grew hard and cold, like ice freezing the ocean. “I am not, nor will I ever be, your sibling. And if you think otherwise, ’tis time we finished what we started this morn. You do care for me romantically, and I can prove it in front of all these people. You usually require proof, do you not, katya?”

Those words were all too true. True enough to make her shiver with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Yet his confidence in her capitulation annoyed her. He acted as if he had only to touch her and she would sink into him. Well, she might have allowed him a few liberties during that moment that she wasn’t thinking about until she was alone, but that wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.

“You want your usual, doll?” a gruff female voice asked, preventing Katie from tossing Jorlan a stinging retort. She settled for giving him a this-isn’t-finished glare then turned her attention to the waitress. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have my usual.”

Frances set two glasses of water on the table with a clang. Her black slacks and tailored white blouse hugged her generous curves. Her sherry-colored hair, which had probably come from a bottle, was twisted in a bun atop her head. “What about the big guy? He want a protein shake and an omelet, too?”

“The big guy can speak for himself,” Jorlan growled.

Far from being intimidated, Frances rolled her eyes and gave Katie a get-rid-of-this-one look. “So what’ll it be? I’m just dying to hear what you want.” Her droll tone stamped over Jorlan’s stiff shoulders.

Frowning, he raised the menu and studied the words. A minute passed, then another. Impatient, Francis tapped her shoe. (She wasn’t a favorite with the male patrons. But her boss was female, which was the only reason she still had a job.) “Sometime today, big guy.”

With a kingly, I-am-too-good-for-this air, he dropped the menu onto the table. “I have decided Katie will choose for me.”

Katie almost laughed. She did sigh. The man didn’t know how to read her language, but he refused to admit such a weakness aloud. Such an action almost made him seem—dare she think it?—vulnerable.

“Let’s see…” She grabbed up the menu. Besides Tupperware and turkey sandwiches, what did extra large aliens eat for breakfast? “He’ll have the mushroom omelet with peppers and ham. Two bagels with strawberry cream cheese, an English muffin and three blueberry tarts.”

Frances looked up from her notepad, wearing an incredulous expression. “Anything else?”

“Yes. A pecan waffle.”

Though neither woman spared him a glance, Jorlan said, “Two pecan waffles.”

“You’re gonna have to roll him out of here. You know that, don’t you?” Just then, a devilish light entered Frances’s hazel eyes. She smiled, crinkling the wrinkles around her eyes, and clasped the menu in one hand. “I got a new one for you, doll. Heard it just this morning.”

Katie opened her mouth to tell Francis she’d listen to the joke some other time—Lord knew how a chauvinist like Jorlan would react to man bashing—but Frances continued before she could stop her.

“A young couple was in their honeymoon suite the night of their wedding. As they undressed for bed, the husband, who was a big, burly man—” this was said with a pointed glance to Jorlan “—tossed his pants to his bride, and said, ‘Here, put these on.’ Though the wife was confused by his request, she put them on. The waist was twice the size of her body. ‘I can’t wear your pants,’ she told her husband, ‘they’re too big.’ ‘That’s right,’ the husband said, ‘and don’t you forget it. I’m the man who wears the pants in this family!’”

Frances took a deep breath and continued. “The wife whipped off her panties and flipped them to her husband. ‘Try these on,’she said. Knowing he needed to pacify her if he hoped to get lucky, the husband did as she demanded. He tried the panties on and found that he could only get the lacy material up as far as his kneecap. He said, ‘Hell, I can’t get into your panties.’ And the wife said, ‘That’s right, and that’s the way it’s gonna be until you change your damn attitude.’”