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

Unconcerned, he crossed his arms over his chest. The woman seemed to think it was her right, nay, her duty, to snap retorts and issue orders. While he applauded her spirit, he certainly resented her lack of respect. He was a warrior first and foremost, and a warrior did not take orders. A warrior gave them. “I am still waiting to hear you utter the word please.”

She surprised him by shouting, “Just put on the damn sheet before I drop you on the ground again!”

He scowled. Best she learn now with whom she dealt! “You will ask me nicely, woman, and mayhap if I am feeling gracious, I will wear the damn sheet. If I am not feeling gracious, there is no power strong enough to force me to wear it.” ’Twas not the way to seduce a woman, he knew, but it was becoming more and more clear to him that this particular woman was in dire need of masculine guidance—his guidance—before the actual loving could begin.

Surely the males of her world would thank him.

She bared her teeth in a scowl of her own. “I will not ask nicely. You will simply bend down, pick up the sheet, and wrap it around your waist because it is the polite thing to do. You are, after all, standing inside my home.”

He ignored her. She stomped her foot. He almost laughed aloud, then, for who would have thought an inability to manage him would cause such a purely feminine reaction in one so warriorlike? “I hope you enjoy the view, katya, for you will be seeing it all night.”

Silence.

Then, “Nicely,” she ground out.

His lips twitched. What an amusing little imp she was. “With such a sweet concession, how could I refuse?” He retrieved the linen and, just to provoke her, secured it low on his hips—low enough to hint at what stirred underneath.

“Here, drink your strawberry soda and shut up.” Mutinous, she tossed him a container.

He easily caught it, though he never removed his gaze from her. He had won their contest of wills, and yet she still issued commands. How was one supposed to react to such a tyrannical disposition in a female? If Katie were a man, he knew exactly how he’d react: talon slicing downward to silence the offender. “If you speak to me that way again, little witch, I will personally silence you—with my tongue.”

She gasped.

He nodded, satisfied she’d been properly intimidated. He thought now she would act as she ought. Mayhap he should have known better.

“That’s the second threat you’ve made about your tongue,” she growled. “Just so you know, if you come near me with it, I’ll bite it off.”

Instead of reprimanding her yet again, Jorlan remained silent, deciding instead to pretend she hadn’t spoken. She was obviously confused and upset by his sudden appearance in her life, and knew not how to handle her emotions. But this was absolutely the last time he would allow her to speak to him so insolently without punishment.

That decided, he scrutinized every angle of his “soda” thoughtfully. The metal was a shiny alloy unfamiliar to him. Not knowing how to drink from it, he waved his hand in a circle above the container and uttered a spell. “Open now, this you will. Open now, and be unsealed.”

Bang.

Katie screamed and clasped a hand over her heart. Red liquid rained upon them like a summer storm. Several droplets clung to his face and neck, while others latched onto the hairs under his navel. Most of the liquid splattered atop Katie’s head, streaking her hair.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, running a hand through the now reddish-blond locks.

“I was thirsty.” Using the linen’s hem, he tamped down his irritation and quickly wiped away the evidence of his spell gone awry. All of his life, magic had swirled within him. However, he should know better than to attempt any type of spell, for he’d learned at an early age that he held no control over the force of his power—a fact that bothered him greatly and sorely bruised his pride.

“Next time ask me to help you, okay? My heart can’t take another scare tonight.” Katie popped the top of her container and handed it to him. “Here. You can have mine. I’m not really thirsty, anyway.”

He set his decimated beverage aside and accepted what she offered. Tentatively he sipped. The delicious elixir moved down his throat, and he relished the taste. “’Tis worthy enough for a king’s table,” he said, awed. “What other culinary wonders does this cursed world possess?”

“Lots of things.” She hooked errant strands of hair behind her ear. “Chocolate. French fries. Cheesecake.”

Jorlan’s stomach rumbled. He knew nothing about the items she had named, yet each one sounded like ambrosia to his overly starved body. Their lovemaking could come after he’d eaten. “You will prepare each item for me.”

Her sandy-colored eyebrows drew together. “Is that so?”

“Aye. ’Tisso.” He nodded to assure her he meant what he said.

“Well, guess what? I promised to take you to a psychic tomorrow, nothing else.”

“I am hungry, woman.”

She rolled her eyes, something she did often in his presence. “I’m really not in the mood for whine this evening, thank you very much, so just stop. I’m not your personal chef and that’s the end of it.”

“Seeing to a man’s needs—all of his needs—is a woman’s only purpose in life.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nay. I would never jest about a woman’s duties.”

“I’m just sure you wouldn’t.” She lost her look of amused tolerance, looking instead like a determined woman on a mission: death to every male within sniffing distance. “Let me explain something to you, Jordie. You’re—”

“Jorlan.” He did not like it when she shortened his name and used that impertinent tone, making “Jordie” sound like something she would call a bothersome child.

She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re out of luck, Jordie, because I don’t cook, and even if I did, there are no supplies here.”

“You will provide me with a weapon to hunt our food, or you will provide me with your world’s cuisine. Nothing else is acceptable.”

Arms akimbo, she dug her fists into her sides.

She had to relent, he assured himself, for he, a fierce Imperian warrior, had just issued a direct order.

“How did you survive as stone if you couldn’t eat?” she asked calmly.

“’Tis no concern of yours.”

“You want to eat?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Magic sustained me.”

“Then cast another spell. I’m not cooking.”

How had he ever thought her antics amusing? “Since it is your hope to starve me,” he replied sharply, “at least take me to another domicile. Long have I been without the comforts of home, and you have nothing here save linens for us to slumber upon.”

“Us?” she sputtered. “There is no us when it comes to sleeping. I thought I made that clear.”

Would she contradict everything he said? “Where you sleep, so, too, will I.”

“You haven’t gained my permission to stay with me, much less share my bed.”

“Why would I be foolish enough to ask your permission? You might say no.” He was not a stupid man.

Her lips stretched tight. “I’ll let you stay in my home tonight because you have nowhere else to go, not because you decreed it. And for your information, this—” her arms swept about, indicating the chamber around her “—is where I work, not where I sleep. My house is a few miles away and very comfortable.”

“Then why are we still here? Let us be off.” Impatient now to arrive, he didn’t wait for her agreement, but simply headed for the door.