Gena Showalter - The Stone Prince

“Let me go,” she demanded. Her arousal mingled with another spring of fear.

His hold only tightened further.

“I’m warning you. Let me go before I show you the skills of Master Kai’s best student.”

“I know not this Master Kai, but neither he nor his finest student are a match for me.” To prove his point, he brought Katie more snugly into him, hardness to softness. Cotton to flesh.

Far from cowed or charmed, she was now furious. Eyes narrowed, she bit out, “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” She was just about to knee him in the groin when he squeezed her butt, startling her.

“Allow me to give you a demonstration of my persuasive skills.” He pressed the juncture of her thighs against his growing erection. Despite her best rational intentions, Katie found her blood becoming molten lava, an inferno of need. While his lower body rhythmically brushed against hers, he palmed one of her breasts. So unexpected and new, these touches electrified her, moved across every fiber of her being with the intensity of lightning. Her knees weakened, right along with her will.

She licked her lips and prayed he didn’t notice her mounting desire.

He noticed.

A dark brow rose, taunting her. “Have you, mayhap, changed your mind about the bedding?”

Yes, yes, yes. “No,” she forced out. “I want you to let me go. Now.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he said, “Know that I consent to your will because it is my wish to do so.” With those magical, deft fingers, he kneaded each rounded curve of her buttocks. “Otherwise such a demand would go unheeded.” Then suddenly, he released her.

She darted away. “Touch me again, and you’ll be sorry.”

He gave a husky chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “Sweet katya , arousal burns bright in your eyes and your body trembles when I touch you. You could run from me, but do not. When I touch you again, you are the only one who will be sorry…for your denial.”

She gasped at his implication—even though he spoke the truth. “That’s not arousal in my eyes, that’s fatigue.” Lie. “I tremble because I’m cold.” Bigger lie. “And for your information, I haven’t run away because I’m waiting for a chance to pummel you.” The biggest lie of all.

“Is that what your world calls mating now?” His half grin slowly and deliciously lifted into a full-fledged smile. His gaze raked over her tall frame in a bold scrutiny, somehow making Katie feel as if he’d removed every stitch of her clothing. “Then much do I look forward to your pummeling, katya .”

She scowled. “My name is Katie, not Katya .”

“You are a katya to me. A—” he searched for the right words “—little witch.”

Her jaw opened, then closed with a snap. Instead of being pleased that the endearment didn’t mean “pleasure slave” or “easy lay,” she was insulted. “How would you like me to call you giant bastard?”

“Call me whatever you wish.” His grin remained in place. “Be warned, however, that I will make you kiss the sting of such a sharp sobriquet away. A woman’s duty, after all, is to pleasure her man.”

He was acting as if he controlled the fate of the universe—her universe most particularly. Well, there was one fact he would soon learn about her: A woman she might be, a doormat she was not. “Look,” she told him, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop with the pleasure talk. I’m a woman, not a one-nine-hundred number.”

His brow puckered with confusion. “I know you are a woman. Did I not hold your breast in my hand?”

I will not scream. “You have five seconds to help me understand what happened or—” Nothing sounded quite brutal enough, so she finished with, “Or you’ll regret it.”

“What is there to understand?” As if he couldn’t tolerate going without human contact, he began closing the distance between them again, this time at a steady, predatory pace. “You broke the curse, katya . You set me free. Now you must give yourself to me body and soul so that the curse will be broken forever.”

As if that explained everything. There was no time to ponder his words. He was getting closer by the second. Naked man approaching. Naked man approaching . She darted to the left. He followed.

“I warned you not to touch me.” Now she darted to the right. He followed. And then he was in front of her, once more so close she could feel the heat of his body. Her back pressed against the tall, rising column of a prickly bush. She gazed up at him, the scent of raw male virility wafting to her nostrils, carnal and sexy. Without pausing to think about her actions, she gave a sharp twist and placed her foot behind his knee. That knee collapsed and brought him propelling in her direction. She latched on to his arm and sent him all the way to the ground, face-first. When he hit, he hit hard, all that muscle and brawn weighing him down. But he didn’t pause, didn’t stop to take a breath. He was back on his feet almost instantly and facing her with a look bordering on murderous.

“Do not attempt that again.” From his expression to his tone, his need to retaliate shone brightly. Yet he didn’t. He remained in place, glaring and huffing instead. “Next time I will not be surprised and you will find yourself my prisoner.”

“Just maintain your distance and there doesn’t have to be a next time.”

His lips thinned with displeasure, telling her without words he would rather throw her over his shoulder and spank her—her treacherous heart gave an anticipatory leap at that thought—but he nodded stiffly. “How did you learn such a trick?”

“Hard work.” At last she was able to draw in a steady breath, and she forced her heartbeat to slow. Getting her eyes to peer away from him was another matter entirely. Thick battle scars formed a random pattern across his abdomen. Somehow, each one added to his appeal. A whorl of hair surrounded his navel, then dipped enticingly— Do not look down , she commanded herself. But she did anyway and prayed he didn’t notice.

He gave her a slow, knowing perusal in return.

Katie cleared her throat. “Tell me more about the curse.”

Bitterness hardened his features, and she felt a twinge of guilt for mentioning what was so obviously a painful subject. However, that twinge was not strong enough to make her revoke the question.

“That need not concern you,” he said.

Oh, really? “Do you want my help or not? With the psychic,” she added quickly, dispelling any notion she meant the bedding.

His eyes narrowed. “Percen de Locke is a powerful sorcerer, as well as my half brother. He cursed me, locking me inside stone, able to hear, see and feel everything around me, yet unable to respond. Until a fair maiden’s kiss set me free. Temporarily.”

Well, she thought, she’d wanted a rational explanation, and this was a far cry from rational. The guy had been locked in stone and her kiss had temporarily set him free. Yeah, right. That kind of thing only happened in fairy tales. Besides that, she was no princess charming. Katie drummed her fingers along her crossed arms and thought to expose his lie for what it was. “You wouldn’t, by chance, have powers of your own?” she asked. “Magical powers that can prove your story?”

He arched a brow. “What of my transformation?”

“I need something more.”

Eyeing her thoughtfully, he said, “Would you willingly invite me to your bed if I possessed these magical powers?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a note of resentment in his tone. Katie studied his masculine features. Not a flicker of emotion betrayed him, however. “No,” she said, “I wouldn’t. And don’t change the subject yet again. Can you prove your story or not?”