Gena Showalter Bundle. Gena Showalter
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had much to think on.
A wondrous aroma drifted into his nostrils. Frances, the aging servant, tossed numerous plates in his direction. Several pieces of food flopped to the table. His stomach rumbled. Ravenous, he made short work of every bite, nibble and crumb, relishing the taste, texture and color. The light-brown squares filled with dark-blue spheres were his favorite. Katie, he noticed, ate only a plain omelet and drank a mug of light green, clumpy liquid. With each gulp, she closed her eyes and uttered a wordless exclamation of ecstasy. He considered dousing his body in the murky-looking concoction.
“Now that one need is satisfied, I need only a nice, leisurely pummeling to feel complete,” he said. “Mayhap the girl would be interested.”
Katie scowled.
He almost laughed. ’Twas the action of a possessive woman, and one that filled him with hope. Soon…oh, aye, soon Katie’s love would belong to him.
“Keep in mind,” Katie bit out, “that you have no money. Women do not sleep with poor men.”
“Then I shall acquire riches.”
“As if it’s that easy! First of all, no one but me will hire you. Second, any money you make belongs to me to reimburse me for your food and shelter. I’m not a woman who will support a man while he does nothing except watch TV, lay on the couch and drink beer.”
“So you wish to hire me?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Do you, by chance, wish me to labor in the bedchamber?”
She threw her hands into the air. “No! The work I’m offering you has nothing to do with being naked, getting naked, or getting each other naked.”
Her dictate left many wonderful possibilities, for at times, clothing offered just as much, if not more, stimulation than flesh. Aye, he could very well imagine her with a long, shimmery blue gown draped over her curves, covering every inch of her. Slowly he would raise the gown’s hem. Higher. Higher still. Not ever making her naked, but slowly revealing the succulent skin of her calves, her thighs, and then her—
“You can get that perverted gleam out of your eyes,” she ground out, slapping her hand onto the table with a thump. Glasses clanged together. “You’ll paint, put up siding, lay tile, shingle or whatever I happen to need done. To the house,” she added, “not to me. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.”
Complain? About physical labor? When his body already hummed with excitement, vibrated with too much energy? “Exercising my muscles holds great appeal, katya. I will do whatever needs to be done, no matter that you are impudent in the asking of it.”
For a long while, she said nothing. Then she sighed, a long drawn-out sigh. “Look, I don’t mean to be so snappy, Jorlan. I really don’t. I just don’t know what to do about you.” She tossed green paper onto the table surface. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do today.” She slid across the seat and stood.
He pushed easily to his feet.
Their gazes locked for one heartbeat before she turned away and headed for the exit. Jorlan had only taken four steps when someone grabbed his forearm. He spun, clutching the weapon at his waist without actually removing it.
The redhead smiled up at him.
He relaxed his warrior stance.
“Hey,” she said, her voice throaty and seductive. “I’m Heather.”
’Twas the type of reception he was used to receiving. He returned her smile. “’Tis my pleasure to meet you, Heather. I am called—”
“I know who you are. You’re Hunter Rains, the self-help guy. Twelve steps to a better you, and all that. I recognized you the moment I saw you.” She looked down at her feet, suddenly shy. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve read your book and I know you’re from Australia. I’d be glad to show you around Dallas. I’m—”
Katie had spun around at Heather’s first words and now stood directly beside Jorlan. Her eyes went molten, then icy. “He’s not available.”
Heather never even glanced Katie’s way; she just blinked up at Jorlan. “Are you? Unavailable, I mean?”
He didn’t answer right away. Too much did he enjoy Katie’s jealousy.
“I’ll be waiting in the truck,” Katie snapped. She swirled on her heel and strode outside.
Jorlan faced the little redhead again. Here was a woman like those of his world. Willing to please. More than likely, she would do whatever he asked if he showed the slightest bit of interest. Yet he felt nothing, not even a faint stirring of lust.
“Though I may come to regret these words,” he said when his body failed to respond to the girl’s nearness, “I am indeed unavailable.”
“But the woman you’re with is so…tall and plain.”
“Plain?” He chuckled. “Her beauty is endless.”
Heather gave a disappointed shrug of her shoulders. “It was worth a try, I guess.”
With nothing left to say, he followed the path Katie had taken. As she’d said, she was waiting for him inside the belly of her transportation. Her limbs were stiff, her expression cold.
He slowly grinned. The day was indeed ripe with promise.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Imperia
PERCEN DE LOCKE HOBBLED across the ancient sands of Druinn, a haven situated in the heart of Imperia and invisible to mortal trespassers. Moonlight spilled upon the crystal grains, creating an illuminating sphere of mystique. The fragrance of gartina and elsment ghosted a cool, moist breeze upon his cheeks and neck, ruffled the dark locks of his hair, then swirled away. Stars twinkled from their perch in the heavens, so close he had only to reach out to hold their essence in his hands.
What a mockery this beautiful refuge made of his emotions.
His limbs shook with hatred, impotence and rage. He was barely able to move his legs one after the other as he paced. Only yestereve he had cursed Jorlan en Sarr inside an impenetrable wall of stone. The warrior had stood here, the centerpiece of the Druinn sands, yet now he was gone.
Gone!
Percen sensed his mother’s magic, smelled the flowery scent of her perfume, and knew beyond a doubt she was responsible, that she had either set Jorlan free or sent him away. Fists clenched at his sides, he closed his eyelids. Using his mind’s eye, he searched through the lingering magic for answers. Energy coated the air in layers, each layer a different color, depending on the spell or magic used at a particular time. The most recent spell churned on top, giving off a reddish hue. ’Twas not a spell that worked beside another, but a spell that created and drew on other energies—a spell that opened a vortex.
He knew then that she had sent Jorlan away, effectively saving the cursed warrior from Percen’s wrath. The knowledge smoldered inside of him, blistering like a fire raging out of control.
“Why do you torment yourself so?” a soft, feminine voice said from behind him.
Percen halted midstride. Tiny white crystals scattered around his feet as he whipped around. A dark-haired beauty stood proudly before him, a cerulean-colored amulet at her throat. The center of the jewel pulsed with the life of an ocean. The woman’s regal shoulders were squared with concern. Feigned concern, he knew, for she cared nothing about him.
“Did you come to gloat?” he snapped.
“Nay.” Her expression was unreadable as she reached out to touch his shoulder. His simmering glare stopped her. She waited a whisper of time, then dropped her hand to her side. “It does not give me joy to see you so upset.”
“Do not act as if you care what I feel. I know where your