The Stone Prince by Gena Showalter Read Free Book Online Page A

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. ’Tis so.” 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