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As quickly as the idea formed in his mind, Jorlan discarded it. He would get what he needed from her, and then he would leave her here. He did not have room in his life for a woman from another world, especially one that made him feel things he was better off not feeling.
“When we finally come together, katya, many worlds will shake.”
“Yes, well…” Katie paused. Not knowing what else to say—which only happened in Jorlan’s presence—she pivoted to face the door. The knob turned easily, and she stepped inside, sinking into plush burgundy carpet. Jorlan was close behind her this time. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if reaching for him, desiring his touch.
Why did she have to respond so easily to this man?
As the door closed with a thwack, a bell jingled to announce their presence. They stood in silence, waiting, yet no one greeted them. There were no employees in the small room. No customers.
Curls of smoke rose from jasmine-scented incense, floating up then dipping down and expanding throughout the cluttered space. Dim lighting and glittery walls gave a mystical ambiance, compounded by the soft, lyrical music that played in the background.
Finally, a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her midfifties stepped beyond the decorative fringe. With her large hazel eyes and prominent cheekbones, her features were attractive, if somewhat dulled by time. She wore black slacks and a tailored white blouse completely at odds with her new-age business. Gazing at her, only two words entered Katie’s mind: professional and legitimate.
Suspicion instantly grew in Katie’s mind.
Jorlan knows best about magic, she reminded herself. He said there was a chance this psychic had the power he needed, and she had to allow him time to discover the truth, be it good or bad.
“Hello,” the woman said. “Welcome to my humble establishment.” She had the cultured accent of an English gentlewoman. “How may I help you?”
Jorlan dispensed with pleasantries. “Do you possess the power to open a vortex?”
The woman folded her hands together and drummed her perfectly manicured nails against each other. “Exactly what type of power do you mean?”
Quickly Katie placed a hand over Jorlan’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell us the answer to that question.” Surely a self-professed “seer” could answer so simple a question.
Jorlan pried her hand from his mouth, but didn’t release his grip. He kept her palm captured in the warmth of his own. “Do not silence me again, katya,” he growled softly, the words meant only for her, “unless you use your tongue.”
“Ah, young love,” the woman sighed.
Fat lot you know, Katie almost blurted, her doubts increasing all the more.
The older woman gave her a faint smile, deepening the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “You do not believe in the supernatural, do you, dear?”
“I believe in facts,” Katie replied, trying to ignore the rightness of holding hands with Jorlan. There was just something so gratifying about having her hand linked with his, a subtle reassurance and a tangible action of affection. Even though he felt nothing for her—nothing substantial, anyway—the action made her feel needed.
“I believe in facts, as well,” the woman answered.
“Then you’ll understand why I demand proof of your abilities,” she said. Her alien knew nothing about Earth, knew nothing about scams people often attempted on unsuspecting individuals. If this woman truly was the sorceress he sought, she was going to have to prove it.
“Of course I understand. Sit, sit.” With a delicate wave of her hand, the Englishwoman motioned to a small table at the back of the room. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I even have a wonderful herbal elixir that promotes brain activity.”
“No, thanks,” Katie answered, shaking her head. While the herbal elixir piqued her interest, she wasn’t going to relax her guard. “We’re fine.”
Jorlan tugged her to the table. After she scooted to the middle, he squeezed the long length of his legs underneath the too-short surface. The woman took the seat just in front of them. “Give me your palm,” she immediately told Jorlan.
His lips thinned, and he sliced his gaze to Katie. “Do all the women here command a warrior thus?”
“You better believe it. Now give her your hand.”
Storm clouds of fury filled Jorlan’s eyes, but he did as instructed.
The woman hunched over his palm, tracing each line with a long, oval-tipped nail. “You wish to find a way home. Am I correct?”
“Aye.”
“You cannot do it alone.” A statement, not a question.
That muscle in his jaw was ticking again.
“All that is needed is someone to guide you,” the woman said. “Do I speak the truth?”
“Aye.”
The hard tone of his voice, like a hammer hitting a brick wall, caused Katie’s toes to curl, and she was immensely glad his attention was not directed at her. Intent, she watched and listened as the interaction between Jorlan and the woman continued. Every time the Englishwoman spoke, Jorlan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He appeared both furious and sad, as if he had just accepted this wasn’t going to work, but was holding on anyway just in case a miracle happened.
“Someone can help you,” the woman was saying. “Someone will help you. Someone whose name is…I’m getting an impression of the letter K. Yes, yes. Someone whose name begins with the letter K will guide you home. Do you know someone whose name begins with K?”
“Aye.” He didn’t look happy about it either.
“Good, good.” She continued to study his hand. “I predict much—”
“I do not need your predictions, woman.” Suddenly, his fury overcame his sadness and hope. “I need to know if you can open a vortex so that I might leave your world and enter mine. Can you do this or not?”
“You have the power within yourself to go wherever you wish.”
Jorlan’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I do not have the power within myself. This I know for fact.”
“You do. You have a power that, if properly nourished, can grow to a powerful force.”
Hope grew in his eyes again. “How do I nourish my power?”
“I have developed a potion that binds with the magic inside of you, causing your flesh to weaken and your inner spirit to flourish. After you drink this powerful elixir, I will chant a spell of strength and courage over you.”
Katie had heard enough. There was no way in hell Jorlan was drinking anything this woman had prepared. “What you’re looking for isn’t here, Jorlan,” she said.
His only answer was a slight, almost undetectable nod.
“Now wait a secon—” the woman began.
“For God’s sake,” Katie shouted, cutting her off. “This is a bunch of crap and you know it. Most of what you said is so ambiguous I’m not sure whether you’re talking about a tour through Disneyland or if you were singing the alphabet.” She smacked her hand upon the hard wood of the table. “You can’t help him any more than a Keebler Elf could. Admit it.”
The woman’s lips thinned. “Everything I said is true,” she ground out. “Only the heart can guide a man home. That, and one of my potions.”
“But you just said someone whose name began with K could help him,” Katie pointed out.
Weathered cheeks bloomed with color, from embarrassment or anger, Katie didn’t know. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Katie didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but damn it, she hated that Jorlan was so upset. “He called me katya, therefore you get an impression of the letter K. And the thing you’ve—” She stopped herself, debating whether to confess Jorlan’s true origins. Her gaze gravitated to him. He looked so lost, and wanted to go home so badly, she decided that confessing his alien status was worth the risk of sounding like a nutcase. “The thing you have failed to divine is that we’re not talking about an emotional home here; we’re talking about another planet.”
“So you’re aliens, are you?” the woman asked without missing a beat, as if she’d heard that claim a million times before. “I knew it the moment you stepped inside.” She pulled a small, dark bottle from her pocket. “Drink this and you will—”
Argh! Katie jolted up, fist clutched tightly. “You can take your potions and stuff them up your as—”
“That is enough.” Jorlan’s voice echoed off the walls.
Everything instantly quieted.
“’Tis time to leave, katya.” He didn’t wait for her reply. He simply pushed to his feet and strode quietly from the building.
CHAPTER SIX
EVERY MAN POSSESSED one fear, a fear that consumed him, could drive him to the brink of madness. Jorlan had just discovered his. Being trapped on this forsaken world for all eternity frightened him to the marrow of his bones. He’d known the possibility existed since the beginning of his curse. Yet now the realization weighed him down, more potent than ever before because he was finally free.
Free, but yet, not free.
He couldn’t go home until he won Katie’s love; that he accepted. He had only thirteen more days to win her; that he accepted, as well. But what he could not accept, did not want to accept, was the fact that no true sorcerer might dwell here, that there might be no means to return home when the time came.
He stood outside the false mystic’s dwelling, his legs braced apart, his arms locked behind his back and his muscles clenched. It was a warrior’s stance, one normally used just before battle as plans and strategies were formed.
This seemed the greatest battle of his life.
His first instinct had been correct. No magic resided in the House of Mysticism. He had known it before stepping inside, and he’d known it after. Yet he had foolishly clung to hope. Now he was forced to face the truth.
What manner of mystic studied a man’s hand to open a vortex? One without any true magic or ability, he answered darkly. The irony was that the fraud inside that shabby building had actually spoken some truth. He should possess enough power to take himself home. Magic dwelled inside him, so much magic—but ’twas a force he could not control, therefore, ’twas a force he could not reply upon. Curse it! A simple spell was all that was needed. A simple spell, yet hopelessly beyond his grasp.
He tried again, anyway. He closed his eyes, raised his arms high in the air, and uttered the needed words. As he spoke, the air around him swirled, swirled around and around, faster and faster, and then…stopped. He tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.
Each of his failures—with Katie, the psychic and his own powers—weighed heavily upon his shoulders. His arms dropped to his sides. Why did the magic and spells that came so easily to his mother’s people prove so difficult and oftentimes disastrous for him? Why? Did he possess too much physical strength, mayhap? Did his supernatural ability to hunt and destroy his enemies somehow weaken his magical ability? If so, he would gladly relinquish the gift, for what good did it do him when he could not even initiate battle with his greatest enemy?
Jorlan’s teeth ground together, and his breath scalded his throat. Pride demanded he at last avenge his loss of time, companionship and pleasure. Pride demanded…and yet still he could do nothing.
He uttered a dark, humorless laugh. The curse welcomed his frustration like an angry storm cloud welcomed a raving wind, both ever ready to unleash a torrent of sorrow and pain. Fists clenched, he fought for some measure of inner peace. One minute stretched to another, yet his struggle proved fruitless. He needed an outlet, something, anything to soothe the razor-sharp edges of his emotions.
A soft, gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?” an even gentler voice asked. “I know that didn’t go the way you planned, and I’m sorry I brought you here, but we’ll find someone else. There were tons of names in the phone book, and I promise we’ll visit another psychic in the morning. I would take you now, but I’m afraid another failure would…” Katie’s words drifted to quiet. “I just think it would be better to wait until morning.”
He gazed down at her beautifully tapered fingers, at her pale skin against his own deeply tanned. For one raw moment, that touch made him feel as if he’d harbored his hate and resentment too long, as if he had nothing to fear. Yet he still craved an outlet, and she had just provided him with one. He drank in her loveliness, letting it soothe his inner wounds like a caress. “I warned you of the consequences did you touch me, katya,” he said, his tone deceptively soft.
She snatched her hand to her side. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Touch me first, and I have the right to touch you in return. That you agreed upon.”
“You looked so upset—I didn’t mean—that was not an invitation!”
“Wasn’t it?” He spun to face her, took her forearms in his hands and hauled her to him. Chest to chest. Hardness to softness.
“Let go of me,” she told him heatedly, but she made no move to pull away. Nay, she sank more snugly into him. “Let me go,” she said again, this time with breathless surrender.
He didn’t want to let her go; he wanted to hold her so tightly against him she could only part her lips and cry out his name. She must have sensed his needs, for her gaze collided with his, amber eyes locked with blue. Neither glanced away.
“You will thank me for my refusal in just a moment.” He didn’t give her time to deny him. His fingers journeyed upward and tangled in her hair; he tugged her closer until not a breath of air separated them. Then he ravaged her there in the morning sunlight where anyone could see them, where anyone could hear them. Over and over he pushed his tongue past Katie’s teeth, stroked inside, took. Demanded.
For a moment, he thought she meant to resist, but Katie surprised him by uttering a low and needy moan. She opened for him completely, then moaned again. The sound washed over his body, fueling his need. Her ragged breath fanned his nose and his cheek as their tongues danced and sparred. The carnal fragrance of her filled his head, and he thought to hold her in his arms for all the days of his life.
Last eve he had wondered at her taste, and now he knew she tasted sweet and female, part soothing balm, part kindling. Would she taste the same between her legs? Just the thought of laving her there caused the fire inside him to rage—a fire that had nothing to do with his pain, his sorrow or his duty. Nay, he burned only for Katie, for her passion. Burned to take her breasts in his hands. Burned to suck her nipples into his mouth.
“This is what I wanted last eve,” he whispered hotly. “This is what I craved while I lay upon your floor, tightening my hand upon my cock, all the while imagining your touch instead.”
She whimpered.
He placed his hands upon her buttocks and lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her woman’s place against his erection. Up. Down. Up, he urged her, mimicking the motions of sex. She willingly arched back and forth. He ached to shove her drocs down and push deep inside her. He ached to feel her inner walls clench as she searched for release. He ached so fiercely, in fact, he decided not to wait, to take her now, inside the enchanted transportation. Aye, he had to feel her body surge with pleasure, had to watch her face light, watch her lips part. Give her one peak after the other.
Her tongue moved against his in sync with the motions of their bodies. He was shaking, oh, how he was shaking. His control was tethered on the brink of elimination. He’d never experienced anything quite like this, never experienced anything quite so intense. Jorlan told himself it didn’t matter that she affected him so strongly, but he was not foolish. Something was happening between them, growing. Something he needed to deny, but could not.
“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she muttered into his lips. “But you feel so good it’s hard to think clearly.”
“If you must think,” he said, maneuvering them both to the vehicle, and tugging at her shirt all the while, “then think of how much pleasure I can give you.”
“I have,” she whispered. “I really have. I tried not to, but last night…”
“I’ve imagined, too. In my mind I pictured your nipples pink as little berries. Pictured the soft, pale curls that guard your essence.” As he spoke, he played with the areas in question.
“Jorlan, I—” Katie paused. Closed her eyes. Opened them.
In an instant of time, a mere heartbeat, the passionate haze evaporated from her features, leaving an expression that read: I’d rather burn in the fires of Hel la Fir than continue.
“No,” she said, pushing away. Her breath was ragged and unsteady. “No. We have to stop.”
Sweat beaded on his brow. “Is that truly what you want?” He knew it wasn’t and reached for her. One more kiss, one more touch, and he could send them both through the corridors of paradise.
With a squeal, she swatted his hands away. “Stop. We have to stop.” There was still a breathless, husky quality to her tone. “We’re outside in full view of the world, for God’s sake.”
He flashed his teeth in a scowl. “Did I not please you?” he demanded. “Did I not make your body hunger for more?”
Instead of answering his question, she said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready for this.”
“Give me two minutes, and I will make you ready.” He let his voice drop to a seductive whisper, a feat that required his full concentration. “Let me, katya. Let me have you, and I swear to Elliea you will enjoy every moment of it.” He’d never begged for anything in his life, but he was perilously close to dropping to his knees and pleading with her to accept him.
“I know I’ll enjoy every moment,” she breathed. “Believe me, I do.”
He thought he had her then; he even reached out and wrapped his palms around her waist, but she shook her head, darted away, and said gently, “No.” Then with more force, “No. Not here. And not now.”
He cursed under his breath. “Why do you fight so hard against what you feel?”
She glanced away. “I don’t think you truly want to hear my answer.”
“You will tell me anyway.”
“You want to know. Fine.” Anger sparked in her eyes, and she faced him again. “I’m not sure I even like you. You’re bossy and arrogant, and you refuse to answer the simplest questions about yourself unless I nag you.”
