The Stone Prince by Gena Showalter Page A

other and forced himself to glance away. The woman was in desperate need of a keeper, he was coming to realize, and ’twas a job that appealed to him more each second he spent with her.
    Mayhap when he left, he would take her with him; he would instruct her in the proper ways to interact with a man, all the while winning her affections as the spell stipulated. He could make love with her—many, many times—with the mystique of Imperia surrounding them. Better still, Katie could serve as a seductive distraction did he have no family left.
    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