my muscles not so stiff,” he said, his ice-blue gaze sliding suggestively down her body, “I would have caught you.” He took a step toward her.
What am I doing? Retreat! “Stay where you are,” she said, inching away.
He sighed. “I mean only to ascertain you are unharmed. Women are weak, delicate creatures, and you collided quite forcefully with the ground.”
Katie stopped, her eyes narrowing as everything clicked into place like a lightbulb inside her mind. She scanned the garden. Her brothers were behind this and were most likely hiding in nearby bushes, having a good laugh at her expense. No one except her family spouted that “women are weak” crap.
Lord, the man standing before her was probably Steven Harris, the detective Gray wanted her to date.
“Gray, Nick, Erik, Denver…you can come out now,” she called, spinning around to make sure her voice carried. “I know you’re here.”
Steven, aka the statue, crouched down in attack position, scrutinizing the garden. His muscles tightened and strained. “These enemies await you?” His voice was almost imperceptible.
“Not enemies. Idiots.” Katie shouted for her brothers again. “The joke is getting old. Come out. I know this is Steven.” She rammed a pointed finger into the hard warmth of the man’s chest.
“I am not called Steven.”
He said it with enough conviction and disgust that a small kernel of unease slithered along her spine. “I mean it,” she yelled, her voice sharper than before, “come out or I’ll give this guy the Tae Kwon Do Kick of Death you taught me.”
“So there is no danger to you?” the man asked.
Only to my sanity. “No.”
His stance relaxed and he turned away from her. He began stretching again, this time rolling his shoulders and ankles. All the while the words I am not called Steven echoed in her mind. If he wasn’t Gray’s friend, who—and what—was he? The direction her mind veered just then scared and confounded her all the more. Had he…was it possible…could his transformation have happened supernaturally?
No. No, no, no, no, no. The guy wasn’t Steven Harris. Fine. That was easy to accept. But he was simply a man. A man who had a lot of explaining to do, be he a psycho killer or a practical jokester sent by her brothers.
She chewed on her bottom lip. Psycho killer? “Maybe I should go,” she said, trying for a nonchalant tone, but sounding more like a buzz saw grinding against wood. She began hedging backward again. He didn’t offer a word or glance of protest, didn’t act as if he cared, and after a moment’s thought that brought her to a halt. Surely a killer would have tried to stop her.
She stood there, curiosity battling with prudence while she silently observed this man who had appeared from nowhere, taking in every detail, searching for answers. He was just so…big. One flick of his wrist, and he could snap her neck like a twig. There was a gentleness to him, however, that belied any menacing intentions. A walking contradiction, he was. She must have blinked or lost focus, because she didn’t notice any sudden movement toward her, yet suddenly he was just in front of her, looking at her, into her.
“I thank you for breaking the curse,” he said, tracing a finger along her nose. “But now I must go.” Without another word, he slipped around her and strode away.
Curse? “Where are you going?” The man had materialized in her garden, wearing nothing but a smile, and thought he could leave without any type of explanation? Oh, that just pissed her off, made her forget any lingering hint of fear. He was big enough to hurt her, yes, but she was mad enough to inflict some major damage of her own. “I demand you tell me who you are and how you transformed from stone to man.”
In a graceful motion at odds with his size and previous inflexibility, he spun around to face her. His eyes possessed a wistful quality. In a mere snap of time, his soft expression mutated into potent fury, like fire across a night sky, both hot and cold at the same time. “A woman has no right to issue such a demand.”
Had a sword been strapped to his waist, she felt certain he would have unsheathed it just then—and used it on her! He was tense and ready, like a vengeful hunter inspecting cornered prey.
Unexpectedly, he turned and again strode away.
Just let him go, she thought. But Katie found herself calling out, “Wait!” She jolted after him and latched on to his arm. A puny action, really, but he stopped all the same. “You can’t leave. You’re naked.”
He took his time facing her this time. When he did, he arched one brow in an insolent salute and gazed down at her. “You know not your place, woman.”
His words expressed displeasure. But his voice was husky and richly intent, and resonated a secret, carnal meaning meant only for lovers. Did he realize what his tone had just suggested? He stared down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and erotically inviting. Her nerve-endings sparked with renewed life. Oh, yes. He knew. He knew exactly what he’d suggested, and if she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d strip her down and put her “in her place.”
Katie gulped, feigning ignorance. “I own this land. This is my place.”
“’Tis not what I meant and well you know it. Someday a man will show you exactly where you belong by giving you the savage bedding you silently asked for each time you passed through this garden.”
Hearing the actual words proved more potent than the veiled innuendo, and she jerked her fingers from their tenuous hold on his bicep. What stung was that there was nothing she could say to discount him. Only five minutes ago she had caressed the stone man’s nipples, wrapped her palm around his penis (twice!), and kissed his lips.
This wasn’t any friend of her brothers’.
The truth of it danced through her, undeniable now in every way. Her brothers would never allow a man to intimidate her like this. Or even invite her to participate in a night of debauchery. Not even for a joke.
“Only a proper bedding will teach you proper respect for a warrior,” he said. “Unfortunately, I have not the time to instruct you. Now, I thank you once again, katya, but I must return home.” Then, for the third time, he tried to abandon her.
In this instance, however, he stopped without her urging.
He glanced left then right, studying the horizon. He cursed in a language she didn’t understand, then spun around to face her. A scowl marred the perfection of his features. “I have just realized you are a necessary burden, for I know nothing of your world beyond this enclosure.”
Her brows knit at “necessary burden.” Her nostrils flared at his next words.
“Take me to the nearest sorcerer.”
“No way in hell,” she shot back.
He crossed his arms over his chest. The stubborn stance said that he was a man used to issuing commands and receiving instant compliance. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about confronting someone with an overabundance of testosterone. But the way this guy was looking at her, as if he was a king and she was his royal subject headed for the guillotine, almost made her jump into action.
“You
