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CHAPTER FOUR

I’M IN SOOOOOO MUCH TROUBLE, Katie thought.

She eased into her truck, but she didn’t start the ignition; she just sat there, clutching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Jorlan climbed inside and perched beside her in the passenger seat, oblivious to the riotous sensations dancing through her. Lick him all over? The idea held more appeal than swimming in a giant vat of melted Hershey’s Kisses, yet also went against every ounce of common sense she possessed. Contrary to what Jorlan might think, hopelessly chauvinistic men did not heat her blood in a good way.

Well, not usually.

His “you will do this” and “you will do that” did irritate her to no end, but that irritation failed to obliterate her attraction to him. He was just so wickedly masculine, so unabashedly male. He knew his appeal and wielded an entire seductive arsenal, which he didn’t hesitate to use to his advantage.

With his words, his glances, and his soft touches, he’d made his plans to have her quite clear. So many times during their interaction, she’d wavered, wondering if she should just give in or continue to resist. And if she did resist, was she simply postponing the inevitable?

Intuition told her this man could not only give her the wildest night of her life, he could also cure her of First Date Syndrome. He didn’t walk bowlegged or speak with a nasally tone. No, he strode with the gait of a hunter, strong and assured. His husky voice produced shivers of delight, not shivers of revulsion. She hadn’t seen him eat, but she doubted he ate his peas one at a time. He just didn’t have the patience to be a nibbler.

He wasn’t patient, period.

Yet, that didn’t turn her off as it should have.

“How do you force this vehicle into motion?” At her side, Jorlan opened the car door, but he didn’t get out. He simply closed the door again, then opened and closed it, the hinges squeaking with each movement.

“Keep trying it that way,” she muttered, still lost in thought.

When one overlooked his impatience, his chauvinistic demeanor and his penchant for disobeying, Jorlan was nearly perfect. And he did excite her in a way she’d never experienced before.

So what if she did it? What if she took the pleasure he was offering?

One simple brush of his body against hers had almost caused her to experience her very first orgasm. No telling what full-body, skin-to-skin, plunging-deep-inside contact would do to her. Kill her, most likely, but what a way to die! However, despite his I-can-give-you-a-mind-numbing-climax sexual magnetism, he truly annoyed the hell out of her. In attitude, he was too much like her brothers. Katie’s brows drew together. Okay, so had she just talked herself into sleeping with him? Or had she talked herself out of it?

Time to regroup. Pros: 1. She had desired him, both stone and flesh, for the past three weeks. 2. He could whip her body into a pleasure soufflé. 3. He was leaving the next morning.

Cons: 1. He was leaving the next morning. 2. His arrogance grated on her very last nerve. 3. She would be nothing more than a momentary convenience to him—a necessary burden, at that.

Did she truly want to be a momentary convenience for her first time?

No.

She wanted hearts and candy, flowers and music. She wanted words of praise and acceptance, maybe even a whispered, “I simply have to have you. I can’t live without you. If I don’t touch you soon I’ll die. Please. I’m begging you.”

Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. But she knew, knew she wanted more than Jorlan would give her.

So the cons won. The man beside her, with his lose-yourself-in-me eyes and his to-die-for muscles, would be nothing more than a boarder. A nonpaying boarder, at that.

“Shut the door and buckle up,” she told him with more force than she’d intended. “We’re going to move now.”

His expression clouded with confusion, as well as a bit of indignation, and he closed the passenger door with a final snap. “On Imperia, we travel atop horned stags very similar to your horses. This is my first time inside the belly of your enchanted transportation, so I know not of what you speak. Buckle up?”

She demonstrated what needed to be done.

He followed her example. A moment passed. He tried to scoot left and right, yet the belt hindered each motion. Frowning, he ripped himself free. “I will not trap myself inside your transportation.”

Here we go again. Katie swallowed a sigh and geared herself for another argument. Lord knew if she demanded that he duck in order to protect himself from a bullet, he would only say, “A woman takes orders, katya, she doesn’t give them,” and then promptly be blown away by gunshot.

“The seat belt is there for your protection,” she explained. She fluttered her lashes the exact way that made her brothers crumble. Jorlan didn’t even blink. “If I come to an abrupt stop and you aren’t wearing it, you’ll fly into the windshield, crack your head and die.” A little extreme, she knew, but she could think of no other way to make him listen.

His frown deepened, but at least he rebuckled.

Once they were properly situated, she started the truck and eased onto the road. Warm gusts of wind whipped through the open window, laving her face, lifting her hair. A horn blasted. Startled, she scanned what little traffic occupied the highway and discovered the honk had not been for her, but for a male driver who was swerving from one side of the road to the other. Accelerating, she quickly passed him.

The faster she drove, the more Jorlan relaxed his stiff posture. “’Tis exhilarating, this speed.” His chuckle wafted to her ears, warm, husky and, oh, so inviting.

This man annoys me, she reminded herself.

They lapsed into silence. Unfortunately, that silence worked against her. Instead of concentrating on the oncoming traffic and construction cones that lined the median, her thoughts drifted to Jorlan’s circumstances. Her insatiable curiosity soon overrode her good intentions. “How long were you imprisoned in the stone?”

“Nine hundred spans, seventy-two days and twenty-four minutes.” He spoke so quickly, so assuredly, as if he’d never stopped counting.

“A span is a…”

“Year. A span is a year.”

“That means you’re over nine hundred years old.” The truck swerved as she jerked to face him. He’d mentioned that several centuries had passed, but she hadn’t given it any thought until now. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that. Most people never reach the age of one hundred, and those who do absolutely do not look like you. A thousand-year-old man would be buying Depends, drinking Ensure and worrying about osteoporosis.”

He regarded her strangely. “Most of what you said escapes me, katya, yet will I strive to reply. Once the curse was spoken into existence, I stopped aging.”

“But you’ll age now, though. Right?”

“I will not age at the rate of your world, nay. I am part sorcerer, and sorcerers are eternal beings sustained by magic. Immortal. Aye, we can be killed with physical weapons as any flesh-and-blood creature, but if unharmed, our magic will keep us alive for eternity.”

“But that’s imposs—” She clamped her lips shut. On top of everything else she’d witnessed and heard tonight, what was so unfeasible about a thousand-yearold alien who resembled a Calvin Klein underwear model and would live forever?

“Oftentimes, the myths and legends of one world are the facts of another. Over the spans,” he said, “many people came into the garden at twilight, whispering of vampires and werewolves, creatures who do not age. Is it so unfathomable, then, that like these creatures, sorcerers can live forever?”

Unfathomable? No. Not anymore. Frightening? God, yes. “I believe you, Jorlan. I do. I was just taken by surprise, that’s all.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “You said you’re only part sorcerer. How long will you live?”

The corner of his eye twitched. “That does not concern you.”

“I can easily drive you back to the garden, you know. In fact, I’m turning around right now.” She jerked the steering wheel to the left, just to make a point.

“Because you’re so obviously fascinated with the workings of my world,” he said, his tone stilted, “I will answer this one last question. I am the first and only halfling born between a mortal and a sorceress. My path is uncharted. Mayhap I will live half of forever. Mayhap not.” He paused. “Now you answer a question for me.”

“Okay.”

“What think you of love?”

She blinked at such an odd change of subject. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking. Do you want to know what I think about a man and woman falling in love with each other?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’s great.” Her brows knit together. “Why?”

Instead of answering her, he turned and faced the window with a satisfied smile. Though slight, the movement caused his sheet to part, revealing a portion of his left thigh. Katie’s chin snapped forward. Watch the road, she commanded herself. But her gaze repeatedly returned to Jorlan, and every time she glimpsed him, her mouth watered for a nibble of that golden thigh. He’s not a bucket of chicken.

He shifted in his seat, exposing more…more…please God…oh yes! The sheet was completely split down the middle, revealing the entire length of his leg.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked suddenly. “Your face is flushed and your eyes look hungry. Starved, actually.”

Katie’s cheeks reddened, and she jerked her attention to where it belonged. “I’m not going to bed with you, okay?” Oh my Lord, she thought the second the words escaped her mouth. She might as well have asked him if he wanted to finger paint her naked body with caramel-and-chocolate ice cream and lick it off.

A knowing, masculine chuckle filled the small cab.

Thankfully, he didn’t reply and the rest of the ride passed in silence, a silence she was now grateful for.

At home, she found Jorlan a Dallas PD T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants Gray had left behind. While Gray had always looked relaxed and cozy in the clothing, like a man spending a lazy day at home on the couch, watching TV and eating Twinkies, Jorlan looked eatable. His rock-solid build stretched the material and showcased every inch of his brawn. Had any other man ever looked so indecent in sweatpants?

Note to self: Write Hanes a very stern letter about what’s appropriate in leisure wear.

P.S. Never invite Gray over again. His clothes are obscene.

Katie ambled into the living room, her newly clothed alien not far behind her. His gaze scalded her back, causing heat to percolate just underneath her skin. She stopped, whipped around, ready to demand he glance away. She froze instead. By the sparkle in his eyes, she knew he was planning something naughty—like removing her clothing piece by piece. Far from angering her, the thought made her heart leap with anticipation. Damn him! The man was too appealing for his own good, and at the moment he was standing way too close for her peace of mind.

She needed space and some sort of brain enema.

She stepped away.

He followed. Their gazes were locked and the space between them crackled with awareness. “If you ask, I will massage my hands in your hair, katya, and set each strand free from confinement.”

Unable to help herself, she gazed at the hands in question. They were blunt, hard hands, clean yet well-worked. The hands of a warrior. Yet, she thought, under the right circumstances, they were probably capable of extreme gentleness and unending tenderness—a massage being one of those circumstances.

Before he could sense her growing willingness, however, she planted her hands on her hips and strove for a flippant tone. “The day I ask you to touch my hair is the day I cook you a seven-course meal.” Which meant it would never happen. She wasn’t his slave, and besides that, she hated, hated to cook.

But never was such a strong word. She probably wouldn’t cook him a meal. No, that didn’t work either. She might not cook him a meal. Damn, damn, damn. If only the sexual tension between them didn’t generate enough electricity to light the entire state of Texas.

Jorlan inclined his head. A dark eyebrow arched and his expression was amused, as if he’d somehow listened to her internal deliberation. The corners of his mouth rose in that knowing grin she was beginning to despise. “Now I will not just make you ask for my touch, katya. I will make you beg for it. Over and over again.”

His raspy tone suggested he possessed a sexual knowledge that went beyond the Kama Sutra. When most men spoke, their voice rated no higher than an Encyclopedia Britannica on her Knee Weakening Radar. But Jorlan’s sensuality blared like a cataclysmic force of nature, and he definitely tipped the scales.

The crux of Katie’s problem was that she didn’t have much experience in dealing with such a sex-minded, eager man. Such blatant, in-your-face masculinity had certainly never been present in any of the men she’d dated. Plus, her intimidating height and take-charge attitude kept most advances at bay.

Most of all, she just didn’t possess the soft, angelic beauty that inspired ardor. She knew it. Everyone else knew it, but that didn’t seem to bother Jorlan. And maybe that was why he affected her so strongly. Why every moment she spent with him caused her fortitude to wilt a bit more. He was the first man ever to look at her as if she were a succulent morsel to be devoured in one tasty bite.

What if she was never able to find this type of chemistry again? Never find a man who made her feel like a woman, a woman with needs and desires? If she didn’t grab onto Jorlan while she had the chance—

Wait! Good God, what was she thinking? He wasn’t even touching her and already she was about to beg for his embrace. She needed to douse the budding fire within them both before the flames spread and became unstoppable.

Time to begin “Spending the Night with Katie Orientation.”

She motioned for him to sit on the couch. He shook his head no.

Why am I surprised? “Would you please sit down?”

He did, grinning all the while.

“Now,” she began. “I believe I’ve already mentioned this in the rules, but it bears mentioning again. Except while bathing, you must remain dressed, both inside and outside of this house. Otherwise you will be arrested and thrown in jail for indecent exposure.” Or magnificent exposure if the arresting officer was female.

“After you broke the spell, I was not taken prisoner while I stood unclothed in the garden,” he pointed out. “And I think you know that bathing is not the only time clothes are a hindrance. What about a long bout of pummeling?”

“As you won’t be getting pummeled in this house, I feel no responsibility to respond to that statement.”

He crossed his arms and gave her an amused look. “Your denials grow tiresome.”

His self-assured pitch irked her, so she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Did you ever consider the fact that I could have a boyfriend? Someone I’m in love with and committed to?”

One minute blended into two, and still he didn’t answer her. She knew he’d heard every word she had spoken, though, because she’d shouted them so loudly her neighbor’s dog was barking. “Well? Did you?”

Something dark, intense and desperate kindled in his eyes, but was quickly masked with indifference. His voice was anything but indifferent, however, when he said, “If you have a man, you should not have touched me as you did. You should not have kissed me.”

Her gaze skittered guiltily away, and she noticed the light on her answering machine was flashing.

“So do you? Do you have a man?” Now his tone was as pleasant as if he’d asked, “This jelly doughnut is delicious, would you like a bite?”

Her motions clipped, she hooked a lock of escaped hair behind her ear. For some reason, she just couldn’t lie to him about this. “No, I don’t have a man.” Her tone was as incensed as if she’d said, “You ate my doughnut, you dirty bastard.”

“I see no problem, then.” This time he spoke with a husky drawl any true-blooded Texan would have been proud of. “You desire me, and I desire you. We can give each other pleasure…and mayhap even love.”

Love? She sucked in a breath. “You don’t even know me.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Oh my God, you’re one of those losers who tells a woman he loves her simply to get her into bed.”

“I have said nothing of loving you, katya.” His features pulled tight, revealing just how much she’d offended him. “Sometimes honor is all a man has, and I would never dishonor myself by lying about my emotions. I wished only to inform you that I would not be adverse if you offered me your heart.”

And that was just so much better, she thought dryly. “You’re a romantic at heart, Jordie. You truly are. And now I’m done with this conversation.” Katie strode to her coffee table and jabbed the play button on her answering machine.

“Hey, sis. I’m going out of town for a few days and wanted to know if I could borrow your—”

Her brother’s voice jammed to a halt when Jorlan leapt across the room and pounded the little black box into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Joorlann,” she drew out. “Why did you do that?”

“I sensed no magic from the box and yet it spoke.” He stared down at the shattered box as if expecting the pieces to somehow reattach themselves and attack. “The device must be mighty indeed to hide such power.”

“Voice recording isn’t magical.”

He made no reply, no body movement to indicate that he’d heard her.

“From now on, if you don’t understand something, ask me about it.”

Now he gave her a you-silly-little-girl frown. “Taking time to ask questions can give the enemy an opportunity to attack.”

“My answering machine is not your enemy!”

“Not anymore,” he answered smugly.

“Damn it, Jorlan. You can’t just destroy my things. You have to—damn it,” she said again. “You made me cuss.” Katie reached inside her pocket and handed him two quarters. At his questioning eyebrow lift, she explained her quest to speak more like a lady.

He chuckled. “You owe me more than this.” He pinched the change between his fingers and held it up for inspection. “Since the moment you first kissed me, your many expletives have nigh singed my ears.”

Do not think about kissing him. Do not think about kissing him. “Anything I said in the garden doesn’t count. I was in the middle of a crisis situation.”

“Crisis situation or no, I still recall your words to me, just before you wrapped your palm around my—”

“That’s enough.” He wasn’t speaking of curses now; he was speaking about her midnight confession. Damn it, you’ve invaded my fantasies, is what she believed she’d said. “I’m sure you misheard. And for your information, touching your…Well, it was an accident.” Before he could add anything else, she said, “Look how late it’s gotten.” Katie pretended to study her wristwatch, only to realize she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Are you ready for bed?” Wrong question.

“I have been ready for some time.” His gaze raked over her with enough heat to incinerate her. “I am still ready.”

Yes, you are, she thought with a sigh. But this situation called for direct negation, not you-have-a-beautiful-body-and-I-could-lick-you-all-over remembrances. Before she could make a caustic remark, Jorlan spoke again.

“I would like to bathe ere I…sleep.” He hesitated over the word “sleep” long enough to make her anticipate “make love to you.”

Gulping, Katie led Jorlan to the bathroom and showed him how to work the knobs. “Place a small drop of shampoo into your hand and lather the bubbles through your hair. If you get it into your eyes…” Her voice tapered to a close, for as she spoke Jorlan gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled the material over his head. “Uh, don’t get any suds in your eyes or they’ll burn so badly you’ll want me to pluck them out. And I might just accommodate you.”

The shirt whooshed to the floor.

She’d seen his chest before—and a whole lot more—but that didn’t seem to matter. Each time she saw his beautifully tanned skin, she had the same reaction. Heat. Fiery heat that erupted into flames. Self-preservation kicked into gear this time and kept her hormones under control.

I have to stop reacting to him like this.

“I would willingly place these suds in my eyes,” he said low and honeyed, “if I knew you would kiss away the pain.”

“And I will forcefully put suds in your eyes if you don’t stop that.”

His chuckle swam over her like a caress, soft and wonderfully erotic. “This I might allow did you press your body against me to do it.”

She ignored that comment, as well as the fluttering in her stomach. “When you’re finished, turn the water off and put your sweats back on. And if you didn’t understand that, let me put it another way. Do not leave this bathroom without getting redressed.” All the basics covered, she raced to the door.

“You do not have my permission to leave.” With the stealth of a trained military man, he moved in front of her, halting her just before escape.

Her back went ramrod-straight. “I don’t need your permission for anything.”

“You are a woman,” he explained.

“You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “You must wash my back.”

“Wash your own back.” Katie inched forward another step. Another. And another. Almost there. If he would just move out of the way…

“As it is clear to me that you do not understand, I will explain another way. My muscles are still stiff from my confinement and require the gentle touch of a female.”

“I’m not touching your back for any reason because I know you’ll consider that part of your rule adjustment. I’ll find myself naked and in the tub with you.”

His long, spiky lashes swept down in a slow, alluring appraisal. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes!”

He leaned against the door frame and smiled. “I can promise you that you will enjoy every moment.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m still not interested.” She pushed past him and closed the door firmly behind her. Alone in the hall, she tried not to imagine all that glorious skin covered with glistening soap bubbles.

She failed.

He emerged half an hour later on a cloud of steam. A clean and fresh floral scent enveloped him. Fortunately, he was wearing his pants. Unfortunately, he was not wearing his shirt, and he was, without a doubt, one hundred percent pure Imperian beef. Droplets of water trickled from his hair and down his rippled chest, pooling in his navel. Her mouth went dry, and she wanted so desperately to lick the moisture from his skin.

Lord, when had she become such a sexual creature?

“All of your ‘shampoo’ was scented for a woman,” he accused.

And for seduction, she silently added, “Are you still hungry?” The words emerged as a croak.

He perked up. “You will feed me?”

“Sure. Why not?” They adjourned to the kitchen, and Katie used that time to cool her mounting desire. All the while doing subtle, deep breathing exercises, she gathered the necessary items for a turkey sandwich. She knew how to cook, very nicely, too. But she hadn’t actually baked a meal since leaving her father’s home at the age of eighteen. A small rebellion, she supposed, for all the years she had slaved over breakfast, lunch and dinner for the men of the house.

“I’m not your personal chef,” she told Jorlan, “so pay attention. Next time, you’re on your own. Are you watching?” Before he could answer, she began, working as she spoke. “Bread. Mayonnaise. Cheese. Turkey. Lettuce. Tomato. Bread. Got it?”

He nodded, and she handed him the sandwich. He ate the blasted thing as if he had never tasted anything so delicious in all his life. Definitely not a nibbler. In fact, he somehow made the simple act of chewing a passionate feat. His strong jaw moved quickly. Potent and intense.

Damn it! She needed to find something about him that turned her off. First Date Syndrome was preferable to Obsession Disease.

Jorlan fixed himself three more sandwiches.

“What are the houses in your world like?” she asked, sitting beside him.

He spoke in between bites, his eyes warm with remembrances. “They are much bigger than those offered here. The stones are more colorful, the chambers open and easily accessible. At times, it seems the sky dusts the floor.” He drained half a carton of milk, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt.

“Sounds beautiful.”

“’Tis indeed.”

“Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Alone.”

“Your continued rejection humbles me.” The wry comment was delivered with an equally wry grin.

“Something needs to,” she muttered.

Walking through the hall, a sweet vanilla scent drifted to her nostrils. That was the only thing she liked about the place. The smell. Decorated with a contemporary slant, the interior was too bold, too modern, and lacked character. Instead of wood, the walls were trimmed with silver metal. Instead of carpet or paneling, the floors were covered with mosaic tile. Ceramic animal paws showcased all the light fixtures. She would have preferred a chandelier lit by hundreds of crystal prisms.

Katie knew she’d bought this home for all the wrong reasons. Her dad, who would have a fit if he knew a strange alien male was staying the night with her, believed only men could earn a living as home renovators—or anything else, for that matter. She’d wanted to prove to him that she, a woman, was a success at her business.

To this day, he refused to believe she earned her money on her own and hadn’t borrowed from her brothers.

Ryan James had been raised by the “old school” of thought. Men worked and earned money while women baked cookies, raised the kids and devoted their entire lives to pleasing their husbands. (Much like Jorlan’s perceptions.) Maybe that was why, sixteen years after becoming a widower, her dad still had yet to remarry. No sane woman would take him. He barked orders like a drill sergeant and expected total compliance from those around him.

As a child, that type of ideology could have easily crushed her spirit. Yet her brothers had sought to protect her from their father’s low expectations. They’d made her one of the boys, helped her don jeans and tennis shoes instead of lace and bows. She’d trailed their every step. She’d helped them catch frogs, stood by their sides and fished in a nearby pond, and held her own as they wrestled in the mud.

She and Jorlan reached the guest bedroom. “This is it,” she said, flipping the light switch. The room instantly brightened. “The bathroom, or chamber pot, or whatever you call it, is through the side door. It’s nothing as grand as what you described, but it’s comfortable and private.”

Entranced by the origin of light, Jorlan barely registered her words. With the tip of his finger, he lowered the silver switch. Darkness flooded the small area. When he raised the switch, light once again sprang from the overhead source.

“Again I sense no magic, and yet…” Up, down, up, down he continued to move the switch. “I would not have guessed your world capable of such things. First a talking box and now instant lighting.”

Katie chuckled, charmed by his bedazzlement with technology. “What does your world use for light?”

“Lamori gems.”

“Are they magic?”

“Nay, they are alive.”

She did not even want to contemplate living stones.

“Even on Imperia, a world of highly developed mystical abilities, no one has yet mastered magical lighting.”

“We haven’t either. We rely on electricity.”

“I am unfamiliar with this word.” He flipped the light switch several more times.

How best to explain…“Electricity is a fundamental entity of nature consisting of negative and positive kinds composed respectively of electrons and protons.” She spouted Webster’s definition with ease. “This is observable in the attraction and repulsion of bodies electrified by friction and in natural phenomena.” Wires and power circuits were part of her business, after all, and God knows how many classes she’d taken on the subject.

On and off the light went.

“Does the room meet with your approval?”

“It will suffice. For now.” Jorlan released the little switch and surveyed his new chamber. The room offered ample space, but better yet, it provided the most important item in a man’s life beside his talon, his horri and his food. A bed—a bed Katie did not plan on making use of in the way Elliea had intended, he thought dryly, but a bed all the same.

“What do you mean ‘for now’?” she demanded.

He hid his amusement behind a bland expression. He had expected such a reply from this woman who continued to refuse all pleasures; he simply had not expected the reply delivered with such force. What a little vixen she continued to be, commanding and impudent.

Puzzling, too.

Since reaching his fourteenth season, women of every age, size and color had flocked to his bed, ready and willing to please him. Almost all had offered him their love, something he had humbly accepted without actually giving any of himself. Nay, he realized, that was a falsehood. He’d given Maylyn everything he had to give, including his heart. He’d been entranced with her dark, mesmerizing beauty, her willingness to please. Only later had he learned that she felt nothing for him in return, that she had merely done his brother’s bidding.

Still, Jorlan had always understood what drove Maylyn. Katie, he did not. Why did she grow more and more skittish each time he drew near? Too many possibilities sprang to mind.

A former unpleasant lover?

Misplaced modesty?

A need for commitment?

Which of these applied to Katie? All? None? If he knew, he could figure out how best to approach her. As it was, he was making no progress, and his body’s desire for contact, any feminine contact, was growing by the second, growing intense and all-consuming. All of his long repressed needs, needs that had nothing to do with at last breaking the curse, were hammering through him.