INTO THE GARDEN

by

Alicia Sparks

© copyright May 2004, Alicia Sparks Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright May 2004 New Concepts

Publishing 5202 Humphreys Rd. Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

Chapter One

Katherine stared out of the window as the car pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t expected the funeral
to end so suddenly. Nor had she expected her family to abandon her within an hour after the ceremony
ended. There was no formality about the reading of the will. Almost no mention of it at all. Everyone
already knew the house would be hers. Along with everything in it.

Nobody wanted the house, which was part of the reason why it was in such dire need of repair. For the
ten years that her grandmother spent in the nursing home, the house seldom saw visitors. Then it was just
a neighborhood boy coming to cut the grass or someone dropping by to relieve the trees on the front
lawn of their fruit.

The car pulled to a stop, signaling the end of a journey that seemed to have taken ten full years to come
to fruition. She had known she would be coming back here. If she thought about it hard enough, she
could have even predicted the date of her arrival. That was part of the reason why, when she got the call
about grandmother’s condition, she left her little cottage in England, packed up her belongings, and
moved back to the tiny city hidden away in the piney forests of Louisiana.

She was there, holding Gran’s hand, when the old woman gave up her last breath. A smile crossed
Gran’s lips as she looked at the foot of the bed. “He’ll come for you, Katherine. Just wait.”

Chills had spread up her body at the woman’s dying words, certain she meant death was coming. But
then the dreams started. It had taken three days to arrange the funeral. In that time, Kate stayed in the
same hotel where she had been, just across the street from the nursing home. Also in that time, the

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dreams came. They were more vivid now than they had been in England. More disturbing. And by far,
more erotic.

She shook herself into the present. The funeral was barely over and here she was standing before her
childhood home away from home, a place she hadn’t visited in the three weeks since she’d been back to
Constance. Every waking moment was spent with her grandmother, sharing stories as they’d done when
she was a child. Only this time, she told the stories while her grandmother squeezed her hand, waiting for
the ending.

Brushing a tear away, she pulled her suitcases from the trunk of the cab. Cabs were rare in Constance.
Only three ran and then only every now and then. But as the house was actually five miles from town
proper, the owner of the cab company took pity on Kate and offered her a ride. None of her aunts or
cousins offered and none desired to pay a visit to Gran’s home. An odd bunch, they all had to get back
to New Orleans or Dallas or wherever it was they called home these days.

“Need any help, ma’am?” the old man, Mr. Schwartz, called from behind her as he advanced, offering
to take her suitcases in his hands.

“No. I’ll be fine. I have somebody coming later to deliver groceries. The rest of my things are probably
already here.”

She hadn’t bothered to check with the moving company. If she knew anything about Gran, she knew
every piece of furniture in the house had been covered the day she went into the nursing home. It would
all still be awaiting her. All the house needed was a good once over with a lawnmower and dust rag, and
a few days airing out.

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Thank you.” She paid him and watched as he drove away, well aware that few people would
willingly set foot in Gran’s old house.

The place was not haunted. She had spent too many hours here as a child to believe in such nonsense.
But it did have an air of doom about it, as if it were the Usher house come to life. It all had to do with the
garden, a place that should have been one of beauty and life. Instead, it was like Dr. Rappaccini’s
creation, a land of mysterious, exotic flowers and fruits that had no business growing in Louisiana’s red
dirt. And then there was the statue.

It had stood in the garden for as long as Kate could remember. She smiled thinking about it. This was
where she’d learned the difference between boys and girls at such an early age. When her grandfather
was alive, Gran kept a potted plant placed directly over the statue’s large penis. After he died, she
removed the pot so the man sat there in all his glory, cock erect as if he were waiting for a lover.

She closed her eyes, picturing the statue. How could she forget a face such as that? Wild eyes fringed
with long lashes. A square jaw accented by full lips, which were turned up in an expression that looked to
be a cross between agony and ecstasy. His hair, had it been real, would curl around his collar, if he’d
been wearing one. And his body. It was the stuff of every fantasy she’d ever had, both as a girl and now
as a woman.

If Michelangelo wished to carve a perfect human specimen, this man would be a prime figure. The
muscles in his legs were huge, accented by the fact that he sat, legs spread, awaiting a lover. His cock
was larger than life and not flaccid like Michelangelo’s David. Rather it was massive, teeming with desire.

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His narrow waist led up to a broad chest and large arms whose hands rested at the tops of his thighs.
She remembered how her thoughts always went back to his cock. She also remembered how many
times as a girl she’d wished she had the nerve to step into the garden late at night and ride him to her own
climax.

She shook the image from her mind. It would do no good to get all worked up over a statue, especially
in light of the dreams. He was not going to come to life. Ever. No matter what Gran’s tales had once
proclaimed. The man was a stone rendering of an artist’s vision, though no one knew the artist’s name.
He was not a cursed prince.

The porch creaked under her weight as she stepped off the top step and onto the ancient boards. No
one knew the exact age of the house, only that it had been handed down to the firstborn daughter of the
Nelson family since time immemorial, which in the South meant right before the war.

“Welcome home,” she muttered to herself as she pushed open the door. The hinges squeaked their own
welcome as she gave a light push. She let out the breath she had been holding when she flicked on the
light switch, only to find that indeed the electric company had been true to their word. And, it would
seem, so had the movers. Her boxes were piled neatly in the hallway, though none of them trickled much
further than that. In truth, she didn’t have a lot of stuff to move, seeing as how most of it had been left
behind.

The furniture, as she suspected, was all covered with plastic, a true sign of Southern roots. She set her
suitcases down just inside the living room and let her eyes wander to the painting above the fireplace. Her
grandmother, like many women who missed their calling as true Southern belles, was obsessed with love
stories, particularly that of Rhett and Scarlett. The painting was one she had conned her husband into
when they were newlyweds living in New Orleans. It was a spoof of one of the famous scenes from
Gone with the Wind where Rhett carries Scarlett up the staircase. Kate had always thought it was a
fantastically romantic painting, but her mother had always considered it too racy.

“I’m home,” she whispered to the painting. “Just like you always wanted.” A twinge of guilt crept up her
back at the thought. She should have come home sooner. God knows her lifestyle allowed for it. Almost
thirty, never married, no children, hell of an income writing children’s books. Her parents had both been
dead for ten years now, around the same time that Gran fell sick. She knew Gran’s illness was probably
expedited by the death of her only son.

Closing her eyes, she imagined Gran winking at her from the portrait. “You are where you should be.”

* * * *

“Shit.” Kate was in the middle of stocking the pantry with the supplies brought in from town when the
cat came in and wound its tail around her legs, damn near scaring her to death. She clutched her heart in
an attempt to still it. “Where did you come from?” She narrowed her eyes at the offending creature
before giving it a smile. “Are you an orphan, too?”

The fluffy white cat meowed its response.

“I suppose you’d like some dinner. I was just going to fix some soup, but I probably have some tuna.
Which would you prefer?” The cat spread itself out in the middle of the kitchen floor, oblivious to the fact
that it was intruding. Kate usually didn’t like animals, but tonight, having company eased her mind.

“I have ice cream too. We could see if the TV works and find something to watch if you’d like.” The cat

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licked its paw.

“Fine. We’ll eat.”

She lit the pilot light on the gas stove, thankful this had also been seen to in the past few days. A chill ran
through her at the motion. Something felt off inside the house. And it had something to do with the cool
air that rushed against her body, feeling almost like an embrace, but not quite. She knew if she tried hard
enough, if she strained her ears, she would hear something on the wind that she’d rather not hear.

Fairy tales were not real. She knew enough about them. Her entire fortune, what it was, had been made
rewriting them for a more appropriate, politically correct, savvy audience of five-year-olds. Not a word
of them was true. Princesses did not fall into sleeping spells, princes did not exist inside the bodies of
frogs, and stone statues did not haunt little girls’ dreams.

She realized her hand was shaking when she attempted to open the tuna can. Scaring herself into a
frenzy her first night here would do no good. She was alone, save for the cat, and had no way of going
into town unless she planned to walk, which she didn’t. Somebody would be by in the morning to set up
her phones and Internet access, but until then, she was on her own.

“You have a name?” she finally asked the cat. “You know, I’m not sure if there were any fairy
princesses with pet cats. We don’t even want to get into the symbolism if there were. Of course, there
was Puss ’n Boots who is now making a fine living as a strip club. But other than that...” her words
trailed off, the cat clearly not interested.

“Are you a boy or a girl? That would help, wouldn’t it?” She scooped the tuna onto a paper plate. “I
could just call you Lazy. Like the dwarf. Come on, work with me.” She scratched its ears and still got no
response. What did she expect anyway?

Her soup was boiling. “Shit.” She reached for the pot without using a potholder and managed to burn
her fingers. “Shit, shit.” Her fingers instantly went into her mouth. Turning on the faucet in the sink, she ran
them under cold water, which only made them hurt worse. “You know if grandmother were alive, she
would probably put aloe on it.”

Aloe, which she was sure, would be in the garden, a place that, for some reason, she was reluctant to
visit.

“That’s what you get for entertaining a cat.” She turned back to the cat, who was no longer there. The
tuna hadn’t been touched, though she swore he had been eating it when she turned around.

The slamming of a door caught her attention. That was when she noticed the screen door that led out to
the garden. It was open, caught by the wind, calling out to her.

Chapter Two It was the same as usual. Well, almost the same. She was too far gone to realize it was a
dream because the whole thing seemed so real. If she would take the time to look up at the purple sky,
she would realize it never held a glow quite like this in reality. She inhaled the scent of a thousand
perfumes, flowers whose names she learned in childhood but had forgotten since. Her feet touched the
soft, wet grass as she moved forward, making her way through the overgrown vines and into the center
of the garden. The place where he stood. Her long, white nightgown was loose around her ankles, almost
causing her to trip as she bent down, ducking beneath a vine of Carolina Jasmine, a common flower in
Louisiana. The yellow flowers called out to her, beckoning her to wind them in her hair. She resisted their
fragrant appeal, knowing she had to make it to the center. She had to get to him before the sun went

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down. The beating of her heart drummed in her ears while her breath caught in her throat. Tonight, he
was dressed in black as he turned to face her. The wicked gleam in his eyes told her there was much
more to him than she’d

seen in her more chaste fantasies. Sometimes, he was like a white knight seeking only to enslave her
heart. Other times, he was a wild and wicked lover who sought to control her body. Either way, she
always welcomed the fantasy.

He didn’t speak as he pulled her to him, forcing her to move forward with only the look in his eyes.
When his skin finally made contact with hers, she felt the tension begin to build just below the surface.
Tonight he would be her lover. And there would be nothing slow or soft about the way he took her.

His hand slid around her throat, brushing aside her hair, which, in her dreams was a mass of perfect
ringlets unlike the reality, a mass of tangled knots. It shone copper in the light of the sunset rather than the
faded red of reality. She knew now that she must be dreaming. But she had no control over what he
would do to her, what she would do to him. All she knew was that she wanted him in the most primal
way imaginable.

His wicked smile revealed perfect white teeth, which seemed to want to sink into her flesh. She raised
her neck for him, teasing her skin against his pointed teeth. He wasn’t usually a vampire, but, hey, who
was she to argue with the gods of dreams? When his teeth didn’t pierce her, but only grazed against her,
a shudder went through her body. Her breasts tightened, her nipples hardened. The thin cover of her
nightgown did nothing to protect her from the heat of his body, which seared her straight through to her
heart.

His hand slid down her body, resting on her waist as it began gathering her nightgown into a tight fist.
The cool evening air swept against her ankles and then made its way up to caress the exposed skin of her
thighs. His hot hand dipped beneath the mass of fabric to run along her outer thigh and make its way
around to stroke her bottom. Flattening his hand against her flesh, he pressed her into him, allowing her to
feel his hunger for her. His cock was already hard and eager for her.

Before she could stop herself and rethink her decision, she pulled away from him. Confusion clouded his
eyes in the instant before she dropped to her knees. How many times had he pleasured her in this
garden? It was her turn to repay the favor tonight.

She slid down the zipper of his pants, freeing his cock with the motion. It sprang forward, large and
heavy, already beading with desire for her. She licked her bottom lip, wanting to taste him more than she
wanted to breathe. When she took the swollen head between her lips, she feared she would never be
able to take all of him. Determined, she widened her mouth and slipped her tongue around his head,
wetting him so the entry would be easier.

One hand grasped the base of his cock while the other stroked his balls. She felt his hands in her hair,
pulling her against him as her head moved forward and back, taking him between her lips. She squeezed
and stroked with her hand as she continued to slide him in and out. His hands in her hair became tighter
as they wound themselves around her curls. His hips began to move in a wild rhythm meant to meet hers,
but in truth his was more desperate for release. Giving his scrotum one last squeeze, she felt his cock jerk
and his balls constrict.

When he shot his liquid fire into her mouth, she gasped, trying to swallow all that he had to give. He
tasted like honey. Before she could recover from the intensity of taking him into her mouth, he pulled her
to her feet, bent her over the stone bench, and drove himself into her.

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Her pussy tightened around his cock, reveling in the feel of the unexpected invasion. She was more than
ready for him, having grown wetter each time his cock went into her mouth. Now, as it slipped in and out
of her tight box, she felt her juices spill out around him, coating him, adding to the sensation of his flesh
moving in and out of hers. Never before had she felt so open, so exposed to a lover. Never had he taken
her with such passion.

His hands clung to her hips as he continued to thrust into her. She lifted to meet him, raising her ass,
forcing her pussy to open even further to accommodate his size. Her heart hammered in her chest when
his hand reached around to stroke her already tightened clit. The intensity was too much. When her
orgasm ripped through her body, she let out a scream unlike any that had ever escaped her throat before.
Everything inside her melted, bringing the sensation all the way down to her toes.

Soon, his groan erupted, matching her own. The last thing she saw was the sun going down and the dark
moonless night intruding on their perfect moment. His body slipped from hers and without a word, he had
disappeared.

She righted herself, sobs threatening to ravage her body. Wiping the stray tears from her eyes, she
looked up at the statue who gave no sign of ever having been alive.

Kate awoke with a start. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and her panties were drenched with
something else. How long had it been since she’d had a really wet dream? She would like to say a long
time, but the truth was, she had dreamed about her imaginary lover for months now. Each time, he was
different. And each time, a dark moon threatened to take him from her.

Her heart pounded, warning her against the thing she wanted to do most. If she went down into the
garden, what was she expecting? She had not been there in the two days since she had come to live at
the old house. What she was waiting for, she didn’t know. All she knew was that something out there
was calling to her and she was refusing to answer. Statues didn’t come to life. And this one certainly
wasn’t going to do so. He also wasn’t going to whisk her away from her boring life and take her into a
world of fantasy.

She looked at the clock. It had been a while since she’d seen three

a.m. She didn’t want to stir from her bed but knew she would never go back to sleep after that dream.
Inhaling long and slow, she contemplated her choices. In truth, she had nothing to do tomorrow. No
deadlines, no new tales to tell. Nothing to do except explore the house if she wanted. So far, she had
been too busy setting up her office and clearing out the living room and kitchen to go much further than
that.

Tossing the covers aside, she reluctantly rose from the bed, the need between her thighs more intense
now than it was moments before. She knew how to get herself off but somehow that would cheapen the
moment. A vibrator couldn’t replace what she had just felt even if it hadn’t been entirely real. Her feet
made contact with the cold wood floor, making her wish she’d brought a rug to throw in front of the bed.
As she passed her window, she tried not to look down into the garden, tried to keep her eyes focused
straight ahead. But the moonlight illuminated the whole place, making it look like something out of a fairy
tale. She had no choice but to look.

He sat there, just as he always had, cock ready, wicked passion laden look on his face. It was as if the
moon were illuminating him strictly for her pleasure. And what pleasure she could take down there. All
the fantasies she’d ever had about him came upon her at once. She could slip down into the garden,

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unseen by anyone, as there was not another soul for miles around. She could even go down naked if she
wanted.

Once there, she would stroke his stone cock as if he were her lover. Then, placing her legs around his
waist, she would lower herself onto him, stretching to accommodate his size. He would impale her there
in the garden, just as if he were a real lover. She would rock slowly back and forth, stroking her clit,
coating him with come as she came over and over, screaming wildly, riding him as if he were real.

Her hand clung to the windowsill. Her breasts tightened against her nightgown. Every instinct she had
told her to go down into the garden and mount him just as she wanted. Her instincts weren’t rational,
though. Surely there was something else she could do. No woman in her right mind would go down into
the garden and fuck a stone statue.

She pushed herself away from the window, determined not to go down there. Instead, she made her
way to the kitchen and flipped on the light. Chamomile tea would soothe her nerves. Her hand shook as
she grasped the teakettle and filled it with water. She turned on the stove and placed the kettle on it,
concentrating on her every motion. Anything to take her mind off the garden.

The house was so quiet. Everything was quiet. The nighttime critters who usually sang were silent, as if
they were waiting for something. Or hiding from something. A shiver ran up her back at the thought.

“Get a grip,” she chastised herself for her silliness. “You lived alone in England. This is no different.”
Except for the fact that her English cottage was not home to a haunted statue. “He’s not haunted,” she
argued. “At least I don’t think he is.”

Her dreams about him had a rational explanation. She missed Gran. And, like it or not, the statue was
part of her memories of Gran. They used to talk way into the night about fairy princes and curses. So
much so that Kate had been convinced that she were a princess and Gran were her fairy godmother. Of
course, Gran only encouraged these thoughts with her tales of beautiful men who would rescue unwitting
maidens from their boring lives.

She sat at the table, drinking her tea and contemplating her life. A tall order for, what day was it again?
Her eyes strayed to the calendar on her wall. “Shit.” Concentrating on moving and Gran’s death had led
to something she never imagined would happen. She forgot about her birthday. And not just any
birthday. Her thirtieth.

It was tomorrow. Today. Whatever.

The screen door leading out to the garden slammed open and then closed again, causing her to damn
near jump out of her skin.

“I’ve got to get that fixed,” she said over her hammering heart. The wind caught the door again, this time
holding it open, beckoning to her.

She placed her cup on the table and slid her chair back. Her legs didn’t want move at first, fearing what
may happen if she stepped out into the night. She would give in to her desires and become one of those
crazy women she sometimes read about who married themselves or left all their money to their cats. She
was already insane, though. Had to be because the only thing she could think of was walking out into the
garden, throwing her legs around the statue and riding him until dawn.

Chapter Three

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The solitude of the night greeted her as the moon peeked its head out. Thank God for the moon,
something that had been lacking in her dreams. Her feet made contact with the soft, wet grass, sending a
shiver of déjà vu through her body. She had done this before. And not too long ago, either. She ducked
down to pass under the jasmine and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent, saying a silent prayer, and hoping
for something. When she stood again, she opened her eyes. The garden was exactly as it had been the
last time she was here.

Antique roses that hadn’t grown wild in centuries grew with abandon here. A banana tree, which
shouldn’t have flourished, was filled with tiny green fruit. Other tropical flowers and fruits from
passionflowers to orchids all grew as if they were native to Louisiana. Ivy climbed up the trellis leading to
Kate’s bedroom window, a place she often dreamed a lover would climb to sweep her away. Various
other plants grew in clumps and clusters, the mad pattern of the garden indecipherable to anyone who
didn’t know Gran’s taste.

He sat there, exactly where he had always been. Kate approached him from behind, wary of looking
into his eyes. Afraid of what she wouldn’t see there.

His back was perfectly formed, as if the artist had spent decades studying the human form, taking in the
curve and contour of every muscle. The curve of his shoulders begged for her touch. If he weren’t
alabaster and made of stone, she would swear he were a real man sitting there waiting for her.

Her fingers ached to touch him, causing her to squeeze her hands into tight fists to resist the motion. She
circled around him, still not looking up at his face. Her heart pounded, threatening to drum right out of her
chest. And her pussy, still wet from her dream, throbbed with wanting. If only he were real...

The wind blew again, pulling her nightgown tight around her frame, causing her disarray of curls to
sweep into her eyes.

“Kate.” Hearing her name on the wind was enough to make her almost run back into the house and
never look back. Almost. Instead, she raised her eyes, knowing her name had been a figment of her
imagination. The wind didn’t talk. And neither did statues.

“It’s been a while.” She bit her bottom lip as she took in the curve of his lips, the wonderful angle of his
nose, the masculine line of his jaw. God, he was beautiful. “I know what you’re thinking. I shouldn’t have
come here. Well, you’re right. I shouldn’t have. And I don’t know why the hell I’m talking to you.”

She took a step back, feeling his eyes on her. This was too much. She was definitely going insane.
People grieved in odd ways. She remembered hearing that at the funeral. Along with several whispers
about why she was still single and whether or not she would sell the house.

“I’m lonely, I guess.” She dropped down onto the bench, which sat near him. “And apparently you’re
the only one I have to talk to. I don’t really know anyone in this town. I haven’t been here in so long.
And I really miss Gran.” Tears glittered in her eyes as she spoke of her grandmother. She really loved
that old woman.

“You know a thing or two about being lonely, don’t you? Having been here all these years. I would have
thought somebody would have come in and carved a woman for you. Somebody to ride you for all
eternity.” The thought of another woman, stone or not, was enough to make her jealous. “Okay, bad
idea. So, how have you been?” She laughed at the situation.

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Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to hold her tears at bay. She was losing it. Had to be. She was here in
the garden, talking to a statue and wanting nothing more than to throw herself into his arms.

“You know what the fairy tales say?” She looked up into his eyes, as if he could see her. “They say that
if you kiss the stone prince, he will come to life. Gran used to tell me that all the time. And when I was a
kid I was too frightened by the idea. But now...”

“Kiss me,” she swore the wind spoke to her again. It was probably just the hammering of her heart in
her ears. Either way, she stood and made her way to him.

* * * *

If he could speak, if he could take her into his arms, he would dry the tears sparkling in her eyes as she
approached him. Fairy tales. How often had the old woman come into the garden and spouted words
she didn’t really believe? If she believed them to be true, surely she would have opened the book, read
the ritual and found a way to break the spell. It wasn’t for her to break, though. He knew this just as he
knew his own heart. The old woman had not been the one.

But the girl standing before him, yes, she was the one who was destined to come and set him free. How
long had he watched her? Sent her images? Dreams? It felt like an eternity. But when one had been stone
for more than a thousand years, everything seemed to be an eternity. He would have thought that by now
he would be used to his lot in life. Never. He would never grow accustomed to it. Especially not now that
freedom was staring him in the face, advancing toward him.

She was nervous, unsure. He could tell by the way her eyes avoided him as she approached. He willed
his hand to move, to reach out and grasp the breasts shining so beautifully through her nightgown. Her
erect nipples called out to his mouth, his fingers. The wind had blown her hair back off her shoulders,
exposing the rise and fall of her chest, exposing the creamy flesh peeking out from the lace of her gown.

He watched her swallow hard and close her eyes as she leaned into him. Oh to have felt the graze of her
lips on his! It would have been worth the thousand-year curse if only he could feel her. She moved away
from him, raising herself, licking her lips, her eyes still closed. And then she did something he hadn’t
expected.

She raised her nightgown, revealing her naked body to him, allowing the moonlight to shine down on her
flesh. She was amazing. Perfectly shaped breasts so large he would have to hold them up with both
hands. A nice curvy body complete with womanly hips and a soft cushion of flesh at her waist. The red
hair on her head was an exact replica of the tiny curls that lay between her thighs. How he wished he
could run his finger through them, become tangled with them, taste them and all their secrets!

Her breasts swayed and bounced as she walked toward him. If he had breath to hold, he would have
been holding it, waiting for her, wondering what she planned to do next. She couldn’t have found the
book. It was too soon. She couldn’t know that joining with him would release him. Of course, it would
take more than once, but with a body like hers, he knew she could pleasure herself. She was made for
pleasure.

She circled around him, hiding her body from his view. When she threw her arms around his back, he
wished he had the power to turn and hold her. He felt her tears roll down his stony back. When the sobs
went through her body, he tried to call to her once more.

“Come to me, Kate.”

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As if she heard him, she came back around to face him, her face streaked with tears, the sobs still
shaking her glorious body. Her pain made him want to reach out to her, to hold her, to protect her. He
couldn’t do any of this until he was free.

He waited for her next move and was completely surprised when she stepped forward and ran her
hands along his arms. Her eyes never left his, but he could sense that she was avoiding his cock. As if she
had to move quickly or she would change her mind, she grabbed his cock, placed her free hand on his
shoulders and slid her silky warmth around him. Her audible gasp would have been enough, were he
alive, to send him over the edge. As it were, he was forever erect, there to pleasure her for as long and
as often as she wished.

She sat perfectly still for what seemed like forever. One hand clung to his neck while the other snaked
around his waist, caressing his hard back. He wished he could feel her cream spill out around him. He
closed his eyes, imagining how amazing she would be as she began lifting herself off his cock and then
impaling herself once more.

It seemed like hours with her sitting in his lap, riding his cock, bringing herself to ecstasy over and over
again. Now that she was no longer ashamed, she looked up into his eyes, hers clouding over with
passion. She rubbed her breasts against his stone chest before tweaking her nipples. All the while, she
continued to grind herself into his cock, driving it further and further into her, resting it against her womb.

Her legs twined around his waist while her clit rubbed against him.

She circled her hips, pressing herself further into him, seeking her release three, four times. He lost count.
She bit her lip until it was red and swollen. He ached to bite the same lip, to bring it the same ecstasy she
now spent on herself. He wanted to take her in every way possible. Wanted to feel her quake and spasm
around him. Wanted to smell her perfume on him, wanted to taste her cream for himself.

He cursed those who damned him to this existence! If Kate knew the ritual, she wasn’t yet reciting the
words, which could only mean one thing. She wasn’t here to break the spell. She was here because she
wanted to be. His heart would have tightened at that thought, had it been free from its restraints. He had
managed to do to her in one lifetime what he had been unable to do in a thousand years. He had gotten
to her. When she placed herself on his cock, opening her womanly core up to him, she placed her trust
into his hands. What they shared was sacred, secret. No one would know save for them. No one would
venture into the garden and discover their secret, forbidden passion.

Too soon, she pulled herself from his body, her face red from the shared passion. She didn’t look into
his eyes as she walked over and scooped up her discarded nightgown. If he could will himself to life, he
would go to her, tell her he felt her pain, her loneliness. As it was he watched as she slipped the gown on
over her head and turned to face him one last time.

Again, she avoided his cock as her eyes met his. He swore she could see into his soul. He ached to
reach out to her. When her lips brushed against his again, he willed himself to move. It was no use. He
would forever be stone. But there was one difference now. He had found a woman who was willing to
make love to him as he stood in the garden. That alone was enough to comfort him. But the nagging
sensation swept through him. If he tried hard enough, he could send her a dream, tell her about the
books, the ritual. And then she could set him free.

Chapter Four

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Dawn found her curled up in her grandmother’s favorite chair in the library, fighting shame for what she
had done beneath the moonlight. The sad part of it was her stone lover was perhaps the best one she’d
ever had. How ironic was that? She thumbed through an old text of fairy tales, finding nothing especially
interesting in there.

The fire that she’d built when she came back inside had all but died down. The ache between her thighs
hadn’t. She’d had to stretch severely to accommodate his size and could still feel the effects on her
muscles. Her skin was still heated from their joining. And her heart still raced thinking about how his cock
felt impaling her body.

She picked up her cup of tea and tried to sip it as if tonight had been the most routine night in the world.
No one would ever belief she had gone off the deep end and made love to a statue. Not that she would
ever tell a soul even if she had someone to tell.

Journals. Surely her grandmother kept her journals in here. She stood and stretched, wishing she could
go back to sleep. She was beyond sleepy now, consumed by the kind of weariness that kept people
awake all night. The clock chimed six a.m., startling her at first. By the third stroke, her heart had
stopped racing. She was so jumpy. What did she think, her stone lover was going to walk through the
door? Not likely.

The faded volumes of fairy tales, folk tales, home remedies and literary first editions lined the library
walls. She scanned the spines, searching for her grandmother’s initials, knowing the journals were here
somewhere. She pulled an old Hawthorne from the shelf, causing three more books to fall as it was
pulled free.

When she bent down to scoop them up, the one on top caught her attention. It was opened to a page,
which contained a pencil drawing of a young man who--her heart leapt into her throat--looked exactly
like the stone statue.

His hair was wild, being blown by the wind. The light strokes of the pencil indicated his blond hair. His
eyes laughed at the artist while his arms were spread out as if he were welcoming the entire world into his
embrace. The ancient clothing adorning his body made him indeed look like a fairy prince. She
swallowed hard at the thought. The man in the garden was a statue, she reminded herself again. He was
not, was not a cursed prince!

Still, she found herself carrying the volume back to her chair, running her fingers along his face when she
settled in. This man was alive! Every muscle indicated that his body was filled with vigor. The lines of his
face, the curve of his neck, the hair on his arms. Tears threatened to spill over. She was exhausted. If she
would only sleep, she knew when she woke, she would be thinking rationally. Right now, there was
nothing she could do to conjure rational thought.

She read the passage next to the drawing. And that was when her entire world seemed to come undone.

Rendering men stone. Let me tell you, granddaughter, how the trick is accomplished. And let me tell you
of the kingdom destroyed by a dark prince.

This was not her grandmother’s journal. It was her great-grandmother’s journal and it confirmed what
she had always believed. Her family, the women at any rate, practiced witchcraft. She knew it was true.
How many times had she felt the full moon calling to her? Heard the whispers on the wind? If her
great-grandmother knew how to turn a man to stone, then she was the one responsible for the man in the
garden. The man! Not a statue. She felt as if she were going to be sick. Her stomach twisted into a tight

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knot while her eyes locked onto the text, unable to look away.

She flipped back to the beginning of the journal and started to read. What she uncovered there was a
wealth of knowledge she never knew existed.

December 30. The house is complete. We cleared the land around the statue, which was exactly where
I was told it would be. It took months and we took great care not to destroy the garden. Plants like you
have never imagined grow there. If it wasn’t for March and Laura, I would have never known he existed.
They believed. They swore the land lay just on the edge of the pastures our father worked. And they
were correct. We used our inheritance, three spinster sisters, to clear the land and build the home. The
men in town think we’re nuts. Call us witches. There is one who has my eye. Always has. Jim Nelson. I
wonder if he’d look at a twenty-year-old who lives with her two sisters? Perhaps I shall ask him.

She continued to flip through the journal, reading randomly. Finally, another entry caught her attention.

June 15. We have recovered the lost texts. Most of them were in bookstores around the country,
waiting to be taken home. And I, six months pregnant, have nothing but time on my hands. Jim is helping
me catalogue everything. He’s such a sweetie. March and Laura have found men as well. Some day, we
shall fill up the house with children and grandchildren.

I have read the first. I know the origin now of the man. It is as I had always heard, as March had always
promised. He was cursed. But none of us can save him. The kiss of true love is needed. And a few other
things. Things none of us have to give to him.

I have not yet translated the spell. I’m not even sure if I can. The ancient language is not Latin in origin. I
shall keep trying. I do know that to break the spell, one must mate with the man--the statue--three nights
in a row while saying the words. I wonder if it matters what they mean? Perhaps reciting them will be
enough. But love. Love is the key. And all our hearts are taken.

Kate ran her fingers over the spell, attempting to pronounce the words. Three consecutive nights.
Reciting a spell and her prince would come to life? It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

* * * *

Jarret watched as she entered the garden. She had not yet dressed for the day, and the haggard look in
her eyes told him she had not yet slept. A worn text was tucked beneath her arm while her hands clung to
a delicate porcelain cup.

Taking her place on the bench in front of him, she placed the book next to her. Her eyes ran up and
down his form, as if she were contemplating something. She placed her cup next to her, her fingers
shaking. Then she picked up the book, turned to a marked page and began to speak.

Everything stood still as the words poured from her lips. She was speaking a language he hadn’t heard in
centuries. The curse. She was reciting the curse. Of course, her pronunciation was off, her Southern
accent wreaking havoc on the vowels and some of the consonants, but the basic structure was there. If
she were to practice it, if someone were to guide her, she could easily learn the words. And be taught to
say them in reverse.

She stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular, her mouth open. He watched as she
settled herself onto the bench, pulling her legs up, curling up onto her side, he book clutched to her heart.
She continued to mumble the words until her eyes fluttered and finally closed. Only then did he dare

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speak to her.

“Kate?” At first everything was dark. The sun rose over his head and he saw her sitting on the bench,
warming herself in the sun.

“I’m here.”

“Kate, I need you to pay attention to what I have to tell you.”

“I always do,” she smiled, unaware of the tension building in his chest. He hoped he didn’t sound as
desperate as he felt.

“I know, love. But this is so important. You have found a way to release me. And I need you to do so.
It should begin tonight. As soon as possible.” She turned her doe eyes up to look at him, making his heart
twist at the thought of what he was asking of her.

“I would do anything for you.” He smiled, knowing she was not so agreeable in her ordinary life. To be
honest, she usually wasn’t this agreeable in her dreams.

“It began last night. When you came to me, to love me. I need you to do it again. I need you to say the
words.”

“To set you free.” Her eyes were like glass as she spoke to him. Something wasn’t right. It was as if she
were in a trance.

“You think you can control her.” The deep voice boomed from behind him as the dark man stepped
from the shadows. “You think she came to you last night.” He laughed, revealing his pointed teeth.

“What are you doing here?” He stood and faced the other man. After a thousand years, he thought the
other curse would have been broken.

“Same as you.” He shrugged and leaned against the fence.

“You stay away from her,” Jarret warned, his blood heated at the thought of his wicked brother getting
his hands on Kate.

“I should say the same to you. She came last night because of me. I was with her just before she woke.
She wishes to free me.”

“How dare you? You know she is mine!”

His brother waved away the anger Jarret directed at him. “You do not think she would come to you,
ride you like a champion if it weren’t for me? You think highly of yourself, oh, dear brother.”

“Stop,” her voice broke through the venom they were throwing at one another. “I don’t understand any
of this. Who are you?”

Jarret’s heart sank when she directed the words at him. His brother, self-assured, folded his arms. He
had been a fool to think a woman would have come into the garden for him and him alone. He should
have known his other half, his virtual twin, would have gotten to her.

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“Never mind him, love. He is but a figment. I am the real man.”

Jarret’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched his mirror image lean down and cover Kate’s mouth
with his. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. And there could be no fight to the death, no
duel for Kate’s affections. The truth of the matter was they were both two halves of him, divided by the
sorceress’s spell.

His other part, the dark part, may have been what drove Kate to come into the garden in the first place,
but she made love to Jarret last night. He was the one there watching her pleasure herself. He was the
one who ached to touch her, who had fallen in love with her, who had entered her dreams so many
nights. Every chance he could except for the nights when he had been shut out by some unforeseen force.

He looked at his brother, understanding dawning on him. He wished to be free as well and had gone to
Kate in her dreams, too. They would end this thing, but not here. Not where they were all in danger of
losing their souls. Kate would free them and then it would be decided. If she came for him, for his true
essence, accepting both his strengths and weaknesses, then he could again be whole. And he could stay
with her forever. If not, he didn’t want to think about it. They would all be in danger.

He turned away from the spectacle of his brother and Kate. The battle could be fought another day. For
now, he would wait. In three days, they would be free. And as far as Kate knew, everything she had
shared with his evil half was nothing but a dream. What she had done with Jarret; that was real.

* * * *

There were two men in her dream this time. But one of them pulled her more strongly than the other,
making her wonder why she had dreamed of two. They both spoke the same words. Unlock the spell.
But the one who kissed her ignited a flame inside her body that couldn’t be ignored.

The other seemed to disappear into the darkness as the one began lifting her from the stone bench.

She was already wet, having been prepared for his touch from the moment he kissed her. He could drive
himself into her easily if he wanted. Take her as he had before. Bend her over the stone bench and thrust
until he shot his hot liquid into her body. But he didn’t.

Instead, he carried her to a soft covering of wild red clover and placed her there while he disrobed. With
every inch of black clothing he removed from his body, her longing for him grew. If only he would reach
down and touch her, give her what she wanted most. Her breasts heaved at the thought, her nipples hard
and waiting.

“Spread your legs for me,” he coaxed as he bent down on one knee, his glorious cock hard with
anticipation.

She did as directed, raising her flimsy blue gown to her waist, letting the satin material graze against her
stomach. The clover between her legs teased her woman’s flesh, tormenting her, making her wonder how
he would take her tonight.

“Are you going to free me, love? Are you going to say the words?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

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“Yes, tonight,” there was a hint of longing in her voice. He hadn’t yet touched her.

“Good. Then I shall give you what you need.”

He placed his hands on her thighs, holding her legs to the ground. A wicked gleam overtook his gaze as
he dipped his head between her legs for a taste. She arched her back in anticipation. When his teeth
seized her tender bud, she swore she would lose her mind. He pulled at it, continuing to torment her. His
biting became more intense as he sucked then chewed on her swollen clit.

“You like that?” His words caressed her, his breath hot against her.
“Mmmm.” She couldn’t manage a more complete answer.
“I want you to show me something.”
“Anything.” She was at his mercy and would fulfill any desire he had.
“I want you to please yourself. As if I weren’t here. I want to watch

you.”

A shiver of desire ran up her back. At this moment she would do anything for him. The idea that he
wished to watch her was enough in itself to put her on edge.

“How?”
“As if you were alone.”
If she were alone, she would be underneath the covers, clinging to her

trusty vibrator. She suspected this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to see all of her, to watch her
muscles spasm with release, to watch her cream build and flow out of her. The thought alone was
invigorating.

She reached down, spreading her lips with one hand and using the other to stroke her clit. Her pussy
was already beyond wet, her cream having slid out to coat her asshole and the clover she lay on. She
teased at her clit, knowing how to rub the fleshy exterior without touching the delicate head, which was
still swollen and sore from his rough handling of it. Pulling her lips back further, she opened herself for him
to see, letting him watch as her fingers slipped around her clit and slid into her tight box.

She inserted them and then quickly pulled them out, returning to work on her clit. Arching her back, she
continued to work, now pushing her fingers deep inside her while the other hand massaged her clit. The
waves were building beneath the surface. When she looked into his eyes and saw how enthralled he was
with her loving, she fell over the edge.

As the orgasm ravaged her body, she removed her hands. Her breath caught in her throat when he
entered her with no warning. It didn’t take long for him to find his release, spilling himself into her once
more. She clung to his back as he took her over and over.

He finally flipped her over so she could ride him, just as she had ridden him when he was stone. Tonight,
he was alive. He was part of her. She looked down at him, watching his eyes. That was when she
realized there was something different about him. Something had changed and she wasn’t sure what it
was.

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All her doubts were erased when she came again. He growled low as she milked his cock, bringing him
to his release. When she collapsed on top of him, she had all but forgotten her doubts.

Chapter Five

Kate woke up around noon, having fallen asleep in the garden. Her entire body felt alive with energy.
She knew what she must do. She recited the words over and over throughout the day, just as they had
come to her in the dream. For the next three nights, she would mount her stone lover, ride him to her own
ecstasy, unashamed, and bring him to life.

She sang to herself as she prepared dinner. Nothing could spoil her mood. The dreams she’d had today
only solidified her desire to awake the prince who was waiting for her in the garden.

“You were right, Gran,” she sang over the high pitch of the teakettle. “Fairy tales are real. Princes are
real. All of it.”

She couldn’t wait for the sun to go down. Her body practically pulsed with wanting, which was
heightened by the thought that she was actually going to bring her dream lover to life. The man whose
teeth grazed her flesh, whose kisses burned straight through to her soul. The man who one night was a
passionate, fiery lover and the next was a white knight speaking flowery words of courtly love. He was
everything she wanted wrapped into one. An enigma. A wonder. And she knew loving him in reality
would by far surpass her expectations.

When the sun finally said good-bye, Kate was ready. She walked into the garden, unafraid, all her
restraints having been left behind. Tonight would begin the first night of her destiny. She felt it coursing
through her veins.

“Hello, lover,” she smiled when she approached him. His stone face seemed softer than it had before,
but she knew this was only because she had become more accustomed to it.

She mounted him, sliding her wet warmth all around him, filling herself to the hilt, taking all of him in.
Tonight, as she rode to her climax, she clung to him, covering his chest with caresses and kisses. She
came quickly, reciting the words over and over, hoping the spell would take hold.

The dreams had stopped now. And her anticipation grew as the days melted away and she longed for
the nights.

By the third night, Kate’s impatience was growing. She longed to know how it would feel to be caressed
by her lover, to take him into her arms, into her bed. The serious case of nerves she had developed
earlier in the day had not eased as she sat in the garden, drinking a glass of wine, waiting for the sun once
more to sink into the horizon. When the last golden rays said their good-byes, she looked up at her lover.

It was now or never. She couldn’t start the ritual from scratch. Forcing herself to rise, she walked over
to him, ran her hand along his arm.

“I hope I am everything you hoped for.” The thought that she could disappoint him was one that crept up
on her today. She was no supermodel. Her plain, boring red hair always hung in a shapeless mass and
her brown eyes had little to no luster. She was built more like Venus de Milo with arms than Britney
Spears. Slowly, she removed her robe and tossed it aside.

She mounted him from behind, sitting in his lap rather than facing him. She slid onto him slowly, already

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wet for him, waiting for him. Kate had come to enjoy these nights with her man of stone, but she knew
they couldn’t compare to what they would have when he came to life.

She recited the words slowly at first, letting them form and fall off her lips. They were the key to bringing
her lover to life. Her heart leapt into her throat when her voice was joined by a deep male voice. The
arms which had been stationary now encircled her waist. And the cock firmly planted deep inside her
became human.

His breath caressed her neck, her shoulders just before his lips grazed against her bare skin. “Thank
you,” he whispered against her.

The tears stinging her eyes refused to be held at bay. They spilled out of their own volition, dropping
onto her breasts, which were now being covered and massaged by strong, masculine hands.

“I want to see you, Kate. Will you turn around?”

She turned to face him and was stunned by the light blue of his eyes, the beautifully gold tone of his skin,
the way his golden hair curled around his ears. His smile was the stuff of toothpaste commercials but his
sensual lips held a hint of mischief. “Welcome back.”

“You are beautiful,” he smiled just before his lips covered hers, tasting at first and then growing more
demanding.

It took some maneuvering, but he held her firmly as she twisted around so that she was now facing him
and her clit was pressed against his mass of dark blond hair. The only thing she could do was look deep
into his eyes as she sat there with his cock deep inside her, adoration pouring out of him. He was exactly
as she thought he would be.

“Now that the spell is broken, I should love to have you in bed.”

“All you had to do was ask. But first, I’d like to know your name.”

“Jarret. My name is Jarret. And I don’t think I can allow you to raise off of me.” His accent was foreign,
reminding her of her friends on the border between Scotland and England.

“Then I won’t.”

She continued to move on him slowly, loving him, running her hands all over his chest, unsure if he was
really real or if she had once again fallen asleep. His face tightened, his jaw clenched and she knew his
orgasm was close. When he finally came, he clung to her as if she were his lifeline. The shudders that ran
through his body escaped into hers, sending her over the edge as well. She clung to him, her hands
twining in his hair as he once again took her lips with his.

“You are amazing,” he smiled against her lips when he broke the kiss.

“And you’re probably starving. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to someone who was just stone.”

She felt herself blushing as she moved away from him and gathered her robe.

“There is nothing to say. I am the one who owes you everything. You gave me back my life.”

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Yes, she had. And now she fully expected him to leave. Thanks for breaking the spell and all, but now
I’ve got to go find me a real princess. When she turned around, he was still standing in front of her,
naked and oblivious to the fact.

“You don’t owe me anything. I did it for myself, really.”

“Oh?” Something akin to worry crossed his face.

“Yeah. To see if you were real or not. Well, you are.” Her heart ached at her words. She didn’t want to
seem too needy. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was so desperate for a man that she
had to conjure one up from stone.

“I am very much real.” He took her into his arms, something that should have calmed her, but instead
unnerved her. She was losing her mind. Too many different emotions overtook her. The first of which
was that fear again that she would disappoint him. And right now, it overrode every other rational
thought. “And you’re right, I am starving.”

* * * *

Something was wrong with Kate. Jarret sat dressed in some of her grandfather’s old clothes, watching
her over the pasta dinner she had fixed for him. He wouldn’t allow his brother to be correct. She wanted
him, all of him. Not just the dark side. There was too much good in her for her to succumb to someone
who was so filled with evil intentions. Once he set his mind to something, Jarret’s dark half could not be
controlled. And he feared that his mind was not only set on Kate but set on destroying Jarret.

He watched her swirl the red wine in her glass, her eyes focused on the door that led to the garden. She
had changed her mind about him. He hadn’t been the lover she wanted. His heart sank at the thought. If
he didn’t do something to win her over, to unite his two halves, they would both be doomed. And worse,
they would take Kate with them.

“Have I done something to upset you?”

“What? Oh, no. This is just so weird. I can’t help but wonder how you got there. You know, all those
thousand questions I have.”

“I can imagine. I will answer anything you ask. Though I cannot be certain it will make any sense.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Over a thousand years. And all that time, I watched the leaves change, watched the houses come and
go, learned the language. And longed for someone to free me. And then you came.”

“And now you’re obligated to me or something?” He heard the strain in her voice. She was as
concerned about their strange relationship as was he.

“No. Nothing like that. I owe you a great deal, but I am not here out of honor. I am here because I wish
to be. Because only a woman such as yourself could free me.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him. Everything he said was true. She was unlike any other, which was
the reason he wanted to be with her. All those times she had come to the garden, he longed to touch her,
wished to have his hands in her hair. And now that they were here together, the whole experience

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seemed too odd.

He rose and stood next to her. “Please, allow me to prove myself to you. I shall not disappoint you.”

“But what if I disappoint you?” Her soft brown eyes were misting over with tears again, tears that he
wished he could kiss away. Something had happened to her to destroy her confidence in herself, her
beauty. And he was determined to help her regain it.

“You could never disappoint me.”

He held his hand out to her and waited for her to accept it. When she placed hers in his and rose to
stand before him, a cold chill went through his body. They were not alone. His other half had come
through with him. He could feel him standing just outside the house. Wrapping his arms around Kate and
pulling her into him, he vowed to protect her from the part of him he knew had the potential to destroy
anything she may feel for him.

Her flesh felt so warm, so inviting as he caressed the back of her neck, lifting her hair so he could run his
fingers along her soft skin. His heart swelled with emotion. He knew deep inside himself that she had
come to him that night in the garden because she wanted to. She wished to be with him. It had nothing to
do with whatever dreams or visions his dark half was sending to her.

Jarret had gone to her in her dreams, too. He tried not to manipulate her, tried to honor her by keeping
his distance, allowing her to make her own decisions about how she wished to proceed. As much as he
wished she would return to him and unleash him, he would not force her. He remembered her as a child,
looking up at him with wonder. And then again as a teen-ager. The last time he saw her, she had been
twenty and stunningly beautiful. He knew then that he must bring her back. The dreams seemed to be the
only way to get through to her.

“I should like to see you prove yourself.” This time when she looked up at him, there was a hint of
mischief in her eyes. As if she knew the inner workings of his mind and knew how he longed to be inside
her again.

“Then lead me to your bedchamber. And I shall prove myself all night long.”

Chapter Six

Kate led Jarret to her bedroom while she fought off the butterflies that were building in her stomach. She
still couldn’t quite believe she had made love to a thousand-year-old statue and managed to bring him to
life. And she couldn’t deny the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with the whole thing. She
still wasn’t sure why he had been cursed in the first place. The journal hadn’t shed any light on the topic.
And to tell the truth, she had been too excited about the prospect of him being real to question why a
man would have such a spell placed on him. There had to be a reason, right?

She wanted to ask him, but right now the desire to be with him, to hold him and be sure that he was
alive, overrode every other instinct she had. He stood at the doorway while she lit candles, illuminating
the room, casting an eerie glow on his golden skin. When she turned to him, she saw a look of worry
flash across his face. They both knew something was wrong. They had fallen into this without asking the
questions that needed asking. Now it was too late. All they wanted to do was be with one another and to
hell with the consequences.

She moved forward, allowing her robe to fall open as she walked. He smiled and then stepped forward,

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his long legs taking their time crossing the room. Even though her grandfather’s clothes didn’t exactly fit,
they were too short in the legs and too tight across the chest, he still looked magnificent. And the way he
held himself was as if he were royalty, which, she reminded herself, he was.

When his arms encircled her waist and his mouth came down upon hers once more, all her doubts fled.
This was right. It felt right. And she wouldn’t let some nagging feeling on the corner of her mind stop her
from enjoying spending the night with him. This and every night, if he would allow it. She knew now that
she had come to love the man who came to her in her dreams. And she would do anything to help him
make up for the past thousand years.

“You smell like the most exotic flowers,” he whispered as his lips trailed their way down her neck and to
her shoulder. She shuddered against him, her body responding to his heated mouth. “Worth waiting a
thousand years.” His tongue lapped at her neck and then ran along the swell of her breasts.

His hands worked their way around to her breasts, lifting them, holding them up for his mouth to sample.
When his tongue came into contact with one hardened bud and then the other, it was all she could do to
stand still. Her hands went into his hair, twining into the wayward curls, pulling his mouth against her
body.

He raised his head and looked deep into her eyes when she moved away to pull him toward the bed. He
stepped in time with her, advancing until he was flush against her again. She pulled him into her as she
reclined on the bed, bringing him down on top of her. The mattress gave way against her back, cradling
her in its embrace. His chest made contact with her chest and she felt his heart beating against hers.

Once more, he took her mouth with his, darting his tongue into her mouth, exploring, tasting, teasing. His
teeth brushed against hers, causing his lips to turn up into a smile. He was amazing. Kissing him made her
head reel, made every fairy tale she’d ever read or written seem to come to life. His mouth demanded
her attention, sending heat coursing through her body, forcing all thought from her mind save for thoughts
about him, having him inside her, running his tongue along her body, taking her breasts into his hands.

As if he knew her innermost thoughts, his hands began to stroke her sides and made their way up to her
breasts. He lifted them, pressing them together, bringing her nipples within inches of one another. Then,
he took them both into his mouth, worshipping them at the same time. At first, he sucked them lightly.
Then his labors became more intense as he bit the tender tips and then took as much of her flesh into his
mouth as he could. The sounds of him taking her into his mouth were enough to make her shiver with
desire.

“Let me love you,” he said the words as he nuzzled against her breasts. They traveled down her body
and entered into her heart, making her wish she could tell him just how glorious he made her feel. He
raised himself above her, sitting back on his heels. “I want to look at you.”

She had always felt ashamed of her body, but for some reason, he made her feel wonderful, beautiful. It
was more than anyone had ever done for her. With him, she felt as if he really did care for her as
something other than the person who had freed him from his curse. And her heart soared at the thought
that someone like him, someone who had seen lifetimes come and go, could find peace with someone
like her.

“You are amazing.” He smiled down at her before dipping his head down to capture her breast once
more. She arched against him, wishing he would move a little lower and give her the release she so
needed.

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When his fingers finally made contact with her swollen bud, she let out a tiny moan. His fingers felt
incredible moving against her skin, parting her lips, massaging her clit. He knew exactly how to touch her
to make her wet. She felt her juices slipping out of her, coating his fingers as he maneuvered them around
her mound and down to her slit.

He slipped his fingers deep inside her, pressing them against her inner core, touching her in the most
intimate way, searching for her G-spot. When he made contact with her there, she began pulsing and
clenching around him, begging him to enter her, to give her what she really wanted.

She felt his cock rest against her thigh, rock hard, as it had been in the garden. He took her lips with his
one last time before pulling his fingers from her opening. In one motion, he entered her, filling her
completely. Her pussy, still clenching from her last orgasm, welcomed him with a tight squeeze, warning
him of the pleasures that lay within.

At first, he remained still, his shaft buried deep inside her. When he began to move, slipping in and out of
her, she arched against him, the sensation of him filling her and then moving from her body more than she
could stand. Her lips stretched to accommodate him each time he entered her and then pulled out all the
way to his swollen head and then thrust himself back into her.

The whole time he loved her, his hands stayed tangled in her hair, his eyes held hers firmly as if they were
hypnotizing her, forcing her to look at him. Watching his blue eyes smolder with desire and passion only
heightened the intensity of their joining.

His movements became frenzied as he began to pump into her, increasing the friction of his pubic hair
against her clit. She clung to his back, her nails raking across his flesh as he drove into her more fully,
filling her completely before shooting his hot liquid against her womb.

He groaned and his eyes changed to that look of passion and agony she recognized from the statue. She
realized now that he must have been having sex when he was turned to stone. The thought was enough to
make her stomach do a little flip-flop and her heart feel heavy. Who had done this to him? And why had
it taken so long to free him?

When he collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged against her ear, all she wanted to do was hold him,
keep him safe from whatever evil had enslaved him so long ago. Now more than ever, she felt the
malfeasance lingering just outside his warm embrace. And she felt as if she were the only one who could
protect him.

* * * *

He waited for her at the edge of the garden. If he had learned nothing about her in the past, he learned
one thing. She was curious beyond belief. And he knew she would return to the scene of her act. That
was why it was no surprise to him when she came into the garden dressed only in her robe, pulling it
tightly around her body.

He had prepared for their meeting. Earlier when she had been busy mating with his other half, he crept
into the house and found clothing and food. He listened outside her chamber as his brother made sweet
love to her, promising her things he would never be able to give. Promising her a future that was not his to
offer.

Jarret was a sentimental fool. He would never be able to control a woman such as Kate. Not with soft
words of love and affection. What Kate wanted, what she longed for, what made her eyes glaze over

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with desire and her pussy fill with cream was hot lust. And he alone could give that to her. Not Jarret.

Waiting until she sat on the bench, he came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders,
awaiting her response. She threw her head back and moaned, a sound, which went straight to his cock,
causing it to awaken

with desire for her. How many times had she moaned for him like this? Too many to count. He could
give her things Jarret would never be able to give. “You couldn’t sleep either,” she said, closing her eyes
as he rubbed

her shoulders. “No. I couldn’t. I thought I would find you here.” “I had to come back. Just to see.” “Did
you find what you needed?” “I have now.” “As have I.” His hands slipped down to her exposed chest,
parting the

robe, revealing her beautiful breasts. He moved them lower, taking her breasts into his hands, cupping
them, raising them so he could look at her rosy tips.

“Mmmm. That feels incredible.”
“I can make it feel better if you’d like.”
“You know I would.”
He wondered if she had been this bold with Jarret, a man who did not

often inspire boldness in women. He released her and walked around to the front of the bench. “Spread
your legs for me,” he said softly as he reached for the tie on her robe.

“So soon? But we just...” he placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. He did not wish to hear what she
had just done. All he wanted to hear was her panting beneath him.

“Spread them.” She obeyed, parting her legs for him, revealing her soft curls. He pulled her to the edge
of the bench so that her pussy was open for him and easily accessible.

Dipping his head between her legs, he took her into his mouth. He could still smell his other half on her.
It mattered not. He would erase all memories of Jarret’s tender love with his wicked brand. Taking her
lips into his mouth, he sucked at them until she cried out, half in pain, half in ecstasy.

When he was satisfied that she was at the edge of rapture, he unzipped his pants and let them fall to the
ground. In one motion, he entered her, pulling her up to him and then spinning her around so that she sat
in his lap and he sat on the bench.

“Now, love, I want you to ride me like you did when I was still made of stone.”

* * * *

Jarret watched from the window. He had been surprised to find the bed empty and even more surprised
to find Kate impaled on his other half, riding him as she had once ridden Jarret. This must end. She had
no idea that she was dealing with two men, one with only her best interests in mind and the other bent on
destruction of everything and everyone he touched.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her form as she loved his other half with wild abandon, throwing her head
back, reaching up to caress her breasts. There was a balance here and he could find it. But first, he had

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to trust her. He had to tell her the truth. It was time to reveal to her that when she brought him through,
she brought something else through. Most importantly, it was time to find the book of shadows and figure
out how to end this curse and reunite his two personalities so he could finally be a whole person.

If Kate could come to terms with both his parts, the good and the bad, then maybe they had a chance.

Chapter Seven “What are you telling me?” Kate narrowed her eyes at him, not believing a word of what
he’d just said. There were two curses?

“Now calm down.” He sat across from her at the kitchen table, again dressed in her grandfather’s old
clothing. Handsome as he was, she still hadn’t come to terms with the idea that he was real. She just
knew that any minute she would wake up and find herself in the garden again. And if what he said was
true...

“I am calm. But you are telling me that there’s two of you, but you’re not twins?”

“Yes. I don’t understand it myself,” he raked a hand through his hair, the place where her hands had
been just hours ago as she clung to him, loving him in the garden. But he was telling her that the man in
the garden wasn’t him but was him? It made no sense.

“Tell me again what you do understand.”

“I know that part of the curse that was placed on me was for myself to be divided into two entities, one
good and one bad. It’s been a thousand years, Kate. I thought that by now the curse would have worn
off or something.”

“But you knew there was a chance that the two of you were still divided.” She avoided his eyes as she
spoke. Feelings of being deceived enveloped her. How could she have been so blind as to believe a
bunch of fairy tales? How could she have thought her prince would in fact be a true prince?

“Yes, I knew. I suspected. But when you came to me, I swear, I could feel you. Just you. And it was
the two of us and it was wonderful. Somewhere on the edge of my conscience perhaps I knew. I wanted
you so badly, wanted to feel you.”

She looked down as his hands covered hers. She knew he was being sincere. Otherwise, he would
never have told her. He would have continued to allow the deception. “So I have been making love to
two different men?”

“Yes and no. We are the same, but in two different bodies. One can’t survive without the other. We are
both part of me, of the whole me. And I feel that you care for us both a great deal.”

“How can I care for you both when I didn’t know there were two of you?”

“For exactly that reason. You didn’t realize there were two of us, which means you cared for me. For
both sides of me, the dark and the light.” His fingers continued to stroke the back of her hand as he
spoke.

“And you say this one side is evil? I haven’t felt anything evil.”

“That’s because he cares for you as well. He isn’t pure evil, but he has the potential for evil, a favoring
for the dark side. And he wants to control you, something I do not wish to do.”

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“Why would he want to control me?”

“Because that is the way he loves. He controls.”

She took in a long breath before raising her eyes back to his. “As I see it then, we have no choice but to
find a way to end this.”

“I agree. And I think the answer lies within your books. The ones you used to find the words to end the
other curse.”

She had fallen in love with him, but right now, her heart felt as if it were breaking. He had come to her in
her dreams, had called her back to this place, all with the intention of her breaking the spell. Okay, so he
said he cared about her. He could have warned her of the danger, could have told her there were two
men. And what did that say about her, that she had let two men love her and couldn’t tell the difference?

If she were to be honest, she would realize she had known there was a difference. Some nights, he was
soft and gentle, others he was wild and unhinged. Her heart sank. She knew there had been two all
along, she just hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. Hadn’t wanted to admit that she had come to care for
two men at the same time.

“If this is true, then where is your other half now?”

“I suspect he is in the garden, waiting for you.”

* * * *

Jarret poured through the books, silently watching Kate as she did the same. There were perhaps
thousands of books here with no system to separate them. She said the original books had been next to a
volume of Hawthorne. They had combed the library and had come up empty-handed. Jarret
remembered the curse. Now that he had regained movement of his limbs, his mind opened up. It was as
if he had been in a deep sleep, dreaming everything around him for a thousand years. Now that he was
awake, he was aware and he remembered.

He watched as she pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and looked over her glasses at the shelf
where she stood. She was amazingly beautiful, looking as if she belonged in his world so long ago rather
than this modern world he had watched destroy itself. The jeans that covered her body showed off her
every curve and the sweater clung to her breasts, outlining them in a very erotic way.

He longed to run his hands along her back, trail down to the fleshy curve of her ass, and pull her to him.
He ached with longing for her. It was as if he felt the need to make up for the past thousand years in
twenty-four hours, and only with this one woman. As if she could read his mind, she looked up from her
stack of books and smiled at him. He wondered if she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He felt that
he would never tire of her. She had already gotten under his skin in a very primitive way. All he could
think of was loving her.

“I think I may have found something.” He watched as she carefully pulled an old volume from the
shelves. Her eyes were lit up from her discovery. “This could be it.”

She sank down into one of the large leather chairs and pulled her legs under her so that she sat on them.
Sitting across from her on the large sofa, he watched as she opened the book. There was so much more

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he needed to tell her. Everything that had happened to him came back upon him, rushing his brain with
images, with words, with ancient spells.

He had to tell her everything. The whole truth, not just the part she could handle, but all of it.

“Kate, wait. I remember more about the spell. And I think you should know.”

She lowered the book into her lap and removed her glasses. “There’s more?”

“There’s a lifetime more. But I remember the spell. There were two, as you know.”

She folded her arms, a sure sign of her defiance. “I know.”

“And the one, the one that divided us, me. It was only part of the spell. The sisters, the ones who cursed
me, each tried to outdo the other.”

“Can you please just get to the point?”

“The point, as you put it, is that the two spells are tied to one another. And if you and I don’t reunite my
two halves, then we will both turn to stone.”

“You both? See, I don’t get that. Why was there just one statue in the garden if you both are under the
spell?”

“I was the one placed under the spell. He is a part of me, which is why there was only one statue. By
freeing us, you altered the spell. And now we, you and I, are in danger of turning to stone.”

“What do you mean you and I?”

“You and I, we are in danger of...”

“I know. I heard you. When were you going to tell me all of this?”

“Just now.”

“Well, just now isn’t good enough. God, you could have told me this before I set you free. When you
came to me in my dreams, forcing me to care about you, to love you. You could have warned me of the
danger instead of seducing me to wake you.” Her anger was obvious as she stood and stalked out of the
room, leaving him there to contemplate what to do next.

“Honesty is the best policy, brother.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Jarret looked up to find his dark side standing there.

“Hell is right. Where do you think I was while you were stone? I was in a hell of not knowing, not
feeling. And when you found your way to her, I found her as well. And I won’t allow you to change us
back. Or to destroy what I have built with her. She doesn’t love you. She loves me.”

“It isn’t about who she loves more. She cares for us both. She accepts us both. This is necessary if you
and I are to be reunited.” Jarret watched as his other half sank down into the chair where Kate had sat.

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“I can still smell her scent here. And our union, yours and mine, has nothing to do with this. If she
chooses me over you, I shall remain and you shall turn to stone.”

“According to what laws? There was nothing in the curse...”

“Ah, but I have been in hell. And hell plays by different rules. You never thought it existed. You called
the tales of darkness and demons fairy tales. You and I are fairy tales as well, yet here we sit. Battling for
love as it were.”

“I will not let you take her.”

“I already have. And will do so again. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I may not be able to stop you, but the moon shall.”

“You speak like a mad man.”

“No. I tell the truth. If you and I are not united by the time the dark moon rises, she will turn to stone as
well. And, brother, there is nothing you can do to stop that.”

* * * *

Kate stood at the door of the library, her heart clearly in her throat. Jarret never mentioned anything
about a time limit. Ever. She had only come back because she decided she was more afraid of the
prospect of turning to stone than she was mad at Jarret. The two distinct voices had caused her to stop.
Hearing them together, she realized they were in fact two different men. And she had been deceived by
both of them. Again. He knew about the time limit and hadn’t said a word to her about it. Oh, how the
prince in Sleeping Beauty would have been angered if he had known the princess tricked him while she
slept.

As it were, the fairy tales had some bogus explanation for why the curse was placed and then ended the
story at “happily ever after.” If only they had known. The Grimm brothers hadn’t been concerned with
getting it right. They were only concerned with collecting the tales as they were told. The storytellers, their
angles, and the truth of the matter held no interest for them.

She fought against her impulse to push open the door and spy the two sitting there, discussing her future
as if she were a mindless fairy princess. Times had changed. And she was going to take control of this
situation and regain power over her destiny. And the brothers Jarret wouldn’t know what hit them.

Determined to find the answers to their dilemma, she went back out into the garden. Perhaps she had
missed something there. If the statue had stood for a thousand years, surely the answer was there, too.
Buried somewhere beneath the base. Carved into the stone foundation where Jarret had sat. Something.
And she was determined to find it. Whatever it was, she was certain it would tell her how to end this
curse before it took hold and transformed her into something she had no desire to be. A stone princess!

Who would have thought unleashing the man of your dreams could come with so many complications?
She certainly hadn’t thought of the consequences when she set him free.

Chapter Eight

The marble foundation where Jarret had sat for a thousand years lay untouched. Kate walked all around

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it, hoping to spot a crack or something that could have been used to house a book. Anything to tell her
what to do to break this spell. Now that she knew what she was up against, she realized she had three
days to figure this all out. And she would do it without the help of Jekyll and Hyde.

Frustrated, she went back to the bench, the one where she had spent so many hours staring up at
Jarret’s statue. The one where she sat just last night with his double. Her grandmother truly had no idea
what she stirred when she planted the love of fairy tales into her head. Her damned curiosity had gotten
the better of her. This would be the last time something like this ever happened to her. No more having to
find out if a curse were real or not. No more getting to the bottom of fairy tales. From now on, she would
stay firmly planted in the real world.

The familiar hand on her shoulder startled her at first. When she turned to see him standing there, she
knew which one had come for her.

“How are you fairing this morning?”

“Like you care.”

“I do care, Kate. More than you know. And I wish to speak to you about the matter of your heart.”

“What do you know about my heart?” She folded her arms, determined not to fall victim to the wicked
gleam in his eyes as he joined her on the bench, his hand still stroking her shoulder.

“I know that I would like to have it. I know that I can give you more than you ever wished for.”

“Can you find an end to this spell I’m supposedly under? That’s pretty much the only thing I want right
now.”

“I can help you. You are the one who has the ability to find the cure.”

“You mean like I found the last one? No thanks.” She tried to stand, but his hand held her still. He
leaned in to her, his breath brushing against her ear. She swallowed hard, knowing what she really
wanted to do right now, rather than resist, was fall into his arms and let him love her the way he had in
her dreams. “How often was it you?”

“In your dreams?” She nodded. “I think you know when it was me. I am the one who stoked your
passion, who built a fire within your soul. You know which one was me.”

She did. She’d like to say that the sweet white knight had been enough for her. In truth, she really had
come to love them both. And the one who sat next to her now, breathing against her, tempting her with
his scent, with his nearness, had the power to set all her inhibitions free.

“You feel me now, deep inside you. If you close your eyes, you can imagine me inside you, taking you,
driving you to ecstasy. You know you want me.”

His lips made contact with her neck, causing a shiver to run down her body. She wanted him. Was that
so wrong? Just being near him was enough to make her want to throw herself at him. But she was so
angry at the deception. And he had been a part of it, too. He could argue that he had been in hell or
wherever, but the truth was, he knew what he had been doing when he came to her at night. And she had
allowed him in just as easily as she had allowed Jarret, which made her an equal partner in the blame.

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“Stop,” she pushed him away from her. “I have to find a way to make this better for all of us. You
understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I expected no less from you. You wish to rescue your white knight, but you also long
for me. You can’t have us both.”

Her gut protested this notion. She could have them both. That was the key to everything. All she had to
do was figure out when and how. If she could get them together, break down their defenses, then she
had a chance of reversing this thing and reuniting the men she loved.

She stood, determined to walk away from him this time. “We’ll see about that.”

* * * *

The answers were here somewhere. After combing the library, Kate went to the attic. Surely there was
a book. Think. She tapped her bottom lip, looking around the cluttered stacks of boxes, inhaling the
combination of mold and mothballs. What was that book Gran used to read to her? The trunk called to
her from the corner of her eye. She remembered playing dress up with the clothing in there. She
remembered pretending to be Rapunzel, swearing she’d never cut her hair.

The lid to the trunk was stuck, so she had to force it open with a broom handle. When it finally popped
open, the answer to her prayers lay on top. The old leather volume was well worn from the hours she
had spent pouring over it as a child. She carefully lifted it from its hiding place among the dresses and
plastic crowns. Just touching it reminded her of her grandmother. Tears glistened in her eyes, misting
them up as she made her way to the old rocking chair in the corner. She slowly opened the book, hoping
her instincts had been correct, hoping the answer lay in here.

She ran her finger down the table of contents, hoping to see something about a stone prince. There was
nothing but the usual tale of Sleeping Beauty. No mention of a sleeping prince. Frustrated beyond belief,
she was about to give up when she realized the back of the book had come undone. The paper covering
the leather binding had lifted, revealing a worn piece of yellowed paper.

Careful not to tear it, she lifted it from its hiding place and slowly unfolded it. She gasped, unable to
believe her luck. It was a map! Perfectly hand drawn, she saw where Jarret had sat, the rows of flowers,
the placement of the house. But most importantly, she saw a large X, which could only mean one thing.
This was the spot where the secret was buried.

She was thankful when she made her way back down to the garden that both men were not there. They
were probably in the library again arguing over her fate. Well, she would show them. She was
determined to find a way out of this without their help. And she was not above deception if necessary.
God knows she had been deceived enough by them.

When she pushed the shovel into the ground where the map indicated, she instantly made contact with
something. Brushing the dirt aside, she revealed a metal box, just large enough to hold a small book.
After pulling it from its bed of earth, she worked with the latch, hoping it hadn’t been rusted with time.
Luckily, it hadn’t.

The box groaned as it opened, revealing the book. This wasn’t an ancient book like she had expected.
Rather it appeared to be pretty modern. There was no inscription on the spine. When she opened it, she
realized this was her grandmother’s journal.

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I am writing this to you, Kate, because I know you are curious. And I know you are the one who will
allow the curiosity to get the better of you. If you choose to release what has slept in the garden, you
must know the tales. You must first understand what you seek to do.

He is a prince, Kate. His people ruled this land before white men came, before many of the natives were
here. We know very little true American history. But that is beside the point. My point is, dear Kate, the
curse is there for a reason.

The four sisters placed it on him, each in their own way. The first two bestowed him with gifts of beauty
and grace. The third, being a wicked heart, vowed to divide the land and did so by dividing its prince on
his twenty-first birthday. The fourth, trying to reverse what the third did, attempted to recall her curse. In
doing so, the prince would rule for nine years as two separate men, one dark and bent on control and
one light and bent on peace. At the end of the nine years, when the kingdom was on the verge of
destruction, the reign would end and the prince would be turned to stone.

Only true love could free him. Someone who was willing to love both his light and dark sides. That and
the ritual which is detailed in my great grandmother’s journals. You shall find it when you are ready.

When he is free, Kate, he will remain two halves. You will have until the dark moon to reunite him.
There is more to the union than physical. You must love them both, with your heart, with your body.
Otherwise, you will join their fate. Do you understand, dear? I know you are curious. I know you wish to
discover the truth. But unless you can join with them, you will become part of their fate.

Kate, you must make love to them both at the same time. And you must do away with your anger, your
suspicion. Know that if you were able to free them, they do love you.

I tell you this because this curse has been passed down to our family through generations. This is not a
tale of the brothers Grimm. This is a tale of our heritage. Your blood is part of their blood. It is ancient.
And you, my dear, are the one.

She ran her hand along the writing. Gran knew. All along she knew Kate would come back and unleash
that which she always dreamed of. She would be too curious, too enamored with the idea to let it rest.
And she would create a set of circumstances that she must control.

Make love to them both at the same time. Now there was an idea. The best of both worlds. The dark
prince and the white knight. But how to get them to cooperate? And how to reconcile her feelings for
them?

She stood, wiping the dirt from her jeans. Time was running out. She had three days to break this spell,
three days to find a way to make this work. And it had to be spontaneous. She knew that forcing the
situation would only lead to danger. They were both unpredictable at best. If she were to be in control of
the situation, she would have to manipulate them into taking part in it. Jarret would agree. He was as
willing and eager to break the spell as she was. His other half, though, she had no idea how to approach
him. But she did have the feeling that sharing was not on his mind.

She checked her watch. Three hours until sundown. There was no rule stating that she must join with
them at night, but her instincts told her this would be the only way to make things work. To fool Jarret’s
dark half into the joining, she must use the cover of night.

Seduction could do a lot for a man. She would seduce him, bring him wine, set the scene. He would be
more than willing. And then Jarret would join them. And the deed would be done. She had to admit that

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the idea of being with them both had a certain amount of appeal. What woman hadn’t secretly dreamed
of the same fantasy? Probably all of them. But she suspected very few of them made the fantasy a reality
as a means of avoiding an ancient curse.

Chapter Nine

The stage was set. She covered the marble foundation with a large velvet cloth and placed candles
around the outer edges. A feast of wine, chocolate covered fruit and other delights were arranged. Kate
stepped into a gold gown she had worn at a fairy tale convention a few years ago. The bodice was low
cut, allowing her breasts to spill over the top in a very seductive way. The slit up the side nearly went all
the way to her hips. Thankfully, the humidity cooperated and her hair resembled the ringlets she always
had in her dreams. She had to admit that even though everything looked perfect, she was extremely
nervous. Any number of things could go wrong.

She had told Jarret earlier about the book and what she knew they must do. He had taken her into his
arms, told her he loved her and was sorry for the deception. She knew he hadn’t meant to deceive her,
not in the way she was planning deception tonight. She was purposefully going to get his darker side
drunk and then have sex with them both without telling him in advance. She just hoped he wouldn’t
change his mind once he realized what she wanted. Of course, she planned to do all of this without telling
him that this act would reunite him with her white knight Jarret.

He entered the garden just as the sun went down. Naked to the waist, he had donned a pair of black
pants. He needed no shirt as the night was warm and his chest was amazing to look at. Kate watched
him as he ducked beneath the jasmine and made his way to her. She bit her lip, wondering if she could
physically go through with such an act. She had never done anything like this before and doubted her
own abilities.

The idea was such an appealing one, she was willing to give it a try, though.

She rose and went to him, taking his hand and leading him into her circle. He stopped on the edge and
pulled her back against him.

“You look amazing,” he breathed against her neck. “Good enough to eat.”

“Later.” She turned in his arms and smiled. “For now, you and I shall eat something else.”

He smiled, revealing his wicked smile to her. Her heart pounded with anticipation for what she had
planned. He followed her to the circle and sat down amid the pile of velvet pillows she had gathered.
“Everything looks wonderful.”

“Good. Can I offer you some wine?” She lifted the bottle from the bucket and poured a glass for him.
His fingers covered over hers when she held the glass out to him. Looking into his eyes, she swore she
saw the other half in there, too. The kind, gentle half.

She watched as he lifted the glass to his lips and took in a slow sip. “Very exotic.”

“I’m glad you like it. There’s more.”

“I have no doubt.” He reclined against the pillows, propping himself up on several of them, his eyes on
her every move, making heat radiate all through her body. Seeing him in such a regal pose reminded her
of the prince he once was. And the life he had left behind. “You look preoccupied.”

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“I was just thinking. About your life before the curse.”

“I had no life before the curse. I was nothing but a part of Jarret. Now I exist on my own. I have no
need of him.”

Her heart sank at his confession. She had to get a grip on herself and realize she wasn’t killing him. All
she planned to do tonight was return him to the place where he belonged, reunite him with his other half.
And break the curse that threatened to destroy them all.

“I think I need you both.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow at her admission.

“Yes, really. You both have something to offer me. And I think I need both of you in order to continue.”

He smiled. “That’s something which, I must say, never crossed my mind. Both of us, you say?”

She nodded. The gleam in his eyes told her he was contemplating her words.

“Tell me, Kate, what is it you would have me do? What would you have us do?” He leaned in to her as
he asked, running his fingers along her exposed thigh.

“I think you know.”

He smiled. “I think I know, too. But tell me, what does your white knight think of this? He is far too
honorable to be so lascivious.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” She bit her bottom lip as he advanced, the wine and dinner all but
forgotten. When his lips made contact with hers, it felt as if an eruption were taking place within her
body. She shook with anticipation, the thought of having them both more than she could handle.

“We shall have to see, then.”

He covered her body with his as his lips continued to graze against hers, softly at first, and then with a
maddening intensity. The sweet taste of wine greeted her when she opened her mouth to allow him entry.
His tongue darted in and out, exploring, probing, promising pleasure beyond this kiss, beyond this
moment.

Her breasts, which were flattened against his chest, ached with longing. They wanted his tongue on them,
his mouth wrapped around them. They wanted to feel him lick and suck and squeeze. The ache that went
even lower grew when his hands encircled her neck, tilting it to the side to allow him room to explore her
contours and tender flesh. He placed a kiss on her collarbone before moving his mouth down to the
heated, exposed skin of her chest.

Slipping his hands behind her, he unzipped her dress, freeing her breasts so he could give them the
attention they so deserved. Her nipples were already hard, begging for him, by the time the night air hit
them. He worked the dress down to her waist, covering her with light kisses along the way. His hands
seemed to be everywhere now, in her hair, on her breasts, moving her dress down lower.

When she opened her eyes, she realized Jarret had joined them and both men were determined to have

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her naked. Finally free of the dress, she arched her back as the dark half bent down between her legs
and parted them, allowing himself access to her already wet slit. Jarret sat behind her, placing her head
on his lap while he massaged her breasts. Never had she felt so many sensations run through her body at
once. Need gripped her, threatening to drive her insane. She wanted them both, wanted them inside her,
on top of her, under her.

She wriggled free of his dark half and turned onto her knees, placing her ass in the air. The mouth that
had been licking and sucking her clit was now busy biting her tender lips while his tongue delved inside
her. Fingers parted her, opening her further so he could go deeper for a better taste.

Her head still in Jarret’s lap, she unzipped his pants and freed his cock. It sprang forward, ready for the
mating. She took him in her mouth while her pussy was being covered with kisses by his other half. One
hand braced herself, raising her up so she could concentrate on him while the other gripped the base of
his cock and began stroking it back and forth while her mouth stayed focused on his swollen head.

She felt fingers slip into her. One at first and then several, stretching her, spreading her open, threatening
to shake her to the very core. She gasped for breath, the sensation of having two men lavish attention on
her more than she could handle. Determined to try, she arched her back, allowing deeper access for his
penetrating fingers while she continued to suck Jarret’s cock.

When her orgasm came, it ripped through her body. She stopped working on Jarret’s cock, just holding
it in her mouth while she came. Before she had time to recover from her release, she felt her dark lover
slip into her, filling her to the hilt. His hands clung to her hips as he began thrusting into her. Her hand
once again clung to Jarret’s cock while her mouth covered it, continuing to suck him toward his release.

They both came at the same time, each one filling her with hot liquid. She felt it ram against her cervix at
the same time that it hit the back of her throat. Both men continued to pulse inside her, filling her,
stretching her, opening her to a world of possibilities she had never considered.

“Are you ready for us, love?” Her dark lover called from behind her as he pulled himself from her body.

Ready? She doubted she would ever be ready for the myriad of sensations that washed over her. Still,
she nodded. Having no idea how to accomplish this, she hoped they knew what to do. She knew how
she had things worked out in her mind, but she never imagined how they would work in reality. That was
why, when Jarret pulled her on top of him, she gasped, wondering what he had planned.

His cock slid into her easily, her pussy already having been coated.

She sat astride him, as she had when he had been stone. His dark half bent her forward as he bent his
head down to lick her ass. His fingers joined Jarret’s cock for a second as he coated them and then slid
them into her tight hole. Her back tried to straighten, but he held her still while he moved his fingers in and
out. Then, slowly, she felt his cock primed and ready at her entrance.

He would never fit! God, she knew how large he was, how tight it was. There was no way. He moved
slowly, allowing her to stretch and accommodate him before he pressed further. She bit her lip, sitting
stone still with Jarret’s cock impaled in her. She looked down at him while he smiled up at her. His hands
began stroking her breasts, his face filled with encouragement.

She took in several deep breaths, calming herself, loosening herself so the entry would be easier. When
she heard his dark half gasp and felt herself stretching around him, she realized this was possible.

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Slowly, they began moving. The rhythm was wild, resembling nothing she had ever felt before. She was
trapped between the two men, who each pushed himself into her and slowly pulled out only to fill her
once more. Her body convulsed and twisted, squeezing around them both, threatening to send them all
over the edge into an oblivion of wonderful, amazing feeling.

Jarret’s hands on her hips steadied her. When she felt as if she couldn’t take any more, couldn’t move
any more, her climax built and then spilled over onto all of them. Both men came at the same time, each
filling her with their juices. She reached around to stroke her dark lover’s back.

“I love you,” he whispered against her ear. She squeezed his flesh with her hand in answer. Turning her
face so she could breath her answer to him, she was surprised when his eyes softened. “I always will,” he
said just before his mouth came crashing down on hers.

“I love you,” she whispered back just before he disappeared.

She turned to face Jarret, whose cock was still buried deep inside of her. Tears stung her eyes.

“Will you still love me even if I am part of something else?”

“I will always love you,” she assured him before taking his face between her hands and covering it with
kisses.

“Good. Because we will always love you.”

* * * *

Jarret turned her onto her back, his cock still in place. He pulled her to him, seizing her mouth with his.
His tongue probed and explored as if he were tasting her for the first time. He had never had chaste
feelings where she was concerned, but right now, his desire for her seemed stronger than it ever had
before. She had made a sacrifice for him tonight, one that had nothing to do with sex. She opened herself
up to him and to both his light and dark sides. She gave him the trust he longed for but feared he didn’t
deserve.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as he continued to move inside her. “Why are you crying, love?”

“Because you’re real.”

“I’ve been real.”

“I know. But I mean, you’re really real. You’re whole.”

“Yes, I am. Do you think you can love all of me?”

“I think I proved that already.”

“Yes, you did.” He smiled down at her. “Now, let me prove to you that I can be both a white knight and
one wicked lover.”

He continued to love her on into the night. There was no longer a battle going on inside his head for
control over his body. And the woman he loved was no longer in danger of suffering his same fate. For
the first time in over a thousand years, he felt whole, complete. And only part of it had to do with the

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reunion of his two parts. The rest had to do with the woman who looked up at him, whose eyes were
filled with trust and love.

Finally, he was home. Her bravery had set him free. And he planned to spend the rest of his days
proving to her that she was all he would ever need. He would worship her, have children with her, build a
future with her, give to her all that had been taken from him.

He cradled her in his arms and they slept in the garden, in the place where he had first set eyes on her, in
the place where she had first come to him and opened herself up to his love. As the dark moon rose and
set, and day made its way to Constance, Jarret and Kate slept.

They were no longer living under the threat of an evil curse. In the night, they had sworn their love for
one another, had planned a future together, and had more than forgiven one another for their trickery.

And, in the tradition of old, they did live happily ever after.

The End

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