His eyes bored into hers, his face stoic and completely unamused. "I don't understand why I'm here. If you don't want me inside you, why did you call for me?”
She almost moaned at his words. Worse, the image of his golden, lean, and powerful body thrusting against hers flashed through her mind. What would it feel like to have a man so incredibly scrumptious make love to her all night?
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Grace tensed at the thought. What was it about this man?
Never in her life had she felt sexual hunger like this. Never! She could literally lay him down on the floor and devour him. It didn't make sense.
Over the years, she'd grown more than accustomed to sex being described in the most graphic of terms—some of her patients even purposely tried to shock or arouse her.
Never once had they elicited such a heated response from her.
But when it came to him, all she could think of was taking him into her arms and riding him into the ground. That completely uncharacteristic thought sobered her.
Grace opened her mouth to respond to his question, then stopped. What was she going to do with this guy? Other than that.
She shook her head in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do with you?" His eyes darkened with lust as he again reached for her. Oh, yes, her body begged, please touch me all over.
"Stop that!" she snapped at both herself and him, refusing to let go of her control.
Rational thought would reign here, not her hormones. She'd already made that mistake and she wasn't about to repeat it.
She jumped up another step and she stared at him. Holy guacamole, he was gorgeous. His wavy, tawny hair fell midway down his back where it was secured with a dark brown leather cord. All except for three thin braids that had beads attached to their ends—braids that swung in time with his movements.
Dark brown eyebrows slashed over eyes that were both beguiling and terrifying.
Eyes that watched her with way too much heat. And in that moment, she definitely wanted to kill Selena.
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But not nearly as much as she wanted to crawl into bed with this man and sink her teeth into that golden tan.
Stop that!
"I don't understand what's going on," she said at last. She had to think through this—
figure out what to do. "I need to sit down for a minute and you
" She trailed her
eyes over his perfect body. "You need to cover up.”
The corners of Julian's mouth twitched. In the whole of his life, she was the first person to ever say that to him.
Indeed, all the women he'd known before the curse had done nothing except try and get him out of his clothes. As quickly as possible. And since the curse, his summoners had spent days staring at his nudity, running their hands over his body, savoring the sight of him.
"Stay here for a minute," she said, before darting up the stairs.
He watched her hips sway with her steps, his body instantly growing hot and hard.
Clenching his teeth in an effort to ignore the burning in his loins, he forced himself to look around. Distraction was definitely the key—at least until she gave in to him.
Which wouldn't be long. No woman could ever withhold herself from him for any length of time. Smiling bitterly at the thought, he glanced about the house.
Just where and when was he?
He didn't know how long he'd been trapped. All he could remember were the sounds of voices over time, the subtle shifting and changing of accents and language dialects as the years passed.
Looking up at the light above his head, he frowned. No fire burned. What was that thing? His eyes watered in protest and he looked away.
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That must be the light bulb, he decided.
Hey, I need to change the light bulb. Do me a favor and flip the switch by the door.
'Kay?
Remembering the shopkeeper's words, he looked to the door and saw what he assumed was the switch. Julian left the stairs and pulled down on the tiny lever.
Immediately the lights went out. He switched them back on.
In spite of himself, he smiled again. What other marvels did this time hold?
"Here.”
Julian looked at Grace who stood on the bottom step. She tossed him a long rectangle of dark green fabric. He caught it against his chest as a wave of disbelief consumed him.
The woman had been serious about covering him up? How very odd. His frown deepening, he wrapped the fabric around his hips.
Grace waited until he moved away from the door before she looked at him again.
Thank goodness, he was finally covered. No wonder the Victorians insisted on fig leaves. Too bad she didn't have a few in her yard. The only thing out there was holly bushes and she doubted he'd appreciate that.
Grace headed to the living room and sat down on the couch. "So help me, Lanie,"
she breathed. "I'm going to get you for this.”
And then he was there, sitting beside her, firing every hormone in her body with his presence.
Moving to the opposite end of the couch, Grace eyed him warily. "So, how long are you here for?" Oh, great question, Grace. Why not ask him for the weather or his sign while you're at it? Jeez!
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“Until the next full moon."His glacial eyes melted a degree. And as he ran it over her body, his gaze turned from ice to fire in the space of about two heartbeats.
He leaned toward her, reaching to touch her face.
Grace jumped to her feet and went to stand on the other side of the coffee table.
"Are you telling me that I'm stuck with you for the next month?”
"Yes.”
Stunned, Grace rubbed her hand over her eyes. She couldn't entertain him for a month. A whole, solid month! She had responsibilities, obligations. She had a new hobby to learn.
"Look," she said. "Believe it or not, I have a life. One that doesn't include you in it.”
She could tell by his face that he didn't care for her words. Not at all. "If you think I'm thrilled by being here with you, you're sadly mistaken. I assure you I'm not here by choice.”
His words stung her.
"Well, not all of you feels that way." She gave a pointed glare to the part of him that was still ramrod-stiff.
Looking down at his lap and the lump bulging under the towel, he sighed.
"Unfortunately, I don't have any more control over that than I do being here.”
“Well, there's the door," she said, pointing toward it. "Don't let it hit you on the rump on your way out.”
“Believe me, if I could leave, I would.”
Grace hesitated at his words, and their significance. "Are you telling me that I can't Dark Hunter Series (1) – Fantasy Lover – Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 37 of 340
wish you away? Or make you go back into the book?”
“I believe your word was bingo.” She fell silent.
Rising slowly to his feet, Julian stared at her. In all the centuries he'd been damned, this was the first time this had come up. All his other summoners had known what he was, and they had been more than willing to spend the month in his arms, happily using his body for their pleasure.
He'd never in his life, either this one or his mortal one, found a woman who didn't want him physically. It was
Odd.
Humbling. Almost embarrassing.
Could it be that the curse was weakening? That maybe at last he might be free?
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew better. When the Greek gods handed down a punishment, they did it with style and with a vengeance t
hat not even two millennia could mellow.
There had been a time once, long ago, when he had fought against his damnation. A time when he had believed he could be free. But over two thousand years of confinement and unrelenting torture had taught him one thing— resignation.
He had earned his hell, and like the soldier he'd once been, he accepted his punishment.
Swallowing the gall that stuck in his throat, Julian spread his arms out, and offered his body to her. "You can do with me as you wish. Just tell me how to please you.”
"Then, I wish for you to leave.”
He dropped his arms to his side."Except for that.”
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Frustrated, Grace started to pace. Her hormones finally whipped back under control and her head clearer, she yearned for a solution. But no matter how hard she tried, there didn't seem to be one.
A terrible ache began throbbing in her temples. Whatever was she going to do for a month, a solid month, with him? Again an image of him poised above her, his hair falling around them in a soft canopy while he plunged himself deep inside her body, tortured her.
"I need something
" Julian's voice trailed off.
She turned back to face him, her body still begging for his. It would be so easy to give in to him. But that would be wrong. She refused to use him that way. Like No,
she wouldn't think about that. She refused to think about that.
"What?" she asked.
"Food," Julian repeated. "If you're not going to use me right away, would you mind if I ate?" The sheepish, half-angry look on his face told her he didn't like asking for anything.
Then it dawned on her that as odd and difficult as this was for her, what on earth must it feel like for him? To be snatched from wherever it was he lived and thrown into her life like a slingshot? It must be terrible.
"Sure," she said, motioning for him to follow her. "The kitchen's in here." She led him down the short hallway to the rear of the house.
She opened the fridge and let him look into it. "What would you like?"
Instead of sticking his head in, he stayed about three feet back. "Do you have any pizza left?”
“Pizza?" she repeated in shock. How did he know about pizza?
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He shrugged. "You seemed to really enjoy eating it.”
Her face flamed as she recalled her earlier play. Selena had made another comment about food substituting for sex, and she had faked an orgasm while savoring her last slice. "You heard us?”
His face stoic, he spoke quietly. "The love-slave hears everything said near the book.”
If her cheeks turned any hotter, they would explode. "I don't have any pizza," she said quickly, wanting to bury her head in the freezer to cool it off. "I do have some leftover chicken and pasta.”
"And wine?”
She nodded.
"That's acceptable.”
His commanding tone really set her ire off. It was one of those "I'm the man, baby, get me some food" Tarzan tones that just set her blood to boil.
"Look, buster, I'm not your cooking wench. Mess with me and I'll feed you Alpo." He arched a brow.
“Alpo?”
“Never mind.” Still irritated, she pulled out her chicken primavera and prepared to nuke it.
He sat at her table with this oozing aura of male arrogance that just grated on her tolerance. Wishing she really had a can of Alpo, Grace forced herself to dump a heaping serving of pasta into a bowl.
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"Just how long have you been in that book, anyway? Since the Dark Ages?" At least that's what he acted like. He sat as still as a statue. No emotions, no nothing. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was an android.
"The last time I was summoned, it was eighteen ninety-five.”
“Get out!" Grace gaped at him as she placed the bowl in the microwave."Eighteen ninety-five? Are you serious?”
He nodded.
"What year was it when you first got trapped?”
Rage flashed across his face with such high intensity that it startled her. "One forty-nine B. C. by your calendar."
Her eyes widened."One forty-nine B. C., as in one hundred forty-nine years before Christ? Holy guac. When I called Julian of Macedon, you really are of Macedon. Of the Macedon.”
He gave a curt nod. Her thoughts whirled as she closed the door to the microwave and turned it on. This was impossible. It had to be impossible!
"How did you get trapped in the book? I mean, the ancient Greeks didn't have books, did they?”
"I was originally entombed in a scroll that was later bound to protect it," he said darkly, his face still impassive. "As for how I ended up cursed, I invaded Alexandria.”
Grace frowned. Now that didn't make a bit of sense, not that very much of any of this made sense to her. "Why would invading a city get—”
"Alexandria wasn’t a city, she was a Priapine virgin.”
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She tensed at his words, and the implication of how invading a woman might get a man trapped for eternity. "You raped a virgin?”
"I didn't rape her," he said, meeting her gaze with a hard stare. "It was by mutual consent, I assure you.”
Okay, there was a nerve there. Grace could see it clearly in his icy demeanor. The man didn't like talking about his past. She would have to be a little more subtle in her questioning.
Julian heard the strange bell toll before Grace pressed a bar and opened the black box where she'd placed his food. She set the steaming bowl of food before him with a silver fork, knife, paper napkin, and glass goblet of wine. The warm aroma filled his head, making his stomach ache with need.
He supposed he should be shocked by the way and speed with which she'd cooked, but after hearing about things called a train, camera, automobile, phonograph, rockets, and computers, he doubted if anything could take him by surprise now.
In truth, there was nothing left for him to feel since, out of necessity, he'd banished his emotions long ago. His existence was nothing more than snatches of days strung along centuries. His only purpose to serve his summoner's sexual needs.
And if he'd learned anything over the last two millennia, it was to enjoy what few pleasures he could during each incarnation.
With that thought, he took a small bite of food and savored the delectable feel of the warm, creamy noodles on his tongue. It was pure bliss. He let the smell of the chicken and spices fully invade his head. It had been an eternity since he'd last eaten anything. An eternity of unrelenting hunger.
Closing his eyes, he swallowed.
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More used to starvation than nourishment, his stomach cramped viciously in reaction to the first bite of food. Julian clenched the knife and fork in his hands as he fought against the brutal pain.
But he didn't stop eating. Not while he had food. He'd waited so long to finally quench his hunger that he wasn't about to stop now. After a few more bites, the cramps eased, allowing him to actually enjoy the meal again.
And as the cramps lessened, it took all of his willpower to eat like a human and not shovel the food into his mouth by the handfuls in a desperate need to quench the gnawing hunger in his belly.
At times like this, it was hard to remember he was still a man and not some feral, rampaging beast that had been freed from its cage. He'd lost most of his humanity centuries ago. What little was left, he intended to keep. Grace leaned against the counter as she watched him eat, slowly, almost mechanically. She couldn't tell if he liked the food, but he kept eating it.
Yet what amazed her were the perfect European table manners he had. She'd never been able to successfully eat that way, and she wondered when he'd
learned to use his knife to balance the pasta on the back of his fork and eat it.
"Did they have forks in ancient Macedonia?" she asked.
He paused. "Excuse me?”
“I was just wondering when the fork was invented. Did they have them in
" You're
rambling! her mind shouted at her.
Well, who wouldn't? Just look at the guy. How many times do you think someone has acted like an idiot and had a Greek statue come to life? Especially one who looks like that!
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