Fantasy Lover

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  His gaze focused on her lips. "I would much rather create a steamy love scene," he breathed, moving to stand in front of her. Grace trembled. With her back to the bookshelf, she couldn't retreat. He braced an arm above her head as he pressed his body against her, then lowered his mouth to hers.

  Closing her eyes, all she could taste or smell was Julian. He surrounded her in a most disturbing way. For once, he kept his hands to himself and touched only her lips with his. It didn't matter. Her head still swam.

  How could his wife ever have chosen another man over Julian? How could any woman in her right mind not want this man? He was heaven. Julian deepened his kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She felt his heart pounding as he pressed her back, felt his muscles flexing all around her.

  Never before had she been so aware of another human being. He set her on edge, made her feel sensations she'd never known existed. He pulled back and pressed his cheek against hers. His breath stirred her hair and sent chills all over her.

  "I want to be inside you so badly, Grace," he whispered. "I want to feel your legs wrapped around me, feel your breasts against my chest, hear you moaning as I make slow, sweet love to you. I want your smell on my body, your breath on my skin.”

  His entire body went rigid before he pushed himself away from her. "But then, I'm used to wanting things I can't have," he whispered.

  She reached out and touched his arm. He captured her hand with his, then lifted it to his lips where he lightly kissed her knuckles. The longing on his handsome face made her ache. "Find us a book, and I shall behave.”

  Grace swallowed as he left her. It was then her gaze fell to her old copy of The Iliad.

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  She smiled. He would like that, she was sure of it. Grabbing it, she went back downstairs. Julian sat in front of the couch.

  "Guess what I found!" she said excitedly.

  "I have no idea.”

  She held it up and grinned."The Iliad!”

  His mood instantly lifted as he flashed those dimples at her. "Sing to me, O

  goddess.”

  "Very good," she said as she sat down beside him. "And you'll like this even more.

  It's got both the original Greek and the English translation.”

  She handed it to him. He looked as if she had just handed him a king's treasure. He opened the book. Immediately his eyes danced across the pages as he ran his hand reverently over the ancient Greek writing.

  Julian couldn't believe it as he saw his language again after all this time. It had been so long since he'd last seen it anywhere other than on his arm. He'd always loved The Iliad and The Odyssey. As a boy, he'd spent hours hidden behind the barracks, reading scrolls over and over again, or sneaking out to hear the bards in the town square.

  He well understood how Grace felt about her books. He'd been the same way in his youth. Every chance he'd gotten, he had escaped into the world of fantasy where heroes always triumphed. Where demons and villains were vanquished. Where mothers and fathers loved their children.

  In the stories, there was no hunger, no pain. There was freedom and hope. It was through such stories that he learned of compassion and kindness. Of honor and integrity.

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  Grace knelt beside him. "You miss your home, don't you?”

  Julian looked away. The only thing he missed was his children. Unlike Kyrian, he had never cared for battle. The stench of death and blood, the moans of the dying. He'd fought only because it was expected of him. And he'd led because, as Plato said, everyone by nature was suited to a particular activity, which ideally they would pursue. By his nature, Julian had always been a leader and not one to follow others.

  No, he didn't really miss it, but

  "It was all I knew.”

  She touched his shoulder, yet it was the concern in her light gray eyes that undid him. "Did you want your son to be a soldier?"

  He shook his head. "I never wanted him to be cut down in his youth like so many of my soldiers had been," he said, his voice hoarse. "Rather ironic, isn't it? I wouldn't even allow him to keep the play-sword Kyrian had given him as a birthday gift, or to touch mine when I was home.”

  She placed her hand against his neck, then pulled him to her. Her touch was so incredibly soothing. So warm. It filled him with aching loneliness.

  "What was his name?”

  Julian swallowed. He hadn't uttered his children's names aloud since the day they'd died. He hadn't dared, and yet he wanted to share that with her. "Atolycus. My daughter was Callista.”

  Her smile was edged by sadness as if she shared his pain at their loss. "They had beautiful names.”

  “They were beautiful children.”

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  “If they were anything like you, I can believe that.”

  That was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. Julian ran his hand under her hair and let the silken strands fill his palm. Closing his eyes, he wanted to stay like this forever.

  Fear of letting her go ripped through him. He'd never liked the idea of being sucked into his empty hell, but now the thought of never seeing her again, of never again smelling her sweet skin, of never again laying his palm against the warm blush of her cheek

  It was more than he could bear.

  Gods, and he had thought himself cursed before. She pulled back and kissed him lightly on the lips, then picked up the book. Julian swallowed. She wanted to save him, and for the first time in centuries, he wanted to be saved.

  He slid down lower on the floor to where she could return to lying against him. He loved feeling her there. Feeling her hair spilling across his arms, his chest. They lay on the floor until the wee hours of the morning while Julian listened to her read of Odysseus and Achilles.

  He watched as she grew tired, but she continued to read. The clock above struck three as she yawned and turned a page. She tried to blink her eyes open, but her exhaustion was too much. Finally, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Julian smiled as he took the book from her hand and set it aside. He cupped her cheek while he watched her. He wasn't sleepy. He didn't want to miss a single second of being with her. Watching her, touching her. Absorbing her. He would treasure it forever.

  Never had he spent an evening like this, just lying comfortably with a woman without her groping his body, demanding that he touch and fill her. In his day, men and women didn't spend much time together. During the times he was at home, Penelope had seldom spoken to him. In fact, she hadn't shown much interest in him at all.

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  On the nights when he sought her out, she hadn't refused him. But she was never eager for his touch, either. He'd always been able to coax a heated response from her body, but never one from her heart.

  He brushed his hand through Grace's sable hair, delighting in the way it wrapped around his hand. His gaze dropped to his ring. It glinted dully in the light.

  In his mind's eye he could see it coated in blood. Feel the way it bit into his finger as he wielded his sword in battle. That ring had meant everything to him, and it hadn't come easy. He'd earned it through the sweat of his brow and at the price of stinging attacks on his flesh. It had been costly, but it had been well worth it.

  There for a time, if not loved, he had been respected. In his mortal life, that had meant everything to him. Signing, he leaned his head back against the sofa cushion behind him and closed his eyes.

  As he finally drifted to sleep, it wasn't the faces of the past that haunted his dreams, it was the vision of light gray eyes laughing with him, and of dark hair spilling over his chest as a warm, soft voice read words that were familiar and yet somehow foreign.

  Grace stretched languidly as she came awake. Opening her eyes, she was surprised
to find her head lying on Julian's stomach. His right hand was buried in her hair and by the deep even breaths she knew he was still asleep.

  She looked up at him. His face relaxed, he looked almost childlike. And it was then she realized his nightmare hadn't come. He had slept through the night. Smiling, she rose slowly, trying not to wake him.

  It didn't work. The instant she withdrew, his eyes flew open, searing her with their heat. "Grace," he breathed.

  "I didn't mean to wake you."

  "It's all right.”

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  Grace motioned to the stairs with her thumb. "I was going upstairs to shower. Should I lock the door?" He raked a searing look over her. "No, I think I can behave."

  She smiled. "It seems I've heard that one before.”

  He didn't respond. Grace went above and took a quick shower. When she finished, she went to her bedroom and found Julian lying on the bed, flipping through her copy of The Iliad. He did a double-take as he looked up to see her wearing nothing but a towel. Those dimples flashed lecherously and sent heat dancing all over her body.

  "I'll just get my clothes, and—”

  “No," he said in a commanding tone.

  "No?" she asked in disbelief.

  His face softened. "I'd rather you dress in here."

  "Julian—”

  “Please.”

  Grace squirmed uneasily at his request. She'd never done anything like that in her life. "Pretty please," he asked again with just a hint of a smile.

  What woman could say no to that look? She looked askance at him. "Don't you dare laugh," she said as she hesitantly opened the towel.

  He dropped a hungry look to her breasts. "You can rest assured laughter is the farthest thing from my mind.”

  Then he left the bed. He moved like a graceful predator as he opened the drawer where she kept her underwear. A strange shiver went over her as she watched his Dark Hunter Series (1) – Fantasy Lover – Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 223 of 340

  hand moving through her panties until he found the black silk ones Selena had given her as a gag gift.

  Pulling them out, he knelt on the floor before her to put them on her. Breathless and hot, she looked down at the top of his golden head. She lifted her foot and let him dress her.

  As his hands slid the silk up her leg and his lips kissed a trail behind them, she trembled. He splayed his hands against her flesh for maximum devastation to her senses. Worse, once he had them in place, he caressed her lightly between her legs before moving away.

  Next, he pulled out the matching black bra.

  Like a doll with no will of its own, she let him put it on her. His hands brushed her nipples as he closed the front catch, then he slid his hand between the satin and her skin and gave a hot caress that sent chills all over her.

  Julian bent his head down to capture her lips with his. Even now he felt the fire coursing through him, demanding he take her. Demanding he ease the pain in his groin if only for an instant.

  Grace moaned as he deepened his kiss. Her will gone, she felt him lift her to the bed where he set her before him. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hissed at the feeling of those steely abs pressing against the center of her body.

  Julian ran his hands over her back. The image of her wet, naked body was branded in his mind. He was almost to the point of no return when a bright light flashed through the room.

  His eyes aching from it, Julian pulled away from her.

  "Was that you?" she asked breathlessly, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

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  Amused, Julian shook his head. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I'm quite sure it had another source.”

  Looking around the room, his gaze fell to the bed. He blinked. It couldn't be

  "What is that?" Grace asked, turning to look at the bed. "It's my shield," he said, still unable to believe his eyes.

  He hadn't seen his shield in centuries. Stunned, he stared at it where it rested in the center of the mattress, glinting dimly in the light. He knew every dent and scratch on it, remembered the blows that had made each mark.

  Afraid he was dreaming, he reached his hand out to the bronze relief of Athena and her owl. "And your sword, too?”

  He grabbed Grace's hand before she touched it. "That's the Sword of Cronus. Never touch it. If anyone handles it who doesn't have his blood in them, it burns their skin forever.”

  "Really?" she asked, sliding off the bed, away from it.

  "Really.”

  She looked back at the bed with a stern frown. "Why are they here?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Who sent them?"

  "I don't know.”

  “Well, that's not really helpful." Julian didn't seem to hear her sarcasm. Instead, Grace watched as he stared at his shield. He ran his hand over it like an adoring father who had found a long-lost child.

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  He pulled sword from the mattress, then slid it far beneath the bed. "Don't forget it's under here," he said sternly. "Make sure you never touch it.”

  His frown deepened as he straightened up and looked at the shield. "My mother must have sent them to me. Only she or one of her sons could have done it.”

  "Why would she do that?”

  Julian narrowed his eyes as he remembered the rest of the sword's legend. "I'm sure she sent it in the event I have to face Priapus. The Sword of Cronus is also called the Sword of Justice. It won't kill him, but it will cause him to take my place in the book.”

  "Are you serious?”

  He nodded.

  "May I touch the shield?"

  "Sure.”

  Grace ran her hand over the gold and black inlays that formed the image of Athena and her owl. "It's beautiful," she said in awe.

  "Kyrian had it made as a gift for me when I became a full commander."

  She touched the engraving below Athena. "What do the words say?"

  " 'Death before dishonor,' " he said, the words catching in his throat.

  Julian smiled wistfully as he remembered Kyrian standing at his side during their battles together. “

  Kyrian's shield read, 'Spoils to the Victor.' He used to look at me before battle and say, 'You take the honor, adelphos, and leave the booty for me.' “

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  Grace paused at the odd note in his voice. Trying to imagine what he must have looked like holding his shield, she pulled it closer. "Kyrian? The man who was crucified?”

  "Yes.”

  "You liked him a lot, didn't you?”

  He smiled sadly. "It took a while for him to grow on me. When I was twenty-three, his uncle assigned him to my command with the strictest warning of what would happen to me should I let His Highness get hurt.”

  "He was a prince?”

  Mian nodded. "And he was truly fearless. Barely twenty, he would charge into battle or fights half-cocked, daring anyone to hurt him. It seemed every time I turned around, I was hauling him out of some bizarre mishap. But he was a hard man to hate. In spite of his hot-headed ways, he had a great sense of humor and was loyal to a fault.”

  He ran his hand over his shield. "I just wish I'd been there to save him from the Romans.”

  Grace rubbed his arm in sympathy. "I'm sure the two of you could have battled your way out of anything.”

  A spark came to his eyes at her words. "When we marched our armies together, we were invincible."

  His jaw flexed as he looked at her. "It was just a matter of time before Rome would have been ours.”

  "Why did the two of you want Rome so badly?”

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  "I vowed to destroy Rome after they took Prymaria. Kyrian and I had
been sent for, but by the time we arrived, it was too late. The Romans had cold-bloodedly rounded up and murdered every woman and child in the city. I'd never seen such carnage."

  His eyes darkened. "While we were trying to bury the dead, the Romans ambushed us.”

  Grace went cold at the words. "What happened?”

  "I had Livius routed and was about to kill him when Priapus intervened. He sent a lightning bolt into my horse and I was thrown to the Romans. I was sure I was dead; then out of nowhere Kyrian appeared. He drove Livius back until I was able to regain my feet. Livius called for a retreat and vanished before we could kill him.”