Fantasy Lover Read online

  "Greetings, agapeemenee," Julian said, lifting her hand up to place a kiss on the backs of her knuckles.

  A heated wave of electricity danced up her spine. And before she could move, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a hot, soul-wrenching kiss. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and savored the warmth of his mouth, his breath. The feel of his arms holding her close to a rock-hard chest. Her head reeled from it.

  Oh, but the man knew how to give a kiss! Julian had a way with his lips that defied explanation. And his body

  Never had she felt anything like those lean, hard muscles flexing around her. It was only the barely audible "hussy" one of the women sneered that broke the spell.

  "Julian, please," she whispered. "There are people watching us."

  "Do you think I care?”

  “I do!”

  He pulled his head away from hers with a low growl and set her back on her feet. It was only then she realized she'd completely surrendered her weight to him, and he had supported it without effort.

  Her cheeks scalding, Grace caught the envious stares of the women as they Dark Hunter Series (1) – Fantasy Lover – Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 74 of 340

  reluctantly dispersed. His face showing the depth of his displeasure and reluctance, Julian let go of her and stepped back.

  "Finally," Selena said with a sigh. "I can almost hear again." She shook her head. "If I'd known that would work, I’d have kissed him.”

  Grace gave her a sideways smirk. "Well, it's your own fault.”

  “How do you figure?" Selena asked.

  Grace indicated Julian's clothes with a wave of her hand. "Look at how he's dressed.

  You don't bring a Greek god out into public wearing shorts and a tank top two sizes too small. Jeez, Selena, what were you thinking?”

  “That it's one hundred and two degrees out with one hundred and ten percent humidity. I didn't want him to die of heat stroke.”

  "Ladies, please," Julian said, placing himself between them. "It's far too hot to stand out in the street fighting over something as trivial as my clothing." He swept a hungry look over Grace, then smiled a smile that could make any woman melt. "And I'm not a Greek god. I'm just a minor half-deity.”

  Grace missed what he was saying for the fact that the sound of his voice captivated her. How did he do that? How did he make his voice so erotically charged? Was it from his deep, rich accent?

  No, there was more to it than that, but for her life she couldn't figure out what. In truth, all she wanted to do was find a bed somewhere and let him have his way with her. To feel his luscious skin beneath her hands.

  She looked at Selena and caught the way Selena stared hungrily at Julian's bare legs and rump.

  "You feel it, too, don't you?" Grace asked.

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  Blinking, Selena looked up. "Feel what?”

  "Him. It's like he's the Pied Piper and we're all mice enchanted by his music." Grace turned about and noted the way women stared at him, some even craning their necks to get a better view of Julian.

  "What is it about him that just pulls us against our wills?" Grace asked.

  Julian arched one arrogant brow at her."Against your will?”

  “Well, honestly, yes. I don't like feeling like this.”

  “And how do you feel?" he asked.

  "Sexual," Grace said before she could stop herself.

  "Like a goddess?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. "Yes," she said as he took a single step toward her.

  He didn't touch her, but then he didn't have to. His very presence overwhelmed her.

  Intoxicated her as he dipped that magnetic gaze to her lips, then to her neck. She swore she could already feel the sensation of his lips buried in the hollow of her throat.

  And the man hadn't even moved.

  "I can tell you what it is," he all but purred.

  "It's the spell, isn't it?”

  He shook his head as he reached one hand out to gently drag his forefinger down her cheek. Grace shuttered her eyes as a wave of fierce desire scorched her. It was all she could do not to turn her head and capture that finger between her teeth.

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  Julian leaned closer and nuzzled her cheek with his. "It's the fact that I can appreciate you on a level the men of your age cannot.”

  "It's the fact he has the tightest gluteus rumpus I've ever seen," Sunshine said, interrupting them. "Not to mention a voice and accent to die for. I really wish someone would tell me where I could get one of those.”

  Grace burst out laughing at Sunshine's unexpected comments. Looking less than pleased, Julian turned to face Sunshine.

  "Look at him." Sunshine gestured toward Julian with the pencil in her charcoal-covered hand. She also had a smear of charcoal across her right cheek. "When was the last time you met a man so well toned that you could actually see the blood pumping through his veins? Your boyfriend is

  well, way buff. Monster buff." Then

  with a serious face, she added, "Lord, king buff."

  Sunshine turned her sketchbook around to where Grace could see her rendering of Julian. "See the way the light brings out the golden color of his skin? It's almost as if he were really kissed by the sun.”

  Grace frowned. There was some truth to that.

  Julian leaned down at her, his blue eyes searing her with their heat. "Come home with me, Grace," he whispered in her ear."Now. Let me take you into my arms, strip your clothes from your body, and show you how the gods meant for a woman to know a man. I swear to you, you'll remember it for the rest of eternity.”

  She closed her eyes as the scent of sandalwood filled her head. His breath tickled her neck while his cheek was so close to hers, she swore she could feel his whiskers touching her. Every part of her wanted to surrender to him. Yes, please, yes.

  Her gaze dropped down to his shoulder. To the hard sculpting of his muscles. To the hollow of his throat. Oh, how she longed to run her tongue over the golden bounty of his skin. To see if the rest of his body tasted as good as his mouth.

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  He would be splendid in bed. There was no doubt. But she meant nothing to him.

  Nothing.

  "I can't," she breathed, taking a step back.

  Disappointment filled his eyes. Then, his look turned hard, determined. "You will," he assured her.

  Deep inside, she knew he probably spoke the truth. How long could a woman turn down a man like him?

  Shaking off the thought, Grace glanced across the street to the Jackson Brewery.

  "We need to go buy you some clothes that fit.”

  “Can I help it if he's a head taller than Bill and twice as broad?" Selena asked. "It was your bright idea for me to bring him along.”

  Grace screwed up her face at Selena."Fine. We'll be in the Brewery if you need us.”

  “Okay, but be careful.”

  “Careful?" Grace asked.

  Selena indicated Julian with her thumb."If women start to stampede, take my advice and get out of their way. I still don't have any feeling in my right foot from the last group.”

  Laughing, Grace headed for the road, knowing Julian would follow her. In fact, she could feel him right behind her. His presence undeniable, he had an awful way of invading every thought and sense she possessed.

  Neither one of them said a word as they crossed the busy street and headed into the first shop they reached. Grace glanced around the department store, looking for Menswear. Spotting it, she made her way over to it.

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  "So, what's your style preference?" she asked Julian as she paused by a display of folded jeans. "For what I have in mind, nudity works best.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. "You're trying to shock me, aren't you?"'

>   "Perhaps. I have to admit I rather like the look of a blush on your face." He stepped toward her.

  Grace retreated, placing the display of jeans between them. "I think you'll need at least three pairs of jeans while you're here.”

  He sighed as he gazed at the pants. "Why bother, when I shall be gone in a few weeks?”

  She glared at him. "Jeez, Julian," she snapped in aggravation. "You act as if no one ever dressed you during your past incarnations.”

  "They didn't.”

  She froze at his hollow, empty tone. And the significance of his words. Grace looked skeptically at him. "Are you telling me that in the last two thousand years, no one has ever bothered to put clothes on you?”

  “Just twice," he said in that same flat tone. "Once during a blizzard in the English Regency period, one of my summoners covered me in a frilly pink dressing gown before she shoved me onto her balcony to keep her husband from finding me in her bed. And the second time was far too embarrassing to mention.”

  “You're not funny. And I know no woman would keep a man for a solid month and not put some clothes on him.”

  “Look at me, Grace," he said, spreading out his arms to show her his hard, delectable body. "I'm a sex slave. No one before you ever thought I needed clothes to perform my duties.”

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  His heated gaze held hers enthralled, but what made her ache was the pain in those deep blue eyes that he tried so hard to conceal. A pain that touched her profoundly.

  "I assure you," he said quietly, "once they had me inside them, they did everything they could to keep me there, including one summoner in the Middle Ages who bolted her bedroom door, and told everyone on the outside that she had the plague.”

  Grace averted her gaze as his words singed her. The things he described were unbelievable, and yet by the look on his face, she could tell he wasn't exaggerating the tales. She couldn't imagine the degradations he must have suffered over the centuries. Dear Lord, people treated animals better than what he was describing.

  "They summoned you, yet none of them ever conversed with you or clothed you?”

  "Every man's fantasy, is it not? To have a million women throwing themselves at him, wanting no commitments, no promises. Wanting nothing from him, other than his body, and the few weeks of pleasure he can give them?" His flippant words didn't quite mask the acid undertone.

  That might be other men's fantasies, but she could tell it wasn't his.

  "Well," she said, returning to the jeans, "I'm not like that and you're going to need something to wear when I take you out in public.”

  Anger snapped so menacingly in his eyes that she took an involuntary step backward. "I wasn't cursed to be viewed by the public, Grace. I am here for you, and you alone.”

  How nice that sounded. Still, she wasn't about to fall for it. She couldn't use another human being the way Julian described. It was wrong, and she would never be able to live with herself if she did such a thing to him.

  "Be that as it may," she said in determination. "I want to take you out in public. So you'll need clothes." She started digging through the sizes.

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  He fell silent.

  Grace looked up at him and caught the dark, angry look on his face. "What?”

  “What?" he shot back.

  "Never mind. Let's see which of these fit best." Grabbing several sizes, she handed the pants over to him. One would think she'd handed him a load of dog crap the way he reacted to the jeans.

  Disregarding his appalled look, she had to practically shove him into a fitting room and close the partial door sharply behind him. Julian entered the small cubicle and froze, assaulted simultaneously on three hostile fronts.

  The first was the smallness of the space and the cold, fierce terror that washed over him from it. For a full minute, he couldn't breathe as he fought the urge to run from the tight, cramped space. He could barely move without bumping into the walls, door, or mirror.

  But even worse than his claustrophobia was the face in the mirror. He hadn't seen his own reflection in centuries. And the face staring back at him looked so much like his father that he wanted to splinter it. He saw the same smoothly sculpted planes, the same contemptuous eyes.

  The only thing missing was the deep, jagged scar that had run down his father's left cheek. And for the first time in countless centuries, Julian saw the jarring sight of the three thin commander's braids that hung to his shoulder.

  His hand shaking, he reached up and touched them as he did something he hadn't done in an exceptionally long time; he remembered the day he had earned them.

  It had been after the battle at Thebes when his commander had fallen and the Macedonian troops had started to panic and retreat. He had grabbed the commander's sword, regrouped them, and led them to victory against the Romans.

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  The day after the battle, the Macedonian queen herself had braided his hair, and placed her own personal beads on the ends. Julian gripped the tiny glass beads in his fist.

  Those braids had belonged to the once proud and mighty Macedonian commander who had led a conquering army so strong that he had forced the Romans to flee in cowering terror.

  The sight haunted him.

  He looked down at the ring on his right hand. A ring he had worn for so long that he had grown immune to its presence, and had long ago ceased to remember its significance.

  But his braids

  He hadn't thought about them in a long, long time.

  Touching them now, he remembered the man he'd been. He remembered the faces of his family. The people who had once rushed to serve his needs. Those who had respected and feared him.

  A time when he had commanded his destiny, and the known world had been his for the taking. And now he was

  His throat tight, Julian closed his eyes and removed the beads from the ends of his hair before he started unbraiding it.

  As his fingers loosened the first braid, he looked down at the pants he had dropped on the floor. Why was Grace doing this? Why did she have to treat him like a human being? He'd grown so accustomed to being treated as an object that he found her kindness toward him unbearable. The other summoners ' cold, impersonal distance had enabled him to tolerate his sentence, to not remember who and what he'd once been.

  What he'd lost.

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  It enabled him to only focus on the here and now, and on the momentary, fleeting pleasures to be had. But human beings didn't live that way. They had families, friends, futures, dreams. Hopes.

  Things that had been lost to him centuries ago. Things he would never know again.

  "Damn you, Priapus," he breathed as he viciously uncoiled the last braid. "And damn me."

  Grace did a double-take as Julian finally left the dressing room wearing a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been made solely for him.

  The tight tank top Selena had loaned him stopped just below his hard, narrow waist and the jeans rode low on his lean hips, leaving just a tiny peek of his hard, flat stomach and the small coffee-colored hairs that ran from his navel downward to disappear under the denim.

  Grace had a strong desire to walk up to him and slide her hand down that inviting pathway and investigate where it led. And all too well, she remembered the sight of him standing naked in front of her.

  Drawing her breath in sharply between her teeth, she had to admit he looked good in jeans. Even better than he'd looked in shorts—if such a thing were possible.

  Sunshine was right, he had the best butt denim had ever cupped and all she could think of doing was running her hand over that rump and squeezing it tight.

  The female salesclerk and woman beside her stopped talking and gaped. "Are these acceptable?" Julian asked Grac
e.

  "Oh, yeah, baby," Grace said breathlessly before she could stop herself. Julian gave her an amused grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Grace moved around him until she could see what size the pants were. Oh, yeah, nice, nice butt! Distracted by his shapely posterior, she inadvertently let her fingers brush against the skin of his back Dark Hunter Series (1) – Fantasy Lover – Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 83 of 340

  as she touched the tag. She felt Julian tense.

  "You know," Julian said, looking at her over his shoulder. "That would feel a whole lot better if we were both naked. And in your bed.”

  She heard the sharp intakes of breath from the salesclerk and customer. Heat exploding over her face, Grace straightened up and glared at him. "We really need to talk about what kind of comments are appropriate when we're in public.”