"Nancy Holder - Highlander - Measure of a Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Holder Nancy)

her, she arches her back and cries out with animal pleasure, feral,
lusting joy. Her fingernails dig into your back, your hips. You kiss
her as you move, slowly at first, and then faster, faster, taking her to
the heights of ecstasy. When she cries out, you allow yourself release.

Your eyes tightly shut, you feel the warmth of her contented sigh
against your ear and kiss her hair. She wears a perfume you buy for
her. You've never bought it for anyone else, and you never will.

After a time, she returns to her previous conversation. She asks for
your opinion; drowsily you give it, feeling yourself drift away

into memories of other good days long past. Wandering cobbled streets
that now are car parks. Supping on the flesh of animals now extinct.
Hearing music no one knows how to play, not really, not anymore.

Wondering if this day will melt into YOUT parade of men,,ories, and
knowing that if it does not, it will be because today you died.

"What do you think, Duncan?" asks your love, and you pull yourself back
to the present and apologize. You know Immortals who laugh at you for
your preoccupation with mortals, even with other Immortals. The Game
insists that every man be for himself.

But you know others who don't accept that. Methos, the oldest Immortal,
once offered his head to you so that you could beat Kalas. Rebecca
allowed herself to be slain to save her aging, mortal husband, who would
have died soon anyway.

You would do the same for this woman, and you know this can be used
against you.

Now, as your beloved sighs at your silence-she accuses you on occasion
of being too closed and brooding-you open your eyes and stare out to
sea. The water is a deep, azure blue Mediterranean, beckoning. You
kiss her deeply and tell her that you're sorry, you're preoccupied, and
suggest you both take a dip.

Softening, she shakes her head, says it's too chilly. But she urges you
to go because she loves you, and she wants you to enjoy yourself.
Nuzzling her firm, flat belly, you rise and walk through the sand as the
sea rolls gently toward you. The uneven ground is soft and stretches
the muscles in your feet in a pleasant way.

You reach the water's edge. The rippled flow is cool but not cold. It
will be good for swimming. Again you glance at your duster, at your
woman. You look up and down the deserted coastline.

You walk into the water.