"Kenyon, Sherrilyn - Dark-Hunter 01 - Fantasy Lover" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenyon Sherrilyn)

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 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 that 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."
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?
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?"