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

"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.
"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."
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.
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!
Not often.
"The fork was invented sometime in the fifteenth century, I believe."
"Really?" she asked. "Were you there?"
His features blank, he looked up and asked, "What, for the invention of the fork, or the fifteenth century?"
"The fifteenth century, of course." And then thinking better of it, she added, "You weren't there when the fork was invented. Were you?"
"No." He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the napkin. "I was summoned four times during that century. Twice in Italy and once in England and France."
"Really," she said, trying to imagine what it must have been like back then. "I bet you've seen all kinds of things over the centuries."
"Not really."