"Alan F. Troop - Dragon DelaSangre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Troop Alan F)

Father laughed most, when, after viewing Kirk Douglas inSpartacus , I decided to have a cleft chin. For
a creature who can change form at will, something like a cleft chin is a moment's thoughtтАФas are all the
other shapings I've done. What Maria sees as she bustles around my table is merely an amalgam of years
of watching movie heroes.

The steak tastes almost cool to my tongue, thick with its own juices, redolent with blood. I force myself
to cut each piece small and eat at a measured pace. Even so, I finish before Maria comes back to check
my table.

She eyes my empty plate, cocks one eyebrow. "I guess everything was okay, huh?"
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I nod, smile and order a coffee, black. She returns the grin, lingers, as if she's going to say something,
then blushes and rushes off.

There's no doubt she's available but my stomach's full. All I want to do is slouch in my chair and enjoy
the warmth of the room.

My eyes are half closed when she returnsтАФmy thoughts far away. I smell the coffee and something else.
An edge of nervous perspiration and a hint of sexual excitement now spike her aroma. Before she
speaks, I know what she'll offer.

She hands me the check and another piece of paper. "My number," she says. "I get off by eleven most
nights. I don't live far from here so I'm home by midnight at the latest." She grins. "I live alone, so don't
worry if you have to call late."

I return her smile, carefully fold her note and place it in my pocket. "My name's Peter," I say. Tonight
would not be a good time to take her. But in a few weeks, before she's forgotten meтАж "Things are
difficult now"тАФI stare into her eyesтАФ"but as soon as I can, I'll call."

Our hands brush when I pay the bill. The warmth of her tempts me. I resist the urge to make plans for
later. Too dangerous. As Father always says, what is good will be better later.

Outside, the air smells of night jasmine and car exhaust. Stars crowd a black sky nearly devoid of
clouds. Only a yellow sliver of moon breaks the darkness. I wish there was some place to lie down
nearby. At home we doze after large meals. I sigh, fight the languor seizing my body and take slow steps
away from the restaurant.

The shadows shift at the edge of the parking lot as a man walks out from behind the bushes. "Hey
friend," he says, "can you spare a poor guy a few bucks?"

My nose wrinkles. He smells of alcohol, filth and decay. I shake my head and walk on.

"Just a dollar or twoтАж" The man blocks my path. His height almost matches mine and he's quite a bit
wider. He holds his right hand clenched at his side.