The Dark-Hunters (27 page)

Grace moaned as he deepened his kiss. Her will gone, she felt him lift her to the bed where he set her before him. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hissed at the feeling of those steely abs pressing against the center of her body.

Julian ran his hands over her back. The image of her wet, naked body was branded in his mind. He was almost to the point of no return when a bright light flashed through the room.

His eyes aching from it, Julian pulled away from her.

“Was that you?” she asked breathlessly, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

Amused, Julian shook his head. “I wish I could take credit for it, but I’m quite sure it had another source.”

Looking around the room, his gaze fell to the bed. He blinked.

It couldn’t be …

“What is that?” Grace asked, turning to look at the bed.

“It’s my shield,” he said, still unable to believe his eyes.

He hadn’t seen his shield in centuries. Stunned, he stared at it where it rested in the center of the mattress, glinting dimly in the light.

He knew every dent and scratch on it, remembered the blows that had made each mark.

Afraid he was dreaming, he reached his hand out to the bronze relief of Athena and her owl.

“And your sword, too?”

He grabbed Grace’s hand before she touched it. “That’s the Sword of Cronus. Never touch it. If anyone handles it who doesn’t have his blood in them, it burns their skin forever.”

“Really?” she asked, sliding off the bed, away from it.

“Really.”

She looked back at the bed with a stern frown, “Why are they here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not really helpful.”

Julian didn’t seem to hear her sarcasm. Instead, Grace watched as he stared at his shield. He ran his hand over it like an adoring father who had found a long-lost child.

He pulled sword from the mattress, then slid it far beneath the bed. “Don’t forget it’s under here,” he said sternly. “Make sure you never touch it.”

His frown deepened as he straightened up and looked at the shield. “My mother must have sent them to me. Only she or one of her sons could have done it.”

“Why would she do that?”

Julian narrowed his eyes as he remembered the rest of the sword’s legend. “I’m sure she sent it in the event I have to face Priapus. The Sword of Cronus is also called the Sword of Justice. It won’t kill him, but it will cause him to take my place in the book.”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“May I touch the shield?”

“Sure.”

Grace ran her hand over the gold and black inlays that formed the image of Athena and her owl. “It’s beautiful,” she said in awe.

“Kyrian had it made as a gift for me when I became a full commander.”

She touched the engraving below Athena. “What do the words say?”

“‘Death before dishonor,’” he said, the words catching in his throat.

Julian smiled wistfully as he remembered Kyrian standing at his side during their battles together. “Kyrian’s shield read, ‘Spoils to the Victor.’ He used to look at me before battle and say, ‘You take the honor,
adelphos,
and leave the booty for me.’”

Grace paused at the odd note in his voice. Trying to imagine what he must have looked like holding his shield, she pulled it closer. “Kyrian? The man who was crucified?”

“Yes.”

“You liked him a lot, didn’t you?”

He smiled sadly. “It took a while for him to grow on me. When I was twenty-three, his uncle assigned him to my command with the strictest warning of what would happen to me should I let
His Highness
get hurt.”

“He was a prince?”

Julian nodded. “And he was truly fearless. Barely twenty, he would charge into battle or fights half-cocked, daring anyone to hurt him. It seemed every time I turned around, I was hauling him out of some bizarre mishap. But he was a hard man to hate. In spite of his hot-headed ways, he had a great sense of humor and was loyal to a fault.”

He ran his hand over his shield. “I just wish I’d been there to save him from the Romans.”

Grace rubbed his arm in sympathy. “I’m sure the two of you could have battled your way out of anything.”

A spark came to his eyes at her words. “When we marched our armies together, we were invincible.” His jaw flexed as he looked at her. “It was just a matter of time before Rome would have been ours.”

“Why did the two of you want Rome so badly?”

“I vowed to destroy Rome after they took Prymaria. Kyrian and I had been sent for, but by the time we arrived, it was too late. The Romans had cold-bloodedly rounded up and murdered every woman and child in the city. I’d never seen such carnage.” His eyes darkened. “While we were trying to bury the dead, the Romans ambushed us.”

Grace went cold at the words. “What happened?”

“I had Livius routed and was about to kill him when Priapus intervened. He sent a lightning bolt into my horse and I was thrown to the Romans. I was sure I was dead; then out of nowhere Kyrian appeared. He drove Livius back until I was able to regain my feet. Livius called for a retreat and vanished before we could kill him.”

Grace realized Julian stood directly behind her, his body so close to hers that she could feel his body heat. He placed his arms on each side of her, braced against the mattress, before he pressed his chest against her back.

Grace clenched her teeth at the ferocity of the desire that swept through her. He didn’t hold her, but the devastation to her senses was just as profound. He bent his head down and nuzzled her neck.

His tongue on her skin fired every hormone in her body. Grace arched her back as her breasts tingled. If she didn’t stop him …

“Julian,” she breathed, but her voice was far from carrying the warning note she intended.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m on my way to take a cold shower.” As he left the room, she heard him snarl an angry word under his breath. “Alone.”

*   *   *

After they had breakfast, Grace decided to teach Julian to drive.

“This is ridiculous,” he said as she pulled into the high school’s parking lot.

“Oh, come on,” she teased, “aren’t you curious?”

“No.”

“No?”

He sighed. “Okay, a little.”

“Well, then, just imagine the stories you can tell your men when you get back to Macedonia about the great steel beast you drove … around a parking lot.”

He gave her a puzzled stare. “Does this mean you’re okay with my leaving?”

No, she wanted to shout. But instead she sighed. In her heart, she knew she could never ask him to give up all he’d been to stay here with her.

Julian of Macedon was a hero. A legend.

He would never be a mild-mannered twenty-first-century man.

“I know I can’t keep you. You’re not some lost puppy who followed me home.”

Julian tensed at her words. How true to form they were. It was what made leaving her so damn difficult. How could he give up the only person who had ever seen him as a man?

He didn’t know why she wanted to teach him to drive, but then, sharing her world with him seemed to please her. And for some reason that didn’t bear thinking about, he liked making her happy. “All right, then, show me how to tame this beast.”

Grace parked the car and they traded seats.

As soon as Julian got in, she cringed at the sight of a six-foot-three man wedged into a space meant to accommodate a five-two woman. “I forgot to move the seat back. Sorry.”

“I can neither breathe nor move, but that’s okay.”

She laughed. “There’s a lever under the seat. Pull it out and you can move the seat back.”

He tried, but he was crammed in so tightly that he couldn’t reach it.

“Here,” Grace said. “I got it.”

Julian threw his head back as she leaned over his thigh, pressing her breasts to his leg while she reached between his knees. His body snapped to attention, instantly hot and hard.

When she put her cheek against his groin as she struggled with the release, he thought he would die from it.

“You know, you’re in the perfect position to—”

“Julian!” she snapped. She pulled back and saw the bulge in his jeans. Her face turned bright red. “Sorry.”

“Me, too,” he breathed.

Unfortunately, she had yet to move the seat, so he was forced to endure the position one more time.

Grinding his teeth, Julian reached one arm over his head to grab the headrest and clench it tightly. It was all he could do not to yield to the fiery lust inside his body.

“You okay?” she asked once she released the seat and returned to her own.

“Oh, yeah,” he said sarcastically. “I’m just fine considering the fact I’ve walked through burning fires that hurt less than my groin does right now.”

“I said I was sorry.”

He just looked at her.

She patted his arm tenderly. “Okay, can you reach the pedals?”

“I’d like to reach your pedals…”

“Julian!” Grace snapped again. The man was truly lecherous. “Would you concentrate?”

“All right, I’m concentrating.”

“I don’t mean on my breasts.”

He dropped his hungry gaze to her lap.

“Or there, either.”

To her amazement, he playfully poked his bottom lip out like a pouting child. The look was so uncharacteristic of him that she laughed again.

“Okay,” she said. “The pedal on the far left is your clutch, the middle is the brake and the one on the far right is the gas. You remember what I told you about them?”

“I remember.”

“Good. Now the first thing you do is press in the clutch and slide the gear into reverse.” She placed his hand on the gear shift in the center of her car, and showed him how to move it up and down.

“You know, you really shouldn’t fondle that in front of me, Grace. It’s cruel.”

“Julian! Do you mind? I’m only trying to show you how to shift my gears.”

He snorted. “I wish you’d shift my gear like that.”

Grace growled at him.

With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he looked totally unrepentant.

Then he attempted to back up, but he released the clutch too soon and stalled the car.

“It’s not supposed to do that, is it?” he asked.

“Not unless you want to have a wreck.”

He sighed and tried again.

An hour later, after Julian still hadn’t managed to drive around the parking lot without hitting a curb or stalling the car, Grace conceded failure.

“It’s a good thing you were a better general than you are a driver.”

“Ha, ha,” he said sarcastically, but there was a glint in his eye that let her know he wasn’t truly offended. “All I have to say in my defense is that my first car was a war chariot.”

Grace smiled at him. “Well, we’re not at war on these streets.”

Looking skeptical, he retorted, “I wouldn’t say that. You forget, I’ve seen your late-night news.”

Julian turned the engine off. “I think I’ll let you drive for a while.”

“Probably wise. I can’t really afford a new car right now anyway.”

She got out to exchange sides with him again. But as they crossed paths at the trunk, Julian grabbed her for a hot kiss that made her dizzy. He took her hands in his and held them tightly against his lean hips as he nibbled her lips.

Goodness, a woman could get used to this. Really, really used to it.

Julian pulled back. “Want to take me home and let me nibble on other things?”

Yes, she did, which was why she didn’t dare. In fact, she was so delirious from that one kiss that she couldn’t even speak.

Julian smiled at the dazed, hungry look on her face. She stared at his lips as if she were still tasting them. In that moment, he wanted her more than he ever had before. Most of all, he wanted to take the band from her ponytail and let her hair spill over his chest.

How he wished they were back at her house where he could peel the short set from her and listen to her sweet murmurs of pleasure as he …

“The car,” she said, blinking her eyes as if awaking from a dream. “We were getting into the car.”

Julian kissed her lightly on the cheek.

After they both got in, and were buckled up, Grace looked sideways at him. “You know, it seems to me there are two things in New Orleans that you have yet to experience.”

“Number one, I have yet to take you on a—”

“Would you stop!”

He cleared his throat. “Okay, what’s your list?”

“Bourbon Street and modern music. One of which I can take care of right now.” Grace switched on the radio.

She laughed as she recognized “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner. How apropos, given her passenger.

Julian listened, but didn’t appear impressed.

Grace changed the station.

Julian frowned at her actions. “What did you do?”

“I changed to another station. All you have to do is press these buttons.”

He toyed with it for several minutes until he found a station playing “Love Hurts” by Nazareth. “Your music is interesting.”

“Does it make you miss your own?”

“Since most of the music I heard was pipers and drummers leading us into battle, no. I think I can appreciate this.”

“Appreciate what?” she asked flippantly. “The music or the fact that love hurts?”

The humor fled his face. “Since I’ve never known love, I wouldn’t know whether or not it hurts. But I can’t imagine how being loved could possibly hurt as much as not.”

Her chest tightened at his words.

“So,” she asked, wanting to change the subject, “what do you plan to do as soon as you get home?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ll probably go kick Scipio’s butt, right?”

He laughed at that. “I would like to.”

“Why? What did he ever do to you?”

“He got in my way.”

Okay, not what she expected to hear. “You don’t like anyone to get in your way, do you?”

“Do you?”

She thought about it. “I guess not.”

*   *   *

By the time they reached Bourbon Street, the Sunday afternoon crowd was swarming. Grace fanned her face as she fought the oppressive heat.

She looked up at Julian who even sweated attractively. His damp hair hung in becoming curls around his face, and with those sunglasses on … ooo, baby!