The Dark-Hunters (22 page)

The two boys and one of the girls were sitting next to him, listening attentively while their two-year-old sister toddled between them.

Grace smiled at the tranquil sight. Warmth flooded her, and she wondered if that was what Julian had looked like with his own children.

Leaving the deck, she walked toward them.

Bobby was the eldest of the children at nine, then his brother Tommy was a year younger and Katie was barely six. Their parents had moved in almost ten years ago as newlyweds and though they were friendly enough, they had never been much more than passing acquaintances.

“So, then what happened?” Bobby asked as Julian took a turn.

“Well, the army was trapped,” Julian said, moving one of the rocks over a stick. “Betrayed by one of their own. A young hoplite who had sold out his comrades because he wanted to be a Roman centurion.”

“They were the best,” Bobby interrupted.

Julian scoffed. “They were nothing compared to the Spartans.”

“Go, Spartans!” Tommy shouted. “That’s our school mascot.”

Bobby shoved his brother, knocking him over. “You’re interrupting the story.”

“You should never hit your brother,” Julian said, his voice both stern, and yet strangely gentle. “Brothers are supposed to protect one another, not hurt each other.”

The irony of his words wrenched her heart. It was a pity no one had ever taught his brothers that lesson.

“Sorry,” Bobby said. “So what happened after that?”

Before Julian could answer, the baby fell and scattered the rocks and sticks. The boys shouted at her, but Julian calmed them while lifting Allison up and setting her back on her feet.

He touched the baby lightly on the nose, making her laugh. Then he set the game up again.

As Bobby took his turn with a rock, Julian began the story where he’d left off. “The Macedonian commander looked around the hills where the Romans had his army cornered. There was no way to outflank them, nowhere to retreat.”

“Did they surrender?” Bobby asked.

“Never,” Julian said with conviction. “Death always before dishonor.”

Julian paused as the words echoed in his mind. Those words had been engraved on his shield. As a commander, he had lived by them.

As a slave, he’d long forgotten them.

The boys moved closer.

“Did they die?” Katie asked.

“Some did,” Julian said, trying to banish the memories that surged through him. Memories of a man who had once known no master save himself. “But not before they set the Romans back on their heels.”

“How?” the boys asked anxiously.

This time, Julian caught the baby before she interrupted their game.

“Well,” Julian said, giving Allison her small red ball. She sat on his bent knee and he held her in place with one hand around her waist. “As the Romans were riding down upon them, the Macedonian commander knew the Romans would expect him to pull his forces together into a phalanx, making them easy prey for the Roman cavalry and archers above. Instead, the commander ordered his men to disband, to aim their spears toward the horses, and break apart the Roman cavalry lines.”

“Did it work?” Tommy asked.

Even Grace was getting interested in the story.

Julian nodded. “The Romans hadn’t expected such a tactic from a civilized army. Completely unprepared for the move, their troops scattered.”

“And the Macedonian commander?”

“He gave a mighty battle cry as he rode his horse, Mania, across the field, and up the hillock where the Roman commanders were retreating. They turned to attack him, but it did them no good. With fury in his heart over the betrayal, the commander cut through them, leaving only one survivor.”

“Why?” Bobby asked.

“He wanted him to deliver a message.”

“What?” Tommy asked.

Julian smiled at their eager questions. “The commander ripped the Roman standard to shreds, then used the cloth of it to help the Roman staunch the bleeding of his wounds. With a lethal grin, he looked at the Roman and said, ‘Roma delenda est.’ Rome must be destroyed. Then he sent the Roman general home in chains to deliver the message to the Roman Senate.”

“Wow!” Bobby said in awe. “I wish you were my teacher in school. I might actually pass history if you were.”

Julian ruffled the boy’s black hair. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t care for the subject either at your age. All I wanted to do was get into mischief.”

“Hi, Miss Grace!” Tommy said as he finally caught sight of her. “Did you hear Mr. Julian’s story? He said the Romans were bad men.”

Julian looked up to see Grace standing a few feet away.

Grace smiled. “I’m sure he would know.”

“Can you fix my doll?” Katie asked, handing it to Julian.

Julian let go of the baby and took the doll. He popped its arm back in place.

“Thank you,” Katie said as she threw her arms around Julian and hugged his neck.

The longing on Julian’s face stung her heart. Grace knew it was the face of his own daughter he saw when he looked at Katie.

“You’re very welcome, little one,” he said hoarsely, pulling away from her.

“Katie, Tommy, Bobby? What are you doing over there?”

Grace looked up as Emily rounded the side of the house.

“You’re not bothering Miss Grace, are you?”

“No, they’re not bothering me,” Grace said to her.

Emily didn’t seem to hear her as she continued fussing at the children. “And what’s the baby doing out here? You’re supposed to stay in the backyard.”

“Hey, Mom,” Bobby yelled as he ran to her. “Do you know how to play Parcelon? Mr. Julian showed us.”

Grace laughed as the five of them returned to the front yard, while Bobby’s excited chatter echoed around them.

Julian had his eyes closed and looked as if he were savoring the sound of the children’s voices.

“You’re quite a storyteller,” she said after he moved to join her.

“Not really.”

“Really,” she said emphatically. “You know, it got me to thinking. Bobby’s right. You would make a great teacher.”

He smirked at her. “Commander to teacher. Why not call me Cato the Elder, and really insult me while you’re at it?”

She laughed. “You’re not as offended as you pretend.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell by the look on your face, and the light in your eyes.” She took his arm and led him back toward the deck. “You really should think about it. Selena got her Ph.D. from Tulane and she knows the faculty there. Who better to teach ancient civilization than someone who actually lived it?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, she noticed the way he shifted his bare feet against the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m enjoying the feel of grass,” he whispered. “The way the blades tickle my toes.”

She smiled at the childlike action. “That’s why you came outside?”

He nodded. “I love to feel the sunshine on my face.”

And in her heart, she knew he’d had way too little of it to feel. “C’mon, I’ll make us some cereal and we can eat it on the deck.”

She led him back up the five stairs to the deck, and left him sitting in her wicker rocker as she went inside and poured the cereal.

When she returned, he had his head lying back and his eyes serenely closed.

Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped back.

“Do you know, I can feel your presence all over my body? With every sense I possess?” he asked, then opened his eyes to pin her with a hot stare.

“No,” she said nervously, handing him his bowl.

He took the bowl, but didn’t elaborate on his words. He just sat there quietly eating his breakfast.

Absorbing the warm sunshine, Julian listened to the soft breeze as he felt Grace’s calming presence beside him.

He had awakened at dawn to watch the sunrise through her bedroom windows, and had spent an hour just letting Grace’s body soothe his.

She tempted him in a way he’d never before known. For a minute, he allowed himself to think of staying in this time.

But then what?

He only had one “skill” he could use in this modern world, and he wasn’t the kind of man who could live off a woman’s charity and like it.

Not after …

He ground his teeth as the memory burned him.

At fourteen, he’d traded his virginity for a bowl of cold porridge and a cup of soured milk. Even now, after all this time, he could feel the woman’s hands on his body, removing his clothes, grabbing feverishly at his skin as she showed him how to pleasure her.

“Ooo,” she’d cooed, “you are a pretty one, aren’t you? If you ever need more porridge, you just come back and see me any time my husband’s not home.”

He’d felt so dirty afterward. So used.

Over the next few years, he’d spent more nights sleeping in shadows than in warm beds merely because he wasn’t willing to pay that price again for a meal and temporary comfort.

And should he ever get his freedom again, he didn’t want to …

Julian clenched his eyes shut. He just couldn’t see himself in this world. It was too different. Too strange.

“Finished?”

He looked up to see Grace standing by his side with her hand outstretched for his bowl. “Yes, thank you,” he said, handing it to her.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on her bare legs. Already, he could taste her skin on his tongue. Smell the sweet scent of her body.

The woman haunted him. It wasn’t just the curse. There was something more. Something he’d never encountered.

For the first time in over two thousand years he felt like a man again, and with that feeling came a longing so profound that it sliced through his heart.

He wanted her. Body and soul.

And he wanted her love.

The thought jolted him.

But it was the truth. Not since his childhood had he felt such a gut-wrenching ache for someone to hold him tenderly. Someone who would tell him that she loved him and mean it from her heart and not because of a spell.

Leaning his head back, he cursed. When would he learn?

He had been born to suffer. The Delphi Oracle had told him as much.

“You will suffer as no man has ever suffered.”

“But will I be loved?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

He had walked away crushed by her prophecy. Little had he known then exactly how much suffering lay before him.

“He’s the son of the Goddess of Love and not even she can stand to be near him.”

He winced at the truth. Grace would never love him. No one would. His destiny wasn’t to be released from his suffering. And even worse, his destiny had a tragic way of bleeding over onto those around him.

Pain lacerated his chest as he thought about something happening to Grace.

He couldn’t allow that. He had to protect her at any cost. Even if it meant losing his freedom.

With that thought on his mind, he went to find her.

*   *   *

Grace wiped the soap from her eyes. Opening them, she jumped as she caught sight of Julian watching her through the small parting of the shower curtains.

“You scared the be-jesus out of me!” she snapped.

“Sorry.”

He stood outside of her extra-large, claw-foot tub, wearing nothing but boxers and leaning back against the wall in the same pose he’d had in the book. His broad shoulders were thrown back to support him and his long arms were casually at his sides.

She licked her lips at the sight of the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest and torso. Unbidden, her gaze fell lower to the red and yellow boxers.

Well, so much for thinking no man could look good in those. Because he did. There were truly no words to describe exactly how good he looked in them.

And that devilish, half-taunting smile on his face could melt the heart of even the most frigid of women.

The man was hot.

Nervously, she realized she was standing completely naked. “Do you need something?” she asked, covering her breasts with the washcloth.

To her dismay, he removed his boxers, then stepped into the tub with her.

Her mind turned to mush as he overwhelmed her with his powerful, masculine presence. That incredible, dimpled smile hovered at the edges of his lips, making her heart race. Her body tremble.

“I just wanted to watch you,” he said, his voice low and tender. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you run your hands over your bare breasts?”

Judging from the size of his erection, she could give a good guess.

“Julian…”

“Hmmm?”

She forgot what she was going to say as he dipped his head down to her neck. Chills rippled through her as his tongue scorched her flesh.

Grace moaned at the sensory overload of his hands and the hot water running over her body. She only vaguely felt him pull the cloth from her breasts before he took one in his mouth.

She hissed in pleasure as his tongue swirled around the taut peak, flicking across her flesh and making her burn.

He lowered her down in the tub, to lean against the sloping back. The contrast of the cool porcelain at her back and his warm body in front of her while the water poured down over the two of them titillated her in a way she’d never imagined.

Never before had she truly appreciated the size of the huge antique tub, but at the moment, she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“Touch me, Grace,” he said hoarsely, taking her hand into his and leading it to his swollen shaft. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

He shuddered as she stroked the velvety hardness of him.

Julian closed his eyes at the feelings swirling through him. Her touch wasn’t just physical, it touched him on a level that was undefinable. Unbelievable.

He wanted more of her. He wanted
all
of her.

“I love your hands on me,” he breathed as she cupped him. Oh, gods, how he ached for her. How he wished for just one moment she was really making love to
him.

Making love to him with her heart.

Pain sliced through his chest. No matter how many times he had sex, the end result was the same. It always hurt. If not his body, then deep in his soul.