The Sleeping Dragon by Joel Rosenberg EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Joel Rosenberg
- Language: English
- Genre: Sword & Sorcery Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The Players
Karl Cullinane reached out his fork and speared the last stick of asparagus
from the stainless-steel serving plate in the middle of the table, not
bothering to set the asparagus on his own plate before taking a bite, It was
cold and mushy, almost tasteless; he swallowed quickly
“Karl, you’re a pig. A skinny one, granted, but a pig.” Andrea Andropolous’
smile took most of the sting out of her words, pitched low enough so that
nobody else in the crowded cafeteria would have been able to hear her over
the clatter of dishes and the chatter of a hundred or so students.
Karl put it down to a natural gentleness. Hell, she’d been able to make him
like it—almost—when she’d turned him down. Usually, the let’s-just-befriends routine drove him into a silent, stomach-churning rage.
“I gotta rush, Andy-Andy. There’s a game tonight.” He took another bit,
added a mouthful of lukewarm black coffee, and swallowed quickly. “If I’m
late, sure as hell they’ll start without me, put Barak out to pasture for the
night.”
“You mean that they’ll put him out to stud.” She chuckled, revealing a
mouthful of even, white Page 2
teeth.
Karl liked her laugh, her smile. He had always thought that the notion of
somebody brightening a room with a smile was just a fantasy. Until he had
met Andy-Andy, that is. Not that he had anything against fantasy, quite the
—
“It’s bullshit, Karl,” she said, smiling sweetly “Just an absurd male power
fantasy.” She reached out and stroked his skinny forearm with a long, dark
finger. Was it tanned, or not? Andy-Andy always seemed to find something
better to do during afternoon tanning hours than loll in the sun like some
well-oiled, roasting slug. Probably the olive tone of her skin was natural
coloration.
Maybe not. Of course, there was a way to tell. Trouble was, Karl had never
had the chance to check her for bikini marks.
Damn. “No, it’s just a game. A way to spend a little time, have a little fun.”
“A little fun?” She arched an eyebrow. “You call pretending to chop up a
pixie, rape a virgin or three, slice an ogre—you call that fun?” Quirking a
smile, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms almost defensively over
her blue velour pullover. Which was amply filled out, but not tight.
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