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  Dragonswan

  Dark Hunter Series – Book 2

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Richmond, Virginia

  "Be kind to dragons, for thou art crunchy when roasted and taste good with ketchup."

  Dr. Channon MacRae paused in her note-taking and arched a brow at the peculiar comment. She'd been staring at the famous Dragon Tapestry for hours, trying to decipher the Old English symbolism, and in all this time no one had disturbed her. Not until now.

  With her most irritated look, she pulled her pen away from her notepad and turned. Then she gaped.

  No annoying, irreverent little man here. He was a tall, mind-blowingly sexy god who dominated the small museum room with a presence so powerful that she wondered how on earth he had entered the building without shaking it to its foundations.

  Never in her life had she beheld anything like him or the seductive smile he flashed at her.

  Good grief, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

  Standing at least six feet five, he towered over her average height. His long black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and he wore an expensively tailored black suit and overcoat that seemed at odds with his unorthodox hair yet perfectly fitting with his regal aura.

  But the most peculiar thing of all was the tattoo covering the left half of his face. A faded dark green, it spiraled and curled from his hairline to his chin like some ancient symbol.

  On anyone else such a mark would be freakish or strange, but this man wore it with dignity and presence- like a proud birthright.

  Yet it was his eyes that captivated her most. A rich, deep, greenish-gold, they were filled with such warm intelligence and vitality that it left her completely breathless. His grin was both boyish and roguish and framed by inviting dimples that enchanted her. "Rendered you speechless, eh?"

  She loved the sound of his voice, which was laced with an accent she couldn't quite place. It seemed a unique blending of the British and Greek. Not to mention, deep and provocative.

  "Not quite speechless," she said, resisting the urge to smile back at him. "I'm just wondering why you would say such a thing."

  He shrugged his broad shoulders nonchalantly as his golden gaze dropped to her lips, making her want to lick them. Worse, his prolonged stare sent a rush of desire coiling though her.

  Suddenly, it was so extremely warm in this little glass room that she half expected the gallery windows to fog up. He folded his hands casually behind his back, yet he seemed coiled for action, as if he were ready and alert to take on anyone who threatened him.

  What a strange image to have ...

  When he spoke again, his deep voice was even more seductive and enticing than it had been before, almost as if it were weaving some kind of magical spell around her. "You had such a serious frown while you were staring at the tapestry that it made me wonder what you would look like with a smile in its place."

  Oh, the man was beguiling. And just a little too cocksure of his appeal, judging by his arrogant stance. No doubt he could get any woman who caught his eye. Channon swallowed at the thought as she glanced down at her tan corduroy jumper and her hips, which were not the fashionable, narrow kind. She'd never been the type of woman who drew the notice of a man like this. She'd been lucky if her average looks ever garnered her a second glance at all.

  Mr. Do-Me-Right-Now must have lost a bet or something. Why else would he be speaking to her?

  Still, there was an air of danger, intrigue, and power about him. But none of deceit. He appeared honest and, strangely enough, interested in her.

  How could that be?

  "Yes, well," she said, taking a step to her left as she closed her pad and slid her pen down the spiral coil, "I don't make it my habit to converse with strangers, so if you'll excuse me..."

  "Sebastian."

  Startled by his response, she paused and looked up. "What?”

  “My name is Sebastian." He held his hand out to her. "Sebastian Kattalakis. And you are?"

  Completely stunned and amazed that you're talking to me. She blinked the thought away. "Channon," she said before she could stop herself. "Shannon with a C"

  His gaze burned her while a small smile hovered at the edges of those well-shaped lips and he flashed the tiniest bit of his dimples. There was an indescribable masculine aura about him that seemed to say he would be far more at home on some ancient battlefield than locked inside this museum.

  He took her cold hand into his large, warm one. "So very pleased to meet you, Shannon with a C."

  He kissed her knuckles like some gallant knight of long ago. Her heart pounded at the feel of his hot breath against her skin, of his warm lips on her flesh. It was all she could do not to moan from the sheer pleasure of it.

  No man had ever treated her this way-like some treasured lady to be quested for. She felt oddly beautiful around him. Desirable.

  "Tell me, Channon," he said, releasing her hand and glancing from her to the tapestry. "What has you so interested in this?"

  Channon looked back at it and the intricate embroidery that covered the yellowed linen. Honestly, she didn't know. Since she'd first seen it as a little girl, she'd been in love with this ancient masterpiece. She'd spent years studying the detailed dragon fable that started with the birth of a male infant and a dragon and moved forward through ten feet of fabric.

  Scholars had written countless papers on their theories of its origin. She, herself, had done her dissertation on it, trying to link it to the tales of King Arthur or to Celtic tradition.

  No one knew where the tapestry had come from or even what story it related to. For that matter, no one knew who had won the fight between the dragon and the warrior.

  That was what intrigued her most of all. "I wish I knew how it ended."

  He flexed his jaw. 'The story has no ending. The battle between the dragon and the man lives on unto today."

  She frowned at him. He appeared serious. "You think so?"

  "What?" he asked good-naturedly. "You don't believe me?”

  “Let's just say I have a hefty dose of doubt."

  He took a step forward, and again his fierce, manly presence overwhelmed her and sent a jolt of desire through her. "Hmmm, a hefty dose of doubt," he said, his voice barely more than a low, deep growl. "I wonder what I could do to make you believe?"

  She should step back, she knew it. Yet she couldn't make her feet cooperate. His clean, spicy scent invaded her head and weakened her knees. What was it about this man that made her want to stand here talking to him? Oh, to heck with that. What she really wanted to do was jump his delectable bones. To cup that handsome face of his in her hands and kiss his lips until she was drunk from his taste.

  There was something seriously wrong here. Mayday. Mayday.

  "Why are you here?" she asked, trying to keep her lecherous thoughts at bay. "You hardly look like the type to study medieval relics."

  A wicked gleam came into his eyes. "I'm here to steal it."

  She scoffed at the idea, even though something inside her said it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to buy that explanation. "Are you really?"

  "Of course. Why else would I be here?"

  "Why else, indeed?"

  Sebastian didn't know what it was about this woman that drew him so powerfully. He was involved in grave matters that required his full attention, yet for the life of him, he couldn't take his gaze from her.

  She wore her honey-brown hair swept up so that it cascaded in riotous waves from a silver clip of old Welsh design. Several strands of it had come free of the clip to dangle haphazardly around her face as if the strands had a life of their own. How he longed to set free that hair and feel it sliding through his fingers and brushing against his naked chest.

  He dropped his gaze down ov
er her lush, full body and stifled his smile. Her dark blue shirt wasn't buttoned properly and her socks didn't match. Still, she drove him crazy with desire.

  She wasn't the kind of woman who normally drew his interest, and yet... He was beguiled by her and her crystal blue gaze that glowed with warm curiosity and intelligence. He longed to sample her full, moist lips, to bury his face in the hollow of her throat where he could drink in her scent.

  Gods, how he yearned for her. It was a need borne of such desperation that he wondered what kept him from taking her into his arms right now and satisfying his curiosity.

  He'd never been the kind of man to deny himself carnal pleasures-especially not when the beast inside him was stirred. And this woman stirred that deadly part of him to a dangerous level.

  Sebastian had only come into the museum to get the lay of it for tonight and to find out where they housed the tapestry. He hadn't been looking for a woman to pass the lonely night with until he could return home where he would be ... well, lonely again.

  However, he still had hours before he could leave. Hours that he would much rather spend gazing into her eyes than waiting in his hotel room. "Would you care to join me for a drink?" he asked.

  She looked startled by his question. But then he seemed to have that effect on her. She was nervous around him, a bit jumpy, and he longed to set her at ease. "I don't go out with men I don't know."

  "How can you get to know me unless you ...”

  “Really, Mr. Kat-"

  "Sebastian."

  She shook her head at him. "You are persistent, aren't you?" She had no idea.

  Suppressing the predator inside him, Sebastian put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her and scaring her off. "I'm afraid it's ingrained in me. When I see something I want, I go after it."

  She arched a brow at that and gave him a suspicious look. "Why on earth would you want to talk to me?"

  He was aghast at her question. "My lady, do you not own a mirror?”

  “Yes, but it's not an enchanted one." She turned away from him and started away. Moving with the incredible speed of his kind, Sebastian pulled her to a stop. "Look, Channon," he said gently. "I fear I have bungled this. I just..." He stopped and tried to think of the best way to keep her with him for a while longer. She looked to his hand, which still gripped her elbow. He reluctantly let go, even though every part of his soul screamed for him to hold her by his side, regardless of the consequences. She was a woman with her own mind. And the first law of his people ran through his head: Nothing a woman gives is worth having unless she gives it of her own free will.

  It was the one law not even he would break. "You what?" she asked softly.

  Sebastian drew a deep breath as he fought down the animal part of himself that wanted her regardless of right or laws, the part of him that snarled with a need so fierce that it scared him.

  He forced a charming smile to his lips. "You seem like a very nice person, and there are so few of you in this world that I would like to spend a few minutes with you. Maybe some of it might rub off."

  Channon laughed in spite of herself.

  "Ah," he teased, "so you can smile.”

  “I can smile."

  "Will you join me?" he asked. "There's a restaurant on the corner. We can walk there, in plain sight of the world. I promise, I won't bite unless you ask me to." Channon frowned lightly at him and his quirky humor. What was it about him that made him so irresistible? It was unnatural. "I don't know about this.”

  “Look, I promise I'm not psychotic. Eccentric and idiosyncratic, but not psychotic." She still wasn't completely sure about that. "I'll bet the prisons are full of men who have told women that."

  "I would never hurt a woman, least of all you."

  There was such sincerity in his voice that she believed him. Even more convincing, she didn't feel any inner warnings, no little voice in her head telling her to run. Instead, she was drawn to him and felt a most peculiar kind of serenity in his presence, almost as if she were supposed to be with him. "Down the street?”

  “Yes." He offered her his arm. "C'mon. I promise I'll keep my fangs hidden and my mind control to myself."

  Channon had never done anything like this in her life. She was a woman who had to know a guy for a long time before she'd even consider a date. Yet she found herself pulling on her coat and placing her hand in the crook of his arm, where she felt a muscle so taut and well formed that it sent a jolt through her. By the feel of that arm, she could tell his fashionable black suit and overcoat hid one incredible body.

  "You seem so different," she said as he walked her out of the room. "Something about you is very Old World."

  He opened the glass door that led to the museum's foyer. "Old being the operative word."

  "And yet you're very modern."

  "A Renaissance man trapped between cultures.”

  “Is that what you are?"

  He cast a playful sideways look to her. "Honestly?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm a dragon slayer." She laughed out loud.

  He scoffed. "Again you don't believe me."

  "Let's just say it's no wonder you said you wanted to steal the tapestry. I suppose there's not much call for slaying a mythological beast, especially in this day and age."

  Those greenish-gold eyes teased her unmercifully. "You don't believe in dragons?”

  “No, of course not."

  He tsked at her. "You are so skeptical.”

  “I'm practical."

  Sebastian ran his tongue over his teeth as a sly half-smile curved his lips. A practical woman who didn't believe in dragons yet studied dragon tapestries and wore a mis-buttoned shirt. Surely there wasn't another soul like her in any time or place. And she had the strangest effect on his body.

  He was already hard for her, and they were barely touching. Her grip on his arm was light and delicate, as if she was ready to flee him at any moment. That was the last thing he wanted, and that surprised him most of all. A reclusive person, he only interacted with others when his physical needs overrode his desire for solitude. Even then, those encounters were brief and limited. He took his lovers for one night, making sure they were as well sated as he, then he quickly returned to his solitary world.

  He'd never dawdled with idle conversation. Never really cared to get to know more about a woman than her name and the way she liked to be touched. But Channon was different. He liked the cadence of her voice and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked. Most of all, he liked the way her smile lit up her entire face when she looked at him.

  And the sound of her laughter... He doubted if the angels in heaven could make a more precious melody.

  Sebastian opened the door to the dark restaurant and held it for her while she entered. As she swept past him, he let his gaze travel down the back of her body. He hardened even more.

  What he wouldn't give to have her warm and naked in his arms so that he could run his hands down her full curves, nibble the flesh of her neck, and hold her to him as he slowly slid himself deep inside her while she writhed to his touch. Sebastian forced himself to look away from Channon and to speak to the hostess. He sent a mental command to the unknown woman to sit them in a secluded corner. He wanted privacy with Channon.

  How he wished he'd met her sooner. He'd been in this cursed city for well over a week, waiting for the opportunity to go home, where if not the comfort of warmth, he at least had the comfort of familiarity. He'd spent his nights in this city alone, prowling the streets restlessly as he bided his time.

  At dawn, he would have to leave. But until then, he intended to spend as much time with Channon as he could, letting her company ease the loneliness inside him, ease the pain in his heart that had burned him for most of his life. Channon followed the hostess through the restaurant, but all the while she was aware of Sebastian behind her- aware of his hot, predatorial gaze on her body and the way he seemed to want to devour her.

  But even more unbelievable was the fac
t that she wanted to devour him. No man had ever made her feel so much like a woman or made her want to spend hours exploring his body with her hands and mouth.

  "You're nervous again," he said after they were seated in a dark corner in the back of the pub.

  She glanced up from the menu to catch sight of those greenish-gold eyes that reminded her of some feral beast. "You are incredibly perceptive."

  He inclined his head toward her. "I've been accused of worse.”

  “I'll bet you have," she teased back. Indeed, he had the presence of an outlaw. Dangerous, dark, seductive. "Axe you really a thief?"

  "Define the term thief."

  She laughed even though she wasn't quite sure if he was joking or serious. "So tell me," he said as the waitress brought their drinks, "what do you do for a living, Shannon with a C?"

  She thanked the waitress for her Coke, then looked to Sebastian to see how he would deal with her occupation. Most men were a bit intimidated by her job, though she'd never been able to figure out why. "I'm a history professor at the University of Virginia."

  "Impressive," he said, his face genuinely interested. "What cultures and times do you specialize in?"

  She was amazed he knew anything about her job. "Mostly preNorman Britain.”

  “Ah. Hwaet we Gar-Dena in gear-dagum peod-cyninga prym gefrunon, hu da aephelingas ellen fremedon."

  Channon was floored by his Old English. He spoke it as if he'd been born to it. Imagine a man so handsome knowing a subject so dear to her heart. She offered him the translation. "So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness. We have heard of those princes' heroic campaigns."

  His inclined his head to her. "You know your Beowulf well."

  "I've studied Old English extensively, which, given my job, makes sense. But you don't strike me as a historian."

  "I'm not. Rather, I'm a sort of reenactor."

  That explained the way he looked. Now his presence in the museum and knightly air of authority made sense to her.

  "Is your study of the Middle Ages what had you in the museum today?" he asked. She nodded. "I've studied the tapestry for years. I want to be the person who finally unravels the mystery behind it."