"Kenyon, Sherrilyn - Dark-Hunter 03 - Dragonswan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenyon Sherrilyn)

"I do, but I somehow doubt you would appreciate my showing it to you."
"And why is that?"
"It would scare the life out of you."
Channon sat back at that, unsure of how to take it. She didn't really know what to make of the man sitting across from her. He kept her on edge all the while he lured her toward his danger. Lured her against all her reason.
They remained quiet as their food was placed on the table.





While they ate, Channon studied him. The candlelight in the pub danced in his eyes, making them glow like a cat's. His hands were strong and callused-the hands of a man who was used to hard work-yet he had the air of wealth and privilege, the air of a powerful man who made his own rules.
He was a total enigma, a walking dichotomy who made her feel both safe and threatened.
'Tell me, Channon," he said suddenly, "do you like teaching?"
"Some days. But it's the research I like best. I love digging through old manuscripts and trying to piece together the past."
He gave a short half laugh. "No offense, but that sounds incredibly boring."
"I imagine dragon-slaying is much more action-oriented."
"Yes, it is. Every moment is completely unpredictable."
She wiped her mouth as she watched him eat with perfect European table manners. He was definitely cultured, yet he seemed oddly barbaric. "So, how do you kill a dragon?"
"With a very sharp sword."
She shook her head at him. "Yes, but do you call him out? Do you go to him ... ?"
"The easiest way is to sneak up on him."
"And pray he doesn't wake up?"
"Well, it makes it more challenging if he does."
Channon smiled. She was so drawn to that infectious wit of his. Especially since he didn't seem to notice the women around them who were ogling him while they ate. It was as if he could only see her.
As a rule, she stunk at this whole male-female thing. Her last boyfriend, a D.C. correspondent, had educated her well on every personal and physical flaw she possessed. The last thing she was looking for was another


relationship in which she wasn't on equal terms with the man.
For her next love interest, she wanted someone just like her-a historian of average looks whose life revolved around research. Two comfortable peas in a pod.
She wasn't looking for some hot, mysterious stranger who made her blood burn with desire.
Channon, would you listen to yourself and what you 're saying! You are insane not to want this man!
Perhaps. But things like this never happened to her.
"You know," she said to him, "I keep having this really weird feeling that you're going to take me someplace later and tie me up naked so that your friends can come laugh at me."
He arched a brow at her. "Does that happen to you often?"
"No, never, but this night has the makings for a Twilight Zone episode."
"I promise no Rod Serling voice-overs. You're safe with me."
And for some reason that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, she believed him.
Channon spent the next few hours having the dinner and conversation of her life. Sebastian was incredibly easy to talk to. Worse, he set her hormones on fire.
The longer they were together and the more laughs they shared, and the more incredible he seemed.
She glanced at her watch and gasped. "Did you know it's almost midnight?"
He checked his watch.
"I hate to cut this short," she said, placing her napkin on the table and sliding her chair back, "but I have to go or I'll never get a taxi out of here."
He placed his hand lightly on her arm to keep her at the table. "Why don't you let me drive you home?"
Channon started to protest, but something inside her refused. After the evening they had spent together, she





felt oddly at ease with him. There was an aura about him that was so comforting, so open and welcoming.