Chapter 2
Mikhailov Palace
St. Petersburg, Russia
“If you are not going to be of any assistance to me, Izabella, then you might as well take yourself from underneath my feet and return downstairs to help in the kitchen,” her mother grumbled as she prepared the bedchamber for the second of the guests expected today by their employers, the Romanov brothers.
Izzi gave an unconcerned grin as she sat on the window seat looking out at a typical Russian winter wonderland. It was a truly beautiful sight, and one Izzi knew she would never tire of looking at.
She also knew her mother was only snapping at her because she wanted everything to be perfect for the Romanovs’ guests. Not surprising when it was the first time Izzi could ever remember the brothers having a single guest to stay, let alone two.
Izzi wouldn’t normally have been here. At twenty-two, she now lived in an apartment close to the State University where she was studying law. But her parents had asked her to come home to help out with the heavier workload over the weekend. “Who are these guests? We haven’t recognized royalty since the revolution, you know.” She attempted to tease away her mother’s fussing.
There was no answering smile. “You know who and what we are to the Romanov family.”
Ah.
For the past thousand years, the Mikhailov family had been the human servants of the Romanov dragon shifters. For three hundred of those years, since the birth of St. Petersburg, the Mikhailov family had, to all intents and purposes, been the owners and in residence at the Mikhailov Palace. Which was why the Mikhailov family hadn’t been murdered along with all the other prestigious families during the Russian Revolution. Even revolutionists didn’t want to argue with a dragon at the height of its wrath, and the Romanov brothers rewarded the Mikhailov family loyalty by protecting them to their last breath.
Thank God Izzi had two older brothers and their families who would one day take over as caretakers here after their parents died, although both would continue to live and work away from home until that happened. The females of the line were not expected to do the same, although Izzi’s law degree would become useful to the Romanov business empire once she was qualified. They were paying for her education, after all.
In the meantime, Izzi was living the pretty normal life of a student. Studying hard but also staying up late drinking and talking and setting the world to rights. She even had a boyfriend, whom she’d been dating for a couple of months. Her conservative parents didn’t know about Pyotr yet, and perhaps they never would. Izzi knew they wouldn’t approve of Pyotr’s rebellious political leanings.
“I know nothing about these two men,” her mother dismissed. “Only that we are to show them every courtesy.”
It was a warning to Izzi not to be seen or heard, only to help out in the kitchen as requested.
She could do that.
Although her curiosity was definitely piqued where these two mysterious guests were concerned.
“Goddess, its cold enough here to freeze my balls off!” Deryk grumbled.
Dragons had a normal body temperature that far exceeded that of humans’, but he could see Bryn looked no warmer than he did. His brother was hunched down in his leather jacket against the icy-cold wind blowing across the roof of the Mikhailov Palace in St. Petersburg. Deryk and Bryn had arrived only minutes ago, after flying to Russia either under the cover of their ability to cloak their existence, or later, under the darkness of night.
After hours of flight, they had finally landed on the roof of an honest-to-goodness palace, and in the very center of the historic and expensive part of the city, no less. Surely not the ideal place for dragon shifters to reside?
Deryk had thought he and his brothers were pretentious for living in a castle in the north Wales countryside, but this palace in the middle of St. Petersburg was way more ostentatious than that. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its numerous gold-topped domes and ornate white stone architecture.
“So glad you have arrived safely, gentlemen.”
The brothers turned to face Vladimir Romanov as he strolled across the rooftop toward them, tall and dark-haired with a slightly swarthy complexion. Deryk’s scowl deepened as he saw the other man was wearing only a dark T-shirt and a pair of shorts. What was this, a pissing contest? Because if so—
“You will please excuse my lack of clothing.” The Russian shrugged in apology for his informal appearance. “I had just returned from my evening run when I was informed of your arrival. I like to keep my human body as fit as my dragon one.”
Deryk’s temper subsided slightly. Although he would be interested to know who had informed the other man they had arrived. He had thought he and Bryn had been pretty stealthy since they’d entered Russian airspace. “Grigor sends his best wishes.” He tersely relayed his brother’s message.
One dark brow arched arrogantly. “He did not feel able to come himself?”
So what did the bastard think Deryk and Bryn were, second string? Whatever the fuck Romanov thought about the two of them being here instead of Grigor, Deryk wasn’t about to reveal his brother’s real reason for being a no-show. “He had something more important to take care of,” he drawled.
The Russian’s nostrils flared at the deliberate insult. “I suggest we go inside out of the cold. I will have our housekeeper, Anna Mikhailova, show you to your bedchambers while I go and shower. We can all meet up again at dinner.”
“What a pompous prick,” Deryk muttered once he and Bryn had been escorted to two adjoining bedrooms in brisk military fashion by a mainly silent middle-aged woman he wasn’t even sure could speak English. It was just as well he and Bryn had looked up a few useful Russian phrases before leaving Wales. Ones like “how much” and “for how long” had seemed appropriate to Deryk at the time.
Now he was here, he wasn’t so sure. The Romanovs were a formal lot, and the servants seemed to be equally so. His intention of going on the hunt for a woman and some down-and-dirty sex no longer seemed to be on the agenda. Pity.
Bryn sat down on the huge four-poster bed that dominated the room. “I’ll take this room.”
“Claiming an older brother’s privilege?” he mocked. Bryn claimed to being one day older than him.
“No, I’m just too fucking tired to be bothered to walk to the room next door.” Bryn fell back on the bed with a relieved sigh. “Maybe we should take a plane if we ever have to come back again.”
“You’re on your own there, buddy.” Deryk gave a chuckle as he picked up his bag and headed for the door adjoining the two rooms. Public transport of any kind, being locked into a confined space with all those humans, made his dragon irritable and impatient to break loose. Not a good thing for the safety of the humans thirty-six-thousand feet in the air with him.
He opened the connecting door into the adjoining bedchamber and was instantly hit by the force of an insidious perfume that sent him crashing to his knees and left him gasping for air.
Mate.
“Deryk?” Bryn’s concerned voice seemed to reach him from a long way away as Deryk remained on his knees fighting for breath. “What the fuck is going on?”
Mate.
It was the only word reverberating around inside Deryk’s head. The only thing he could think of. The only thing he wanted to think of.
That perfume. Fresh snow and earth. Along with ripe and fertile woman.
His woman.
“Deryk, you have to calm the fuck down.” Bryn’s increasing concern was in his voice. “You can’t shift in here, for Goddess’s sake.”
Deryk looked down to where his hands had become dragon along with four-inch talons, and knew the rest of his shift wasn’t far away. His dragon had scented its mate and was preparing to fight anyone who got in the way of his claiming her.
His mate was right here.
In this palace.
Somewhere.
All he had to do was find her.
“So, who are they and what are they like?” Izzi asked her father eagerly when he returned to the kitchen after serving the Romanov brothers and their guests the first course of their dinner.
Her father placed the silver tray he carried down on the table before answering her. “It is not permissible to ask such a question, Izabella. You know this.” He frowned his disapproval.
But Izzi knew that disapproval was because of the other servants in the kitchen. Those servants not privy to the information the Romanov brothers were all dragon shifters.
It was far too big a palace for her parents to keep clean on their own, as well as dealing personally with the needs of the Romanov brothers. Outsiders were employed to take care of the menial tasks that would not bring them into contact with the Romanovs.
Pyotr’s older sister was one of them, Izzi having recommended the other woman to her father after Tanya found herself suddenly unemployed. It was only a temporary job for the other woman, until Tanya found something more suitable. As there was only Pyotr and Tanya, since their parents died ten years ago, the other woman couldn’t afford to be out of a job even for a few weeks or months.
“Besides, there is only one of the guests present at dinner.” Her father softened his severity slightly at Izzi’s disappointed expression. “The other one is unwell after the journey here and remains in his bedchamber.”
“Would you like me to take a dinner tray up to him?” she instantly offered.
“No,” her father drawled, not fooled by her innocent tone for a moment. “I am informed he does not require food and he has bottled water in his room already.”
Which didn’t mean Izzi couldn’t excuse herself once the main course of the meal had been served. Her mother didn’t need her help with dessert and coffee. Izzi’s curiosity was such that she intended to knock on the door of this man’s bedchamber on the pretext of asking if there was anything she could get for him.
Deryk felt as if he had dozens of bees stinging him beneath his skin, sweat beading his forehead as he paced the ornate bedchamber fighting the urge to shift completely. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights. There was no reason to when his dragon’s night vision was excellent.
Knowing how close Deryk was to shifting, Bryn hadn’t wanted to leave him in order to go down to dinner with the Romanov brothers. Deryk had insisted. Grigor had asked the two of them to represent the Pendragon family, and Deryk had no intention of letting his eldest brother down the first evening he was here by appearing for dinner and making a scene because he couldn’t control himself. Or having Bryn excuse both of them so that he could remain here and keep an eye on him.
Not that crying off dinner with the excuse of not feeling well would succeed in fooling the Romanovs for a moment. Dragons didn’t get sick.
Mate.
Except for the mating heat.
Which wasn’t a sickness as such, but more an overwhelming need to fuck and keep fucking until his mate surrendered totally and he had bitten her and put his dragon’s scent all over her. His scent and the mating bite to the back of her neck would warn off other male dragons from coming anywhere near her.
The mating bite was also supposed to calm his dragon down to a manageable level, but Nathaniel’s mating heat seemed to have grown worse since Chloe became pregnant. To the extent that he occasionally growled at his own brothers if they went too close to her.
Deryk’s own mate was here, in the Mikhailov Palace. He knew it. He hadn’t even seen her yet, but he could already feel the possessiveness building inside him where she was concerned.
Bryn was going to make discreet enquiries at dinner, to see if they could work out who she was and what connection she had to the Romanov family. They knew the Russians didn’t have a sister, and it certainly wasn’t the middle-aged woman who had shown them to their bedchambers.
Deryk was filled with a barely contained anticipation at the thought of meeting his mate for the first time. He had thought it was never going to happen, and that he would spend the last few years of his life as inwardly alone as he had always been, fighting the last change that would end his life. But she was here, and close enough he could feel the thrum of their connection. Goddess, he wanted her. To be with her. To know her.
Deryk also sensed his mate was human. Or mostly so, at least. Chances were she also had no knowledge of dragon shifters. Remembering how Chloe had freaked out when Nathaniel tried to tell her what he was, Deryk knew he had to get himself under control before he met his own mate. Otherwise he could, as Grigor had warned two days ago, end up hurting her. Now that he had found her at last, scaring her away was the last thing Deryk wanted to do.
He threw the doors to the balcony of the bedchamber open before stepping outside to draw several deep breaths of the frigidly cold air into his lungs in an effort to dull the heat burning through his body.
Goddess, his emotions were in turmoil. He was filled with euphoria at knowing his mate was near, and fear at the thought of losing her now that he’d found her. His dragon had no doubts she was his mate, and so Deryk didn’t either. But a human might balk at the thought of a dragon mate. Balk? She might run off screaming into the night once she knew what he was.
Deryk’s predatory nature wouldn’t allow that. Whoever this woman was, she was his.
And if she should refuse the mating?
Then she would leave him no choice but to do what Nathaniel had done with Chloe, and carry his mate off to his cave until she accepted him.
He—
“Hello…?”
All Deryk’s reasoning, his plan to proceed slowly and carefully in order to win over his mate, all in the knowledge he would be spending the rest of his life with her, was utterly destroyed the moment he and his dragon heard her voice.
Mine.