Chapter 4
Izzi had no idea what was wrong with her. She felt as if she was burning up with fever. Her body was shaking, and her hands were trembling.
She had thought it was flu originally, but she’d had that a couple of times in the past, and this wasn’t like that. Those times she’d alternated between feeling hot and cold. Not felt constantly hot and as if she were burning from the inside out. She hadn’t had this unrelenting itching-under-the-skin feeling then either.
Or the intense sexual arousal that made her nipples painfully hard and tingling and caused her clit to throb, her core to ache and dampen her panties.
“You seem distracted today, Izzi.” Pyotr voiced his concern at her lack of conversation, reaching across the table to lightly clasp her hand as the two of them sat in a booth together at a popular coffee shop. “Tanya told me you didn’t seem well toward the end of yesterday evening either.”
She had definitely been agitated last night when she’d returned to the kitchen, after being so thoroughly kissed and caressed by Deryk Pendragon. It didn’t surprise her that Tanya had noticed her distraction.
Izzi gave Pyotr a reassuring smile. “I did feel a little off then, but I’m fine again today,” she lied.
She had telephoned Pyotr on her way back to her apartment this morning, explaining she had cut her visit short with her parents and suggesting the two of them meet up for coffee, as they often did on a Saturday morning. She had hoped being with Pyotr, boyishly handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes, would prove a distraction from that tingling under her skin and the arousal still coursing like wildfire through her body.
It hadn’t.
Because Pyotr wasn’t the one making her feel this way.
Last night, Izzi had dreamed of Deryk, the man with the golden eyes, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him today, either. Intensely erotic dreams and thoughts that involved Deryk filling her with the length of that huge cock she had felt pulsing and hard against her thigh yesterday evening when he kissed and caressed her.
Merely thinking about the golden-eyed Deryk Pendragon now caused a delicious shiver of arousal to run the length of Izzi’s spine.
Whereas looking at the handsome Pyotr did no more than give her warm feelings of friendship.
She didn’t want to think of the dangerously attractive Deryk in that way. Or how he had kissed and touched her as if he owned her.
With overprotective parents and two older brothers who also liked to keep a familial eye on her, Izzi had no intention of being owned by anyone. Least of all by the forceful dragon shifter, Deryk Pendragon. He was—
“Mind if I join you?”
—here!
It was almost as shocking to look up into Deryk’s ruggedly handsome and unforgettable face as he stood beside the table, without even the excuse of a holding a cup of coffee in his hand, as she had felt last night when he rushed toward her with glowing golden eyes and talons piercing the ends of his fingers.
Then, he had been wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt. Today he still had on faded jeans, but with a black T-shirt this time. He also wore a black leather duster that reached all the way down to his black biker boots, and made his shoulder-length blond hair appear more golden than ever.
Izzi suddenly knew, without needing to be told, that this man’s dragon would be golden too.
Merely thinking of him in dragon form was enough to make her heart stutter and her pulse skip several beats. She just knew Deryk Pendragon would be magnificent as a dragon. Scary but also magnificent.
She gave Pyotr a glance from under lowered lashes as she moved her hand from beneath his. He looked as overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of this huge and imposing man as Izzi felt.
How had Deryk Pendragon even known Izzi was here when she hadn’t spoken to anyone other than her parents and Pyotr this morning? Her parents certainly couldn’t have guessed where she was now. They had believed her excuse of having to work on a nonexistent assignment for her degree for the rest of the weekend. But neither did she believe Deryk being here, in this particular coffee shop, was a coincidence.
He quirked a questioning brow at her lack of reply “Izabella?”
She swallowed. “I don’t—” She got no further in her brush-off as Deryk took the initiative and slid onto the bench seat beside her in the booth.
“And you are?” he prompted Pyotr in a hard voice, glittering eyes narrowed on the younger man.
Izzi wasn’t about to let this man intimidate her or Pyotr. “Pyotr, this is Deryk Pendragon. He’s over from England on a visit with my parents’ employer. Mr. Pendragon”—she deliberately used the formality as a way of putting even more distance between them—“this is my boyfriend, Pyotr Petrov.”
Deryk was completely aware of what Izabella was doing. As he was also aware, if the opportunity arose, he would be spanking her delicious ass for that introduction later on today. As for Petrov being her boyfriend… He had been her boyfriend. Definitely past tense.
“Mr. Petrov.” He deliberately squeezed the young man’s hand, waiting until it had produced a wince on that boyishly handsome face before releasing him. Childish, yes, but if Deryk had reacted in the way he had really wanted to when he saw Izabella sitting in this private booth with the younger man, then it would be more than Petrov’s hand that was hurting him right now.
“Mr. Pendragon.” Petrov’s English was more accented than Izabella’s. “Are you enjoying St. Petersburg?”
“I was until a few minutes ago, yes,” Deryk drawled pointedly, baring his teeth in a predatory smile as he leaned back in the booth.
A blush now colored Izabella’s cheeks. Anger, or something else?
He studied her through narrowed lids. The green of her eyes looked slightly fevered. There was that noticeable flush to her cheeks. She was also gripping her hands tightly together as they rested on the tabletop. To stop anyone from realizing they were shaking?
Deryk believed so, yes.
To test out his theory, he moved one of his hands beneath the table before placing it on the heat of Izabella’s denim-covered thigh. Her sharply indrawn breath was answer enough.
Izabella was trying not to show it, but she was so physically aroused her body was burning up and sensitive to the slightest touch.
Deryk tightened his fingers, digging them into her flesh and succeeding in drawing forth another shaky gasp. This told Deryk that if he moved his hand any higher, Izabella was going to climax right here in front of her boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend.
Deryk had no intention of any man but him so much as touching Izabella ever again, let alone seeing her in the throes of sexual ecstasy.
His mouth thinned at the very thought of that ever happening. “You’re needed urgently back at the palace,” he told Izabella.
Her eyes widened as she no doubt heard the warning in his tone. “I don’t—” Her protest came to an abrupt halt as Deryk moved his hand one inch higher. He smiled as he easily read the word bastard in her narrowed and glaring eyes. “Of course.” She managed to summon up a shaky smile for Petrov as she collected her jacket and bag.
“I will ring you, Izzi.” Petrov recovered enough from her abrupt departure to reassure her.
Izzi?
This man called his mate Izzi?
Deryk made no effort to move off the bench seat so Izabella could stand, the intensity of his gaze fixed on the man sitting opposite him. “Izabella will be too busy to talk to you again.” For the rest of her lifetime, his dragon added, no happier than Deryk at having this other man be so familiar with their mate. He knew the compulsion had worked when the other man didn’t repeat his intention of contacting Izabella. “We’re leaving now, and you will remain here.” The arrogance of his tone brooked no further argument.
Izzi was too bemused by Pyotr’s docile acceptance of her leaving with another man to feel able to protest as she instead followed Deryk Pendragon out of the booth and across to the door of the coffee shop. She came to a halt when he took her coat from her and held it up so she could put it on before they stepped out into the frigid cold outside.
“Isn’t this what human men do to be polite when they’re with a woman?” he prompted quizzically when she made no move to slip her arms into the coat sleeves.
The fact that he had to ask showed it wasn’t something he usually did. But why would he? This man was dragon, arrogant, fierce, at the very top of the food chain. He had no reason to use politeness when brute force served him as well.
“Izabella?”
She frowned her irritation as she slipped her arms into the jacket and then stepped away from him. “My name is Izzi. And could you try keeping your voice down when you say the word ‘human’ in that disparaging way?” Several people in the coffee shop had given Deryk curious glances, but as most of them were female, it probably wasn’t because of anything he’d said.
Handsome as sin aptly described this man, with an added edge of danger all woman would find compelling.
“I prefer Izabella,” he announced with an arrogant finality he probably wasn’t even aware of because it was such a part of his dragon nature. “How are you feeling today?” he prompted lightly, then opened the door for her to precede him. They both stepped outside.
Izzi pushed her hands into the deep pockets of her jacket as she narrowed her gaze and studied Deryk’s innocent expression. Too innocent? She would take a bet on this man not having an innocent bone in his magnificent, muscular body. “I feel fine,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged broad shoulders, seeming unaffected by the extreme cold. Which he probably wasn’t. Dragons didn’t feel the cold like humans. “Vlad mentioned there’s a flu bug going round at the moment in St. Petersburg. You look a little…flushed, and your thigh felt very warm when I touched you just now.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped to let him know she hadn’t liked being touched in that way.
Inwardly, she was sure this man knew exactly how she was feeling and why she was so feverish. Because that fever had increased as soon as he came into the coffee shop. As had that strange tingling sensation beneath her skin. Between her legs also felt damp and swollen with arousal, her clit throbbing in the confines of her jeans. The only time it had eased slightly had been when Deryk placed his hand on her thigh.
Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know where to find me?”
Deryk had a feeling Izabella wouldn’t like it if he told her he had managed to find out the district where she lived from a casual conversation with her father over breakfast. Not that the other man had been aware of the reason for Deryk’s interest, the conversation having been general about the three Mikhailov offspring rather than specific to Izabella.
Once Deryk knew which district to look in, he had simply followed his nose, and Izabella’s scent, from there. He had easily found the apartment block she lived in, and then followed the freshest trail of her scent until it led him to the coffee shop.
His dragon had not been pleased when he looked through the window and saw Izabella sitting cozily in a private booth talking with another man. Deryk had been consumed with a haze of rage when he saw the man was holding Izabella’s hand.
It had taken Deryk several minutes to get himself and his dragon under control, when his instinct was to rip Petrov’s throat out for so much as daring to touch his mate. If he’d had any sense Izabella and the other man were lovers, which he hadn’t, he might not have succeeded in controlling that need for violence.
“Coincidence,” he dismissed.
She eyed him skeptically. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”
Deryk didn’t either. But what were the chances that he and Bryn would be the ones chosen to come on a diplomatic visit to St. Petersburg? Bryn was barely civil at the best of times. Deryk was best known for his cynicism and sarcasm.
And yet here he was, strolling along in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and more incredibly, with his mate at his side.
Admittedly Izabella didn’t know that yet, but she would. Oh yes, she most certainly would.
How could he have known he would find his mate in Russia, of all places? That she had been here all the time. Well, the last twenty-two years, at least.
Deryk didn’t believe Izabella when she said she felt fine. He had seen the signs of her mating fever. Knew that if his fingers touched between her legs right now, she would be wet. For him. Because of him. That a single stroke of her clit would probably send her over the edge into a sexual climax.
It was enough to make his cock hard. Harder, he corrected. Because he had been in a constant state of arousal since kissing Izabella the night before. Simply walking beside her, attempting to make light conversation, was taking all his self-control.
But once Deryk had calmed down a little last night, Bryn had finally managed to convinced him that he had to take this slowly, or he was going to end up scaring Izabella more than he already had. Having Izabella run away from him was something Deryk simply couldn’t allow. Daren’t allow. His dragon would then want to hunt her down and claim her, without or without her consent.
“I owe you an apology for my behavior last night,” he said evenly, desperately trying not to grit his teeth. When was the last time he had apologized to anyone? Probably Chloe, at some time during the past six months. He seemed to have a natural ability when it came to irritating his brother’s human mate. “It’s no excuse, but I was tired from the flight over here and I…overreacted when you appeared so suddenly in my bedchamber.” Lame, Deryk. Very lame.
The skeptical expression on Izabella’s face told him she thought so too.
But he didn’t think she was ready for him to tell her that all he had wanted last night was to fuck her, and keep on fucking her, until she knew she belonged with him. To him.
Humans are not possessions, Bryn had cautioned.
Human or not, Izabella was his. Deryk would play nice for as long as he was able, but after that he couldn’t give any guarantees. Not with Izabella’s unique perfume constantly saturating his senses.
He was hoping, with the mating aphrodisiac coursing hotly through her veins, Izabella wouldn’t be able to resist their mating for too much longer.
“Have you lived in St. Petersburg all your life?” he tried again with the conversation.
“Yes.”
“Never been out of St. Petersburg?
“No.”
“Ever wanted to?”
She nodded, her expression wistful. “Do you travel a lot?”
“Some,” he answered cautiously. Some of the places he’d visited certainly weren’t tourist locations.
“Where do you live?” Izabella prompted curiously.
“Wales.”
“Wales?” Izzi repeated slowly, realizing that was probably the explanation for that husky and musical lilt to his and Bryn’s voices.
“It’s a part of the British Isles.”
“I know where it is.” She eyed Deryk impatiently. “I studied England in geography at school.”
“Wales isn’t England.” His smile revealed very even and very white teeth. “I don’t live in a palace, but I do live in a castle. With my brothers.”
“There’s more than Bryn?”
“Eight of us now.”
“There were more?”
“Two. They died,” he bit out, no longer smiling.
She thought of the Romanov brothers. “Dragons have big families.”
Deryk nodded. “My brothers and I are also all the same age, give or take a day or two, and were born to different mothers. Long story,” he drawled as Izzi’s eyes widened in surprise.
Izzi’s curiosity was definitely piqued. As it was meant to be? Probably. As she had thought earlier, dragons were cunning. “Am I allowed to ask?”
“Only if you agree to have dinner with me this evening.”
Yes, definitely cunning. “I think you’re taking advantage of my curiosity.”
His smile returned. “I think I am too. Shall I call for you at your apartment at, say, eight o’clock? Or perhaps nine o’clock, as I’m told people eat late here.”
It wasn’t a good idea for Deryk to come to her apartment, Izzi decided, not with this arousal still surging through her body in hot waves. It wasn’t a good idea for her to meet him this evening at all. And yet a part of her wanted to do exactly that. The part of her that was burning up with arousal for this man, and this man alone. “I’ll come to the palace. I know somewhere good to eat that we don’t have to book, and we can walk to it from there.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “How will you get to the palace?”
“I’ll walk—”
“Absolutely not,” he bit out harshly. “I will either call a taxi or borrow a car from the Romanovs and pick you up from your apartment.”
After giving it some thought, Izzi decided that perhaps might be for the best, after all. She didn’t think it was a good idea for her parents, or the Romanov brothers, to know she had agreed to go out to dinner this evening with Deryk Pendragon.