Chapter 9
“Is what Vlad said true?” The darkness of Grigor’s eyes glowed like twin jet stones.
Deryk’s lids narrowed. Grigor might be the eldest of the Pendragon brothers and also their natural leader, but his brother had no experience of what it felt like when faced with your fated mate. None of them did until they met her.
Deryk certainly hadn’t realized the compulsion to claim he would feel when he breathed in Izabella’s perfume and then met her in person. Not the same sort of compulsion he and his brothers occasionally used on humans to ensure their dragons remained secret, but a driving need that blanked out everything and everyone else as being unnecessary noise. Izabella was now the only thing Deryk could see and feel. Her mere existence consumed him. Her well-being was all he cared about. Along with the raging desire for her that burned constantly beneath his skin.
“Izabella is my mate, yes,” he answered his brother evenly. Grigor had come straight to Deryk’s bedchamber once he had finished talking with Vladimir Romanov.
Grigor looked at him searchingly. “What does it feel like?”
Deryk was surprised by the question rather than the condemnation he had been expecting. “Wonderful and at the same time agonizing.” His smile was pained.
“You haven’t completed the mating yet?”
Deryk inwardly winced as he recalled the way Izabella had refused to listen to him earlier when she had thrown her clothes back on before storming out of his bedchamber. “Getting there.”
Grigor frowned. “That’s two in six months.”
Deryk knew he meant two mates for two of the Pendragon brothers in six months. It couldn’t be coincidence.
He shrugged. “Maybe we all needed to be fifteen hundred years old before we find her?”
Grigor’s smile barely curved his lips and certainly didn’t reach his dark brown eyes. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’ve found Izabella. Even if it has caused something of an international incident with the Romanov brothers,” he added dryly.
Deryk snorted. “Oh, tell Vlad to get over himself. If the roles were reversed, that arrogant bastard wouldn’t hesitate to take what he considers his.”
“You are right. I wouldn’t.”
Deryk gave his brother a pained glance before turning to face Vladimir Romanov, now standing in the open doorway of Deryk’s bedchamber. “Izabella is mine.” His stance was challenging.
The other man smirked. “Not yet.”
Deryk’s hands clenched at his sides. “I advise you not to do anything to try to prevent this mating, Vlad.”
The other man held his hands palms outward. “Izzi is quite capable of deciding for herself what she does or does not want.”
His expression became guarded. “Has she said she doesn’t want the mating?”
“Not yet,” Vlad repeated.
There was no way Deryk could mistake the challenge in the other dragon’s voice for anything other than what it was. “Where is she?”
“Gone.”
Deryk tensed. “Gone where?” He had assumed Izabella would have gone downstairs to be with her parents.
Vlad shrugged. “I presume back to her apartment. There is nothing she can do here—” He broke off as Deryk gave a furious roar and the talons ripped from the ends of his fingers.
Deryk’s nostrils flared, not quite breathing fire yet, but very close to it. “It’s the middle of the fucking night!”
“Get your dragon under control,” the other man warned in an icy voice.
Deryk was too agitated at the thought of his mate in danger to listen to that warning. “Did you at least call a taxi for her?”
The Russian dragon shrugged. “Izzi said she wished to walk home and allow the cold to clear her head. She’s human,” he reminded him impatiently as Deryk growled. “And the decisive method of the attack on Vaughn shows we are looking for a dragon hunter.”
“Izabella is a human connected to dragons,” Deryk persisted.
Vlad shot him an impatient glance. “There is no reason to suppose Vaughn’s attacker knows that.”
“There’s no reason to assume he doesn’t either. Grigor?” Deryk turned to his brother for help.
Grigor nodded. “Go.”
“I forbid—” Vlad broke off as Deryk crossed the room in two strides and thrust his face up close to his.
Deryk’s eyes were narrowed in warning. “You may be in charge here in Russia, but never, ever interfere between me and my mate again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very,” the Russian dragon bit out tightly. “But if you force this mating on Izzi, be assured you will feel the full force of my wrath.”
“If anything happens to Izabella before I can get to her, you won’t live long enough to make me feel anything,” Deryk came back scathingly.
“Go, Deryk,” Grigor encouraged gruffly. “There are nine of us to deal with what’s happening here. I can call the other brothers and have them come over too, if necessary.”
Deryk didn’t need to be told twice.
Izabella was out there somewhere, alone in the dark of the night. Worse, she was completely unprotected because of that arrogant Russian asshole, when she and her family were supposed to be under Vlad’s protection.
The clawing and aching of the sexual fever caused from being apart from Deryk was worse than ever, Izzie decided as the hurried through the darkened residential streets of the city. She wanted desperately to get back to her apartment before she fell to her knees from the force of this storm of sexual arousal.
Walking through St. Petersburg at almost two o’clock in the morning wasn’t the most sensible thing she had ever done, but she had felt so hot and fevered when she left the Mikhailov Palace that she had welcomed walking in the ice-cold fresh air rather than sitting inside a stuffy taxi.
Now she wished she’d had a little more sense.
The main part of the city would still be teeming with people enjoying themselves in the many bars and clubs, but this wasn’t the main part of the city. There was a park to one side of her and a few drug addicts and homeless people lurking in side roads, and Izzi took care to avoid them by remaining on the main streets. But she nevertheless felt as if she was being watched. Or followed.
“Hey, Izzi, wait for me!”
Probably because she was, Izzi acknowledged ruefully as she turned to see Tanya hurrying down the street to catch up with her.
Not that Tanya was watching or following her, but obviously on her way back to the apartment she shared with Pyotr, which was only two streets over from Izzi’s own.
She smiled her relief at having the other woman’s company part of the way to her apartment. “I thought you would have gone home hours ago.”
Tanya fell into step beside her, dark-haired and blue-eyed like her brother. “Everything was a little chaotic with the uproar at the palace this evening.”
“Of course.” Izzi’s defenses had instinctively slipped into place; not discussing the Romanovs outside of the family was too deeply engrained in her to do anything else. Besides, she had no idea how much Tanya knew about the attack on Vaughn.
The other woman gave a pained frown. “Is Vaughn badly injured?”
“I don’t believe so, no,” Izzi answered ambiguously.
Tanya linked her arm with Izzi’s, only to instantly stop walking and look at her with concern. “You’re burning up.”
Yes, she was. Even walking was proving difficult when Izzi’s clothing was rubbing against and stimulating her body to an even deeper frenzy. “I think I have a cold, or maybe the flu,” she dismissed uncomfortably.
“I told Pyotr you weren’t well yesterday.”
Izzi was starting to feel a little irritated by the Petrovs’ attention, both brother and sister. Admittedly, Tanya had gotten the job at the palace because of Izzi’s friendship with Pyotr, but the two of them had been dating only a couple of months. Even that was over now, even if she hadn’t exactly told him that yet. Her behavior with Deryk these past two days made it impossible for her to continue dating another man.
Something else she could blame Deryk for.
Her cheeks burned anew as she thought of the way in which she now had more of his aphrodisiac coursing through her body.
It had been incredible to feel the effect her lovemaking was having on Deryk, to know of his complete loss of control. Created by, as he had said, having her hands and mouth all over him.
Not so good when she’d realized what that lovemaking would do to her. Was doing to her right now.
Again.
“I think you should come home with me and let Pyotr and me take care of you,” Tanya encouraged as the trembling of Izzi’s body grew worse.
Izzi couldn’t be around other people at the moment. No one that wasn’t Deryk, anyway. And she was really starting to resent this need she had for both him and his touch. “No, I—” She broke off as something behind and high above Tanya caught and held her attention.
A huge golden dragon.
Deryk.
Izzi had no doubt it was him as she became transfixed by the beauty of the gleaming dragon flying overhead. Wings were spread majestically wide as the dragon soared across the sky, the gold of its hide almost turned to silver by the brightness of the moon. Even from here, Izzi could see piercing golden eyes scanning the city below. Searching. Looking for—
The proud golden head drew back, those fierce and piercing eyes now fixed on her as the dragon swooped downward in a rapid ascent.
Izzi felt panic, fear, rising within her as Deryk’s dragon looked set to land several feet behind where she and Tanya were standing. Tanya couldn’t know dragons existed, couldn’t be allowed to see—
“You’ve gone even paler.” Tanya took a firm hold of her arm. “I’m definitely taking you home with me.”
“Izabella is coming with me,” Deryk stated firmly.
Izzi had watched in alarm as Deryk’s dragon landed only feet behind Tanya, with only the merest movement of air to announce his presence. Which Tanya hadn’t noticed, thank goodness. Izzi had been unable to look away as the air shimmered and Deryk now stood in his dragon’s place, dressed in his normal clothes and the black leather duster he had worn yesterday morning.
Tanya’s eyes widened as she turned to face him. “I didn’t see you there, Mr. Pendragon.” As she worked at the palace, she obviously recognized him as one of the Romanovs’ guests. “Izzi isn’t well.”
He nodded. “Which is why her parents asked me to find her and bring her home.”
“Our apartment is closer than the palace,” Tanya insisted.
Deryk’s eyes narrowed. “Our?”
The dark-haired woman nodded. “My brother Pyotr and I.”
Deryk tensed. “You’re Petrov’s sister?”
Tanya looked startled. “You know my brother?”
“I’ve met him a time or two.” Deryk’s mouth tightened as he took a firm grasp of Izzi’s other arm. “I repeat, Izabella is coming back to the palace with me.”
Izabella was starting to feel like a package the two of them were arguing over, rather than a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood woman who had a mind of her own and was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, thank you very much. Although again, curiously, Deryk’s touch on her arm had slightly eased the fevered demand of her aroused and aching body.
Izzi stubbornly shook off both their hands. “I’m going to my own apartment, but thank you both for asking.” She didn’t even attempt to hide her sarcasm as the heat of desire once again began to consume her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tanya.” She turned and walked away before she thoroughly embarrassed herself by pleading for Deryk to touch her again and ease this painful arousal.
Nevertheless, she was aware of Tanya moving off reluctantly in the direction of the apartment she shared with Pyotr. Just as Izzi sensed, without needing to turn and look at him, Deryk had now fallen into step beside her.
Another side effect of the deepening of the dragon mating?
Probably, she acknowledged irritably. Just as her gaze had seemed clearer when she’d looked up and seen Deryk’s dragon soaring overhead.
“Your dragon is magnificent,” she told him huskily. “Awesomely so.”
“You saw me?”
“Yes.”
Deryk and his brothers, and he presumed the Romanovs too, could all cloak their dragon for short periods of time if they chose to do so. His dragon had been cloaked just now as he flew over St. Petersburg looking for Izabella. The fact she had been able to see him anyway was further proof Izabella was his mate.
Inside, his dragon was preening and strutting at hearing their mate’s approval.
“Which doesn’t mean I’m any less angry with you for what you’ve done to me,” she added firmly.
“Of course not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you patronizing me again?”
“Izabella—”
“How many times do I have to tell you my name is Izzi!” She stopped walking to glare at him.
Deryk’s heart clenched as he saw from Izabella’s brightly flushed cheeks and the angry glitter in her eyes that her fever was becoming worse by the second. And it was all his fault, damn it.
“Izzi,” he said carefully, disliking intensely this shortening of her beautiful given name. “You need to come back to the palace with me.”
“What I need is never to have met you in the first place!”
He flinched at the vehemence in her voice. It told him their relationship was definitely deteriorating rather than deepening to the connection he had hoped for.
Because Izabella had been given no choice in the mating. Deryk had taken that choice from her, not once but twice. “If I promise not to touch you, will you come back—”
“Not to touch me?” she derided, turning to make sure there was no one close enough to hear before continuing. “Having you touch me is the only thing that eases this burning hunger that’s threatening to consume me.”
It should gladden Deryk’s heart that Izabella needed his touch, but the tears glistening in her eyes and the stress in her voice caused him to feel pain rather than gladness. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m deeply sorry to have caused you this distress. I—I would undo the mating if I could.”
Izzi couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his words or tone. He sounded as stressed out about this as she did.
Because he hadn’t been given any choice about the mating either, she reminded herself.
His dragon had scented her, and now Deryk was as stuck with her as she was with him.
She frowned. “Tell me more about what happens if the mating isn’t completed.”
He drew in a deep breath. “My brother and one of the Romanov brothers both died when their mate refused the mating.”
“Karl.” Izzi nodded slowly. That death had happened almost thirty years before she was born but she knew there had once been eight Romanov brothers rather than seven. But she hadn’t known Karl died because his mate refused him. She wondered if her father, or perhaps both her parents, knew that. “What happened to the two women?”
“They both died too, three weeks before or after their mate.”
“Three weeks?”
He shrugged. “It seems to be the watershed after the two meet and the mating isn’t consummated. One or other of them languishes and dies, and the other one follows three weeks later.”
“Does that mean we have just under three weeks to decide whether or not to go through with this mating or one of us dies and then the other?”
Deryk flinched. “Yes.”
“And if we mate?”
“Then you will live for as long as I do.”
“I’ll really become immortal?” He had told her that before, but it was hard to take in let alone believe. Harder than the whole mating a dragon thing? Well, no. But immortality…
“Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Deryk dismissed as if reading her thoughts. And maybe he had. “For one thing, your parents, your brothers and their families, your friends, will all die while you continue to live. Also, immortality isn’t definitive. I can be killed.”
“How?”
He gave a mocking smile. “The way you feel about me right now, I’m not sure I should tell you that.”
“If you die, I die,” Izzi reminded him.
He instantly sobered. “My head would need to be severed from my body by my own sword for my death to occur.”
“Yuck.”
His expression was grim. “The person who attacked Vaughn knew that.”
Her eyes widened. “They tried to decapitate him?”
“Yes.”
“He’s going to survive, though?” she prompted worriedly. Vaughn really was her favorite of the Romanov brothers.
“Yes.”
“Does Vaughn even own a sword?” If he did, Izzi had never see it.
“I told you, our clans aren’t the same,” Deryk dismissed. “I believe any form of decapitation will kill the Russian dragons.”
“I… But… How could someone even know that?” Izzi’s family had been servants to the Romanovs for centuries, and she had never heard of anyone being able to kill one of them.
He shrugged. “Someone who has studied dragon lore, probably. Which means we’re probably dealing with dragon hunters.”
“There are such things?”
“My brother Rufus was killed by them.”
It made Izzi feel slightly dizzy to realize dragons were vulnerable after all. “I’m sorry.”
“It happened almost two hundred years ago.”
“Did they use his sword to do it?”
“Yes.”
Nausea followed the dizziness. “I hope you keep your own sword well hidden.”
He grimaced. “All our swords are hanging in the entrance hall of Pendragon Castle.”
Her brows rose. “Then I suggest, after this attack on Vaughn, you take them down and lock them away somewhere no one else can find them!”
He nodded. “I’ll mention it to Grigor when I return to the palace.”
“How did your brother get here so quickly?”
“He was spending some time at his cave in Alaska. We all have a cave, Izabella,” Deryk added dryly at she raised her brows. “Our dragons occasionally need that solitude. More so of late, when the drive to mate seems to have become more intense for all of us.”
“Where’s your cave?”
“Scotland.”
“I— If we mate, will you take me there one day?”
“If you want to go, yes, of course. Anything I have, all that I am, is now yours, Izabella.”
Izzi wanted to be angry with Deryk for putting her in this irredeemable position. But the more he told her about dragons, the more she realized he was as helpless against this mating as she was. Given a choice, she doubted he would have chosen a twenty-two-year-old Russian virgin as his mate.
So what did they do?
Both make the best of it?
Or both die?