Deryk (Dragon Hearts #2)(10)

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.”