Deryk (Dragon Hearts #2)(25)

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.”