Deryk (Dragon Hearts #2)(3)
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.”