Deryk (Dragon Hearts #2)(30)
“But…?”
“But Vlad will make discreet enquiries anyway.”
Deryk gave a dismissive huff. “He would.”
“Izabella is safe?” Grigor changed the subject to something less controversial.
Izabella was not only safe but still cozily asleep upstairs in Deryk’s bed. Something she had done after discovering that his touch alone helped dissipate the sexual fever enough she was able to lie next to him and fall into a deep sleep.
Deryk had lain awake for those same hours, his body aching for Izabella, wanting her to the depths of his being.
Instead, he had spent most of the night looking at her, drinking in every feature and nuance of all that was Izabella. His mate.
He’d had no idea what his mate would look like, if or when he found her, but now all Deryk could see, hear, and feel was Izabella. How perfect she was. How beautiful, both inside and out.
“She is,” he answered his brother.
“You are still not mated.” Grigor stated rather than questioned.
“Not yet,” he confirmed. “She’s only twenty-two, and we’re talking about a lifetime, hundreds of years, of the two of us being mates,” he defended as Grigor scowled his disapproval. “That’s a huge step for any young woman to contemplate, and I intend to give Izabella all the time she needs before making such an important decision.”
Bryn leaned forward. “And if you die before she does that?”
“Then I fucking die,” Deryk stated evenly. “I’m not pushing Izabella into this mating if it isn’t what she wants.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Vlad joined in the conversation as he left the breakfast room.
Deryk’s eyes narrowed on the other dragon. “If I ever want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
The Russian’s mouth tightened. “Your arrogance—”
“Is equal to your own.” Deryk stated the obvious. “I suggest you concentrate your arrogance on finding Vaughn’s attacker and leave my mating and my mate to me.” He strode down the hallway toward the main entrance hall before Vlad could make any further comment.
“Your mate would like to speak with you privately,” Izabella said quietly behind him.
Deryk spun round to see she was in the hallway with him. The flush in Izabella’s cheeks and the fevered glitter in her eyes indicated she was once again suffering from their separation. He stepped closer to reach out and take a light grip of her arm, relieved when he instantly felt some of the tension leave the stiffness of her body.
Izzi released a shaky breath. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Talk?” Deryk repeated doubtfully, his disappointment blatantly obvious in his expression.
She smiled. “Yes, talk. It’s what people do to communicate with each other,” she added teasingly.
“One of the things people do to communicate.”
Despite the seriousness of this situation, Izzi couldn’t stop herself from chuckling at his now hopeful expression. She was really starting to like Deryk, as well as feeling this overwhelming desire for him. Which was perhaps as well, given the circumstances.
She instantly sobered at the thought of those circumstances. “I was in the kitchen talking to my parents just now and… I’m really not sure if this is important or not.” She frowned, feeling slightly disloyal, at the same time as she knew her family loyalty was to the Romanovs. Besides, Vaughn could so easily have been killed last night. “Tanya wasn’t working at the palace last night, and she hasn’t come in today either.”
Deryk’s gaze sharpened. “Tanya is the woman I met last night? Petrov’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“Did she say she was working?”
“Not exactly. I assumed she was…” Izzi nodded, “…and she let me continue to think that. But according to my parents, she phoned them early yesterday evening and told them she was sick and wouldn’t be coming in to work.”
Deryk’s brows rose. “She didn’t look sick when we saw her.”
“No.” And that troubled Izzi. “Of course, she could have just made the excuse so she could go out with her boyfriend.”
“Have you met her boyfriend?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t even know she had one.”
Deryk frowned. “Vaughn was supposed to be meeting a woman.”
Izzi’s brows rose. “Do you think it could have been Tanya?” The other woman had been working at the palace for a couple of months now, and Tanya was very beautiful. Something one of the handsome Romanov brothers—Vaughn?—could certainly have noticed and decided to enjoy.
Deryk shrugged. “Why don’t we ask him?”
Izzi’s eyes widened in alarm. “My family isn’t allowed to question—”
“Forget what your family is allowed, Izabella,” he growled. “You’re not only Izabella Mikhailova now, but also the mate of a Pendragon dragon. As such you can ask any of the Romanovs whatever the hell you damn well please.”
She had always understood and accepted her parents’ subservience to the Romanov family, but since leaving school and going to university, learning of the freedoms her peer group enjoyed, Izzi had begun to question that attitude in regard to herself. She realized it was an antiquated practice at best and positively feudal at worst. Those feelings had been what drew her to Pyotr’s more rebellious political leanings.