Deryk (Dragon Hearts #2)(9)

“Mr. Pendragon.” Petrov’s English was more accented than Izabella’s. “Are you enjoying St. Petersburg?”

“I was until a few minutes ago, yes,” Deryk drawled pointedly, baring his teeth in a predatory smile as he leaned back in the booth.

A blush now colored Izabella’s cheeks. Anger, or something else?

He studied her through narrowed lids. The green of her eyes looked slightly fevered. There was that noticeable flush to her cheeks. She was also gripping her hands tightly together as they rested on the tabletop. To stop anyone from realizing they were shaking?

Deryk believed so, yes.

To test out his theory, he moved one of his hands beneath the table before placing it on the heat of Izabella’s denim-covered thigh. Her sharply indrawn breath was answer enough.

Izabella was trying not to show it, but she was so physically aroused her body was burning up and sensitive to the slightest touch.

Deryk tightened his fingers, digging them into her flesh and succeeding in drawing forth another shaky gasp. This told Deryk that if he moved his hand any higher, Izabella was going to climax right here in front of her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

Deryk had no intention of any man but him so much as touching Izabella ever again, let alone seeing her in the throes of sexual ecstasy.

His mouth thinned at the very thought of that ever happening. “You’re needed urgently back at the palace,” he told Izabella.

Her eyes widened as she no doubt heard the warning in his tone. “I don’t—” Her protest came to an abrupt halt as Deryk moved his hand one inch higher. He smiled as he easily read the word bastard in her narrowed and glaring eyes. “Of course.” She managed to summon up a shaky smile for Petrov as she collected her jacket and bag.

“I will ring you, Izzi.” Petrov recovered enough from her abrupt departure to reassure her.

Izzi?

This man called his mate Izzi?

Deryk made no effort to move off the bench seat so Izabella could stand, the intensity of his gaze fixed on the man sitting opposite him. “Izabella will be too busy to talk to you again.” For the rest of her lifetime, his dragon added, no happier than Deryk at having this other man be so familiar with their mate. He knew the compulsion had worked when the other man didn’t repeat his intention of contacting Izabella. “We’re leaving now, and you will remain here.” The arrogance of his tone brooked no further argument.

Izzi was too bemused by Pyotr’s docile acceptance of her leaving with another man to feel able to protest as she instead followed Deryk Pendragon out of the booth and across to the door of the coffee shop. She came to a halt when he took her coat from her and held it up so she could put it on before they stepped out into the frigid cold outside.

“Isn’t this what human men do to be polite when they’re with a woman?” he prompted quizzically when she made no move to slip her arms into the coat sleeves.

The fact that he had to ask showed it wasn’t something he usually did. But why would he? This man was dragon, arrogant, fierce, at the very top of the food chain. He had no reason to use politeness when brute force served him as well.

“Izabella?”

She frowned her irritation as she slipped her arms into the jacket and then stepped away from him. “My name is Izzi. And could you try keeping your voice down when you say the word ‘human’ in that disparaging way?” Several people in the coffee shop had given Deryk curious glances, but as most of them were female, it probably wasn’t because of anything he’d said.

Handsome as sin aptly described this man, with an added edge of danger all woman would find compelling.

“I prefer Izabella,” he announced with an arrogant finality he probably wasn’t even aware of because it was such a part of his dragon nature. “How are you feeling today?” he prompted lightly, then opened the door for her to precede him. They both stepped outside.

Izzi pushed her hands into the deep pockets of her jacket as she narrowed her gaze and studied Deryk’s innocent expression. Too innocent? She would take a bet on this man not having an innocent bone in his magnificent, muscular body. “I feel fine,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged broad shoulders, seeming unaffected by the extreme cold. Which he probably wasn’t. Dragons didn’t feel the cold like humans. “Vlad mentioned there’s a flu bug going round at the moment in St. Petersburg. You look a little…flushed, and your thigh felt very warm when I touched you just now.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped to let him know she hadn’t liked being touched in that way.

Inwardly, she was sure this man knew exactly how she was feeling and why she was so feverish. Because that fever had increased as soon as he came into the coffee shop. As had that strange tingling sensation beneath her skin. Between her legs also felt damp and swollen with arousal, her clit throbbing in the confines of her jeans. The only time it had eased slightly had been when Deryk placed his hand on her thigh.

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know where to find me?”

Deryk had a feeling Izabella wouldn’t like it if he told her he had managed to find out the district where she lived from a casual conversation with her father over breakfast. Not that the other man had been aware of the reason for Deryk’s interest, the conversation having been general about the three Mikhailov offspring rather than specific to Izabella.