Deryk (Dragon Hearts 2)

by Carole Mortimer

  Dragon Hearts 2

  DERYK

  By

  Carole Mortimer

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 Carole Mortimer

  Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper Designs

  Editor: Linda Ingmanson

  Formatter: Matthew Mortimer

  ISBN: 978-1-910597-57-6

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  DEDICATIONS

  My Wonderful Family

  Author’s Note: Terms of address in Russian change depending on the relationship to that person. For ease of reading I have kept to a simple male/female term of address, e.g. Mikhailov/Mikhailova

  Chapter 1

  Pendragon Castle,

  North Wales

  “Grigor, let me the fuck out of here, before I burn the whole bloody castle down!” Smoke was already starting to plume from Deryk’s flared nostrils.

  “Stone doesn’t burn, Deryk,” his eldest brother reminded him mildly. “And until you calm down, you’re staying exactly where you are.”

  Exactly where Deryk was happened to be a dungeon in the rock-hewn below-ground level of Pendragon Castle in North Wales, home to the eight dragon-shifter Pendragon brothers.

  “I need to get out of here.” His eyes glowed golden as he glared at Grigor. “By the Goddess, I need to be free to find my mate and claim her!”

  “And therein lies the problem with releasing you.” His brother made himself comfortable on a stool on the other side of the metal bars fronting the otherwise rock-sided dungeon Deryk was currently locked in. “I understand exactly what you want,” Grigor soothed. “But if you find your mate when you’re in this state, you’re going to either frighten the hell out of her. Or kill her.”

  Her.

  Deryk’s fated mate.

  The woman he needed to give the mating bite while fucking her, if he wasn’t to one day shift into his dragon and remain that way.

  Deryk’s talons scraped across metal as he gripped the bars fronting the dungeon. He wasn’t able to shift completely in the small cell, but he’d done a partial shift, and his hands were huge, tipped with lethal talons that ached to rip something apart.

  Not his mate, of course. Deryk would never do anything to hurt her.

  Biting her while fucking her isn’t going to hurt her?

  Well… Maybe, at first. But it was necessary.

  She might not see it that way.

  Deryk wasn’t sure if he was soothing his dragon or the other way round. Either way, one of them was seeing reason. He had a feeling it wasn’t him.

  Having been born in the late fifth century, the first thousand years of Deryk’s existence as a warrior and dragon shifter had been filled with battles and bloodshed, which satisfied his dragon’s needs as well as his own. But since the humans started to come round to the idea of considering themselves civilized, leaders of the human world, those battles hadn’t been so plentiful.

  Civilization was overrated, Deryk had decided after the first two hundred years of being reined back, and the last three hundred had become nothing more than a torture of boredom he and his dragon had to get through.

  There had been a couple of world wars last century they could get their teeth—and talons—into, of course. But otherwise, he and his brothers now concentrated their attention, through the legitimate security business they owned and ran, on ridding the world of its scumbags and bullies.

  For the last fifty years, Deryk’s biggest battle had been against allowing his dragon to take over completely. A battle that could only be halted by finding his mate. It was a battle he lost a little more each day he didn’t find her.

  Once he became dragon and stayed that way, his brothers would have no choice but to put him down. They couldn’t allow a feral dragon to be on the loose, indiscriminately killing whoever the hell he felt like killing. Because when the dragon rage took possession of him, Deryk wanted to kill everyone.

  Grigor and Bryn had only just managed to get him inside the castle this time, before his anger caused him to shift into an almost twenty-foot-tall dragon and he scared the shit out of the locals. They could all use their dragon compulsion to block those memories, of course, but only if Deryk didn’t harm or kill someone while he was in that rage.

  His brother Nathaniel had recently found his mate. A human. But one who possessed enough dragon DNA in her blood to be able to withstand the bite of a dragon mating, which a normal human woman couldn’t. Chloe was now pregnant with the first dragon young to be born to the Pendragon dragons in the fifteen hundred years of their existence.

  It had given the seven remaining brothers the hope they might find their own mate in the human world too. For Deryk, on the brink of becoming dragon and remaining that way, it had only made the torture harder to bear, knowing that his mate could be close and yet she still remained elusive.

  “There’s something I need you and Bryn to do.”

  Deryk forced himself to refocus on Grigor. “A mission?”

  “Not as such, no,” his brother said slowly. “Vlad Romanov has invited some of us to go to St. Petersburg for a visit.”

  “A visit?” Deryk repeated doubtfully. “As in a ‘come on over for afternoon tea’ sort of visit?” Six months ago, the seven brothers of the Romanov clan of dragons had come to Pendragon Castle so the two clans could exchange knowledge and join forces in the search for their elusive mates. Apparently, the Russian dragons now required that some of the Pendragon family pay a return visit to them.

  Grigor looked his usual unamused self at Deryk’s levity. “We all need to learn more about our two clans, dragon born and dragon made, and everyone else but you and Bryn is busy right now.”

  The seven Russian dragons had been born to a single mated pair. With a surname like Romanov, Deryk was guessing the Russian dragons had also once been related to the royal family assassinated in the revolution during the early part of last century. With typical dragon guile, the Romanovs had managed to evade being involved in the slaughter of that revolution. But, like the Pendragons, none of the seven Russian dragons had so far managed to find his mate.

  The Pendragons brothers had also been born, but of a human father and the ten Welsh goddesses capable of birthing sons who could shift into dragons. Two of their brothers had perished, Gideon over fourteen hundred years ago, and Rufus during the days of the Victorian dragon hunters. But of the eight remaining, only Nathaniel had so far found a mate.

  If both clans were to survive, they had agreed they needed to join forces and so double their efforts in the search for those mates.

  Deryk raised one blond brow. “You want to send me and Bryn on a diplomatic visit with the Russians?” Deryk was unstable at worst, and sarcastic and rude at best, but Bryn was… Well, Bryn was Bryn. Gruff, arrogant, and chauvinistic to the point some woman was probably going to end up wanting to shoot him if or when he tried to mate her. Not that a bullet would kill Bryn. Only having their heads chopped off with their own sword could kill the Pendragon brothers. But being shot certainly wouldn’t improve Bryn’s taciturn temperament any. Especially if that bullet came from his mate.

  “I don’t want to send the two of you anywhere,” Grigor admitted. “But as I said, everyone else is occupied with other work right now, and Dylan needs to remain here so that he can monitor Chloe through her pregnancy.”

  None of them knew yet whether the young would be born human or dragon. So far it looked human o
n ultrasound, but there were still a couple of months to go, and the baby could shift to dragon before the birth.

  Deryk frowned. “And where are you going to be?”

  “I’m going to my nest for a while.”

  All the brothers had their own “nests.” Usually a cave somewhere remote and undetectable by humans. The brothers had lived together for fifteen hundred years, but as dragons were naturally solitary creatures, they all had their own private cave somewhere in the four corners of the world. It was where they kept their most valuable treasures, and somewhere they could also be alone and completely dragon for a few days. Grigor’s nest, predictably, happened to be a cave in the wilds of Alaska.

  “Why?” Deryk probed.

  Grigor rose to his intimidating height of an inch over six and a half feet. “Mind you own fucking business!”

  Deryk studied his eldest brother through narrowed lids. Grigor had untidy and overlong dark hair, eyes so dark a brown they almost looked black, and features that looked as rock-hewn as this dungeon.

  He also noted the fierce glitter in the darkness of Grigor’s eyes. The tightness of his jaw. Hands clenched into fists, the talons threatening to burst free from his fingertips. Deryk recognized those signs only too well.

  “How close are you?” he prompted softly.

  “Very,” Grigor bit out between clenched teeth. “But I would appreciate it if you would keep that information to yourself,” he added bleakly.

  Goddess knows Deryk didn’t wish his own torment on anyone, least of all his eldest brother and their leader. “When do you want Bryn and me to leave?”

  Some of Grigor’s tension eased. “As soon as you’re ready. I’ll contact Vlad before I go and tell him to expect the two of you.”

  Vladimir Romanov. Didn’t get any more Russian than that. The leader of the Russian clan was also one of the most arrogant bastards Deryk had ever met.

  Which should make this a very interesting visit.

  Chapter 2

  Mikhailov Palace

  St. Petersburg, Russia

  “If you are not going to be of any assistance to me, Izabella, then you might as well take yourself from underneath my feet and return downstairs to help in the kitchen,” her mother grumbled as she prepared the bedchamber for the second of the guests expected today by their employers, the Romanov brothers.

  Izzi gave an unconcerned grin as she sat on the window seat looking out at a typical Russian winter wonderland. It was a truly beautiful sight, and one Izzi knew she would never tire of looking at.

  She also knew her mother was only snapping at her because she wanted everything to be perfect for the Romanovs’ guests. Not surprising when it was the first time Izzi could ever remember the brothers having a single guest to stay, let alone two.

  Izzi wouldn’t normally have been here. At twenty-two, she now lived in an apartment close to the State University where she was studying law. But her parents had asked her to come home to help out with the heavier workload over the weekend. “Who are these guests? We haven’t recognized royalty since the revolution, you know.” She attempted to tease away her mother’s fussing.

  There was no answering smile. “You know who and what we are to the Romanov family.”

  Ah.

  For the past thousand years, the Mikhailov family had been the human servants of the Romanov dragon shifters. For three hundred of those years, since the birth of St. Petersburg, the Mikhailov family had, to all intents and purposes, been the owners and in residence at the Mikhailov Palace. Which was why the Mikhailov family hadn’t been murdered along with all the other prestigious families during the Russian Revolution. Even revolutionists didn’t want to argue with a dragon at the height of its wrath, and the Romanov brothers rewarded the Mikhailov family loyalty by protecting them to their last breath.

  Thank God Izzi had two older brothers and their families who would one day take over as caretakers here after their parents died, although both would continue to live and work away from home until that happened. The females of the line were not expected to do the same, although Izzi’s law degree would become useful to the Romanov business empire once she was qualified. They were paying for her education, after all.

  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.”

  Deryk looked down to where his hands had become dragon along with four-inch talons, and knew the rest of his shift wasn’t far away. His dragon had scented its mate and was preparing to fight anyone who got in the way of his claiming her.