Deryk (Dragon Hearts 2)

by Carole Mortimer

  “Have you lived in St. Petersburg all your life?” he tried again with the conversation.

  “Yes.”

  “Never been out of St. Petersburg?

  “No.”

  “Ever wanted to?”

  She nodded, her expression wistful. “Do you travel a lot?”

  “Some,” he answered cautiously. Some of the places he’d visited certainly weren’t tourist locations.

  “Where do you live?” Izabella prompted curiously.

  “Wales.”

  “Wales?” Izzi repeated slowly, realizing that was probably the explanation for that husky and musical lilt to his and Bryn’s voices.

  “It’s a part of the British Isles.”

  “I know where it is.” She eyed Deryk impatiently. “I studied England in geography at school.”

  “Wales isn’t England.” His smile revealed very even and very white teeth. “I don’t live in a palace, but I do live in a castle. With my brothers.”

  “There’s more than Bryn?”

  “Eight of us now.”

  “There were more?”

  “Two. They died,” he bit out, no longer smiling.

  She thought of the Romanov brothers. “Dragons have big families.”

  Deryk nodded. “My brothers and I are also all the same age, give or take a day or two, and were born to different mothers. Long story,” he drawled as Izzi’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Izzi’s curiosity was definitely piqued. As it was meant to be? Probably. As she had thought earlier, dragons were cunning. “Am I allowed to ask?”

  “Only if you agree to have dinner with me this evening.”

  Yes, definitely cunning. “I think you’re taking advantage of my curiosity.”

  His smile returned. “I think I am too. Shall I call for you at your apartment at, say, eight o’clock? Or perhaps nine o’clock, as I’m told people eat late here.”

  It wasn’t a good idea for Deryk to come to her apartment, Izzi decided, not with this arousal still surging through her body in hot waves. It wasn’t a good idea for her to meet him this evening at all. And yet a part of her wanted to do exactly that. The part of her that was burning up with arousal for this man, and this man alone. “I’ll come to the palace. I know somewhere good to eat that we don’t have to book, and we can walk to it from there.”

  A frown furrowed his brow. “How will you get to the palace?”

  “I’ll walk—”

  “Absolutely not,” he bit out harshly. “I will either call a taxi or borrow a car from the Romanovs and pick you up from your apartment.”

  After giving it some thought, Izzi decided that perhaps might be for the best, after all. She didn’t think it was a good idea for her parents, or the Romanov brothers, to know she had agreed to go out to dinner this evening with Deryk Pendragon.

  Chapter 5

  Izzi was ready to go out and restlessly pacing her apartment by eight thirty that evening.

  The arousal, which she had thought was intense earlier, was now so all-consuming, Izzi felt as if she was going to explode from an overload of emotions and sensations.

  Her hands were clenched so tightly, the nails were in danger of piercing the skin of her palms. Her clothes, smart black trousers and a dark green blouse, felt abrasive wherever they touched her skin. The fever was so high, Izzi didn’t need any blusher on her cheeks. In fact, she’d had to apply a light dusting of powder to mute the color rather than enhance it.

  Even her hair, usually falling straight and silky to the curve of her bottom, was full of electric static this evening and refused to be tamed until she added some gel. It was as if there was some sort of energy, an electric force, coursing through her body.

  Go out to dinner with Deryk Pendragon? She was going to kill him when he finally got here.

  Because she had no doubt, absolutely none, that he was responsible for the discomfort she was feeling.

  She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know why, but she knew with certainty he was responsible for the agony of magnified sensations she had been suffering since he’d kissed her last night.

  How did she know?

  Because as soon as the two of them parted this morning, the arousal had returned with a vengeance, becoming so unbearable, she’d thrown off her clothes and jumped into a lukewarm bath the moment she’d gotten into her apartment in an effort to ease the unbearable heat and sexual arousal.

  It had succeeded too, just for a moment, when she first sank her aching body beneath the water, before that itching and clawing sensation beneath her skin had returned stronger than ever. Her nipples were so hard and engorged, they physically hurt. As for between her thighs… Her clit was so swollen, she’d actually been able to see that tiny red organ peeping out from the blonde curls beneath the bath water. Her arousal juices had literally gushed from her aching channel the moment she stepped out of the bath.

  She was still so wet there, her panties were drenched through.

  Simply killing Deryk Pendragon would be letting him off too lightly. He deserved to be flayed first. Large red welts patterned across the broadness of his back and shoulders. After that, she would—

  The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her vengeful thoughts.

  Deryk was here.

  Izzi wrenched open the door, ready to do battle, but instead of Deryk, it was Pyotr standing out in the hallway.

  “Izzi…?” he gasped the moment he saw her. “Tanya was right to be concerned. You really are ill.”

  Izzi wondered what he would say if she answered truthfully: she wasn’t ill, her body just needed to be very thoroughly taken and claimed.

  Which was pretty shocking coming from a virgin, she conceded self-derisively.

  Not that she had set out to remain that way. She had just never been out with anyone she felt comfortable or was in love with enough to share that intimacy with. She had been thinking seriously about taking her relationship with Pyotr to that level. Until last night.

  Until Deryk Pendragon entered her life.

  Because whatever this intensity of arousal was about, it was specific and belonged solely to Derek.

  “Mine,” he had growled at her last night.

  It seemed that was exactly what she had become. As far as sexual arousal went, at least.

  Yes, merely killing the dragon shifter was too good for him. He deserved to suffer, to burn in the pits of hell, as she was burning and suffering—

  “Izzi?”

  She blinked, having completely forgotten Pyotr was still waiting for an answer. “I thought you said you were going to call me.” She was reluctant to let him inside her apartment, had no idea how she would react if she did. How Deryk would react if he arrived and found the other man there.

  “You were behaving so strangely this morning… Besides, I didn’t like the look of that man at the coffee shop.” He frowned. “He seemed almost territorial where you’re concerned, even though the two of you can only have just met.”

  She gave a dismissive laugh that didn’t quite come off from the increased narrowing of Pyotr eyes. “You didn’t seem too bothered by that when you allowed me to leave with him,” she reminded him.

  He gave a shake of his head. “One minute the two of us were enjoying our coffee together, and the next you were going out the door with another man.”

  “Deryk Pendragon.”

  “Is that his name?”

  Izzi frowned. “You don’t remember being introduced to him? Or letting me leave with him?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Because Deryk Pendragon had ensured that he did, Izzi realized. The dragon shifter had done something to Pyotr, brainwashed him or taken away his free will in some way, and that was the reason Pyotr hadn’t put up more of a fight when she left the coffee shop with Deryk this morning.

  Compulsion?

  Was that also the reason she wanted to rip all Deryk’s clothes off and throw him down on the nearest flat surface? Before climbing on top of him and s
inking down onto his hot and turgid cock until he filled her up completely and she could then ride him like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco, like the ones she had seen in the movies?

  A dragon’s capabilities and power weren’t something Izzi had ever been privy to. The Romanovs, although kind and considerate to their human servants, did not share their dragons, or their abilities, with them.

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “I’ve agreed to go out to dinner with Deryk Pendragon this evening, Pyotr.”

  His eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because I asked her to.”

  Izzi’s gaze moved past Pyotr to the man standing mere feet behind him. Deryk looked good enough to eat. Or ride.

  His long golden hair flowed over the collar of the short black leather jacket he was wearing this evening, coupled with a pale cream button-down shirt and tailored black trousers. He also wore what Izzi instinctively knew were handmade black Italian leather loafers. Dragons, the Romanovs included, had accrued their incredible wealth over hundreds of years.

  That clamoring beneath her skin increased to a painful level, until all she could concentrate on, all she could see, was Deryk. She wanted his cock inside her. Now. Didn’t even care if Pyotr stayed and watched, she just needed Deryk’s cock filling her up and satisfying this burning ache.

  “What did you do to me, you bastard?” she demanded instead as she stepped past Pyotr toward Deryk, her hands raised into what looked like talonless claws.

  “Easy.” Deryk easily grasped both of Izabella’s wrists in his hands. “Leave,” he barked at the other man. “Now.”

  “But—”

  “Leave,” Deryk’s voice echoed with a compulsion the other man was incapable of fighting, Petrov turning to walk meekly down the hallway before disappearing down the stairs. Deryk had no doubt the other man wouldn’t be able to think clearly again until he reached his home. When he would no doubt wonder where he had been for the last hour.

  Petrov had no idea what a lucky escape he’d had. It was only the fact that the other man had been standing outside Izabella’s apartment rather than inside it that had stopped Deryk from tearing him limb from limb.

  Izabella.

  Merely looking at her, seeing the sensual glow in her eyes, the deepened flush to her cheeks, the press of hard nipples against the soft material of her blouse, was enough to tell him the mating arousal had gotten even worse since they’d parted earlier. Izabella desperately needed to be fucked. Now.

  He had been hoping they could go out to dinner first, that he could explain the mating to her when he also told her how he and his brothers had come into existence. The soft mewling emitting from Izabella’s throat as she now rubbed her body suggestively against his let him know she couldn’t wait any longer. It was as well Vlad had let him borrow one of the Romanov vehicles rather than taking a taxi here and asking the driver to wait, because Deryk didn’t think he was going to be leaving Izabella’s apartment any time soon.

  He released her wrists to swing her up in his arms and carry her inside the apartment. He kicked the door closed behind them as the heat of Izabella’s lips traveled the length of his throat, tiny white teeth biting his earlobe and causing his cock to throb.

  He laid her down carefully on the couch in the small sitting room before sitting beside her to start unfastening the buttons on the front of her blouse.

  Taking her to her bedroom seemed a bit presumptuous.

  And removing all her clothes isn’t?

  Deryk didn’t have a choice, knew that if he didn’t assuage at least some of Izabella’s need that she was going to be ill, the way Chloe had been ill after she ran away from Nathaniel. It had taken Nathaniel days to bring Chloe back from the brink of madness she had been sinking into. Deryk refused to let that happen to Izabella.

  She continued kissing his throat as she helped him remove her blouse and bra. Deryk paused for a moment to admire her pretty, perfectly sloped breasts tipped with hard, engorged nipples. Nipples he was going to feast on shortly. But first he had to take care of the needs of his mate.

  She lifted her hips so that he could peel off her trousers and panties. The latter were drenched with her juices, the scent of her arousal enough to take Deryk’s breath away. Which definitely helped with not breathing in more of that addictive scent for a few seconds!

  “Lie back now and let me ease you.” He gently laid her head back onto one of the cushions on the couch before gently parting her legs and exposing her red and swollen pussy lips and engorged clit.

  He didn’t hesitate to lift her legs over his shoulders before lowering his head between her thighs. Izabella let out a throaty cry as his parted lips took full possession of her pussy and clit.

  This was what she had been wanting all day, Izzi acknowledged as pleasure surged through the whole of her body at the possession of the heat of Deryk’s mouth and the rasp of his tongue over her swollen vulva and clit.

  “Yes!” she cried out wildly. Her climax hit immediately, her fingers becoming enmeshed in Deryk’s long hair to hold him against her while her hips undulated against his stroking tongue to deepen and lengthen that release.

  It was nothing, absolutely nothing like the letdown feeling she always felt after touching herself. This climax claimed the whole of her, from the tip of her head to the curled toes on her feet. It took her up high, so high she felt as if she soared like a bird.

  Deryk took her there again and again, with his mouth and hands, until every part of her was totally consumed in that fiery pleasure. No one and nothing else existed but having Deryk pleasure her.

  Deryk.

  What was she doing?

  She’d met this man less than twenty-four hours ago. She didn’t know him at all, and yet she was allowing him to touch her in this intimate way. Had silently begged him to do so when she entangled her fingers in his hair so that he didn’t stop stroking and eating her pussy with his tongue and mouth.

  “Stop.” Speaking was an effort, and keeping her eyes open even more so. Izzi’s arms also felt as heavy as lead. She didn’t even have the energy to remove her legs from where they were draped shamelessly over Deryk’s broad shoulders, despite the fact it left her completely open and vulnerable to his gaze.

  He raised his head to look at her with glowing gold eyes, his lips red and moist with her juices. “You’re burning up still,” he murmured after reaching up to place the back of his hand against her brow.

  She was also too exhausted for this conversation, Izzi realized as Deryk stood up and lifted her into his arms before carrying her through to her bedroom and placing her carefully on the bed. He folded the duvet over her to keep her warm.

  “Sleep now,” he encouraged gruffly as he lay on the bed beside her. “We’ll talk again when you wake up.”

  She should demand they talk now.

  Should ask him to leave.

  She did neither of those things as sleep claimed her instead.

  Chapter 6

  Izzi fought her way through the haze of sleep and exhaustion before opening her eyes to the soft glow of her bedside lamp. At the same time, she became aware she was held tightly in Deryk Pendragon’s arms while he lay wide-awake and fully dressed on the bed beside her.

  Her cheeks burned with humiliation when she recalled everything that had happened before she fell asleep.

  “What have you done to me?” She knew from Deryk’s pained wince that she was right. He had done something to her. She pulled out of his arms, wrapping the duvet around her as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table and saw that it was after midnight. She had been asleep for at least two hours. “Tell me what all this is about.” She sat up. “This effect you have on me and why. Tell me right now.”

  Deryk rose to his feet, needing to put some distance between himself and Izabella in order to explain this in a way that wasn’t going to have her going for his throat again. This time with her teeth bared.

  His senses were not only saturated with he
r scent but also her taste, the latter a delicious and addictive combination of the sweetness of honey and the tartness of lemons. He could have carried on pleasuring her all night long and never tired of that taste. Holding his mate in his arms as she slept had been a sweet torture he had relished.

  He straightened his shoulders. “You already know I’m a dragon shifter.”

  “I presumed so, yes.”

  Which, thank the Goddess, was at least one thing Deryk didn’t have to explain to her.

  But the rest of it?

  Deryk knew he should have taken heed of Bryn’s warnings.

  That he deserved whatever was going to happen next.

  Even if it was to have Izabella refuse to be his mate.

  “Have the Romanovs ever talked to you about their dragons?”

  She gave a shake of her head. “Maybe to my parents, but if so, they have never told me about them.”

  That was what Deryk had thought. This arrangement of having human servants was completely new to him. They had local people working in the castle in Wales, but compulsion invariably took care of any anomalies those people discovered about their employers.

  He nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m fifteen hundred years old—”

  “That explains your outdated caveman attitude!” She snorted.

  Deryk shot Izabella a frowning glance. Although she wasn’t wrong about his caveman attitude, and she had taken the news of his true age with a lot more equanimity than a lot of women would have. “Unlike the Romanovs, my brothers and I weren’t born to a matched pair of dragons but to those Welsh goddesses I told you about, and a human male. My own mother is Aeronwen, the Welsh goddess of war and battles,” he explained as Izabella’s eyes widened.

  “That also explains a lot,” she said dryly. “Is your mother also the reason you have the ability of compulsion?”

  He smiled his approval of her perception. “All dragons have it.”

  “Including the Romanovs?”

  “I presume so,” he answered guardedly.

  “And you used that compulsion yesterday morning on Pyotr, and again last night, to make him leave?”