Vladimir (Russian Dragon Heat #1) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,20

dragon as it flew through the cold night air. A dragon shifter. A man who had declared himself to be her dragon?—for almost an hour, before that wide wingspan dipped downward and the huge beast began to slow as they ascended to where a small lodge looked idyllic in the gently falling snow against the background of a thick forest of pine trees. A wooden structure, it had a wide balcony leading from all the rooms on the floor above.

Tanya, having never been out of St. Petersburg before being incarcerated at the Romanov’s winter palace, had never seen one, but she believed this was a dacha. A second home sometimes used as a hunting lodge or a summer residence for the Russian elite.

Tanya refused to admit, despite the cold, how exhilarating it had been to be out in the open and flying at such speed so high up in the sky and in the arms of a dragon. That way lay madness. Bad enough she’d now not only seen Vladimir’s dragon but flown in his arms.

Vladimir was still in his dragon form. At least twenty-five feet tall, he raised his huge majestic head, nostrils flared, to sniff the night air. Those wide wings were now tucked neatly against the obsidian scales of his back, but the thick length of his tail swished side to side to warn of his agitation.

Which was more than a little scary when she could also see five-inch-long talons projecting from each of his clawed front legs—arms? The terminology wasn’t really important when this fierce-looking dragon could open its mouth and rip her apart with its razor-sharp teeth. Or simply knock her aside with one sweep of its wings.

Her mother’s journals really hadn’t prepared her for being in the presence of the fierce beauty that was Vladimir’s dragon. Lethal, yes, but also possessed of a strange and undeniable Jurassic beauty.

Tanya turned away from all that aggression to take in their new surroundings. The ground seemed to have been cleared immediately around the house, but there was at least a foot of snow on the roof, and no smoke coming from the chimney or lights in the windows to show anyone was at home.

During their flight here, neither Vladimir nor his dragon had spoken a single word to her. They didn’t seem inclined to do so now either.

“Vladimir—” She broke off with a gasp as the air shimmered around the huge black dragon for several seconds before a six-and-a-half-foot-tall man took its place. A very angry man, if Vladimir’s thunderous expression was anything to go by.

To her surprise, not only had Vladimir returned to his human form, but he was also dressed in a dark sweater and tailored black trousers beneath the long black duster he had been wearing when he arrived at the palace earlier today.

“How did you…?” She waved her hand up and down the length of his fully clothed body.

His eyes narrowed to icy slits. “My dragon and I have many capabilities,” he snapped. “The most pressing one at the moment being the need to tend to our disobedient mate.” He took a key from the pocket of his duster and stepped forward to unlock the door into the dacha.

“Tend?” Tanya repeated dubiously, not making any attempt to enter, despite the promise of warmth to be found simply from going inside the house and out of the falling snow.

“Tend,” Vladimir repeated grimly.

She continued to eye him uncertainly. “What does that mean?”

“It means tonight, by putting yourself in danger, you have tested my considerable patience until it has flickered into nonexistence. And to answer your question, I have brought you here so that I might tend to that disobedience in private,” he told her grimly before stepping inside.

Several lights came on a minute or so later. No doubt after Vladimir had turned on the generator. There was no way this remote house, with no other residences in sight, was connected to any mainline amenities.

Tanya took her wet boots off in the vestibule before tentatively venturing farther inside. She was instantly surprised at how homely it was compared to the opulence of the Mikhailov Palace in St. Petersburg and the Romanov’s winter palace.

There was a wooden gallery above the open-plan downstairs area, with several doors leading off it that no doubt led to bedrooms. Downstairs was also wooden beams interspersed between bricks. There was a large seating area with worn leather chairs and sofas, a kitchen off that with beautiful copper pots and herbs hanging from