Vladimir (Russian Dragon Heat #1) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,29

later to find Tanya had, as she had warned, already fallen into a deep sleep.

Vladimir took a couple of minutes to enjoy just looking at her not only because she obviously now trusted him enough to feel comfortable falling asleep in his company—or was just too exhausted to stay awake—but because she looked so young without the visible fierce emotions that so often burned in the depths of her blue eyes.

With fragile lids covering those eyes, she looked vulnerable. Her hair was a silky curtain against the white pillow, her face pale except for the dark smudges of tiredness beneath her eyes.

No wonder she was so tired, between her escape and it being almost three o’clock in the morning.

Vladimir quietly left the bedroom to return to the adjoining bathroom, his intention to take care of the unrelenting throb of his own cock.

Or attempt to.

Because no matter how he stroked and pumped his cock, whatever erotic images of Tanya he played inside his head, he was unable to reach a climax.

Hours later, he still lay awake beside her, questioning that inability to find release, as well as the changes he could feel inside himself. All his emotions were now centered on Tanya, predominantly that need to serve her in whatever way she needed him.

Vladimir had nothing, no other relationship with which to compare the way he was currently feeling. He knew the Pendragon brothers were devoted to their mates, but they were also different to the Romanovs in several ways.

The Pendragon mating aphrodisiac, once ingested by the female, created an unrelenting sexual fever and need inside them that could only be assuaged by their mate and ultimately the mating bite. The Pendragon dragon shifters also felt that desire to be physically joined to their mate, but it was nowhere near the level of intensity as their female.

Conversely, Vladimir was the one who now felt almost feverish with a sexual desire that, when he had tried to ease it himself, had refused to be assuaged. To a degree the throbbing of his still-engorged cock had now reached a level that was painful.

Vladimir’s parents had been mated for thirteen hundred years before they both died a little over a hundred years ago. Vladimir had known instinctively that they were happy together. They had never attempted to hide their deep love and devotion to each other from any of their sons.

But he had no idea if his father, a Russian dragon shifter born two thousand years ago, had felt the same single-minded need to serve his mate as Vladimir now did toward Tanya.

Not only had his father been born in a different time, when there were more dragon shifters than there were today and they had human vassals living on their estates, but Ivor Romanov had been their king. Proud. Aristocratic. Regal.

As such, emotions had never been discussed between him and his eight sons, least of all those of a sexual nature. Consequently, Vladimir had no idea if his father had had this same response to the taste of his mate.

Except…

He remembered his mother occasionally interrupting the court his father held every morning to hear the complaints of his subjects, human as well as dragon, so that he might settle any disputes. As his father’s heir, Vladimir had liked to watch the proceedings from behind one of the tapestries in the great hall of the castle.

On more than one occasion, his mother had entered the room partway through the proceedings and leaned in close to his father to whisper something only he could hear. Seconds later, his father would declare the court over for the morning, and he and his queen would retire to their bedchamber.

Because his father had also been enslaved by his feelings for his consort?

Much as Vladimir now was.

He glanced at the woman he held securely in his arms.

Tanya.

A fierce and fearless warrior.

And a mate to cherish and love.

A queen to be proud of.

If Tanya decided to accept him.

Vladimir’s life, and that of his dragon, would become a never-ending hell if she didn’t.

Chapter Nine

It was barely light outside the window when Tanya woke, and it took her several seconds to orient herself.

Then the shocking truth of where she was, and who she was with, hit her with the force of a tsunami.

She turned to look at the sleeping man lying in the bed beside her. One of his arms was placed possessively about her waist, anchoring her to his side even in sleep.

The tall, dark, aristocratic, and wealthy beyond imagining—and, if