Sword of the King (12 page)

Ken and Blaze shared a look, and god how he wished they'd stop doing that, because he really didn't need the two of them making eyes at each other the whole time.

Finally, Blaze said, "The rumors around the syndicates were always that your brother was fiercely protective of you, that he keeps you locked away because you're valuable and important to him. He doesn't want anyone hurting you or coaxing you away."

Rafael let out a bark of laughter at that, amused despite himself. "Is that really what people say? That I'm some princess locked in a tower for my own good? Oh, god, that must amuse the ever-loving fuck out of him." He lightly touched his bruised cheek. "My brother keeps me isolated for the same reason he keeps all his belongings locked up—he doesn't like to share his toys."

There was also the added bonus that his brother hated him for being better with dragons. Raf was lucky that was reason enough to hate him, beat him, but not kill him. If Leo ever found out about just how close he'd been to Marianne … but thinking about Marianne just made him hurt. "What does my brother's possessive streak have to do with anything?" Rafael asked. Ken and Blaze shared a look again, and Rafael's patience snapped. He wasn't in the mood to be caught up in whatever game they were playing. "Look, I don't know what you're up to, but don't think that just because my brother beats me and smacks me around that I'll tolerate it from anyone else."

Conway growled and approached, scales cold to the touch as he rubbed up against Rafael before standing protectively in front of him. Rafael wondered when he'd stripped and changed. Cold poured off of Conway like an icy breeze through an open door, making the air around them distinctly chilly.

Blaze's eyes widened slightly, and Rafael wondered what surprised him, because Blaze had to be long used to a dragon in fighting mode. "I'm not going to put up with any games," Rafael said. "Say what you've got to say, or make your move if it's a fight you want. I have dragons to take care of and a boss to keep appeased."

"We're not here to pick a fight," Blaze said, catching Erie's arm as he growled and prepared to shift as well. Behind Ken, Nev stood still and calm, patiently waiting for orders. "I promise it's not like that. We thought you'd be on your brother's side, is all. But you're not, which changes everything."

Rafael gave them a hard stare, not quite certain he dared to believe what he was hearing. "You're wandering into dangerous territory," he said at last. "I'm on the dragons' side. I do whatever I have to do to protect the dragons as best I'm able."

"So how are you going to protect him?" Ken asked quietly, pointing a thumb at Cam, who stood off to the side watching the proceedings with his usual strange calm.

Cam scratched his nose, stepped closer to the circle, and said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that once I learn how to be a dragon I won't need anyone protecting me."

"You have no idea what you are," Ken said. "No idea at all, and not a single syndicate is prepared for you—no one is, really. Even the clans barely have a grip on your kind."

Rafael met Ken's eyes. "You know something I don't. What do you know, and how do you know it? There's not a single person in any of the syndicates who knows the dragons better than me. So how do you know more?"

"Because I come from somewhere else," Ken replied.

"The clans you just mentioned? What are these clans?" Rafael asked.

Ken nodded. "Yeah, the clans. I don't suppose you'd set your dragon back to above freezing, would you? No one is going to hurt you, but he is freezing my balls right off."

Rafael blinked, then laughed. He reached out a hand and lightly touched Conway's head. "It's okay, Conway. I'm safe, Cam is safe. Stand down. You're a good dragon."

Conway growled, but  obeyed, sitting back on his haunches and letting his temperature rise again.

"He's amazing," Blaze said, slowly dragging his eyes away from Conway to look at Rafael, socking him again with those green eyes. It sounded so cliché to say 'like emeralds' but fuck if that wasn't exactly their color. Christ, he so did not need to be in lust with anyone right then. "I've never seen a frost with such fine control." He yanked Erie close when he growled unhappily. "Erie has no equal, but Conway would be the kind of opponent he'd love. Maybe you'll let them spar sometime. I bet they'd have fun."

The offer startled Rafael, and he found his respect for Blaze growing all the more. He'd effortlessly acknowledged Conway's skills while still putting his own dragon first, and asked permission for a friendly fight. He didn't know many pit fighters who could fight without turning it into a bloodbath. "Sometime," he conceded. "Right now, I'd rather get back to the part where you sounded like you were trying to convince me to do something stupid."

Ken hesitated, beckoned Nev forward, and said, "Shift."

Nev silently obeyed, quickly stripping off his clothes and casting them carelessly aside. If the cold air bothered him, he made no show of it. With a soft growl, he shifted, changing from a winsome, lithe young man into ...

Rafael stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. "That's a steel. They don't exist. What in the hell …?"

Ken laughed softly and stroked Nev's head as he rubbed against Ken's thigh. "They definitely exist. He's a steel dragon, though we call them knight dragons."

"Fuck," Rafael said, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, mind spinning with all the new problems that would arise if the syndicates found out about the actual existence of steel dragons. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about what would happen if Leo found out about Nev. "So are you trying to tell me, in your very roundabout and dramatic way, that Cam is a steel?"

"No, he's not a steel. Cam is something else entirely. He's much more powerful than a steel, and he's got a lot of fucking baggage trailing behind him."

Cam snorted. "It seriously cracks me up the way you people talk about dragons like they're not in the room. I'm standing right here and you're talking about me, but not to me. It's kind of aggravating, kind of amusing."

Rafael smiled faintly. "Old habit. Dragons tend to care about only three things: their master, food, and their fixation. Anything else, they just stop paying attention."

"Dragons are weapons, not people," Ken said, stroking Nev's scales, tilting his head up to stare into Nev's glowing amber eyes. "They can look and act like people, but that's just a way to bond with their owners and improve their edge, so to speak. Camouflage, of a sort."

"I see," Cam replied, still amused. "So I'm weird because I'm a living weapon, but also still really human. And I'm not a steel? So what am I? Cause Raf said there were five dragon types, now you're telling me there's actually seven. So what is door number seven?"

Ken stared at him for a moment, then finally said, "You are a Holy Pendragon. At present, there are only three others in the entire world."

Cam lifted one brow. "That sounds crazy."

"It sounds unbelievable," Rafael said. "Getting him to shift would settle the matter, but nothing I've tried triggers it. Conway is good at helping new dragons learn to shift, but even he can't get Cam to do it. But maybe you two know something I don't and get him to do it."

Ken shook his head. "He won't change until his owner commands it. A Holy Pendragon requires an owner more than any other dragon; the owners are safeguards against their power. The mere presence of a Pendragon in its full power is enough to bring men to their knees. But that power goes both ways. Anyone who masters a Pendragon is automatically given royal status within the clans, and mastering a Pendragons always grants powers, or strengthens powers already possessed."

Rafael rubbed his forehead; he could feel his temples throbbing. "This is too much for me to process. Whatever you say, all I know is that my brother and every other syndicate boss out there is going to start a war over a single dragon. I'm going for a walk."

He didn't wait for their reply, simply walked away, heading across the yard to the winding footpath that meandered through the woods. Conway rumbled soothingly at his side, rubbing against him, then subsiding into silence as they walked.

The path would take them to the lake, and maybe by the time they walked there and back, Rafael would have figured out what the fuck he was going to do.

The first thing Amr had taught him was focus. Not paying attention got men and dragons killed. Blaze was a good fighter in no small part because he could focus like a son of a bitch. Nothing got in the way of his focus—not money, people, power, or glory. Nothing. He focused on his dragon, he focused on the fight. Even when he wasn't in the pit, he kept his focus on Erie, the syndicate, on the next fight. There was nothing on the planet that had ever made him forget Erie and what he was working toward.

So it was really fucking annoying that every time he so much as glanced at Rafael St. George, Blaze couldn't even remember his own goddamn name.

He watched Rafael vanish into the woods, Conway at his side, and was half-tempted to go after him for no good reason whatsoever. Fuck, the man was pretty. There was a dearth of pretty in the pits, and what little there was always seemed to come with the kind of snotty, preening attitude that made Blaze want to punch people.

But more than that ... Rafael might play meek in front of his brother, but when his temper sparked … It was something else again when Rafael acted more like himself. Blaze wondered what he'd be like if he didn't have Leo or the syndicate dragging him down.

"So are you going to stand there eye fucking him all day, or make a move?"

Blaze blinked at Ken for a moment, then the words registered. "Go to hell."

Ken just snickered. "Seriously, if you stared at his ass any harder he'd have to get a restraining order."

"Shut up," Blaze muttered, and pointedly turned away to head back into the house. He wanted a goddamn nap; between driving all night, putting up with Leo, and all the food he'd eaten, he was more than ready to pass out for a bit.

So fuck it, that's exactly what he was going to do. "I'm going to grab some shut eye," he said. "You can go be a smarmy asshole somewhere else."

"I'm impressed you know the word smarmy," Ken replied, grinning. "When does your mysterious ex-clan buddy get here?"

Blaze rolled his eyes. "You make him sound like a fucking ninja or something when you say that. He's getting here late in the afternoon, but I don't know what time. He'll text me when he's an hour or so out. Go away, seriously. Be annoying far away from me."

Ken just snickered. "Go crash. I'll clean up the kitchen."

"I'm impressed you know how to wash dishes," Blaze retorted. He cracked a yawn, half-tempted just to crash on the couch, since the bedrooms suddenly seemed entirely too far away.

"Don't be," Ken replied, grinning widely. "It's how I was punished growing up. I washed a lot of fucking dishes."

Blaze laughed. "You're right, I'm no longer impressed." With Erie on his heels, he grabbed their bags from the hallway and then wandered through the house until he found a room that definitely had a guest room vibe.

Dropping the bags by the door, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, throwing them aside. He set his gun on the nightstand, then fell back and rolled and stretched until he was comfortable.

Erie curled up behind him, rumbling softly, the sound vibrating through Blaze's body. Closing his eyes, Blaze fell asleep thinking about eyes that reminded him of winter.

When he woke, he was alone, and for a house that had four dragons in it, it seemed oddly quiet. Blaze sat up slowly and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He stood and reached for his gun, slid it back into its holster. Where had Erie gone? It wasn't like him to wander off while Blaze was sleeping.

Yawning, Blaze left the bedroom and wandered down the hall. He stopped when he reached the living room, surprised and amused as he saw all three dragons piled up together in front of the fireplace. The clock on the mantel read half past four. Jesus, had he really slept that long?

"You must have been pretty worn out."

Blaze turned, tried not to stare, but fuck he somehow he hadn't quite remembered just how fucking pretty Rafael was. It was mind boggling that Rafael was related to Leo, even though just glancing at them made the relation obvious. "Guess I was more tired than I thought, but it's been a long couple of days. You still pissed off?"

"Just worried, which is perpetual," Rafael said dismissively. "Want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Blaze said, trying a smile. He wasn't the smiling sort, really, but he wasn't the sort for friends either and he couldn't figure out what the fuck else he was supposed to call Ken.

It was all really fucking weird.

He followed Rafael into the kitchen and accepted the cup of coffee Rafael handed him with another tentative smile. "So what have I missed?"

"Not much, it's been a quiet day. Cam and the others are all dozing. Ken wandered off somewhere; he really isn't very good at holding still."

Blaze snorted. "You're not lying. I'm surprised he hasn't managed to get into a fight with anything yet; he's especially good at that. I don't think I've seen him yet without his face banged up. I'm not sure I'll recognize him when the bruises fade."

Rafael laughed, but it came out a decidedly not happy sound. Blaze groaned inwardly when he saw Rafael touch his own bruised cheek as he turned away.

Smooth, very smooth.

He stifled a sigh and went to reach for his phone, and realized it wasn't in his jeans. He must have left it in his coat. "You seen my coat?"

"In the hallway," Rafael replied, still buried in the fridge.

Blaze went to fetch it, feeling like an idiot. He pulled his phone out, relieved to see that he hadn't missed any texts. Returning to the kitchen, he set the phone on the bar and picked up his coffee. "You make really good coffee. Whenever I make it, it comes out tasting like burnt ass."

Rafael laughed. "It's not that hard to make. Then again, I do own a coffee shop, and I more or less live off the stuff, so I've had a lot of practice. Hungry at all?"