Sword of the King (13 page)

"I never turn down food," Blaze replied. Rafael refilled both their mugs before going to the fridge. Blaze enjoyed a few more sips of the really fucking awesome coffee, but then began to feel awkward. He wasn't used to sitting around doing nothing, even if he was perfectly willing to sit and admire Rafael all night. "Is there something I can do?"

"What—oh, no," Rafael said, half-turning to smile at Blaze over his shoulder. "You're fine. Sit and relax. I like cooking, and I seldom have company that isn't Leo and his thugs."

Blaze nodded and drank his coffee, still feeling like a freeloader, but willing for the moment to just sit and surreptitiously ogle Rafael's ass. When his coffee finally ran out, he stood and put his mug in the dishwasher, after making certain it had dirty dishes rather than clean. "Whatever you're making smells really fucking good."

"Beef stroganoff," Rafael said with a smile. "Nothing very fancy."

"More than I can make, man," Blaze said. "You've got a nice house. My apartment is nothing to sneer at, but this is nice."

Rafael's smile faded away. "Yeah, it is. My brother gave it to me."

"Ah," Blaze said, wanting to beat his head against the cabinet. He'd never realized before that he really fucking sucked at ... whatever it was he was trying to do. Flirting?

Just as well that he sucked at it; he had more important things to focus on. But he couldn't forget the way Rafael had come to life when they'd pissed him off, the way his eyes had flashed, the smooth way he had commanded Conway with barely a word, the way Conway had anticipated him.

If not for Leo, Rafael would be Boss, and he'd be a good one. Bosses didn't do anything with their fighters but pit them. He'd seen it happen a thousand times—fighters convinced themselves they had a real, true thing for the boss. They let themselves be used, played, and always they walked away broken.

Rafael definitely didn't seem the type to mingle business with pleasure, even though he also was clearly not the type to abuse such a relationship.

Blaze didn't even know why the fuck he cared. He had Erie, that was all he needed. He'd never hurt Erie by fucking around with someone else. Blaze stepped away, tried to gather himself and stop thinking with his dick. "Got any water?"

"There are bottles in the fridge," Rafael said.

"Thanks," Blaze murmured. He grabbed one and retreated to the bar. "So how did you get to be so good with dragons? I thought Erie obeyed me flawlessly, but watching you and Conway ... it's like he reads your mind."

Rafael slid cooked strips of beef onto a platter, added more uncooked strips to the pan on the stove, before turning toward him. "That's all Conway, not me. He's just good at learning how to respond to every little move and tone of voice. My brother underestimates him, which suits me fine."

Blaze took it as a good sign that Rafael would point out his brother's failings. "Sorry about earlier. We didn't mean to piss you off."

"You didn't upset me, not really," Rafael said, turning back to the stove. "Just ratcheted up my worry level. My brother treats dragons as ordinary weapons, or like dogs. He doesn't really appreciate what they really are, and if he finds out there's a steel on the premises and that Cam is something even stronger ... " He added more cooked beef to the platter, then filled a pot with water. He put it on a stove, and turned on the burner, then grabbed a bag of egg noodles from the pantry. "Let's just say it won't be pretty," he finally added.

"We won't let anything happen," Blaze told him. "Did you talk to Ken at all while I was being a lazy fuck?"

Rafael laughed as he picked an onion out of a bowl at the far end of the bar and began to dice it. "It's hardly lazy to take a nap when you're exhausted, and you clearly were. Not really. He said it was probably better to wait for explanations until your friend arrived. Who is this friend?"

"His name is Amr; he's the one who trained me to fight, and taught me stuff about dragons that's not exactly pit sanctioned."

"Like sleeping with them."

"Yeah."

Rafael nodded and finished dicing the onion, then returned to the stove. Turning off the burner, he carried the pot to the sink and drained the noodles. Leaving the strainer in the sink, he took the onion back to the stove.

Blaze admired his ass again, then tried to find something to distract himself before his eyes or his mouth got him in trouble. But short of leaving the kitchen, he didn't know what to do, and he liked listening to Rafael talk. He'd never been so caught up in someone so fast. "You never did say how you got to be so good with dragons. Your name is damn near legend."

"Legend?" Rafael echoed, laughing. "I think Leo is the legend."

"Do you always brush aside praise when it's given to you?" Blaze asked. "I'm asking why you're the talented one, not Conway or your brother."

Rafael was silent, and Blaze wanted to bash his head against the countertop. He'd never realized before just how awkward he was with people when there wasn't hostilities involved. Then again, he had absolutely no trouble getting along with Ken—well, after their rocky start, anyway.

But, he also didn't want Ken to push him into a wall and fuck him six ways to Sunday.

"I'm just patient," Rafael suddenly said, startling him. He didn't turn away from the stove, but he also seemed to be busy stirring. "People have said before that I have some special ability, but I really don't. I'm just patient. I listen, I learn, and never stop doing either. People think that once they learn the basics about dragons they know all there is to know. But nothing is static. Dragons might be simple and straightforward in their wants and needs, but that doesn't mean they aren't complex. I just keep listening and learning."

Blaze thought that Rafael deserved a lot more credit than he gave himself, but didn't press him. "Talent is talent. Though I think your cooking skills might outstrip your dragon skills. Seriously, that food smells fucking delicious."

Rafael laughed. "It's nothing special, I promise." Opening a can, he added the contents to the pan and resumed stirring. "Blaze is an egg dragon, right? How old were you when you got him?"

"Ten," Blaze said. "I've gotten some looks when people see how much younger he is than me, but ... "

"But being in the pits ages dragons fast. A twenty year old dragon is nothing to sneer at, especially one with Erie's reputation," Rafael said, smiling faintly before he turned back to the stove and slid the beef back into the pan.

A few minutes later, he brought Blaze a plate heaped with noodles covered with beef in a white, creamy sauce. "Beef stroganoff," Rafael announced, and sat down beside him to eat.

Blaze moaned as he ate, wishing he could cook half as well. "Seriously, where did you learn to cook like this?"

Rafael's smile was bittersweet. "I learned it from someone I used to know. She's dead now."

"I'm sorry," Blaze said, and once again strongly considered bashing his head against a hard surface. Flirting shouldn't be so difficult, but apparently it was too complex for him to handle. He immediately began to wonder who 'she' had been:  friend, girlfriend or wife? He couldn't remember any mention of Rafael ever having been married, though he vaguely recalled that Leonardo had been at one point.

He let it go, since even he wasn't dumb enough to ask. "When do you think that lazy pile of lizards will come back to life?"

"Soon, I think," Rafael said, casting an amused glance in the direction of the living room. "They haven't eaten in a few hours, so I'm sure they'll rouse soon to convince us they're starving."

Blaze snorted, and resumed wolfing down his food, wishing he had the self-control to eat it slowly—but it was just too fucking good.

His phone chimed a text, distracting him, and Blaze reluctantly set aside his fork to see who it was. "Looks like Amr will be here in thirty minutes or so. Asshole, he was supposed to text me at an hour."

"What did he teach you about dragons?" Rafael asked. "Other than that it's okay to fuck them."

Somehow that word sounded ten times filthier when it came out of Rafael's mouth. Something about the way those pale, pretty lips formed it was just obscene. Blaze was having a difficult time not picturing those lips wrapped around his cock, or imagining what they'd feel like sliding against his own.

"Uh." He ate another bite of food to give himself time to gather his thoughts. "I think you already know most of it. Dragons aren't dogs. They're weapons. A good fighter knows his weapon inside and out, trusts his weapon with his life. Amr taught us we needed to know each other, I guess. To work like a master and dragon, not just a thug and his monster trying to stomp other monsters. Most fighters, if they lose a dragon, they don't give a damn. I'd die if I lost Erie."

"Yes," Rafael said softly, prodding his food with his fork. "I couldn't survive this mess without Conway. I shudder to think what would happen to him if Leo ever finally snapped and killed me. Whe—" he broke off, stabbed viciously at his food.

Blaze hesitated, then laid his own fork down and reached out to lightly touch Rafael's hand. He didn't touch people, except for the girls at the club. They cheered right up when given a hug or a pat on the shoulder. He didn't know if it would work with Rafael, or why he gave a fuck, but he couldn't just ignore him.

Rafael looked up at the touch, seeming surprised. He smiled weakly. "My apologies. Bad memories. Want some dessert?"

"Sure," Blaze said, pretty certain somehow that saying no wasn't really an option because Rafael was halfway across the kitchen before he'd replied.

Dessert was a pie, Blaze saw as he brought it over to the bar before wandering away again to fetch plates and forks and whipped cream. Pumpkin pie. When was the last time he'd had that? Shit, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had pie, period, never mind what kind it had been.

Rafael cut him a piece and covered it with whipped cream, then pushed it across the counter. Blaze had barely taken one bite when a low, curious growl came from behind him. It was almost immediately followed by the thump of heavy paws as Conway peered over the counter and made pleading noises.

"If you want pie, then sit properly, you silly dragon." Rafael smiled at Conway as he ordered him, and it was the prettiest smile Blaze had ever seen. He wondered just how hard Rafael would punch him if he had even an inkling how many times Blaze had already thought of him as pretty.

Conway growled playfully, then smoothly shifted and sat at the bar. Blaze hid his amusement in another bite of pie, but openly laughed as Conway greedily set to work on the large slice of pie that Rafael gave him after saying grandly, "Raf good."

"Gee, I wonder what your fixation is," Blaze said.

Rafael rolled his eyes. "I bet you'd never guess."

"Speaking of, I hope you've hidden everything caramel and mint around here."

"And strawberry," Rafael added. Blaze shook his head, chuckling.

A more familiar growl was all the warning he got before Erie draped himself over Blaze's back, nearly toppling him face first into his pie. "Oof."

"Blaze rested?"

"Yes," Blaze said. "What have you been up to all day?"

"Playing with ice and steel. Sleeping." Erie nipped his ear playfully, his low rumble making Blaze shiver. "Blaze smell good."

Blaze snorted. Spearing a piece of pie on his fork, he twisted slightly and held it over his shoulder. "Hungry?"

In reply, Erie took the offered bite of food. "Good. Meat?"

Rafael laughed and motioned him to a seat. "Where's Nev?"

"Find Ken," Erie replied, dropping into the seat between Conway and Blaze.

Gathering up all the used dishes, Blaze loaded them in the dishwasher while Rafael began pulling out steaks for the dragons, piling them up by the stove. He bent over to pull out a pan, and Blaze briefly forgot what he was doing.

He jerked when he heard Erie growl, and felt his face actually heat with embarrassment and shame at being caught ogling. What sort of jerk was he, to do it right in front of Erie?

But when he looked at Erie, he only seemed amused and more interested in the steaks. Blaze went back to loading dishes, heart thudding in his chest and face slowly cooling.

For fuck's sake, when was the last time his face had gone red? He hadn't thought embarrassment was something he could feel anymore. Shaking his head, he dried his hands and went back to his place at the bar.

"Your friend should be here soon," Rafael said.

Blaze glanced at his phone to see the time. "Yeah, looks like it. Hopefully he finds the place alright. I know if I hadn't been following Leo's car I probably would have driven right by it. This place is crazy quiet, but I've always lived in the middle of the city."

"Butterflies," Erie said glumly. "Miss butterflies."

Rafael lifted his brows in silent query as he brought over a stack of barely cooked steaks and divided them between the two dragons, saving three more for Nev.

"Strippers," Blaze said. "There's a little strip club where we go to relax. The girls are really nice, especially to Erie. He calls them his butterflies, though I still don't know why he picked that word for them."

Erie gave them an exasperated look, and said insistently, "Butterflies."

"So you said," Blaze replied.

Growling at him, Erie leaned over and nipped his shoulder.

"Ow! Dragon!" Blaze pinched him, jerking when that just got him another nip—and bellowing in outrage when Erie lunged out of his seat and tackled him to the ground. "Dragon! You—mph—" Blaze let Erie kiss him, his fingers gripping the tank top Erie wore. "You taste like cow," he said when Blaze eventually allowed him to breathe again. "What in the hell is with you?"

"Smell good," Erie rumble into the hollow of his throat, and Blaze realized Erie meant he smelled hot and bothered. "Rafael smell good. Ice smell good."

Blaze wondered where all his oxygen had abruptly gone. He was fairly certain it had just been there. "Don't even think about it."

Erie growled in discontent.

"I mean it," Blaze said. "Behave, you crazy lizard. We're going to be in enough trouble soon."