Sword of the King (14 page)

"What's he trying to do, besides get you naked?" Rafael asked in amusement, making Blaze jump.

He stared up at Rafael, and was suddenly painfully aware of how fucking ridiculous he must appear:  knocked to the floor by his dragon, who was currently plastered all over him, and sprawled on the linoleum like five year olds rough housing to get attention. "He's trying to get all his mint privileges revoked, that's what he's doing."

Erie growled and bit his ear.

"Erie! Off, now."

Still growling, Erie obediently climbed off and helped Blaze to his feet. "Good Erie," he insisted.

"Debatable," Blaze said, but captured his chin and drew him close to kiss him briefly. "Behave."

Nearby, Conway growled unhappily, and there was no mistaking the envy and longing in his face as he watched them. He shifted his gaze to Rafael and growled again, the pleading expression on his face making something in Blaze's chest twist sharply.

Rafael made a rough noise and moved around Blaze and Erie, holding out a hand and tugging Conway to him when he took it. "Silly dragon," Rafael whispered, the words only barely audible. He kissed Conway softly, and combed a hand through his ruffled hair. Conway's happy rumbles filled the kitchen.

Blaze tried to think of unpleasant things, but his efforts were doomed, because watching Rafael and Conway ruined any and all ability to think.

Fuck, he hadn't known just how filthy his own mind could get, and he never pretended to have a clean mind. The way Erie clung to him, hard cock pressing against his hip, growling deep and soft in his ear, was not helping.

"Blaze ... "

Unable to resist that needy tone of voice, Blaze turned and took Erie's mouth, heart thudding in his chest, body tight with tension, with want, with a need to have someone pound him senseless—

An angry roar made them all jump and jerk apart. They stared at each other, confused and embarrassed. Rafael cleared his throat, but before he could speak the angry roar came again. Blaze bolted towards the front door as they recognized Nevada's voice, lust replaced by concern. Blaze threw open the front door and then stopped so abruptly that Erie nearly knocked him down the stairs.

When the hell had Amr arrived and why the fuck did Ken have a gun leveled at him?

Blaze vaguely heard Rafael going down the hall to warn Cam to stay out of the way until they gave the all clear, but his attention was mostly on the standoff in the driveway. He ran down the front porch stairs and across the yard, shooting Ken a glare, hoping he wasn't about to put an end to their still new, weird, and very tentative friendship. He stepped in front of Amr and spread his arms. "Ken, man, what the fuck is your problem? This is Amr, not some goon."

"I don't care who the fuck he is," Ken snapped. "Move out of my way. The only way I'm letting that son of a bitch anywhere near these dragons is over my corpse."

"That can be arranged," Amr said, his voice familiar and strange all at once, because Blaze could not remember ever hearing the normally congenial Amr sound so cold and deadly. 

Blaze jerked his head angrily at Ken, a silent order to drop the gun, and only when he reluctantly did so did Blaze turn to look at Amr. "What in the fuck is going on here? Amr, since when do you make death threats?"

"Oh, I threaten his kind on a regular basis," Amr said coldly, never taking his eyes off Ken. "It's what they do to me and mine, after all."

In reply, Ken lifted his gun again. "That's because you stupid bastards deserve it. You can get right back in your car and leave, asshole, or I'll be more than happy to put a bullet in your stupid fucking face."

"That's enough!" Rafael said, and on either side of him Erie and Conway growled. Blaze called Erie to his side, and could already feel the heat from his faintly glowing scales. It was a strange contrast to the cold air he could feeling pouring off Conway. "What is going on here? I was told that Blaze's friend was coming, and that he would be able to help with Cam."

"Che," Ken said.

"Shut the fuck up," Blaze snapped. "Amr is a good guy."

Ken sneered. "He's a Mordred. It's no wonder he knows all about dragons, isn't it, Mordred? All look and no touch—"

"If you want to see why I don't need a dragon to kick your ass, you smarmy Clan bitch—"

"Enough!" Rafael bellowed again. "I will turn both of you into ice cubes if you do not stop right now. This is my house and I'm putting an end to this feud. Get inside and explain to me what the hell is going on. Now."

Ken shook his head. "I'm not letting a Mordred anywhere near Cam."

Blaze could feel a headache forming. "This is more of your King Arthur shit, isn't it? What the fuck is a Mordred? I thought Mordred was a person, not a thing."

"They like to refer to us as objects, it makes them feel better about themselves," Amr said, and removed his sunglasses. Blaze stared in surprise, because the Amr he'd known had brown eyes. The Amr before him, cold and dangerous, had eyes that were completely black. "It's Clan Mordred, as much as they hate to admit that we are, in fact, a clan."

"Banished, exiled, useless, because you betrayed the king and the sword."

Rafael heaved a long, aggravated sigh. "One more word and I'm freezing you. Do not doubt for a moment that Conway can do it. Get. In. Side."

Amr finally looked at Rafael, then went very still. They stared at each other for a moment, then Amr slowly nodded. "My apologies for such a rude arrival. I promise I will endeavor to be on my best behavior, but I will not tolerate being maltreated by the jumpy little knight over there."

"He'll behave or he'll sleep outside," Rafael said, and once again motioned for all of them to get inside.

Blaze trailed after them, frowning over Ken's behavior, over Amr acting so cold, over the look he'd exchanged with Rafael. Over that strange, hot, confusing moment in the kitchen.

What the fuck was going to happen next?

A Mordred. Ken couldn't believe that Blaze had been trained by a goddamn Mordred, and that the smug, smarmy bastard was sitting close enough to punch. And Ken couldn't punch him.

He tried to remember if he still had sleeping bags in his car, because if he did then sleeping outside would be a small price to pay for breaking Amr's nose and ruining that 'I think I'm a supermodel' face.

A warning look from Blaze made him reluctantly subside for the moment, and Ken focused on drinking his coffee and petting Nev, who rested at his side with his head in Ken's lap.

Rafael set two plates in front of him, and Ken thanked him with a smile for the steaks for Nev and whatever it was for him. Setting his coffee aside, he tugged at Nev to sit up and gave him the plate of steaks. When Nev was settled, Ken picked up a fork and tried to make himself eat.

"So what in the hell is going on here?" Rafael said. "Let's start with who you are."

"My name is Amr Medraut, of Clan Mordred—"

"The Mordred aren't a clan!" Ken snapped, dropping his fork and standing—or he tried to stand, anyway, but Blaze yanked him back down. He glared at Amr and hissed, "You haven't been a real clan since your lot decided to backstab everybody. You don't get to call yourselves Clan!"

Amr smirked at him, ratcheting up Ken's desire to smash his face in. "Children are to be seen and not heard."

"Fuck you," Ken retorted. "You're not that much older than me."

"I would be astonished if you're old enough to drink."

Ken flushed. "I'm twenty-nine, asshole."

"Really?" Amr queried. "Because you act—"

"That's enough," Rafael said. "You're both acting like children."

Amr made a face and leaned back in his seat. "I am not going to tolerate slurs against my family and clan. Whether or not the rest of them recognize us as such is irrelevant. We are Clan."

Rafael sighed. "What are these clans you two keep talking about? How about we start with that."

"The clans protect and master the knight dragons," Ken said stiffly. "There are four primary clans, four secondary clans to each primary, and a lot of tertiary clans. The primary Clan for North and South America is Corbenic, and the four secondary clans are Pellinore, a'Lincoln, le Savage, and Cross."

Blaze stirred beside him. "Cross. That's your last name. So you're part of Clan Cross? Is that how you say it?"

"Yes," Ken said, not bothering to clarify which question he was answering. Nev rumbled softly beside him, and Ken reached out to stroke his hair, soothing him.

It was nobody's fucking business that he wasn't actually part of Clan Cross. What mattered was that Rick had adopted him and his last name was Cross. If the Clan wanted to be dicks about the fact he was adopted, and therefore not good enough even if he had a knight dragon, then screw them.

He'd be damned if he let on to a fucking Mordred that nobody considered him good enough.

"Ah, a Cross," Amr said, his tone dripping with derision.

"Oh, honestly," Rafael said with exasperation, Conway growling beside him. "Why are you two so antagonistic? You don't even know each other."

Ken jabbed his fork in Amr's direction. "I don't need to know a Mordred."

"Why do you keep saying it that way? A Mordred, like he's something diseased."

"According to all the special clans," Amr said, "that is more or less what we are."

Ken wanted to stab him. Instead, he used his fork to point at Amr's black eyes. He'd never actually seen a Mordred's eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't get why everyone said they were creepy. Ken thought they were fascinating, even pretty in a really bizarre way, though he would never fucking admit it. "The proof is in the eyes. Perfect black, the mark of the curse placed upon them:  to always yearn for dragons, to be in theory ideal owners, but never actually able to claim one."

Amr's mouth tightened, his cockiness for a single moment fracturing, letting his longing and misery through. But the cracks were gone nearly as fast as they had appeared, leaving only a man who might have been breathtaking if not for that haughty, condescending manner. And the fact he was a Mordred.

Scowling at his plate, Ken stabbed at a piece of beef and ate it.

"You speak of curses like we're the only clan that endures them, when we both know that all clans bear some sort of curse or burden. No clan is perfect or blameless."

"No, but only one clan betrayed all the others and the dragons," Ken snapped.

"Spoken like a true brainwashed child of the clans," Amr replied.

Rafael and Blaze sighed. "Are you two going to keep doing this?" Blaze asked. "Because I don't know if you remember, but we have a Holy Pendragon to protect and every syndicate wants it. You two are the only ones who understand Cam, so it would really fucking help if you'd stop flirting and focus on the job."

"Hahaha," Ken said sourly, stabbing at the noodles on his plate and eating a couple more bites. "Tell the Mordred to stop being an asshole."

"My name is Amr, not 'the Mordred," Amr replied, staring at him with those strange eyes. Ken had to fight an urge to look away. Something about Amr reminded him of Rick's brother Tori. They both had 'domineering asshole' down to an art. Even other masters bowed to Tori.

Ken has always resisted, and if he didn't bow to Tori then he'd be damned if he bowed to a bitchy Mordred.

"Interesting," Amr murmured at his show of defiance. "But, Cross was always a stubborn clan. That's why they're ..." He trailed off, narrowed thoughtful eyes at Ken. "You said you were twenty-nine."

Ken scowled. "Yeah, so?"

"So the Cross curse takes effect by the age of twenty-five, but you clearly have not been affected by it. You do not bear the mark." He looked pointedly at Ken's left hand. Ken flushed as he realized his blunder. Amr threw his head back and laughed; it was an awful, mocking sound. When the laughter faded, Amr gave him another infuriating smirk. "Here you are deriding me when clearly you are not Clan yourself. What, even that obnoxious lot didn't have the patience to put up with you? You have a lot of nerve looking down on me and threatening me when you're lying about being a Cross. But even they wouldn't want—"

He didn't remember moving, just felt the white-hot rage that used to get him into so much trouble. He also didn't remember punching Amr, but his sore hand and the bastard's now bloody nose provided evidence otherwise. "You don't know anything about it," Ken said roughly. "So shut your stupid fucking mouth."

Turning around, he stormed off. His chest felt too tight; he couldn't breathe. He couldn't really see either, and it was only when he went to rub his eyes that Ken realized tears obscured his vision. He angrily wiped them away, heading across the backyard to escape into the woods.

Fuck Amr. Fuck all of them. Just because nobody wanted him—

Ken walked quickly along the footpath, heading back towards the little outcropping by the lake that he'd found earlier when he was out exploring. He sniffled, wiped his nose with one of the tissues he kept in his jacket, mostly for treating scratches and shit, and then wiped his stupid eyes again.

He was a knight, damn it. He had a knight dragon and his name was Kennedy William Cross. It wasn't his fault that the stupid fucking clan wouldn't formally acknowledge him.

Damn it.

Ken finally stopped as he reached a cluster of rocks that jutted out over the lake, mostly hidden by large trees with heavy, low-hanging branches. Hanging his legs over the edge of a large, flat rock, he scowled at the water and absently flexed his sore right hand.

The knuckles had split again, but given he never gave them enough time to heal between fights, that wasn't really a surprise. He wondered what it would be like to go one fucking week without getting himself into a fight.

But he knew that was just wishful thinking. Especially with a Pendragon, a stupid fucking Mordred, and more enemies in the syndicates than he cared to think about.

A low, concerned whine drew his attention. Ken wiped his face again before he beckoned Nev to come close. "Sorry, Nev. You didn't have to come out here after me. You should have stayed in the house."

"Ken sad," Nev said quietly, lying across Ken's lap. He wrapped his arms around Ken's waist, nuzzling against him. "Good Ken. My Ken. No sad."