Sword of the King (4 page)

He pulled out his gun and kept careful watch as Nev quickly dressed, not really surprised when he heard no sirens. "Good?" he asked, and when Nev nodded, finally opened the driver's side door and slid inside. He quickly drove away, restless, twitchy, and angry. Very fucking angry.

Rust was seriously overreacting over one stupid fucking conversation. What the fuck had Blaze told him?

But no ... Ken didn't think Blaze had said much of anything. He had definitely panicked, when Ken made that crack about Blaze fucking his dragon. He was pretty sure the earnest efforts to kill him were Rust being overzealous in protecting a valuable asset.

He wondered if Rust realized just how valuable his asset really was, and how dangerous. Ken had been trying to put a dent in the pit fights for more than a year, and he'd never seen anyone act as close to a knight as Blaze. It had only taken one fight to see that; the four after that had just reinforced the point.

A pang twisted his chest, but he shoved it aside. He had Nev, Rick and Cal, and the others. Even if they were all older than he, and saw him as Rick's idiot adopted son.

Even if fifteen years later his real family still preferred to pretend he didn't exist.

Nev had always been there, though, ever since they were two. He didn't need anyone else.

Ken didn't bother going back to their motel. They never left anything of importance behind, and if they had, chances were it was already gone or destroyed. He drove around the city aimlessly until he was certain they weren't being followed, then picked a random motel just outside the city proper.

It was decidedly questionable, but not the worst place they'd been, though Ken still felt bad he was subjecting Nev to such shitty accommodations. He grabbed their bags and climbed out of the car. "I swear one day I'll put us up at some five star place."

"Just want Ken," Nev rumbled softly, wrapping himself around Ken, nuzzling and cuddling, rumbling softly in a way that still made Ken's entire body vibrate. "Want Ken happy."

Ken smiled faintly, kissed the top of his head, closed his eyes and just enjoyed Nev's scent. "I'm happy as long as I have you, Nev."

Nev rumbled, nuzzled again, but Ken knew he wasn't convinced. How could the dragon be, when the knight wasn't? People might mistake dragons for stupid, but that was their own stupidity talking. "Want Ken happy."

"Shush," Ken said softly. "I have you; that's all I need. Come on, let's get some rest. I still have caramels in my bag."

Growling at the mention of his favorite treat, his fixation—what spawned the myth that dragons craved and hoarded treasure—Nev obediently pulled away and followed Ken into the motel lobby.

It took only minutes to get a room, and thankfully the clerk at the desk had only given them a few odd looks. Ken took the keycards she gave him and nodded politely, then took Nev's hand as he led the way down the hall to their room.

The place smelled of old cigarettes and dust, but it was a smell to which they were long accustomed. Ken dropped their bags on the floor, close to the door but out of the way.

He sat down on the far bed, pulling his gun from its shoulder holster and setting it down next to him. Nearby, Nev was quickly stripping off his clothes, growling as though offended by them. Ken smiled faintly, missing the days when Nev seldom bothered with clothes. Hell, most of the time he lounged about in dragon form. Since they'd left home to save the dragons, though, that hadn't really been possible. "Go grab a shower, lizard. I'll rustle up some more food, since I'm sure you burned off those steaks kicking ass."

Nev wandered over to him, crawled onto the bed and braced himself over Ken. "Good Ken," he murmured, and kissed Ken softly. Ken curled his hands around the back of Nev's head, sank his fingers into Nev's soft, soft hair, and kissed him long and slow and easy, lapping at his lips and exploring every crevice of his mouth. "Good Ken," Nev rumbled again.

"Good dragon," Ken whispered. "Go boil yourself."

Rumbling softly, Nev gave him an affectionate nip before obediently going to get his shower. Ken sat up and moved his gun to the nightstand, then shrugged out of his jacket and stripped down to jeans and socks. He stretched with a groan, working out the kinks in his muscles, then went to the mirror to inspect the damage. His nose seemed okay, even though his face was bruised and hideous. Making a face at his reflection, wincing at the pain that flared briefly, he went to fetch the bag that held all their medical supplies. 

A few minutes of additional wincing and hissing in pain had him more or less fixed up, though he still looked like shit. Feeling gloomy, Ken grabbed the phone and called in room service from the shabby restaurant behind the motel.

Nev reappeared from the bathroom just as the food arrived, and Ken set out the sad looking steaks he'd ordered for Nev to wolf down. He ate his roast beef sandwich more slowly, wishing he had a beer to wash it all down.

Maybe they should just go home. Back to Rick, back to ... what? He wasn't Rick, or Tori, or Dri. He wasn't anything except caught in the middle. He wouldn't stoop to the pits, they would never be accepted by the clans, and they were feared by the rest of the abnormal world.

He wasn't content with the quiet life like Rick and his brothers. But how long until even Nev gave up on him? How long until Nev got tired of the fights, the motels, the shitty food? When Nev gave up and wanted to go home, Ken would do so, but....

No longer hungry, he threw the rest of his sandwich away and went to get a shower of his own. Nev had left all their bath things in the crappy motel shower, and that was some comfort. The forest-y smelling soap reminded him of home, made him smile, almost put him back in a good mood as he lathered up and rinsed off. He dragged fingers through his soapy hair, noting for the millionth time that he really needed to get it cut.

He ran a hand across his chest and the livid scars there from Nev's claws—territory marks, the scars every dragon put on his owner to stake a claim. Nev hadn't gone for subtle at all; it had taken forever for the marks to heal and he hadn't been able to do much of anything.

Finally climbing out of the shower, Ken left the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. Tossing the towel aside, he fetched his bag and dug out a pair of sweat pants. He triple checked that the door was locked—it wouldn't stop anyone but it would slow them down—and killed all the lights but the one between the beds, and flopped down with the remote.

Nev crawled onto the bed with him, curled up against his side and promptly fell asleep, snoring softly while Ken flipped channels until he found a movie that looked vaguely interesting. He idly stroked his fingers across Nev's skin, just enjoying the feel of him, and dozed off breathing in Nev's unmistakable scent.

He woke to the feel of Nev's mouth around his cock; he groaned and grabbed his pillow with one hand, reaching blindly for Nev with the other. "Nev—"

He broke off as Nev growled around his cock, groaned again loudly, sliding his fingers through Nev's soft hair. He tried to thrust up into Nev's mouth, but the hands on his hips held him firmly in place and forced him to endure Nev's slow, thorough torture. His body tensed as he drew close, fingers tightening in Nev's hair in warning right before he came so hard his vision briefly went black.

Shaking free of Ken's grip, slowly pulling off his softened cock, Nev crawled up his body and softly brushed Ken's lips with his own. Ken sank his fingers back into Nev's hair, drew him down and kissed him deeply, slowly. "Love you, Nev," he said softly, lapping at Nev's mouth as he reached down between them to grab Nev's cock; he teased his fingers along it, and cupped his balls in further torment. Nev growled and bit his shoulder not quite hard enough to draw blood, though it would leave a nice bruise. Ken laughed, bit Nev's chin in retaliation, and finally began to stroke Nev's cock in earnest. He worked Nev hard, fast; too much for most to take but just right for a dragon, for his dragon.

Nev came within minutes, spilling over them both, taking a hard, biting kiss as he shuddered in Ken's arms. He slumped on top of Ken, heavy and hot, nearly too much of both but Ken couldn't bear to tell him to move.

Whatever he didn't have, he had Nev, and that was all that really mattered.

"Love Ken," Nev rumbled.

Ken smiled and rolled them over. He gave Nev a quick kiss, then went to get a cloth to clean them up. When he was done, he threw the cloth in the sink and crawled back into bed. Nev curled up along Ken's side again, sticking like a burr.

He fell asleep quickly, and Ken enjoyed the feel and sounds of Nev resting peacefully. Ken let his mind wander over his vague plans for the next few days again, slowly working through and solidifying them.

Something had to give, eventually, right? The odds of probability or whatever meant that at some point life had to go his way. He wasn't going to go crawling home to live a quiet life, interspersed with Clan drama. Not unless they started treating him like a real Cross, and acknowledged him. Knighted him.

He snorted in contempt, because he knew that would never happen. Rick and his brothers had abandoned the Clans for that very reason. The Clans never changed; they just kept waiting for the day the world finally turned back into something that better suited them.

Ken didn't get the obsession, had never gotten it, and he hoped he never would. What was the fucking point in waiting for change? In waiting at all? Far better to get up, get out, and do something himself than wait idly by for something to fall into his lap.

He just hoped Nev continued to feel the same way; losing Nev's love and faith would break him.

On the nightstand, his phone chimed, startling him and making Nev grumble. He grumbled more as Ken sat up and reached over and grab it. Ken made a face when he saw the name on the screen—and nearly dropped the phone when it started ringing. Rick. Damn it.

Disentangling himself from Nev entirely, Ken pulled on his pants and went outside to talk, hitting the receive button as he closed the door behind him. "Hey."

"It's about damn time you answered your phone."

"I don't feel like rehashing the same damn arguments," Ken said. "What's there to say, except 'We're not coming home' for the five millionth time?"

Rick heaved a sigh. "I'm not calling about that, you thickheaded idiot."

"Love you, too," Ken muttered.

"I'm calling because five days ago Clan Cross was apparently visited by a royal messenger."

Ken froze. Whatever he'd expected to hear Rick say, it wasn't that. "You can't mean a real royal messenger. As in all the way from Clan Pendragon?"

"As in exactly that," Rick said.

"What the hell do they want? And why would the Clan tell us at all?"

"Because they're searching for a missing Pendragon. They thought it was dead, but apparently new info has come to light that it's very much alive. They've tracked here to the United States."

Ken drew a sharp breath. "Fuck."

"That's pretty much what everyone is saying."

"I hope they have a better fucking lead than 'United States' cause the U.S. is a little bit bigger than jolly old England. Why the fuck is it here and not there? How the fuck did they make such a massive mistake? "

Rick laughed. "Like they're telling us any details on that point. As to where exactly, they have no fucking clue. Their only initial lead was that it landed in New York, but then the trail went cold. They've got nothing."

"Great," Ken replied. "They've lost a goddamn Pendragon and their only guess is the greater fifty?"

"That's why I'm calling you," Rick said quietly. "If anyone is likely to hear anything, it's someone down there close to the pits. You can bet your ass a dragon like that was marked a long fucking time ago and it's probably somewhere in that mess."

Ken leaned back against the wall and tilted his head up to look at the ceiling, which hosted some peculiar stains he preferred to pretend he hadn't noticed. Looking back down at the grungy rug, he said, "We'd have heard about something like that. It took no time at all before you heard about Nev and me. A Pendragon would have torn the pit world apart."

"Not necessarily," Rick said quietly. "It's a Pendragon. They break all the rules. If it's been human this entire fucking time, it won't shift without a master. They could have the Pendragon staring them in the face, but would have no fucking clue what they're looking at. They sure as hell won't know what to do with it. Keep your ears open, Ken. No one in the clans has even a third of your knowledge about the pits. You're our best chance of finding it."

"I'll find it," Ken said. "I promise. Email me any details."

"Will do. Don't get dead doing trying to find it," Rick said gruffly. "I'll come if you call."

Ken swallowed. "I know. I'll be fine, dad."

"If by fine you mean your usual assortment of scrapes and bruises, and a broken limb or two. Don't be reckless. For once in your life, be careful. I love you, too. Now go get some sleep." He hung up before Ken could reply.

Smiling faintly, his heart beating fast at the idea of having something to do that he could actually accomplish, Ken returned to the room. Throwing his key card and phone on the nightstand, he slid into bed and curled around Nev, who rumbled contentedly in his sleep and mumbled Ken's name.

Ken kissed his brow and, still smiling, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Rafael looked up as the door to his coffee shop opened; it was far too early for even the early birds to make an appearance, and his brother wouldn't bother sending anyone when they were meeting later that afternoon. That left a very small number of possibilities, and only one of those had access to his spare keys.

"Conway," Rafael said sternly. "You aren't supposed to be here. What have I told you?"

"Orders," Conway said.

Rafael set down his pen and crossed the room to where Conway stood by the door. "You're soaking wet!"

"Rain," Conway rumpled happily, raking hands through his wet hair, then shaking his head and sending water droplets everywhere. Rafael laughed, resting a hand on his chest to make him still. Conway beamed. "Good morning, Rafael."