Sword of the King Read online

  Slowly pulling apart, they lay there panting and recovering, eventually curling back together to doze for a bit. When he finally dragged his eyes open again, he saw from the alarm clock they'd been asleep at least an hour. He pressed a lazy kiss to his Erie's shoulder. "We're going to need another shower, dragon."

  Erie rumbled his approval and cuddled close, completely uncaring of the sticky mess between them. "Good Erie. Get Blaze. Get mint? See butterflies?"

  "You're a spoiled brat, but yes, we'll go see the girls. They love cooing over you. Get up, dragon." Rolling out of bed, Blaze went to the bathroom and turned the shower back on. Cleaning should have taken them all of ten minutes, but by the time Erie was done surprising him with a voracious round two, they'd run out of hot water. He snapped Erie's ass with a towel and hustled him into the bedroom to dress. Rifling through his closet and dresser, he threw a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt at Erie, and then pulled on leather pants and a gray long sleeved t-shirt himself. He used the towel to dry his hair and running a comb over it, then dug out a pair of socks before heading for the entryway where he left his boots.

  Finally, he opened the entryway closet and pulled out the Beretta he kept there. Putting on his shoulder holster, he checked the gun and slid it into place before shrugging into his black leather jacket. Ready, they left the building and walked the four blocks to their favorite dive; a shitty little strip club always on the verge of closing. The girls were sweet, the drinks were good, and he didn't have to pay for shit because his favoring the place meant nobody dared fuck with it.

  He greeted the bouncer, Chuck, with a nod as he entered the lobby. Ignoring the window where a handful of other guys stood in line to pay and get their hands stamped, he pushed through the second door and strolled into the club.

  It was a little busy for a Thursday night, but he recognized a few faces in the dim light; mostly they belonged to men hoping to impress him or some other bullshit. He never told them it was a waste of time. The only friends he had were Erie and the girls, and the only "friends" he made were on Rust's orders. He went to Club Heaven to relax, not work. Candi smiled at him as she flew past to attend her tables, and Roxie waved at him from the bar, letting him know she was getting his drink.

  Blaze waved back an acknowledgement, then took his regular seat, smiling as he watched Silver dance. She was beautiful: gold skin, gold hair, and by that point dressed in only a tiny thong. She had her audience completely enthralled.

  May showed up a minute later with his jack and coke, and a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream for Erie. "Thank you, butterfly," Erie said and began eating, rumbling happily all the while.

  Blaze smiled at her and passed her a generous tip to share around with all the girls. "Thanks, baby. How are things going tonight?"

  "Watch the back corner," May said, bending to kiss his cheek as she discreetly tucked the money away. "He's been here awhile, like he's been waiting for something or someone. Doesn't talk to anyone else, except to ask questions. He's a master, got a dragon with him, and he keeps asking about Rust and the pits. Claims to be independent."

  He kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I'll take care of it."

  She smiled, patted Erie's head affectionately and then scurried off. On stage, Silver finished and was replaced by Snowflake, a dark-skinned beauty dressed in a shimmery white number. She was almost finished with her routine when the stranger in the back corner finally approached. Blaze ignored him.

  Then Erie stopped eating his ice cream and gave a low, curious growl; something he only did when meeting a new dragon. Blaze took another swallow of his drink, then finally dragged his eyes up.

  He'd been expecting the usual sort: men and women looking to make a name by kicking his ass, kids barely old enough to go out alone, young thugs who thought winning a couple of fights meant they could take on a Master, or resentful assholes who thought that because he was only twenty four that he was young and easy to beat.

  The man before him was none of those things. He was tall—taller than Blaze, but who wasn't? He had dark brown hair that was dirty and in sore need of a trim, hazel eyes shot through with exhaustion, and lightly tanned skin. His clothes looked rumpled, like he'd been stuck wearing them too long.

  Just behind him was a dragon that looked ill at ease to be in human form. His coloring was pale: white blonde hair, skin that clearly got more moonlight than sunlight. Only his amber eyes stood out as a splash of color. He was slender, and a little shorter than his master, but despite his unease at being human, he was clearly ready to defend his master.

  "If you want something, spell it out and stop lurking."

  "I saw you fight earlier today," the man said, voice deep and even with no hint of a telling accent. Blaze cocked his head, indicating he could continue speaking. "You treat your dragon well."

  Whatever Blaze had expected the man to say, it wasn't that. "Of course I do. If your goal is to piss me off, then you're succeeding."

  The man shook his head. "Usually pit fighters treat their dragons like shit. You actually care, which is fucking awesome. If not for the fact you pit him, I might actually like you."

  "I don't give a fuck if you like me or not." Erie growled a warning in reaction to Blaze's growing anger, and Blaze reached out a hand to comb soothingly through his hair. "If that's all you've got to say, then go somewhere else. I'm here to relax, not get into another fight. If you want to fight, sign up to pit."

  Shaking his head again, the man abruptly sat down in the seat next to him. "I have no interest in fighting anyone. I mistakenly thought you felt the same way."

  Blaze eyed him, hoping his dismay didn't show. If some random asshole could pick up on his reluctance, who else could? "I do as I'm told. Rust gives the orders, and I'm happy to obey them."

  The man eyed him, clearly not believing a word.

  Fuck. "Got a name?"

  "Ken. You're Blaze, right? I think that's what they called you."

  "Yeah, that's me," Blaze said. He took a long swallow, finishing off his drink. "What the fuck do you want?"

  Smirking, Ken replied, "A fuck is exactly what I want."

  Blaze's wariness kicked up another notch; while normally he might be tempted by the offer, he wasn't going to trust someone who already seemed to know too much. "Who the hell are you? And if you tell me 'Ken', I'll ruin that pretty face."

  "Just an aimless owner."

  The word made Blaze freeze with surprise. Owner. That was the term Amr had used a few times, before shaking his head and correcting himself to 'master'. Blaze had tried to ask about it a couple of times, but Amr had only said it was an outdated term.

  Why was this asshole using it?

  Deciding ignorance was best, Blaze asked, "What the fuck is an owner?"

  Ken frowned at him, puzzled. "An owner. As in we own dragons."

  "You mean a master," Blaze said, then ignored him in favor of thanking Cherri as she brought him a fresh drink. When she left, he turned back to Ken. "Look, I came here to relax, not play games. I don't know who or what you are, but you're starting to piss me off."

  "I saw you fight and wanted to meet you. Heard a lot about you, thought it was bullshit. Now, I'd say the rumors don't give you enough credit. The term is owner, though, traditionally. Master is a pit term."

  Blaze sneered. "Do I look the traditional type to you?" What the fuck was traditional?

  "Yes," Ken said, so softly that Blaze almost didn't catch the word. Ice traveled through his veins; he was dismayed that someone he had never even heard of was seeing shit that Blaze didn't want seen. He didn't know what he was doing that was so traditional, but he was pretty fucking sure it would cost him Blaze if Rust found out. Damn it, he always tried so hard to be careful.

  "I'll tell you one last time," he said, spitting the words out in a low voice. "All I do is what Rust tells me–what a good master should—and ain't none of your fucking tradition involved. Get out of my face before I end you."

  Ken stood up, briefly lifti
ng his hands in surrender. But as he lowered them, he bent to whisper in Blaze's ear, "If you're not into tradition, then why have you and your dragon been fucking?"

  Blaze reacted immediately, rising; he shoved and punched the bastard in the jaw, sending him to the floor. "Keep your fucking mouth shut," he hissed. "You have no fucking clue who you're messing with." Behind him, Erie growled and tensed. Blaze calmed him with a light touch, motioning with his free hand for the bouncers to remove Ken and his dragon.

  "I know exactly what I'm doing," Ken said, giving him a look that actually made Blaze feel bad when the bouncers dragged Ken away. One guy tried to grab Ken's dragon and yelped when it nipped him.

  Blaze watched and waited until Ken and his dragon were gone. Heaving a sigh, he kissed Mercy on her cheek in apology as she came up to him. "Sorry for the fuss." He shoved some cash into her hand and beckoned to Erie, leading the way through the club and slipping out the back door into the alleyway.

  He made straight for the parking garage of his apartment building, calling the doorman while they walked. One of the building staff met him by his bike, holding helmets and keys. Blaze wasn't normally keen on people having such easy access to his apartment, but like everyone else, the staff knew not to fuck with him or his belongings. He wasn't dumb enough to keep anything important in the apartment anyway.

  Pulling on his helmet, Blaze slid onto the bike and started it as Erie climbed on behind him. He slowly made his way out of the garage, but once on the street he gunned it, shooting across the city... He needed to tell Rust about the run-in and have whatever the fuck was going on stopped before the wrong people found out about all the rules he'd broken with Erie.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Ken stupid."

  Ken laughed, and immediately regretted doing so. He gingerly tested his jaw; wincing and sighing inwardly at the bruise he could already feel forming. "Yes, well, I've never argued that fact. But, hey, I've still got my looks going for me for the moment." He laughed again, despite the pain, as Nevada rolled his eyes. He crooked his fingers, beckoning; Nevada huffed, but went to him, twining around Ken and kissing him, biting at his lip.

  It did nothing at all to make his face stop hurting, but Ken would rather have the kisses. He rubbed a thumb over Nev's bottom lip, glad that Nev was all right—not that the fight they'd just ended had been much of a challenge.

  "Stupid," Nev repeated.

  "At least I have sense enough to keep my smart dragon around," Ken replied. He gave Nev another kiss, then turned to inspect the damage they'd done to the thugs that had just tried to kill them. Five men and three dragons total, but though two gales and a frost were nothing to sneer at, they just weren't enough to take on Nev. It sucked they'd gotten the jump on him, but so it went. Bruises hadn't killed him yet. "I don't think they liked us."

  Nev growled his opinion of that, amber eyes flashing with irritation.

  "Guess we'd better get the hell out of here," Ken said. "Damn it, I really thought that guy, Blaze, might be different. He seemed different." He seemed to care about his dragon, in a way that Ken didn't see outside of the clans.

  He'd really thought Blaze might prove to be an ally. A friend, the back of his mind whispered, but Ken ignored it. He had Nev, always had and always would; they didn't need anyone else.

  Except, well ... he hated to admit it, but being the hero who was going to save the dragons from the pits was proving to be fucking miserable. It was a lonely, frustrating, thankless endeavor. He didn't mind the frustration so much; he'd known it was going to be an uphill battle all the way. Rick had tried to talk him out of it at least a thousand times—was still trying to talk 'sense' into him—but Ken hadn't listened.

  He still wasn't listening, and never would. He wasn't going to give up just because he was one man and one dragon against—well, more criminals than he could count, but whatever. Nothing would change if no one got the ball rolling, as it were. He didn't care what anyone said; he was going to stop the pit fighting.

  Well, he did care what Nevada said. A good knight put his dragon first, and whatever Ken's flaws, he was a good knight. Even if, strictly speaking, he wasn't really a knight. The thought left the back of his throat raw, aching, and made swallowing difficult. Made his eyes sore, made it hard to breathe. He shoved the thoughts away, raked a hand through his hair in a futile effort to put the overlong mess back in order, and heaved a long sigh.

  The frustration didn't bug him, but the loneliness certainly did, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Just having someone else to rely on, help him, someone else who understood dragons and why the fight was worth it ... but clearly that was too much to ask, and he needed to work harder at letting the idea go.

  Ken bent to retrieve the jacket he'd discarded when the fighting had started and shrugged back into it, brushing off the dirt and other crap it had picked up from the warehouse floor. He looked over the unconscious men and dragons one more time, but they seemed well enough. The worst they'd wake up with was a lot of aches and pains.

  He wondered idly if they would come after him again, or panic that they'd failed and tell their boss the job was done. Turning away, he held out his hand to Nev, who took it with a smile and stepped in close to kiss his cheek. Ken turned his head, took Nev's mouth, and let go of his hand to slide his arm around Nev's shoulders. He breathed in Nev's scent of metal and sugar, and nuzzled against him. "You're far too good a dragon for me."

  Nev growled low in disagreement and nipped his jaw lightly. "Good master."

  "Not really, but thanks all the same, babe," Ken replied. Nev slid an arm around his waist, and they stayed that way as they left the warehouse and walked back to, then past the strip club until they reached the parking garage where they'd put the car.

  Ken pulled his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and slid behind the wheel of his old, beat up Firebird and started it up as Nev slid into his own seat. "Guess we should get some food, huh? I saw a diner not far back, should have decent grub." Nev growled his approval, and Ken smiled as he pulled out of the garage and headed back down the street.

  Half an hour later Nev was making quick work of two rare steaks while Ken worked through a burger that was damn near bigger than his face. "Since I clearly have fucked up here, where do you want to head next? We could go east, toward St. George territory, or more south. I don't know the syndicates in that area as well, but they're plentiful and nasty."

  Nev shrugged, completely uncaring, and Ken stifled a sigh. He loved Nev with all his heart, but a dragon was a dragon, and not the same as another human. He immediately felt guilty for spending even two seconds on a thought like that, and roughly shoved the thought away. "South, then. It's warmer, if nothing else. I fucking hate these cold, windy cities. How's the steak?"

  "Good," Nev said, licking his lips, amber eyes bright with satisfaction. "More?"

  Ken smiled and signaled their waitress, almost laughing at the way her eyes bugged when he ordered Nev a third steak. He reached across the table to tousle Nev's hair. "Silly lizard."

  "Good dragon," Nev corrected, scowling.

  "Yes, definitely," Ken agreed. Despite the fact it had been fifteen years since Nev had been kidnapped and turned into a dragon, fifteen years since they'd been taken in by Rick and raised mostly Clan style, it still amused him that the chatterbox boy who'd been his best friend as a kid had lapsed so easily into the lazy, one and two word way dragons had of speaking. Rick's dragon, Cal, was one of the few Ken knew of that bothered to form whole sentences.

  If dragons could get away communicating with just growls, rumbles, clicks, and teeth, they would.

  Ken finished his burger and went to work on the mountain of fries that accompanied it, mentally putting together a plan to head south. They needed gas and food, and he definitely was getting some new clothes because after a point even washing didn't do much good. "If we lay low, we can hang around for a day or two, get everything in order." Nev rumbled his approval, though Ken suspected it was more for the ste
ak. He smiled faintly and finished his fries, ordered another soda.

  He wished he hadn't been so brash and reckless in the club, but maybe it was for the best. He'd taken a gamble, hanging around the club waiting for Blaze to show, approaching him when he did. Blaze had made it very clear that he belonged to Rust. Fucking sucked, but so it went. Ken sighed and leaned back in his seat. He pulled out his phone and turned it on, unsurprised to see that he had three texts and two missed calls waiting for him.

  He texted back that he was fine then shoved the phone back in his pocket. Rick had nothing to say that Ken hadn't heard a thousand times before, and he was done listening. If he had to keep working alone—well, with only Nev—then he would.

  Nev looked at him, blinked, then said, "Ready to go?"

  "Yeah," Ken replied, and climbed out of the booth. He pulled his jacket back on and threw money on the table. Nev took his hand, making Ken smile, and they walked out of the diner together and back to the car.

  "Caramel?" Nev asked after a couple of minutes.

  Ken laughed. "What about them?" When Nev growled at him, Ken snickered. "They're in my pocket, and if you ask very, very nicely—"

  He broke off as Nev growled a warning. Nev growled again, and a group of men came out of the alleyway by their car. He recognized one of the goons from the warehouse earlier, with six fresh faces at his back. Three of them were dragons. "Are we really going to do this here, boys?" Ken asked. "We already kicked your ass once. Do we need to do it again? Are you seriously that stupid, or do you just like being beat?"

  "Rust wants you dead, bitch, he don't care where, when, or how. You fucked with his favorite cock sucker."

  Ken laughed, certain that Blaze would be unamused to hear himself described as Rust's favorite cock sucker. "You talk too much for a man that hits like a girl." He motioned to Nevada with a slight twitch of his fingers. Nevada growled in reply.