"Can I have one of those?" Ken asked and sat down on the floor, too tired to drag himself to the chair or a bed. "Please? I feel like I've been run over by a fucking truck." He also was disappointed as hell because he'd been absolutely certain that Blaze was making a run for it, that he'd been right about Blaze after all.
But he supposed that would have been too fucking easy. Not that Blaze would have helped him, but still, a guy could keep hoping he might someday catch a fucking break.
Blaze eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then grabbed a beer and handed it over. Ken smile tiredly, popped the top, and took a generous swallow. "Sorry to bust in on your party. I was on my way out of town when I saw you, and it totally looked like you were bolting."
"And you just wanted to help?" Blaze asked. "I don't buy it. What the fuck are you really after? You're supposed to be dead."
Ken sneered at the reminder, and beside him, Nev growled in amusement. He leaned against Nev, who rumbled soothingly. "It takes more than a few goons and their half-assed dragons to kill me. They did their best, but it wasn't good enough. Those rocks tonight packed more of a wallop, but they weren't good enough either." He finished his beer and set the empty can aside. "If you're not running, why are those goons after you?"
"Why is it any of your business?" Blaze asked, Erie growling beside him.
"It's not," Ken said and let go of Nev to stand up. It was stupid to feel hurt, because it really wasn't any of his business. But he'd already been in three separate fights because of Blaze. How many times did a guy have to get beat up before he proved he wasn't trying to do any harm? "Thanks for the beer. Have a nice life." He walked to the motel door and yanked it open, stepped out into the cold night air and waited as Nev closed the door behind them.
He was sore, exhausted, and discouraged. Nev needed a break from all the fights. Three rocks, and well-trained at that, was a bit much after everything else they'd faced. Ken gingerly touched his face and winced in pain. It felt like one gigantic bruise, and he probably looked ten times worse than he felt.
Fuck, he'd give anything to crawl into a bed right then. Any bed. He'd take a cardboard box in an alleyway if it came to that. Shit, it probably would. Nobody was going to rent a room to someone who looked like he got into bar fights on a regular basis for shits and giggles. Nev wasn't up to getting a hotel room, either. They'd tried that once and it had been a complete disaster. He just wasn't human enough to handle that level of interaction.
Ken had a sneaking suspicion that if he was still fifteen he'd be crying. Was it too much to ask that something go right for once? Just once. He wouldn't ask twice, just the one time would be plenty. Nev wrapped his arms around him from behind, held him tightly, and that really didn't help Ken feel any less like an asshole.
"Come on," he said. "We need to find a place to sleep, but I need to clean up first." He really should have asked to use the restroom rather than a beer, but goddamn it—Ken shook the thought away. "Come on, I saw a diner that will probably let me in, and I'll order enough food they'll be happy not to ask questions. I'm sorry—"
He broke off as the door opened and Erie, back in human form, growled at them. "Inside."
Ken frowned, confused, but didn't argue. Inside, the thug he'd beat up was still on the floor out cold. Ken closed the door behind them and started to speak, then realized that Blaze was on the phone. From the way he was glaring into space, the call wasn't going well. He glanced at Ken briefly, glared harder, then looked away again.
Well, at least it wasn't a death glare, not quite. Ken would take whatever victories he could get. He gently pushed Nev toward a chair, then knelt by the goon to check his injuries. Satisfied the guy was just sleeping off his ass kicking, Ken stood—and barely caught the small vinyl bag thrust into his arms. "Fix you," Erie said.
Glancing inside, Ken saw it was filled with first aid supplies. "Thanks," he said, smiling, and walked across the room to the bathroom to treat his injuries.
He sighed at his reflection, glad Rick wasn't there to bitch him out. Good thing he wasn't looking to impress anyone, because any possible date would take one look at him and run screaming. Ha. Him on a date. He couldn't even manage to make a friend, what sort of lunatic would ever see him and think 'lover'. Even he was stupid enough to let wishful thinking go that far.
Swallowing, shoving his stupid wandering thoughts to the back of his mind where they belonged, Ken pulled out the necessary supplies and took care of his cuts and bruises.
By the time he was done patching himself up, Blaze had finished his phone call and was shaking the unconscious man awake. When the guy groaned, Blaze grabbed a fistful of the guy's hair and yanked his head up. "Good morning, sunshine."
"Fuck you."
Blaze sneered. "I'm not a fan of STDs, but thanks anyway. What the hell is Triad thinking, trying to mess with me? Rust is no one to fuck with, you know that. We've kicked your asses before for a hell of a lot less. Speak, dog."
"Fuck. You."
"I think you might have hit him too hard," Blaze said, glancing at Ken with the barest smirk.
Ken returned it, trying not to feel a flutter of camaraderie. Blaze slammed the man's face into the floor, then dragged him to his feet and shoved him against the door. "I'm done with your bullshit, Triad. Tell me what the fuck you're doing here, or I'll kill you slowly."
The man just glared and repeated, "Fuck. You."
"Bah," Blaze replied. "If you won't talk to me then you'll just be one more message to your boss. Let's go." He socked the man in the stomach, holding on tightly to him as he dragged him to the door. Erie growled and started to go with him, but Blaze refused. "Stay. I'll be right back."
Ken made a face, sorry that one more person had to die. He drank his beer and waited. "It's okay," he said when Erie growled disconsolately. Erie ignored him and settled to wait miserably by the door.
Nev growled in sympathy from where he sat, and then they all waited in silence for Blaze to return.
When Blaze finally returned a few minutes later, he looked as tired as Ken felt. "All I finally got out of him was what we already figured: what I'm doing has leaked, and people are trying to cut in and take the dragon for themselves.
Ken didn't bother to ask what he was doing. "Sorry he didn't have more to say. He seemed the likeliest to squeal."
Blaze shrugged and said, "Doesn't matter. We know everything of relevance. Thanks for the help. You said they were following me since I left the city? I can't believe I didn't fucking notice all these people following me."
"Yeah, from the moment you drove away from your apartment," Ken said. "Like I said, I was on my way out myself when I saw you with your bags. Really did look like you were trying to get the hell out of there as fast as you could." He shrugged, feeling stupid all over again. But he still had the nagging feeling Blaze was an ally, not an enemy. "I followed thinking to help, and then I noticed the other guys."
Blaze frowned at him. "I told my boss I took care of them."
Ken nodded. "Thanks. I'm really not in the mood for another beating right now." He leaned against the desk and yawned so hard his eyes watered. He rubbed them carefully with the fingers of one hand, pining for a bed. Whatever Blaze wanted, Ken hoped he got around to asking soon because Ken was about to fall over where he stood.
"Here," Blaze said. Ken dropped his hand and opened his eyes to see that Blaze was offering him another beer.
"Thanks." Ken popped it open and gulped down several swallows.
"There's some pizza left, too, if you want it," Blaze said, sounding as awkward as Ken felt. "Do you make a habit of pissing people off?"
Ken laughed and took another swallow of beer before replying, "I don't actually like getting beat up, no matter what anyone tries to tell you."
"Could have fooled me," Blaze replied. "You were begging for a fight in the club."
"No—" Ken's voice caught, and he hastily drank more of his beer. "I wasn't looking for a fight. I just got cocky. I know you and Erie are different, more like me and Nev, and I thought maybe you'd be on my side. You've made it clear you're not. But if you're not running away—no, wait, not my business. So why'd you let me back in here?"
Blaze shrugged, turning away. "You did help us. I wanted to see if you knew anything more about these guys. The Triad Syndicate doesn't have a whole lot of dragons, not enough they can easily risk sending three rocks after me. That's overkill. I'm good, but three rocks would have been a problem." He turned to eye Ken curiously. "But they weren't for you."
Ken snorted. "Have you looked at my face? I'd say they counted as a problem."
"How's your dragon?" Blaze looked toward Nev, and Ken followed his gaze, immediately distracted. Nev was still sitting in a chair near the door, looking tired but happy to be somewhere relatively safe. He smiled when he saw Ken looking at him, then glanced toward the food on the bed with obvious want.
Ken flicked a glance at Blaze, who nodded, then turned back to Nev and said, "Eat, dragon. I can always order more if necessary."
"So what's his name?"
"Nevada. Nev, usually."
Blaze nodded. "What kind of dragon is he?"
Ken shrugged, not really in a hurry to answer that question. "A good one. So can I safely assume you're not going to sic your boss on me again?"
"Nah," Blaze said. "If I tell him you're still alive, I can think of roughly ten people he'll beat or kill, depending on his mood. They don't deserve that."
"Thanks," Ken said.
"Forget it." Blaze went to get his own beer. The room lapsed into silence, save for the sounds of Nev making quick work of the remaining pizza. "Thanks," he said to Blaze and Erie when he finished. Standing up, he used a cloth at the sink to wipe up, then prowled over to Ken. "Caramels?"
Ken laughed, kissed the corner of his mouth. "In my pocket, lizard."
Nearby, Erie growled, and Ken glanced his way while Nev dug caramels out of his front jean pocket. Happily taking a handful of the soft candies to the bed, he began to eat them one by one. Erie was staring at them, at Nev, with surprise—and a little bit of longing. Ken frowned, glanced at Blaze, and realized that he was doing the same thing. "What?"
"The way you do that. So casual. You—how are you allowed? It's forbidden to do anything like that with dragons."
Ken shrugged. "It's the way it's supposed to be."
"How did you peg us so quickly?" Blaze asked, shifting restlessly, looking as though he was fighting an urge to get up and pace the room. "You nearly got us dead, you know. If anybody knew what you'd said to me, and had reason to believe it was true, they would have killed Erie while I watched and then killed me."
Flinching, Ken said, "I'm sorry. I never meant to endanger you or your dragon. I was just surprised, got overexcited, and fucked it all up. I've never seen anyone in the pits act like an owner."
"Fuck," Blaze said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It shouldn't be that fucking obvious."
"It's not, I don't think, except to someone like me. It's just that… anyone who actually looks can see that Erie doesn't obey because he was broken to it. You love him. He loves you. That can't be faked or forced. Dragons do or don't."
"Owner," Blaze muttered, shaking his head. He tipped his head back and drained his beer, set the empty can down on the little table by the window. He twined his fingers together, braced his elbows on his thighs, and stared down at them for a moment. Erie growled from where he sat on the far bed and got up to cross the room to stand beside him.
They stared at each other, then almost defiantly, Erie dropped to his knees and pushed Blaze's hands out of the way. He settled between Blaze's legs, head on his thigh, and rumbled softly. Blaze drew a sharp, shaky breath and slowly combed his fingers through Erie's hair. "Silly lizard," he said softly.
"Good Erie."
"That too."
Rumbling with satisfaction, Erie closed his eyes and just reveled in being so openly close to his master in front of others. Ken smiled as he watched them. "I knew you were an owner."
"Yeah, I guess so," Blaze said quietly. "But if we get caught, it'll get us killed. I can't fucking risk him like that."
"So leave," Ken said.
Blaze looked at him, eyes bright, sharp, wary—but also hopeful. "Why the fuck do you care?"
Ken drew a breath, let it out slowly, stalling as he thought about what to say. What the hell. Pushing away from the desk, he went to the bed where Nev still sat and settled beside him. He smiled when Nev immediately popped his last caramel in his mouth and sprawled across Ken's lap. "We hate the pits, that's why. Sixteen years ago we were walking home from school when these guys came after us. We tried to get away, which didn't work. I didn't know why at the time, but it didn't take long to figure out it was really Nev they wanted …
"We were best friends back then. Always had been. Grew up next door, spent every moment together, and liked to tell people we were brothers. We were almost never apart. So they couldn't snatch Nev without snatching me as well, but I think they meant to kill me and dump me somewhere. Obviously it didn't work out that way."
Blaze stared at him. "They triggered Nev's change, and he already considered you his master."
"Exactly," Ken said. "I was fourteen; he was thirteen. We were just kids and had no goddamn clue what was going on. Suddenly my best friend in the whole world was a monster out of a fucking movie and he wouldn't listen to anyone but me." He laughed bitterly. "There was shit all they could do. I think, with any other dragon, they would have put him down and took the loss. But they couldn't do that with Nev. He was too fucking valuable. So they were forced to teach me how to fight him. It was a fucking nightmare, that year we spent in the pits. Fourteen months, actually, the first two were spent on the rudimentary training they gave us."
"What?" Blaze demanded, then swore. "Two months of training? What the fucking hell? Erie and I trained for years before we were pitted, and he's an egg dragon! Turned dragons have to train for longer just to be sure they forget what it was like to be human."
Ken shrugged. "They were impatient and pretty much threw us right in. I still don't know how the fuck we survived because no matter how good Nev's natural ability, he was young, scared, and inexperienced. But we lived and we kept fighting, constantly hoping to find a way out."
"How did you get out?"
"Someone came to our rescue," Ken said softly, remembering the day all over again. "His name is Richard, and he has a dragon named Cal. They busted the place up and got us the hell out of there. Adopted us, too, when he found out it was our parents who had sold us to the syndicate in the first place."
Blaze flinched. "What syndicate?"
"Marlowe."
"I don't know—" He saw realization flash in Blaze's eyes. "Marlowe is a dead syndicate. They were wiped fifteen years ago when someone busted into their pits and wreaked holy hell. Rumors were flying about how it was done. Some said it was steel dragons, but …" He trailed off as Nev sat up and pulled off his clothes, tossed them aside and abruptly shifted
In dragon form, he was too big to fit easily on the bed unless he curled up tightly. He crawled down to the floor, tail swishing back and forth behind him. He growled and craned his long neck, preening for Blaze and Erie. Even the dull yellow lights of the motel room couldn't diminish the shine of Nevada's scales, which were the color of polished steel.
"Holy fucking hell," Blaze said and swallowed. "He's a steel dragon. Shit, shit, shit. Oh, fuck. I can't fucking believe they're real."
Ken lifted one brow in amusement and went to stand next to Nev, who rubbed against him and demanded petting. Obliging, Ken said, "You sound way more panicked than I anticipated. He's a good dragon, there's no reason—"
"That's not it!" Blaze said. "He's amazing. Erie is still better, but he's amazing. No, it's not that. Um. Look. Shit." He raked his hands through his hair, and Ken realized his hands were trembling.
Levity fading away, Ken asked, "Blaze, what's wrong?"
Blaze looked at him, sucked in air, and slowly let it out. "Um. When I said we weren't running. That was only kind of true. We're not running yet."
"What do you mean?" It was stupid to get his hopes up, he knew that, but Blaze had seemed a kindred spirit right from the start.
"Look, I have got to know you're not fucking with me. If Rust finds out—I can't lose Erie—"
Ken let go of Nev and crossed the few steps over to Blaze, grabbed his wrists, and steadied him. "Look. We don't know each other, and I realize every time I show up it seems like there's fighting involved, but I'm working to stop the pit fights. To stop people abusing dragons. I don't want what happened to Nev and me to keep happening. You can trust me. I was raised by men who consider dragons to be sacred, holy weapons meant for a higher purpose. Where I come from, they aren't called steel dragons—they're called knight dragons."
Blaze still looked too close to bolting for Ken's taste, so he stopped being sensible and went back to bold. Pulling out his pocket knife, he opened his right hand, palm up. "Look, I'll make you a vow. That's what we do where I come from."
"Where do you come from?" Blaze demanded.
"East, in the mountains of fuck nowhere, North Carolina. I belong to Clan Cross, sort of, but that's for a different story time. It's also more information than I ever should have told you. If Cross finds out, it will get me dead. Okay?
"So, blood oath. I swear by blade and blood to be your brother in arms for as long as I live." He slit his palm open, grimacing briefly, watching as the blood pooled in his palm and dripped over the edge onto the carpet.
Blaze let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You're fucking crazy." He looked up and smirked, his green eyes sharp. "I like it. Give me your knife."
Relief flooded Ken as he flipped the knife to Blaze, who copied his actions. "I don't remember everything you said, word for word. But I agree with it. Fuck the syndicates, fuck everybody."
"Agreed," Ken said, and they clasped their bloody hands. At their sides, their dragons growled and rubbed against each other, scent-marking, bonding. A rarity in dragons, who often preferred to be alone except for their owners.
Letting go of Blaze's hand, Ken went to get the first aid kit to patch them both up.
Blaze rifled through his duffle bag. "We're not on the run yet because we're being sent to train a dragon from a different syndicate. Rust wants me to steal it from St. George and bring it back to our syndicate. I was going to take it and run. Whatever the hell this dragon is, I don't think it should be in the pits."
He held out a thick envelope, and Ken took it, opening it immediately and pulling out the papers inside. As he read the report on the blood work, his blood simultaneously went cold with fear and hot with excitement. "This is bad."
"So it's definitely a steel? I still can't fucking believe those exist."
Ken laughed briefly as Nev growled at the implication he didn't exist. "They exist, but this dragon… this dragon isn't just a knight dragon."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"This dragon shouldn't be here in the United States. It should be home in England, safe with Clan Pendragon."
Blaze frowned at him. "I have absolutely no fucking clue what you just said."
Ken sighed. "There is a lot of shit I'm going to have to explain to you, but the short answer is this: if this dragon is what I think he is, and looking at these tests, I can't imagine I'm wrong, then he's about twenty times more powerful than Nevada. He also needs an owner, and he won't settle for just anyone. He needs someone even more unique and fearless than owners already are."
"What do you mean? People like that aren't exactly thick on the ground. What the fuck is even more unique?"
"It's more complicated than just not feeling fear," Ken said. "Look—you're used to basically five kinds of dragons: gale, frost, flame, rock, and black. But all of those are just watered down versions of knight dragons. They're all similar enough the same type of owner can control them. We all have that no fear thing you're talking about. But this dragon…" He jabbed at the paperwork. "This is a hell of a lot more than a knight dragon, and so it needs a hell of a lot more than a master, more than even a typical owner."
"You said it should be with Clan Pendragon. So it needs someone from there?"
"Not necessarily, though their owners never come from outside the clans, and usually a ruling family of a clan. The clans raise, protect, and train the knight dragons, treat them the way they should be treated—like sacred weapons meant to protect those in need. That's why dragons only obey certain people—knights, though now they're called owners or masters. The original knight dragons were living weapons bestowed upon King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. All other dragons are descended from those first, which were made from magic."
Blaze blinked at him, stared. "You sound like a bad movie."
Ken let out a sharp laugh. "Tell me about it. It's all true, though. This dragon is what we call a Holy Pendragon, though usually we drop the 'holy' bit. Some clans still call them Excaliburs, though you rarely hear that."
"Excalibur as in King Arthur?"
"Exactly," Ken said. "Arthur was the first one to claim a dragon. He named that dragon Excalibur. The dragons that followed were made for his closest knights. The original Excalibur wasn't a sword. It was a dragon, the first Holy Pendragon, and the greatest of them until Arthur and Excalibur died. They say the only direct descendent of Excalibur remaining belongs to Prince Avalon, Arthur's youngest son and the current ruler of the clans. A true Holy Pendragon emerges maybe once a century."
Blaze shook his head. "This is all really fucking crazy."
"You don't have to believe me, and I can't make you," Ken said. "But believe this: we can't let this dragon go to anyone else. We have to get him back to the clans."
"Well, I already knew letting the syndicates have it was a bad idea," Blaze said. "That's why I was going to figure out what it was and then steal it and run like hell." He stroked Erie's hair, smiling faintly when Erie rumbled happily in response. "So whatever you're going on about, that part of the plan doesn't change. I was just going to hang around long enough to understand what I was working with, since it's the definition of stupid not to understand your dragon. Not that he was going to be mine. Even if it was possible to claim two dragons, one is more than enough for me."
Ken laughed. "I actually know someone who has mastered two dragons. Tori, one of my uncles. He's considered odd and entirely too... masterful, even amongst the clans. He's a bossy son of a bitch. Which is sort of what it takes to claim a Holy Pendragon—being a sort of super master, I guess you could say."
"You keep saying clans this and clans that. What the fuck are these clans?"
"I'll explain later," Ken said. "Right now, we need to go."
"I need to call someone first," Blaze said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, frowning as he scrawled through his contact list. Punching a button, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited. After a moment, he hung up. "Voicemail. I'll try again later."
Ken tilted his head inquisitively. "Who are trying to call? Uh, if you don't mind me asking."
Blaze hesitated, looked at his cut palm, and said, "The guy who trained me. He... he said some of the shit you do. About how fucking your dragon was okay. He used the term 'owner' sometimes. I've never heard anyone else use it. He started training me when I was fifteen... and just as I was finishing up, Rust got rid of him. Never knew why. He made me unbeatable, or damn near."
"Too many unbeatable fighters add up to a group capable of overthrowing a boss, I'd imagine," Ken said.
Blaze looked as though he'd been punched as the words sank in. "I can't believe that never occurred to me. But I was so worried about protecting Erie, I guess I never thought about it."
Ken smiled. "You're a good owner, then, but we already knew that. So tell me more about this group we're going to see. The only syndicate I ever knew well was Marlowe. The rest was just a blur of fights for us. We were too busy struggling to stay alive to learn about anything outside the pits."
Blaze sucked in a breath. "Hang on a second. If we're going to do this, I need some fucking caffeine." He didn't wait for Ken to reply, just nudged Erie out of the way and left.
Erie stretched, growled softly, and sprawled out on the floor. Nev abandoned Ken's lap to crawl over to him. He nudged Erie, who rumbled and nudged back. Pleasantries exchanged, the dragons lay cuddled together like a pair of cats. Ken laughed softly.
The door opened a couple of minutes later, and Blaze set four bottles of soda on the desk. He looked at Ken in silent query and when Ken nodded, brought two over to the bed. Seeing the dragons, he snorted in amusement. "You lizards are ridiculous."
Ken laughed. "So where did you get the name Erie? I thought I heard someone say Eros..." He trailed off as Blaze went scarlet.
"I was a kid. I thought Eros meant 'red'. Don't ask me how or why," Blaze said, rubbing his nose and looking sheepish. "I suppose I could have changed it, but it suits him in a weird way. So he's Erie."
"It suits," Ken agreed. He twisted off the cap on his soda and took a long swallow. "Tell me about the syndicates."
Blaze drank his own soda before finally replying, "There are a lot of them, and always a bunch of new ones trying to rise up. But there are a dozen core syndicates, the top dogs that no one ever topples: Green, Morgan, St. George, Rust, Monmouth, Thomas, King, Shalott, Badon, Stone, Cambry, and Fisher. In twenty years, no one has toppled those. Everyone else is second place or less. Marlowe once made up number thirteen of the core syndicates, but obviously that's not true anymore. That really shook people the fuck up."
Ken smiled, hard and feral. "Good."
Mouth twitching, Blaze continued, "Of those core twelve, three are best known for putting out exceptional dragons: St. George, Green, and Rust. Especially St. George. They say Rafael St. George has a magic touch, but no one can learn anything from him because Leonardo, his brother and the St. George boss, is possessive and about as mean as they come. We'll probably be working with Rafael when we get there. I can't imagine there's anyone else Leonardo would trust with such a powerful dragon."
Ken nodded. "How are you going to explain me?"
"I don't know yet," Blaze said, chewing on his lower lip. "We'll play that by ear. For now, I'm going to try calling Amr again."
Ken blinked. "Amr. The guy who trained you. Is he clan?"
Shrugging, Blaze said, "I have no fucking clue. Amr never talked about himself. Like I said, though, he used that term 'owner' sometimes and seemed to know all the same shit you do."
"Probably is clan then, or at least used to be. My father was, but he and two of his brothers left because they got tired of the clan... atmosphere. The clans are strict, old-fashioned, and unforgiving."
Blaze made a face. "Sounds marvelous. I'm calling Amr, hold on."
"I'm going to grab a shower, then, if you don't mind."
"Have fun," Blaze said and took another swig of his soda before hitting the call button on his phone.
Ken left him to it and stood, stretching with a long groan. Looking down at Erie and Nev, he said, "I'm running to our car to get our shit." Nev rumbled at him but didn't stir, clearly content to cuddle with Erie.
Rolling his eyes, Ken went to his car to fetch their bags and hurried back to the room. "I'm getting a shower, you lazy lizard. Try to behave while I'm in there, hmm?"
Nev grunted at him, and Ken smiled, feeling happy and almost relaxed for the first time in forever. He looked at the wound on his hand, the dragons curled up together, Blaze rolling his eye at whatever Amr was saying on the phone, and smiled softly as he headed into the bathroom.