by Megan Derr
"Raf hurt. Bad dragon."
"No," Rafael said firmly, and dared to place a soft, chaste kiss on Conway's mouth. "Good dragon. You're always good, Conway."
Conway growled, pleasure at the praise warring with his anger at Leo.
"We have to take Cam home," Rafael whispered, caressing the side of Conway's face before he finally made himself pull away and stand up. He turned to look at Cam. "You are remarkably stoic."
Cam shrugged. "I get that a lot. I can try to freak out if it'll make you feel better."
Rafael laughed. "No, stoic is good. It makes for a nice change. Conway, go find him some clothes." As Conway left, Rafael turned back to Cam and said, "We'll take you to my home, and then I'll explain everything to you."
"So Conway is a dragon, huh? Like those black goons that jumped me."
Laughing again, amused and charmed, Rafael said, "Conway is a frost dragon. His body temperature is lower than the average, and when he shifts things can get pretty chilly."
Cam tilted his head thoughtfully, molten gold eyes like nothing Rafael had ever seen, not even in another dragon. "So you don't know what I am?"
"Even if you weren't unusual, I wouldn't necessarily know. It's hard to peg what kind of dragon a person is before they've shifted. But, as I said, I'll explain everything to you when we're home. I bet you're very hungry and still very tired."
"Yes," Cam said, and as though on cue, yawned. "Starving. I haven't eaten since, what, yesterday? Something like that."
Rafael nodded, smiling because he really did love new dragons. He hated the way they were forced into it, hated that they had to stop being human and lost their old lives. But, sometimes, he thought that if the pit fights, the syndicates, were all stripped away, that the dragons would actually be happy. As he'd told Cam earlier, Cam was not the first person to say that he'd felt like something was missing until his dragon genes were activated. "Your eyes have gone gold, which means the dragon genes have activated. Your body chemistry is changing, which means you're going to require a lot of food. For dragons, that means attempting to eat thrice your weight in dead cow."
"Strawberries?" Cam asked wistfully, and Rafael laughed at the plaintive, and utterly dragon, tone.
The door opened, drawing their attention. Rafael smiled warmly at Conway, who smiled back, amber eyes bright with affection. "Found clothes, Raf."
"Good." Rafael retrieved the file he'd dropped and went to wait by the door as Cam quickly dressed. "I'm sure Leo already has my car waiting, so let's move quickly. At least if we're out at the cabin, we'll be largely left alone until Rust's man arrives."
Rafael grimaced, thinking about having to endure a devoted pit fighter for who knew how many days. Shunting the thoughts aside, he led the way out of the warehouse. The golf cart was waiting for them, and they all piled in, Cam and Conway clinging to the back.
When they reached the front gate, Rafael saw he had been correct: Leo had already called for his car. The black Bentley Continental gleamed in the morning sun, one of Leo's many expensive gifts for 'good behavior'. Rafael climbed into the back, taking Cam with him, leaving the passenger seat for Conway.
"Take us to my cabin, Mike," he told the driver, then settled back and closed his eyes to catch a nap while he had the chance.
An hour later they pulled up in front of his house just outside the city, a beautiful cabin that his brother had given him as a birthday present only days after Leo had murdered Marianne. Rafael hated it, but he did not dare refuse it. "Thank you, Ben," he told the driver. "You can go. I'll call you should I need to leave the house today."
"Yes, sir," Ben said, and bowed before returning to the car and driving off.
Rafael unlocked the front door and led the way inside. "Put him in the room across from mine," he told Conway, who obediently carried Cam through the house to the bedrooms in the back. Leaving him to settle Cam, Rafael went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. While it brewed, he pulled out bottles of pain killers and muscle relaxants from the medicine cabinet in the laundry room. Ignoring the muscle relaxants for the moment, he popped four ibuprofen and chased them with water. Taking the bottles back into the kitchen, he left them on the counter where he could easily grab them later.
He headed upstairs to change out of his suit. He had just stripped off his clothes and was reaching for his dresser when he heard a long, low growl behind him. "No," he told Conway firmly, ignoring the way his own cock twitched.
If his brother ever found out he'd fucked Conway, Rafael knew exactly what Leo would do: have Rafael pinned in place while he slowly and painfully killed Conway in front of him. Bile rose in Rafael's throat just thinking about it. Yanking open a dresser drawer, he pulled out a pair of black lounge pants and a green t-shirt.
Dressed again, he turned back to Conway and asked, "How is Cam?"
"Sleeping again," Conway replied. "Strange dragon."
"Strange how, is what I need to figure out."
Rafael said, leading the way back downstairs to the kitchen. Motioning for Conway to sit at the bar, he grabbed steaks from the fridge, and then turned on the grill. While it warmed up, he poured a cup of coffee and pulled the makings for oatmeal out of the pantry.
Half an hour later, he was enjoying oatmeal drowned in brown sugar and cream while Conway devoured two barely-cooked steaks. "So tell me how he's strange," Rafael said.
"Master dragon," Conway rumbled, licking the juice from the steaks off his fingers in satisfaction.
Rafael watched him, unable to tear his eyes away, wanting nothing more than to drag Conway to the floor and taste every inch of him before fucking him so hard they were both senseless.
Conway growled as he picked up on Rafael's emotions, amber eyes flashing. Rafael looked away, swearing softly, and stood. "Don't," he said tightly when Conway caught his wrist.
Still growling, Conway reluctantly let him go. He slunk out of the kitchen, and Rafael let out a frustrated sigh as he cleaned the kitchen. Refilling his coffee, he pulled out his phone to check for messages as he headed into the living room.
There was nothing but a text from his head manager informing him that all was well. Rafael texted her back to say he would be out indefinitely, then set his phone on the coffee table with a sigh. He sat on the sofa couch and glanced over at Conway, who had shifted to dragon form and was sulking in front of the fireplace.
"Come here," Rafael said quietly, but firmly.
Conway growled, but obeyed, moving with a predator's grace across the room. He was breathtaking in his true form: long, sinuous, reaching a little higher than Rafael's hips in height, and nearly ten feet from the end of his snout to the tip of his tail. His dark scales had a faint blue sheen, and glinted like ice struck by sunlight. At the moment he was warm to the touch, but when riled he would begin to leech cold. Rafael had seen him take a room that was previously eighty degrees all the way down to below freezing. It had only happened once, and afterward Conway had slept for almost an entire day.
Conway butted against Rafael's thighs, rumbling in pleasure when Rafael stroked his head. When Rafael beckoned, he climbed up neatly onto the sofa and sprawled with his head in Rafael's lap. Bending down, Rafael kissed his brow and stroked his scales. "You know I love you, Conway," he said softly. He smiled at the 'obviously' tone in Conway's rumble.
Rafael closed his eyes, hand still stroking Conway. "So what are we going to do with this strange dragon that's fallen in our lap, Conway?"
Conway growled, a low, threatening sound that would have scared anyone else in the room. Rafael didn't move, just said softly, "Yes, I agree. I think we'll see if the Rust goon can tell us anything useful, and then we're going to run like hell."
He stayed put and endured his brother for the safety of the dragons. Without him, there would be no one to curb Leo's ambition or cruelty. But if Cam was even half as powerful as Rafael feared, then they couldn't stay. He shuddered to think what Leo would do with a new dragon that had that kind of power. No, the minute
they had a better handle on Cam, it was time to run.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blaze pulled up in front of the warehouse and killed the engine. He pulled off his helmet and frowned as he watched Rust's right hand, Gates, walk toward him. "Gates."
"Blaze," Gate greeted. "Boss needs you to do something special for him. He's in the back office. Go through the alley. They're expecting you."
Concerned, because Rust never wanted him to do anything but fight on the big prize nights—and it definitely sounded like he wasn't going to be fighting—Blaze motioned for Erie to get off the bike, then climbed off himself and threw the keys to Gates.
Did Rust want him to throw a fight? That wasn't likely; if Rust wanted Blaze to throw a fight, he would have just sent someone to tell him and it had been a long time since Blaze had thrown fights. He slipped down the alleyway between the warehouse and the closed furniture store, and rapped on the door.
It opened a moment later, and Blaze slipped inside with Erie at his heels. Erie growled as they went down the dark hallway, warding off the men who watched them with loud snarls.
What was going on? Had Rust found out about him and Erie? But no, that couldn't be. If that were the case, Rust would make a spectacle of him—an example.
Blaze saw Rust's primary bodyguard, Trace, at the end of the hall. They nodded to each other and Trace quirked a brow in silent query. "Just my Beretta," Blaze said, and handed it over. Trace nodded again, trusting him as he trusted few others, and opened the door to let Blaze inside.
Rust sat behind a large, dark-stained oak desk that was far classier than the building it occupied. Blaze could hear the muffled sounds of dragons and their masters practicing in other parts of the warehouse. "What did you need, boss?"
"Sit," Rust ordered, and Blaze obediently sat down in the creaky, green fake-leather chair in front of Rust's desk. Erie curled up at his feet, warm and reassuring, rumbling as he waited impatiently for the meeting to end. Rust took a last drag from the cigarette he was smoking, and then put it out in a glass ashtray near his elbow. "Have you ever heard of steel dragons?"
Blaze burst out laughing. "Yeah, who hasn't? Most popular fairytale in the pits. Why, someone else claiming to have found one?" He started laughing all over again, but stopped at the expression on Rust's face. "You can't be serious, boss. Steels don't exist—they're just wishful thinking."
"I don't know what kind of dragon they've found, but from what I've been told it could be whatever spawned all those steel myths," Rust replied, leaning forward and folding his arms on the desk. "I got a call from St. George yesterday, about some crazy powerful dragon he found. Hasn't even changed yet but his eyes have gone gold; he took out three dragons and seven men before they managed to tranq him."
"That's gotta be a fucking mistake," Blaze said.
Rust laughed. "That's what you're going to figure out. St. George has called in a favor. They want you to break the dragon in."
Blaze recognized the gleam in Rust's eyes. "You want me to steal it."
"Of course. You'll be given funds for travel and living expenses while you're there. Bring that dragon to me at all costs, Blaze. Trace has all the information you'll need."
"You got it, Boss," Blaze said, and stood up. "Hey, what happened to that ass who tried to fuck with me in the club?"
"He's been taken care of," Rust replied. "You won't see him again."
Blaze nodded. "Right. I'll call you when I get there."
Rust smiled, leaning back in his chair and lighting a fresh cigarette. "Get me that dragon, Blaze, and you're out of the pits."
"Then you can count me out of the pits, boss," Blaze said before the door closed behind him. Trace handed him a manila envelope thick with papers. "Thanks."
"Be careful," Trace said. "St. George is considered a bastard even in our line of work."
Blaze shrugged the words aside. "I'll be fine. They haven't kicked my ass yet. Take it easy, Trace." He strode off down the hall, eager to be on his way. Erie was hot on his heels, growling happily as they climbed onto his motorcycle and headed back toward their apartment.
Back in their apartment, Blaze dropped his keys on the front table and made straight for the kitchen. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and then settled at the kitchen table with the packet Trace had given him.
Erie, back in dragon form, pawed at his leg and growled plaintively.
Blaze pretended to ignore him, ducking his head to hide his grin. Erie's growls grew louder, and his pawing held a hint of claw. Still Blaze ignored him, flipping through poorly scanned copies of medical files and recon reports—then yelped as Erie abruptly knocked his chair over and climbed on top of him.
Grunting at the hard landing, the breath briefly knocked out of him, Blaze scowled. "Brat."
Erie growled loudly, nipping playfully at his shoulder. "Okay, okay," Blaze said, conceding defeat. "Let me up, you damn lizard, and I'll get you some food. Like you can't get it yourself, you spoiled brat."
Nipping him again, Erie climbed off and prowled over to the fridge and waited impatiently, tail lashing back and forth. Snorting in amusement, Blaze climbed to his feet and walked over. He opened the fridge and grabbed a container of ground sirloin. Carrying it back to the table, he fed Erie chunks of meat piece by piece until it was finally gone.
When he was done, Erie growled and pawed again.
Smirking, Blaze stood up and went to the cabinet where he kept a glass jar full of mint candy of every shape and size. He set it on the counter and removed the lid, picking out a red and white peppermint and unwrapping the cellophane. "Who wants mint?"
Erie growled as he padded across the kitchen towards Blaze, his claws clicking on the linoleum floor. He reared up and placed his heavy front paws on Blaze's shoulders and growled again.
"You smell like meat, dragon," Blaze said, but dropped the mint into his mouth and rubbed his snout. "Get off me."
Instead, Erie smoothly shifted and wrapped himself around Blaze, forcing him to hold on or risk them both toppling to the floor again. "Dragon—" Erie cut him off with a hungry kiss, and Blazer permitted it because they had every reason to be excited.
They were getting out of the pits, and all they had to do was train a dragon. He didn't care what anyone said, steel dragons didn't exist. It was probably just a quad-black. Those were rare, but not impossible.
Blaze grunted as Erie drew back enough to stand, oofing as Erie then surged forward to pin him to the counter and devoured his mouth. Erie sucked at his lips, scored them with his too-sharp teeth, lapped at the blood and growled in satisfaction. Blaze moaned and just let Erie have him, wrapping his arms around Erie's waist and submitting completely, something he could only do with Erie.
Even if he shouldn't. Even if getting caught would get them both killed. He shuddered as Erie's teeth grazed his neck. "Don't leave marks, lizard!"
Grumbling his dissatisfaction at that order, Erie obeyed—but got revenge by yanking off Blaze's t-shirt. He threw it aside and bit hard at Blaze's hip, licking away the blood, making a soft rumbling sound that might have been mistaken for a purr in a cat.
Erie's hands went to the fastenings of Blaze's jeans, getting them undone and yanking them down enough to get at Blaze's cock. "Lizard—" Blaze's head jerked back as Erie swallowed his cock. He swore as he managed to bash the back of his head against the cabinet behind him, but he quickly forgot the pain as Erie's warm, wet mouth worked him.
Blaze sank one hand into Erie's hair and gripped it tight; he fucked Erie's mouth hard, knowing that the dragon wanted it, could take it. He kept his eyes locked with Erie's, drugged on that brilliant amber gaze, the affection that filled them. Whatever else he lost or gained, he had Erie. Nothing compared to his dragon; no one would ever take Erie away from him.
Erie rumbled, and the sensation around his cock was tipped Blaze over the edge, coming hard down Erie's throat. Erie took it all and licked him clean, slowly working his way back up Blaze's body; he greedily took Blaze's mouth
in another hungry kiss.
"Fuck me, dragon," Blaze said after a moment, licking teasingly at Erie's lips, giving a husky laugh when that got him a nip and growl. He oofed again as Erie caught him up and carried him out of the kitchen, grateful Erie was remembering that much because Blaze still had bruises from the last time they'd fucked on the kitchen floor.
His breath left him entirely as he was deposited unceremoniously on the bed and the rest of his clothes were roughly pulled away. "Blaze ..." Erie breathed against his skin, teeth lightly scoring his chest.
Blaze grabbed his hair, dragged him up for a proper kiss, and then flipped them over so he could straddle Erie's hips. He ground against Erie's cock, gasped as Erie's claws dug into his hips. "Where's the stuff, lizard?"
Growling, Erie fumbled beneath their pillows for a moment before he shoved a tube at Blaze. After a few moments of fumbling himself, Blaze managed to slick his fingers and reached back to stretch himself.
When he was ready, Blaze used the remaining lube on his fingers to slick Erie's cock, and then slowly lowered himself down on it, groaning at the stretch and burn. Erie's claws bit into his hips and Blaze felt the hot trickle of blood where they dug in a little too hard. The pain made him gasp, made him harder, made him so hot and flushed that he was nearly dizzy. Bracing himself on Erie's chest, Blaze began to ride him, fucking himself hard on Erie's cock, never looking away from those brilliant gold eyes.
Erie lost all restraint in the fevered haze of their fucking; his claws left bloody welts, and he roared when he finally came. Blaze came a moment after, spurting all over them both. He pulled off Erie's cock and lay on top of him, too tired to muster the energy to roll off.
He smiled as Erie held him tightly, nuzzling and rumbling contentedly. "Silly lizard."
"Good Erie."
"Yes," Blaze said, kissing his chest. "Very good Erie." They stayed that way until the room began to grow chilly and Blaze was in danger of falling asleep. He forced himself to sit up, groaning. "Come on, dragon. We need a shower, and then I really do have to read that paperwork Rust gave me."
