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ABOUT

STORIES

The Dragon Pits

St. George &the Dragon

Safe From All Harm

Sword of the King

Rick shook his head in disbelief for what must be the millionth time.

Of all the places to received a random invite - a formal request even, not just a simple phone call, but stationary and hand
delivered and everything - he would never in a million years have guessed the Tantalus.

Not even the lower levels. No, his invite had included instructions and a special card.

All the way to the top floors.

No one ever saw the demon lord in his lair. Those with appointments saw him in the lower offices; no one was dumb
enough to bother him without an appointment.

Sable Brennus was remarkably laid back for a demon, or so the rumors went, but he was still a demon.

He pulled the invite from his pocket as he reached what was clearly a reception room, holding it out as he approached the
desk where some sort of abnormal answered phones and did the sort of paperwork that looked mysterious and exotic to
outsiders but was really more boring than watching grass grow.

The woman didn't even look at it, just flicked him the barest of glances, a brief but pretty smile, and mashed a button on her
phone. "Mr. Brennus, Mr. Cross is here." She smiled again, and Rick caught a hint of fangs. "Please go right in - the second
door to the right."

"Thank you," Rick murmured, daring a smile of his own, not used to doing it - but she didn't look horrified by the effort, her
own smile brightening, so maybe he wasn't completely out of practice.

Feeling moderately better, Rick turned and walked down the wide hallway, doing his best to relax and not gawk at the
expensive paintings, vases. This one hallway cost more than his entire house - and his house wasn't cheap. Why in the
world was he being called here of all places?

He suspected he knew, at least to a degree, though he wouldn't have thought the D-Pits the sort of the thing to interest a
demon. Never mind that he'd said a hundred thousand times to anyone dumb enough to bring the subject up that he
wanted no part of the D-Pits ever. Not their scene. Hadn't been when they were young and stupid, certainly wouldn't be
now that they'd more or less matured.

At the second door on the right, Rick hesitated. Did one knock in situations like this?

The problem was solved for him when the door suddenly opened, and Rick found himself greeted by a startlingly handsome
man - his clothes were old, worn, the leather jacket clearly well past its last legs, but for all that the man looked good. Early
thirties? Classic blonde hair and blue eyes, slender but fit build.

Something about him was abnormal, but without Cal Rick couldn't tell what. "Ah-I'm here to see-"

"Come on in," the blonde man said. "I was just coming out to greet you." He stepped aside to let Rick in. "You're Aldrick

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Cross."

"Rick, please."

The man nodded. "I'm Chris White." He closed the door and pointed across the office - more of a sitting room or lounge or
something, nothing but sofas and chairs and a long coffee table - to a man standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"That's Sable."

Yeah, Rick hadn't needed to be told that. Even without Cal, he'd recognize a demon lord. Everyone in the territory had
heard about the man - how didn't you hear about the one that kept neighboring wolves and vamps and other problems out
of the area? He was as good-looking as the rumors went, and cliché as it sounded those eyes really were the color of storm
clouds.

"I'm actually the one who wanted to speak with you," Chris said, motioning for him to sit. "Want a drink or anything?"

"No, thanks," Rick said. "What's this all about? Usually when someone receives an invite from the demon in residence, it's
not a good thing."

Sable chuckled and moved to on the sofa opposite the one Rick had taken. "If I dislike someone, I go get rid of them or
have Christian do it. They would not be invited here."

"That's what I was hoping," Rick said, hoping his abject relief didn't show. He fought the urge to rake a hand restlessly
through his hair, knowing the black strands didn't need the added help looking messy. "So what did you want?"

"I'm sure you already have a good idea," Chris said, leaning back in the armchair he'd taken, situated between the two long
sofas. He braced his elbows on the arms rests and steepled his fingers.

"Why on earth would a demon lord and his consort give two fucks - pardon my language - about the D-pits. Only reason
anyone ever wants to talk to me."

Chris shook his head. "It is and isn't about that."

Rick quirked one brow. "Do explain." He might be nervous as shit about this, but damned if he'd let anyone try and fuck with
Cal.

"I have been hired to find a particular dragon. For the past two months I have been looking and the only clues I can find all
point to the D-Pits. Unfortunately-"

"You can't get in," Rick interrupted. "You're abnormal though I can't tell how - maybe that's just the demon magic."

Sable snickered as Chris glowered. "In part my magic, but Christian is…special."

"Be quiet," Chris snapped. He turned back to Rick. "As you say, I and my associates are all abnormal to some degree. So
we can't get in as spectators, and we've no chance of finding a dragon and joining the fights."

Spectator being the polite word for anyone who wanted to bet on the fights. Scum of the earth, Rick preferred. The only
people he hated more were the Owners, though D-Pit lords were a damned close second.

Christ drummed his finger tips together as he spoke. "I could force the issue as Sable's consort since the Pits bleed into his
territory but creating that kind of stir does no one any favors and won't guarantee I'll get the dragon before his Owner bolts
with him. Anyway, I never could figure out which D-Pit exactly he's located."

He knew where this was going. "You want me to go in and find this dragon for you."

"It's a young one," Chris said. "Turned fifteen about a month before he was kidnapped. Frost. Pure blood."

Rick winced. Frost dragons were rare; they were also damned hard to beat. Few things were as formidable as a pure blood
frost dragon. Of all the high elements, they were the most tenacious and vicious. "Where'd they get it?"

"He was kidnapped right from his house in the dead of night. That was four months ago. I was only hired two months ago.
Motive I don't yet have - I've been putting all my effort into simply finding him."

"Gotcha," Rick said, nodding in thought. He knew the D-Pits because he wanted nothing to do with them - 'know thine
enemy' and all that. "A PB Frost? No one would waste time with the outer Pits. I'd hazard to say he's at the Shatter Spine,
the Snap Neck, or the Broken Heart. Who's the 'Owner'?"

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Chris glowered at some unseen annoyance. "If I knew that, I wouldn't have to drag you into this. All I hear are rumors of a
young frost dragon slowly making a name for himself. No wins yet, but it's only a matter of time. No one is willing to cough
up who owns him."

That was unusual, but not unheard of. Owners were usually as well known and spoken of as their dragons. To know the
dragon but not the Owner was to know the weapon but not the wielder. It could mean only a couple of things - either no one
knew the Owner's identity, which had happened; some people just didn't like it known they played in the D-Pits. Other
times…the Owner was high enough up the chain no one dared say his name without express permission.

Which meant he probably used a shadow Owner to do the in-Pit work while he watched from above and covertly passed on
his orders. If that was the case, and it every well could be with a PB Frost involved - and one technically too young to be
thrown into the Pits - then this could get ugly fast. Rick shook his head. "Sounds like you're in a nasty tangle. I'm sure I
don't need to explain what's likely going down."

"I'm sure hearing the finer points couldn't hurt," Chris replied, "however I do sense this is probably running deeper than any
of us likes to think about. If you're willing, though, find him and get him out." He made a face. "If it starts to look too
dangerous, just tell me where he is and I'll say to hell with keeping things quiet."

Rick frowned in thought. "I have to talk to Cal before I can tell you for certain, but I will be honest and say I don't like the
idea of a kit being thrown in the Pits. Not even sure how that would have slipped by - even the D-Pits have that much of a
standard. Never heard of a child being thrown in, which makes me nervous about the Owner. I'm willing, but I have to speak
with Cal. How can I get in touch?"

"Call this number," Chris said, and pulled a business card from his pocket. It was plain white with a band of black across the
top and the words White Detective Agency above that. Below that was Chris's name, then the name Douglas, and lastly a
phone number. "Ask to speak to me or Doug."

Rick stood up and tucked the card away in his jeans. "Will do."

"Thank you," Chris said.

"I haven't agreed yet."

"You listened. That's more than most in your position would do."

Rick shrugged. "I figured it was better not to tell a demon lord to kiss off. Anyway, Cal said I should at least check it out. I'll
show myself out." He turned and strode out the door, back down the hall, waved to the secretary and then took the elevator
down to the lobby.

It was cloudy but not quite raining when he hit the streets. An attendant pulled up with his motorcycle as Rick reached the
bottom of the stairs. He took his keys and thanked the man, the entire situation from the invite to the conversation to having
a valet take care of his bike still completely surreal. He was thirty-five. Shit like this didn't happen to thirty-five year olds.

Now he had to go tell Cal that because he was a fucking soft touch that they might finally have to go down into the Pits
they'd avoided their whole damn lives.

Home was an overblown "cabin" deep in the mountains, on a road only someone desperate and foolish enough to want to
get the fuck away from people would travel. Getting shit to the cabin had been a damned nightmare, but worth it in the end.

Out here, he and Cal would know people were coming. Precious few thought the trip worth it, after he'd already turned
down more offers than he could count - of the polite and not so polite kind. Luckily, he'd managed to take care of them
without dragging Cal into the fight. If they saw Cal fight, then they'd never leave him alone.

Worse, they'd try to take him.

He'd risk that if they did this for the demon lord's consort…though he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to tell a
demon lord's consort no.

Not that Chris or Sable had seemed particularly evil or demonic. Hell, he was referring to them by first name. He'd heard of
demon territories where they had to use honorifics and shit.

Driving the twisting road was difficult enough on a good day - never mind a bad night. The rain had finally hit and it was only
his bike and knowledge that kept him from taking a long, nasty spill back down to the bottom of the mountain.

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The lights of the cabin finally came into view and Rick relaxed slightly. As he approached, the garage door opened and he
was able to drive right inside - Cal must have been watching for him, the bike didn't have an auto-opener.

Tearing his helmet off, Rick set it aside and started stripping out of his wet clothes, shivering in the cold air and hustling
inside to throw the clothes in the laundry room before he padded through the kitchen into the hall, then up the stairs to their
bedroom.

He smiled as he heard the shower running, laughing as steam washed over him as he opened the bathroom door. "It's a
shower, not a sauna, Cal."

"I can try," Cal grumbled laughingly, peeking around the wide glass wall that separated the shower from the rest of the
massive bathroom. He was soaked from head to foot, water beading and streaming down his fair skin, the fine-toned
muscles. His hair, dark chocolate brown, was plastered to his skull, all but covering his pale amber eyes. "Especially since
you won't give me a sauna."

Rick rolled his eyes. "I gave you the hot tub."

"Still not a sauna," Cal replied with a sniff, but he grinned and reached out to tug Rick into the shower with him, looping his
arms around Rick's neck. "Get in here before you catch a cold. The weather's been miserable all day."

Rick wrapped his arms around Cal's waist and rested his head a moment against his lover's chest. "You feel good."

Sharp teeth nipped his ear, making him shiver. "You too. Glad you're back."

"Is that why you're trying to steam me?" Rick asked with a breathless laugh as his back met slick tile.

"Mmm, steamed Ricky. My second favorite," Cal replied, then pressed up against him and covered Ricky's mouth with his
own, teasing his tongue over Ricky's lips for a minute before parting them and taking claim of his mouth. Knowing hands
roamed Rick's body, knowing exactly where to touch, tease, how to elicit all the gasps and moans Rick fed into his mouth,
before he finally ceased tormenting and reached down to stroke them both together, hard and fast until they both came
calling each other's names.

"Second favorite?" Rick asked when he could finally speak again. Absently he reached out to find the soap, nearly dropping
it twice before he finally started soaping them both up.

Cal grinned wide, displaying his too sharp to be human teeth. "I will always be most fond of chocolate Ricky."

Rick made a face and ignored the heat he could feel in his cheeks. "You're spoiled rotten, lizard."

"By you," Cal said, stealing the soap and washing Rick as Rick washed him. He stole a kiss and then suddenly rubbed his
soap-covered hands all over Rick's face, back up against the glass as Rick tried to retaliate - then caught him up and
shoved them both back into the spray, rinsing them off quickly. Rick turned off the water as Cal snagged a couple of towels,
then they dressed quickly, him in an old pair of sweats, Cal in a ridiculous pair of PJ pants - dark red with little blue and
black cartoon dragons.

Rick smiled fondly, shaking his head at Cal's ever amusing choice of lounging attire, and led the way back downstairs and
into the kitchen. "Hungry?" he asked, snagging a longneck from the fridge and twisting the cap off, pitching it into the
trashcan on the far side of the kitchen before taking a long swallow.

"Only for you," Cal said with a wink. "I ate already. We're running low on steak."

"Damned lizard," Rick replied. "Why can't you eat crickets like the cute little lizards in the pet stores?"

Cal sniffed. "I give you sex. I get steak."

"I suppose you have a point," Rick said with a grin before taking another swallow of his beer. He followed Cal out of the
kitchen and across the hall to the living room, setting his beer on the table before allowing the dragon to drag him down
onto the couch - brown suede, nearly big enough to be a bed. He lay along the edge, back to Cal's chest, their legs tangled
together.

"So what did the demon lord want?"

"It was his consort that wanted to see me, actually," Rick said, good mood fading as he explained all that Chris had told
him, what he'd asked.

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Cal was quiet for several long minutes after he finished. Rick twisted around to watch him, knowing his own green eyes
were just as intense as the pale amber that stared back. Then Cal leaned down and kissed, long and slow and sweet. "We
can't let a kit stay in the Pits. If he's still alive, it's only because he's a frost and damned lucky."

Rick nodded in agreement and leaned in for another kiss. "You know I love you."

"Of course," Cal said, nuzzling against him. "Love you too."

It was impossible to tell a dragon type by looking at the untransformed human. No matter what the experts said, no matter
how many people claimed that talent. A blonde man with green eyes was just as likely to be a black dragon as a green
dragon as a white dragon. Anyone who could claim to tell on sight was lying through his fucking teeth or already knew.

Rick knew this for a fact. Every last one of the bastards who'd 'stopped by for a little chat' had immediately pegged Cal as a
black dragon. Which was very nice of them, as black dragons were prized - not rare, exactly, but certainly a little more than
merely respectable.

"Smells awful," Cal said quietly, his voice reaching Rick's ears in the din but only just. Rick tightened his grip on Cal's hand
and wrestled them through the crowd of gawkers and wannabe spectators.

The real money would already be inside. Later a few of the wannabes might be allowed inside, though only so the vets
could wring them dry.

"It's going to be a long night," Rick said with a sigh as he approached the fighter table.

Eyes widened in shock as he and Cal approached.

"Cross," greeted a man who looked as though he'd once lost a fight with a grizzly bear. That he could see at all was a
miracle. Tank was his name, or what he went by anyway. "Never thought we'd actually see you here."

"Things change," Rick said shortly.

Tank stood up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of a table. He put out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and then
approached them. All around, the gawkers and workers backed away to give him room. He walked slowly around Cal,
looking the dragon up and down. Rick tolerated it until Tank reached out a hand - he grabbed it just as Cal started to growl
and his pale eyes began to warm to a deep gold.

"He's not for you to touch," Rick said, holding Tank's wrist tight.

"All right, man. Chill." Tank tore his wrist free and gave Cal another once over. "Fine piece of dragon, Cross." He leered.
"Keep this one in excellent shape, don't you?" Rick said nothing and Tank rolled his eyes. "I keep forgetting you got no
sense of humor, man. Signing him up? Where do you want to start?"

Rick had considered this question carefully on the drive up.

The Pits were broken up into a dozen types - A through D, with three grades of each. The A-Pits were for pussies; it was
where the gawkers and the wannabes went when they realized they'd never be good enough for a real Pit fight - for either
playing or watching. Lesser abnormals were fought there - gremlins, goblins, faeries, most of them taken right off the
streets.

The B-Pits were a bit tougher, given over to those creatures from the A-Pits and from wherever else in the abnormal world
worthy fighters could be coerced in one way or another. It was also where real money started to enter the scene - five
hundred dollars just to get in, and from there people bet like crazy. Hellhounds, ogres, trolls - all these were common in the
B-Pits.

Anyone with real interest in a fight, and in making serious money off a fight, went for the C-Pits. A thousand dollars cover,
and betting was all but mandatory. Here the real abnormals fought - minotaur, werewolves, imps. It was the only Pit where
fights to the death took place , though only at the highest of the three levels, and it was decided on a fight-by-fight basis.
For that reason alone, the C-Pits were often considered by many to be the most brutal.

That was only because those who said so couldn't get into the D-Pits. Five thousand was the cover charge to see a D-Pit
fight, and here betting was mandatory. If you couldn't afford to play…well, you didn't get in. High rollers hung in the D-Pits -
though only normals. No abnormals were allowed in the D-Pits. Paranormals that had an interest sent a normal rep.

So far as participation went - if you had a dragon strong enough, you were allowed to try.

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Strong enough mostly meant age, fitness, fighting ability. Dragons were strong and capable naturally - they were made for
combat, bred for it, and those who went into the D-Pits were given a workout regimen that would kill any other creature.

Within the D-Pits the three levels were entry, master, and special.

Entry and master would be far too easy for Cal. Special would provide a bit of a challenge, maybe, but they weren't here for
Cal. The kit's name was Nevada Montserrat. He was the reason they were here. As powerful as a frost dragon was,
especially a young one, he would not have the experience that came with age. That meant he wouldn't be in special, which
meant to put Cal there would be a waste of time.

Rick almost felt bad for the dragons that would take a beating, going up against Cal. He wouldn't hurt them too much, but
he had to keep in it until they found Nevada. Hopefully it wouldn't take them days and days to do it. "Master."

Tank quirked a brow at him. "You sure? He's never fought in a Pit before; there are some real toughs that will hold his being
new against him."

"I said Master, Tank."

"Okay, okay. Just looking out for your dragon, man. I'd hate to see such a fine black go to waste."

Rick barely kept from laughing in his face.

Tank held out two chips, each one stamped with a '14'. "He stays with you until his number is called. Hand over his chip to
the ref, keep yours on the off chance you win."

"Thanks," Rick replied, taking the chips and tucking them away in his black leather jacket.

"Fight well," Tank told Cal. "Don't disappoint your Owner."

Cal said nothing, though his eyes darkened at what he perceived as an insult.

"Come on, Cal," Rick said, turning and leading way into the Pits.

D-Pits were kept strictly apart from the others, which often occupied the same building if they didn't outright share fighting
space. This was because magic was frequently used to cheat, and depending on the species certain dragons were more
susceptible to magic than others.

So no abnormals. Anyone with a dragon didn't need extraneous abilities anyway.

"Stop smirking, Cal," Rick muttered as they entered the Pits. "You'll give your game away."

Cal snorted softly.

"You'll give away you have nothing to fear," Rick corrected with a warning look.

"We're not here to win anything."

Rick just gave him a look.

Cal grimaced. "All right, all right. So maybe it's getting to me. I can't help it. Much."

"Try," Rick said, but nodded in understanding. The air was saturated with a fighting lust. All around him in the brightly lit hall
were dragons waiting to fight. Some were dreading it, others were panting for it. More than a few unethical owners kept their
dragons in a state of sexual frustration days before a fight to make them that much more vicious in the Pit.

Most were still in human form, though he could see about half a dozen or so in dragon form, holding perfectly still but
obviously wanting to pull at the chains holding them and pick an early fight. Teeth and scales glistened in the light of the
chandeliers.

Packed together, the scent just stirred the dragons further. Even Cal could not help but feel it a bit, which stirred his urge to
fight. This was why dragons made such excellent Pit fighters.

"Fourteen," Cal murmured, amber eyes panning the room, picking out the ones that would precede him, the ones he would
be fighting, no doubt also looking for the kit. "I don't see him," he said a couple of minutes later, voice barely audible.

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Rick nodded, but motioned him to silence as they reached the bar. He ordered a beer then turned to look out over the
crowd.

In jeans, sweater, and a leather jacket he was glaringly out of place - except for the six one dragon standing beside him.
Cal was dressed just as simply as Rick, in loose jeans and a tight white t-shirt, a brown corduroy jacket.

"You suppose we should have dressed fancy?" Cal asked with a wink.

"I'd prefer to be at home in my sweats."

"I'd prefer naked myself."

Rick grinned. "You have a point."

Cal dipped his head and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "You taste like beer. What do I get if I win? Do I get a prize just for
fighting?"

"You're spoiled," Rick said, rolling his eyes, fighting a fond smile. "Of course you'll win. No prize for that." He took a long pull
of his beer. "If you behave, I'll let you hunt a few deer."

Amber eyes flared with pleasure. "If we do you know what in one night?" He leaned in closer. "If I'm a good little dragon and
not only behave but save the day?"

Rick closed the space between them and kissed Cal briefly, but with force. "You can have chocolate."

"On you?" Cal asked, eyes all but glowing.

"If you insist, lizard."

"I insist."

Rick started to reply, but the sound of a gong announced the beginning of the fights and slowly the mingling crowd began to
move out of the hall and into the arena. "Make the calls," he said. "I'll go with whatever you decide."

Cal's hand curled briefly over his, holding it tight, an acknowledgement of the trust Rick was placing in him - redundant to
mention it, really, they trusted each other implicitly. Anything could happen in the Pits though, especially since they were
trying to take another dragon out. In the heat of a fight, Rick would still trust Cal and move according to what the dragon
decided.

Precious few Owners trusted their dragons to that degree. Most dragons were born as humans and lived for years that way,
but once their dragon genes were activated thinking of them as human was stupid and quite possibly dangerous. That
would be why the already transformed ones were chained, especially if their Owners had them exclusively for Pit use.

The arena was simple, straightforward. Amphitheatre style for the seating in a full circle around the actual fighting ring -
which was completely sealed off by specially made glass so that the fight could be seen clearly without spectators getting
unintentionally injured. The seats themselves were all movie theatre style, high backs and plenty of padding, with plenty of
leg room. Before each fight spectators would place their bets; participants weren't allowed to bet.

All the lights but those in the ring itself went out as numbers one and two were called.

Rick grunted. "Not too bad, I guess. That black has survived more than a few." He snickered at Cal's low growl. "I'm not
praising him. Just an observation. That green dragon…I would bet on the black." Cal growled louder and Rick rolled his
eyes. He grasped Cal's chin and made the dragon look at him. "Cal. I'm yours."

Amber eyes flared, then settled to their usual pale color. Cal nodded and settled back in his seat. "It's hard resisting. If it
was jut a few…but there's what, almost fifty here? I hope I don't have to go through all of them…"

"I doubt it," Rick replied. "Some of these are probably from the entry level, their Owners wanting them to observe, learn to
control themselves with so much fight lust in the air." He slid Cal an amused glance. "A few are from Master level."

Cal snorted and said nothing.

All around them a hush fell as everyone finished placing their bets and a bell rang to start the fight.

It was fast and brutal - Rick had been right about the green. Probably fresh from entry level, not used to a nasty like the

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black, which had obviously been worked to a frenzy pre-fight.

The black lasted the next four fights, but fell to number six, which was a red dragon. Also known as a fire dragon. Blue was
water, green was earth, white was wind. Basic elemental dragons. Black was hybrid - at least two elementals, sometimes
more.

Everyone thought Cal was a four-hybrid black - a black dragon that had bits of all four basic elements. If that were true, it
would draw close in power to the high elementals - inferno, frost, rock, and gale.

High elementals were rare; even harder to find was a pure blood - someone who was more dragon than human. At best,
most dragons were fifty-fifty. To count as pure blood - PB - the count had to be 75-25 dragon to human.

Rick watched as the red dragon beat down the black, then blazed his way straight through to twelve. Number twelve was a
rock dragon, which meant things were finally heating up.

It also meant Tank had been fucking with him, as the bastard would know good and well which dragons had which
numbers. He was setting up Cal to take a fall to a fresh rock, since any high elemental worth his scales would beat down a
red. No doubt the red's owner was just trying to see how far he could push his fire dragon.

Well, Tank was about to learn just how stupid he was. Even if it wasn't the reason they were here, Rick didn't appreciate
being fucked with - especially for something as stupid as money. Nor did he like that someone was trying to set Cal up to
take a beating. A fair fight was one thing…

Beside him Cal growled low, leaning forward to examine his pending opponent as the rock quickly beat an unfortunate
white.

"Fourteen!"

"Come on," Rick said as the lights went up. The ring reeked of blood, sweat, and excited dragon. He handed his chip to the
ref at the door, then walked into the fighting ring.

The owner of the rock was a tall, thin man that Rick immediately felt like punching. Just because his mustache was so
goddamn ugly. He sneered as Rick and Cal entered. "I've heard about you. Cross, isn't it? Is this your black everyone
whispers about?"

Rick finally allowed himself to laugh, throwing his head back and positively shaking with mirth. "It's funny, you know?
Everyone keeps saying Cal is a black. No one ever fucking asked me if that was correct. I don't believe I caught your
name."

The man bristled. "Buckley. What the hell kind of dragon is he, then?"

"I guess you'll see."

Buckley ignored the taunt and continued with his condescension. "You haven't changed him yet? That'll slow him down.
You're more amateur than I thought."

Around them the lights flashed. Rick ignored Buckley in favor of leaning up to kiss Cal. "Love you."

Cal grinned. "Love you too."

Buckley's sneer worsened. "Amateur," he reaffirmed. "What's the cute little dragon's name?" He stroked the head of his own
dragon, which was snarling and growling impatiently. "This is Gargoyle."

"Excalibur," Rick replied, then stole one last kiss before darting from the ring and back up to his seat. A second later the
lights went out.

All around him people whispered and muttered, astonished to see that Cal was still in his human form as the start signal
rang out.

The dark gray rock dragon threw itself at him - Cal dodged neatly away and dropped to all fours as he changed. Freely. At
will. No injection necessary at all.

Whispers turned to gasps, mutters to startled cries as all saw the dragon that gleamed in the light.

Dragons weren't the huge beasts myth and legend took them for. They weren't small either, but somewhere between a

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small pony and large dog. From nose to tip of tail dragons averaged anywhere from twelve to sixteen feet. So far as their
feet went - again more in common with cats. Padding, retractable claws. They had the sinuous, lethal grace of a wild cat
combined the ominous presence of a crocodile, with an extended neck ending in a triangular head full of teeth meant for
tearing flesh from bone. Those unused to the sight of a real dragon often thought them some sort of monster rather than the
popular creatures from legends.

Beasts meant for fighting weren't ever going to look pretty. He still thought Cal beautiful, as stunning as the first day they'd
met. Instead of green, red, black, or any of the other usual colors - Cal's scales glistened like polished steel, as though the
dragon were covered entirely in armor. Scales were armor, of course, but on Cal they actually looked like it. His eyes were
still amber, but rather than pale they flared bright gold with battle lust.

"A knight dragon," someone nearby muttered, and Rick smirked in the dark.

"Impossible," another replied. "They're extinct."

"Extinct? They're legend. Not real. It must be some weird rock. Drugged up or something. Who owns that thing?"

Rick blocked the voices out and let the fight do the talking.

The rock dragon launched himself forward, immediately going for a full attack, and sharp eyes could see that something
was driving it to a near panic - his movements weren't as controlled as they'd been in previous fights.

It was scared of Cal.

With good reason. As the rock dragon reached him, Cal ducked to the side and whipped his tail - there was a resounding
crack as it met the softer underbelly scales of the rock dragon, the sharp metallic-looking scales slicing open the vulnerable
flesh.

Not deeply. The dragon would live. Cal wasn't cruel - just efficient. Taking each dragon he had to fight well and truly out of
the fight would mean fewer dragons to fight later when they tried to break out of here with the kit.

The talking increased in volume as the lights went up and the injured rock was carefully taken away.

Rick ignored the eyes he could feel on him, his own gaze solely for the shining dragon in the middle of the ring. "All the
steak you want, Cal," he murmured softly, smiling faintly at the way the Cal's tail swished lazily back and forth across the
arena floor.

All of this was far too easy for Cal. One of the thousands of reasons they'd never wasted their time with the Pits.

The noise reached a crescendo as men who prided themselves on their cool and aplomb scrambled to learn all they could
of the unexpected new arrival. None of them could agree upon Cal's species, and Rick would have started laughing again
except he wanted to draw as little attention as necessary now.

Cal was a knight dragon. Also known as a steel dragon. There was no species better.

Not to say Cal was perfect, though Rick had a biased opinion of his own on that. All dragons had the same set of
weaknesses - susceptibility to outside magic, that soft underbelly, the long neck could be a problem if dragons didn't guard
properly…there were others, and a few more that changed depending on the species.

Dragons fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen went as quickly as thirteen. Cal wasn't even breaking a sweat. He swiveled his
silver head up to face Rick, baring his teeth in what precious few would realize was a smile. Rick smiled back - then stilled
as he saw number eighteen enter the ring.

Its scales looked like chips of ice, glistening wetly beneath the bright lights.

Glittering metal and shining ice. A pretty contrast, insofar as such violent-looking creatures could be pretty.

Rick shunted his amusement aside and sat up, discarding his beer to watch the arena. That was their kit, sure enough.
Even from here he could see the clouds of frost pulsing from its mouth in time with its breathing.

He could also see Cal was thinking, pondering, communicating with the kit.

Then all hell broke loose as with an earth-shaking roar Cal dove straight through the special-made glass, shattering it like
nothing, the kit bolting after him as they barreled their way right through an emergency exit.

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Rick wasted no time, but turned and bolted for a different door, darting out of it right before someone finally thought to hit
the main lights.

Not his style, but it was the best option - no one would have expected it, they hadn't been here for anyone to grow
suspicious. All they had to do was get the living hell out of dodge.

Avoiding the main ways, Rick tried the first 'employees only' door he saw and bolted down a dim-lit hall which spilled him
into an offshoot of the kitchen. Ignoring the looks and cries, he ran for the back door and across the loading dock, around to
the main parking lot and his bike - parked as close to the road as he'd been able to get it.

He didn't waste time, just threw himself on it and started it up, roaring off before anyone could even think to check outside.

On the highway he allowed himself to breathe a bit, though not entirely relax. They wouldn't be out of the woods for a long
goddamned time now. He hoped Cal and the kit were all right. Anxiety was trying to get the better of him, urge him to go
faster, but the very last thing he should do right now was increase his speed.

The drive was an hour long but it felt like fifty by the time he finally hit the winding road that led straight to the cabin. He
stopped his bike in the open garage - Cal had beat him home then, thank god - mashed the button to close it, punched in
the codes to trigger the security system laid out over the house and several acres of yard, then strode into the house,
locking the door behind him.

He paused in the hallway, then heard noise upstairs. Bolting up the stairs, he strode immediately toward the bedroom - and
finally allowed his tension to ease as Cal caught him up in the doorway with a consuming kiss, all their frustration and worry
and anxiety blending together in it, the force of it bruising Rick's lips before they both finally calmed. "Injuries?" he asked
breathlessly.

"Minor scratches for me, the kit is okay." Cal slowly let go of him and turned toward their bed.

Nevada was fifteen, Chris had said. He looked it - younger, in fact, exhaustion and maltreatment plain on his face and body
though he lie unconscious.

"First time he's changed back in weeks," Cal murmured from behind Rick, settling his chin on Rick's shoulder. "Poor thing's
been fighting every night, usually for rounds at a time. No wins." He growled low, hands resting on Rick's hips, gripping
tightly, just short of bruising. "He's just a kit. Why would they do this?"

"The question is who would do this."

Cal growled more loudly this time, nearly snarling. "That's what I mean. It was his parents that did it. They're the Owners
behind the shadow who fights him."

Rick froze, shock running like ice water through his veins. "What?" he finally managed. "But-" he shook his head. "We need
to call Chris."

"The kit stays with us," Cal said with another low growl. He let go of Rick to move back toward the bed, sitting beside the
sleeping Nevada and bending over him, nuzzling and petting.

Something to which Rick would have taken offense if he hadn't known full well Cal was merely caring for a kit. It was sort of
cute, really. "Does this mean I'm sleeping on the couch?" he grumbled, but with a wink when Cal looked up.

Cal smiled back. "I'll keep you warm." He bent back down to stroke Nevada's hair, nuzzle his cheek. In his sleep, free of
inhibition and human habit, the dragon in Nevada curled closer to the soothing presence of an older dragon that smelled of
comfort and caring. "He'll feel safest here, sleep better."

"I know," Rick said. Cal's scent was thick here, where they slept, loved. At lease he'd changed the sheets that morning with
this in mind. "I'm glad we got him with such little fuss, all things considered."

One last nuzzle and then Cal stood up, pulled the blankets up over the kit, then strode over to wrap himself around Rick,
nuzzling his lover and Owner much as he had Nevada. "Do I get chocolate Ricky?"

"Yes, lizard," Ricky said, rolling his eyes. "When this whole matter is resolved and done with you can have chocolate."

"Chocolate Ricky."

"I said yes!"

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Cal chuckled and backed him into the hallway, leaving the lights on and the door open so the kit would feel less lost and
more welcome to roam whenever he woke. "How did I do?"

"You were magnificent and perfect, lizard, and you know it." Ricky let Cal press him up against the banister, opening his
mouth to take the dragon's eager kiss. "Behave."

Stealing one last kiss, Cal finally backed away. His amber eyes were pale, but held a shine. "We did it."

"We've started anyway," Rick said, taking hold of Cal's hand and leading the way downstairs and into the blue and green
kitchen. He pointed to the table and Cal obediently sat. "Now we have to figure out how to end it." Opening the large fridge,
he pulled out a beer and two large steaks. "I also need to figure out where in the middle of this damn mess I'm supposed to
go grocery shopping." He dropped the steaks in front of Cal, then twisted the cap off his beer and sat down, propping his
feet on the chair opposite.

Cal dug into the steaks, tearing the meat into chunks that were quickly decimated by his sharp teeth. Both steaks were
gone in minutes. "The kit should probably have softer stuff for a bit; he was forced to change right before they threw him in
the ring."

If Rick was capable of growling, he would have. Waking the dragon genes could be painful and was at the very least a fuck
of a surprise - especially if Nevada hadn't known he had dragon genes sleeping in his system. "Did the kit know?"

"No," Cal said with the growl Rick felt. "We didn't talk much before we got home and he passed out after I helped him
change back…he said his mother and stepfather forced him into it. They…owe money. A lot of it. To a man high up the Pit
chain. He persuaded them to put him in the rings."

Rick swore, stomach souring. "We need to call Chris." Setting his beer down, he went into the hall to fetch the cordless
phone, snatched up the business card he'd left beside it and punched the number in as he walked back into the kitchen.

The line picked up on the second ring. "White Detective Agency. Chris speaking."

"Chris. Ricky. We have the kit. Shit you need to know before you tell anyone."

"I might already know it. Be there in a second."

"Let me turn off the alarms."

A soft laugh. "No alarm can sense me." The phone went dead.

Cal snarled and stood up, whipping around to face the hallway.

"Neat trick," Rick said shortly, stroking Cal's hair soothingly. "Mind telling me how you did it? We're rigged to block that kind
of magic."

Chris smirked - and suddenly Rick could see straight through him. "That's a new one on me."

Cal growled low but subsided beneath Rick's petting.

"So you're…part spook or something? What do you already know that I was going to tell you?"

Chris grimaced. "I've been putting all my efforts toward finding Nevada, which meant digging through what I could find on
the Pits and all. With you helping, I finally was able to turn my attention to motive. I'm finding some interesting shit on the
kid's parents. Specifically, his mother and stepfather. Father died years ago - I think it's that side of the family that carried
the dragon genes."

"Yeah," Rick said, still petting Cal, who'd resumed growling softly. "Cal managed to speak to him a bit before the kit passed
out. "The parents are behind it."

"I wasn't yet sure if it was one or both. The mother looked suitably distraught, very good actress, the bitch." Chris scrubbed
a hand through his hair. "That would explain all the trouble I went through with my client."

Rick tilted his head. "Who was the client?"

"Kennedy Montserrat, Nevada's stepbrother. He sent me a note via a servant in the household, asked me to meet him in the
backroom of a store he goes to often. Told me it was important no one knew I'd been hired - he was terrified, pale as a
goddamned ghost and I should know, that they'd kill Nev. I don't think he knows his parents did it; he would have told me.

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Whatever their folks are up to or into, the brothers are tight and not part of it - until Nev was kidnapped."

Cal looked up at Rick and the two exchanged a look. "Tight, you say?"

"Yeah," Chris said. "The poor kid was all but in tears when he was hiring me; you could see it was taking everything he had
to act like an adult and not fall apart." He shrugged. "There's a bond; I'm guessing from your expressions it's a dragon
thing."

Rick gave a shrug of his own. "Maybe, but not necessarily. Cal said the kit didn't know he was a dragon, which is going to
be hard on him in a lot of ways. If he's already formed a bond, albeit unwittingly…then we can train the Owner while we
train the dragon. That would make life easier for both of them, if they're as close as you say."

Chris shook his head. "Most of what you're saying doesn't make sense to me. Dragons are something I've never dealt with
before. I've learned a bit doing this - enough to know I'm glad they're not a frequent problem."

"Be very grateful," Rick said, his laughter mingling with Cal's. "Bonding…dragons are possessive of their lovers - who
should be their Owners but aren't always. And lover doesn't mean mate in the breeding sense - that's entirely separate." He
ruffled Cal's hair, the dragon turning his head and nipping Rick's stomach in retaliation. "Cal has three kits being raised by
their mother back home, which is how it's done traditionally. Not like…everywhere else." Rick shrugged again. "Everywhere
else they're raised as humans, and injected with the appropriate triggers to change one way or the other. That's rough…
even rougher on a kit like Nevada, who didn't know what was going to happen to him, only to be thrown immediately into
the Pits. They probably kept him scared and frightened…if what you say about this stepbrother is true, it's possible they
threatened to hurt him if Nevada didn't fight. We'll learn more when the kit wakes."

"You keep calling him a kit."

"Term for young dragons. Habit. Where we were raised, dragons are still mostly dragon which means they're properly
raised. People often forget that dragons have just been bred to transform into humans - it's not much different from treating
a werewolf or a demon like a human just because they look like'em most of the time."

Chris grunted. "You don't need to tell me that, trust me. My staff includes a witch, a werewolf, a vampire, and an imp - free
and mature. Never mind I'm a consort."

Rick grinned. "I guess I'm instructing the wrong person."

"Just maybe," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "So the parents are definitely behind this, then. Great. What the hell do I do with
the kid? Kit."

"We're keeping him," Cal replied with a barely-suppressed growl. "Bring his Owner." His arms wrapped tight around Rick's
waist, an obvious attempt to still the restless, angry energy that was all but pouring off him.

Chris lifted a brow.

Rick soothed Cal gently, petting his hair and rubbing along his back. "Like I said, he was bred a few years ago. The fathers
have practically nothing to do with raising the kits - that's left to the mothers and their Owners. All dragons have protective
instincts, though, when it's not beat out of them with everything else in the Pits. Especially those who have already had kits.
Cal's…adopted him, more or less."

"I'll bring Kenny. I have to tell him Nevada's been rescued, he'll want to see him." Suddenly he looked tired, raking a hand
through his hair again. "Fuck, how do you tell a kid his parents are fucking assholes? I'll be back in, oh, half an hour or so.
Fuck, what a night."

Cal nuzzled the stomach he'd recently been nipping. "It's okay we keep the kit?"

"As if you'd give me a choice, lover," Rick said fondly, burying his hands in Cal's thick hair and tilting his head up to lean
down and take a long, lingering kiss. "Of course it's okay. I'm sure we old people could use the, uh, excitement a couple of
teenagers always bring." He made a face, but smiled. "Especially a traumatized kit and what will no doubt be an equally
distraught young Owner. At least we won't be bored…" He smirked. "Though it also means you'll have to wait a long time for
your chocolate. The last thing that kit is going to need is to smell you all hot and bothered."

Growling low, Cal pulled his head free of Rick's hands and again nipped his stomach, shifting around in his seat so that he
could pull Rick between his thighs, hands trailing up Rick's thighs to his ass, gripping it tight as he tugged Rick even closer.
He tugged Rick's t-shirt out of his jeans, shoving it up to get his teeth against bare skin.

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Rick shivered but resisted letting the teasing get more heated. "Half an hour, Cal, before they're back. The kit's going to be
hungry when he wakes up."

Cal lapped at the marks he'd left, soothing the red indentions that would shortly turn to bruises. Owning a dragon meant he
hadn't been free of bruises practically from the day they'd met - definitely from the day they'd become lovers.

Leaning down, Rick took a last deep, hard kiss, letting Cal go only when oxygen became a requirement. Ever pushy and
teasing, Cal bit down on his lower lip as Rick pulled away, leaving a sting that bled slightly.

"Behave," Rick said firmly. He licked blood from his lip. "You taste like dead cow."

Cal wrinkled his nose. "So romantic."

"Eat roses instead of dead cow and maybe I will be," Rick said with a laugh, then moved away to retrieve his beer. "Though
speaking of food, I should probably eat something. I doubt there's going to be much in the way of sleep tonight…"

He could feel Cal's eyes on him as he set about making a sandwich - turkey with all the fixings. Lots of mustard.

"Yech," Cal said. "You put the mustard there on purpose."

Rick snorted. "Yeah, so a certain dumb lizard doesn't steal my eats. If you're still that hungry, have a snack - a small one!"

"The only snack I want is you. I was good. I should get a Ricky."

"Shut up, lizard," Rick said, biting into his sandwich to hide a smile.

Cal stuck his tongue out, but conceded defeat by going to the fridge and pulling out a small container filled with ground beef.

"Try eating vegetables, you dumb lizard. Dragons do not survive on meat alone."

"No," Cal said, defiantly eating a chunk of ground beef.

Rick rolled his eyes, but the familiar argument was waylaid as the sounds of a snarling dragon just barely reached their
ears.

Cal immediately dropped his food, his own snarl filling the house.

"Calm down!" Rick snapped. He strode to the security control panel and deactivated it. "Come on, let's get this over with. I
was really hoping they'd fall off coming up the road…" Sighing, he gave his sandwich and beer a longing look then led the
way to the front door. Unlocking the deadbolt, he stepped back to allow Cal to precede him out. "Behave," he warned.

A growling acknowledgement was Cal's only reply as he shifted smoothly from human to dragon. His scales shone in the
moonlight as he prowled out into the front yard and tensed for attack. Rick stopped a couple of feet behind him.

Slowly their guests appeared over the last rise, moving quickly now that Rick's security system was no longer an
impediment. They stopped a dozen feet or so away.

Three red dragons, two black. Only four Owners, so two of the dragons must be siblings not inclined toward being split up.

"Tank, go the hell home. What the fuck are you doing here?" Rick asked, stifling a sigh. "I didn't even know you'd gotten a
dragon."

Tank motioned to one of the blacks. "Been holding him back until I could put him straight into Master. He's a fine beast." His
eyes strayed to Cal. "Nothing like yours though." In front of him, the black dragon growled.

Rick wondered sadly if Tank even noticed the hurt tone to it. Dragons were possessive of their Owners, even when the
choice of Owner was taken from them and 'lover' wasn't part of the equation. The very least Tank could do was show a bit
of loyalty back.

Pit Owners never cared though. If they did, they wouldn't Pit their dragons.

"Keep your eyes off my dragon and stop hurting yours," Rick said sharply, knowing it was useless but unable not to help a
dragon right in front of him. "I'd prefer you just get the hell off my property and stay off it, but I doubt I'll be that lucky."

"Steel dragons are extinct," another Owner said, a light-haired older man Rick didn't recognize. Of the four, Tank was the
only one he did recognize. "How do you have an extinct dragon?"

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Rick snorted. "Obviously they're not extinct. How I have one is none of your goddamn business." Never mind he and Cal
were forbidden to talk about it. Even the small bit he'd told Chris about Cal being properly raised was pushing it. "Get the
hell out of here before you find out why he's not extinct."

"Yeah, we all saw what he did. The dragons aside, that glass was made with crushed dragon scale - he shouldn't have
been able to break it."

He was losing patience. "Did you girls come here to gossip about my dragon or to pick a fight? Either way, I'll thank you to
go the fuck away already. I would like to finish my dinner and go to bed."

One of the Owners sneered, a brown-haired man who looked like he spent his winnings paying off food bills. "Yeah, we all
saw what you keep in your bed."

Cal bared his teeth and growled, causing the other dragons to tense even further. They sensed a real threat, and they
wouldn't be used to fighting outside of the Pits and all their training.

"That's none of your business," Rick said, wanting badly to roll his eyes.

Tank shot the other Owners a warning look. "Look, we're just here to take back the frost. Boss's orders. Says it belongs to
him until further notice."

"You can tell your boss to kiss my goddamn ass. The kit is ours now, and if he ever tries to make an underage Pit fight
again, I'll show him just how nasty a knight dragon can be. Understand me? Get the fuck off my property before you get a
taste of that nastiness yourself." Cal's growl backed up the words.

"Underage?" Tank repeated "What in the fuck are you talking about?"

Rick just looked at him. "Go to hell. How the fuck could you possibly miss that kit is too goddamn young to be fighting? Are
you stupid or just blind? He's barely twelve feet nose to tail, his scales are still hardening - I could see that at a goddamn
distance - and he has way too much power for an older dragon."

"You didn't see him fight," an Owner pointed out.

"But you did!" Rick snarled. "All of you. He's a goddamn kit. Barely fifteen. We're keeping him. If it's money your boss wants,
tell him to let me know how much."

"You couldn't pay it."

Rick sneered. "Get off my land. Tell your boss to kiss my ass."

"You're awfully high and mighty," the last Owner said. A flick of his fingers, a muttered hiss of sound, and the second black
dragon leapt forward.

"Fool," Rick said with a soft sigh.

Cal dodged the black's graceful leap, then sprang suddenly forward while the black was still landing, sinking his teeth into its
throat, not quite hard enough to draw blood, then reared up as he pivoted to throw the black into two reds as they sprang
forward to join the fight.

The last red bounded over the disjointed pile of the other three, scorching breath flaring out. Rick recoiled from the heat of
the blast, but short of turning his head to protect his face, Cal gave no indication of being anything more than vaguely
amused as he walked toward the red that was now retreating.

Dragons like this had never fought a knight dragon.

They were as perfect as dragons could be - it was from them the other breeds had been created, the different abilities
separated out by careful, selective breeding and refined slowly over the years to create the elemental breeds now known.
The High Elements were actually truer, the basic elements only watered down versions of them.

Ironic that blacks were now so highly prized, when once they'd only been the starting point to fully separating out the
different elements.

The idiots didn't stand a chance - it was like pitting housecats against a wild cat. Except these poor dragons could only do
what their Owners said.

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"Cal, knock them out. I want this over with."

Growling a low acknowledgement, Cal went from defensive to offensive, quickly knocking out all four dragons. In the middle
of the fallen dragons, his scales gleamed with startling brightness in the moonlight, except where fire had blackened them.
Nothing a cleaning wouldn't fix.

"How is that possible?" Tank asked.

"If you're any sort of owner," Rick said curtly, "you know the legends."

"They're legends, Cross."

Rick did roll his eyes that time. "Yes, Cal is a legend. A legend just took out four dragons in a matter of minutes. Christ,
where the hell do they dig you people up?" He reached out to stroke Cal's smooth, slick scales as the dragon sat down
beside him.

Tank's reply was cut off as two figures suddenly appeared at the edge of the yard.

Chris frowned. "I thought I felt something." He narrowed his eyes at Tank and the others. "What are you doing here, besides
the obvious?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Tank demanded.

"Chris White," Chris replied, striding toward them. "I was hired to find a kidnapped frost dragon. If you're here to take him,
you can go the hell away."

The owner of the black Cal had thrown stepped forward. "If we're not listening to him," he pointed to Rick, "then we're
certainly not listening to you. Ain't your yard."

In reply, Chris merely threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing out across the mountains around them. Then he
abruptly stopped, and lifted his right hand. A ring glittered there, the diamond set in it remarkable in size and brilliance.

"Oh, fuck," Tank hissed. "You're that detective."

"That's right," Chris said. "I know something a lot worse than a shiny dragon so go the fuck away."

Tank nodded. "We're leaving."

"What!"

"Shut it," Tank snarled. "Dragons I deal with." He looked at Chris, then hastily looked away. "Demons I don't. We're out. I'll…
give the boss your message, Cross."

"Do that." He watched them until they were out of sight, and didn't relax until Cal shifted back to human. "What a night." He
didn't protest as Cal wrapped an arm around him, wrapping his own around Cal's waist in a loose embrace. He glanced at
Chris. "I prefer to handle my own fights…"

Chris grimaced. "I don't like flashing my power, but my client is more important." He turned and motioned the other man for -
a boy, really. Fifteen, maybe sixteen, with the sort of pale blonde hair that kids usually outgrew. A light tan, brown eyes wide
with confusion, no doubt some fear, red from where he'd clearly been crying. Gangly, awkward, as they always were at that
age. Eventually, though, he'd be a handsome young man. Ideally, one with a dragon at his side.

"Let's get inside," Rick said, and ushered everyone into the house and to the living room.

"Where's Nev?" the kid asked anxiously. "Is he okay? Hurt? Chris said he was a dragon…" He looked anxiously around,
hands clenching and unclenching. "Uh. Thank you for saving him. Is he okay?"

Rick chuckled softly. "He's upstairs, kid. Last room down the hall. Go ahead - but don't wake him. He'll like your closeness,
but he needs rest."

"Okay," the kid called over his shoulder as he bolted.

Cal rumbled in amusement and nuzzled Rick's cheek. "He acts like you that time I fell into the canyon."

"Definitely an Owner, I'd say. Poor kids, stuck with each other at so young an age." He laughed as Cal nipped his throat.

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"Behave!"

Chris looked at them. "So you're keeping them both?"

"Yeah," Rick replied. "We'll take care of them. Raise them the way dragons and Owners should be raised. What are we
going to do about the parents?"

Blue eyes gleamed, and the look on Chris's face reminded Rick forcibly, and perhaps made it truly clear for the first time,
that this man was the consort of a demon lord. "I'll take care of them. I should destroy the Pit. All of them. I wish it was
worth the effort."

"They'd just build a new one somewhere else; at least here they'll be careful now not to ever draw your attention again. I've
never seen Tank go pale before; that was goddamn funny."

Chris smiled briefly. "Tell the kid his payment is to keep his ass here for however long you deem necessary. And speaking
of payment, what would you like in return for helping me?"

"We've got all we need," Rick said, smiling faintly. "Isn't that right, Cal?"

The dragon muttered something against his neck, too low for Chris to catch. Rick laughed softly at his confusion. "He said
'Camelot.'

Chris only looked more confused.

"There's an old legend about dragons, I don't know if you've heard it…"

"No. Facts are what interest me. I have no patience for legends." Chris made a face. "Even if some would count me one."

Rick chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you would be. But the legend about dragons…they say there once was a man who was
destined to be king. To help in that pursuit, a priestess created for him a weapon mightier than any other, so grand and fine
that it had no equal." He stroked Cal's cheek as the dragon lifted his head to, their eyes locked. "The weapon responded
only to the rightful king, obeyed only his will and commands."

"A dragon," Chris said.

"Yes. With scales the color of polished steel, so powerful it was nearly invincible. Its descendants were the same, dragons of
unequal power who obeyed only those who carried the blood of the great king."

Chris shook his head. "An interesting legend. So this is your Camelot?"

"Yeah," Rick said. "It's not much, but it's all we want. If you insist on paying us, though - you can get someone to go grocery
shopping for me. I don't want to go far from the house until those two are firmly settled."

"Done," Chris said. "Thanks for everything."

"We were happy to help."

With a last nod and wave, Chris vanished.

Rick groaned and stripped out of his jacket, then kicked off his shoes before stretching out on the long, suede couch. Cal
settled out along his side, sharp nails raking lightly up and down his chest in a rough, idle caress. "It's quiet up there."

"Sleeping," Cal replied with a yawn of his own.

"Better catch some Z's of our own then. Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a goddamn day, and that only the beginning."

Cal leaned up to kiss him, soft and sweet. "They're cute though. Love you."

"They are," Rick agreed. He curled his arms around Cal and closed his eyes, settling back against the couch. "Though not
cute enough they're keeping my bed. Love you too."

Pack

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"What is the trouble, Oliver?" Tori looked up through the thick glass wall of the meeting room - Oliver's office was always a
mess - as the lawyer strode from the office.

Hello.

Tori kept his portfolio open to seem occupied and discreetly watched the man speaking with Oliver. Glaringly out of place in
just jeans, a denim jacket, and a faded t-shirt with some obscure band name. He wore the look well, though, his overlong,
shaggy hair a perfect touch - and the glasses making him borderline adorable. Looked about twenty five or so, though with
wolves it could be hard to tell; they tended to age well and Tori would bet anything the man was werewolf. That, of course,
begged the questions of why he was alone - werewolves almost never traveled alone. They far preferred to travel in pairs at
least, usually two or three. It was their nature.

As Tori watched, the man spoke quietly, awkwardly to Oliver. It was a mystery how he'd even gotten in the office…except
that the secretary was never at her desk if she could help it. Tori wondered how much longer it would take Oliver to fire the
woman, who spent more time flirting with the law clerks than doing her job.

The man bobbed a half bow, an unusual affectation except amongst paranormals, especially the higher ones - demons,
vampires, and werewolves, who clung tightly to old rules and styles. Oliver said something else, then turned and strode
back to the meeting room. Sitting down, he picked up his cell phone - but spoke to Tori.

"He came because someone told him I was the contact for your property - specifically, the old cabin at the top."

Tori blinked. "He wants that moldy old cabin I should really get around to knocking down? I always mean to put a
guesthouse up there, complete with sauna to taunt Ricky's Cal. What did he say?"

Still acting as though he was speaking into his phone, Oliver replied, "I guess he read one of the old ads, wanted to know if
it was still for rent. I told him I didn't believe so, but I'd call the owner and ask."

Chuckling at the phone antic, Tori snuck another glance through the door. A werewolf, eh? Handsome…and alone for some
odd reason. A lone wolf? Rare. Had he done something to anger his pack? Maybe he should confirm… "Werewolf?"

"Yes," Oliver murmured, motioning as though locked in argument with the person on the other end of the line. "Smelled a bit
like blood, I think he's been in a fight recently. You aren't thinking of agreeing?"

Tori shrugged and smiled briefly. "Why not? A lone wolf would hardly prove anything but interesting to Sie and Ril…and I
am rather curious. Tell him the owner would be willing to rent it out - set the rent at something low but not so low it would
sound strange. Four hundred? Try three hundred." He shrugged again. "We can dump the money into my stocks. Manage
the details."

Oliver nodded and shut his phone with a click, then stepped back outside and spoke rapidly with the werewolf - who flashed
a grin so brilliant Tori barely kept himself from staring. Oh, yes. Sie and Ril would like this one very much. A second later he
was enthusiastically shaking Oliver's hand before bolting from the office.

Chuckling, shaking his head in amusement, Oliver strode back into the meeting room and resumed his seat. "Well, you have
a new tenant. I told him he could move in immediately; rent checks are to be sent here first of each month - I waived this
month in exchange for handling the setting up of electricity and all. The money will be forwarded to your broker."

"Excellent. What was his name?"

"Hmm? Oh." Oliver looked up from the papers he'd abandoned when the werewolf showed up. "Kipling Blue."

"From the Blue pack?"

"One would presume," Oliver said disinterestedly. "What did you want to do with the property in Inglington?"

"Sell it. The one in Gorton as well. With the profits from those sales, we should be able to buy up the last of the land the
Clan needs. Keep the property in Kenton; I think Ricky's new housemates will like it when that frost is old enough to need
space of its own. Forward everything to Ricky, tell him we can arrange the details later."

Oliver nodded. "Very well. Anything else?"

"Yes," Tori replied, eyes on door through which the werewolf had vanished. "I want to know more about Blue."

"As you wish. I've got an intern who could stand to do some grunt work." He smiled, a hint of his fangs showing. "Shall we
meet again same time next week?"

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"Of course," Tori replied. He stood and smoothed out his black pinstripe suit and deep burgundy tie, a perfect compliment to
his dark brown hair and rust-brown eyes. "Come for lunch sometime."

Oliver snorted. "So your damn lizards can play tag with me like they did my assistant? I think not. I prefer to maintain some
of my dignity."

Laughing, Tori waved goodbye and strode from the office to the elevator lobby.

Downstairs, he brushed through the crowded lobby and out into the bustling street. A second later his car pulled up, the
chauffer climbing out and opening the door for him. Tori slid into the back seat and settled against plush leather, closing his
eyes and sighing.

"Home in an hour, sir."

Tori grimaced. "Make it forty five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

He dozed lightly as the battle with traffic gradually moved into a road in the countryside, into roads that were little more than
dirt or rock, a strange contrast to the sleek back auto.

"Here you are, sir."

"Thank you, Wilson. Same time next week, if you please."

"Of course, sir."

Handing the man a fifty dollar bill, Tori waited until he'd driven away before turning and striding up the steps of his luxury
cabin - he'd liked Ricky's so much, his brother had designed a similar one for him.

He locked the door behind him and reactivated the security system - it deactivated automatically with the special made
keys, a toy made by Dri. "I'm home!" he called, though of course Sie and Ril would already know that.

Nothing.

Tori rolled his eyes and stripped out of his blazer, leaving it and the silk tie draped over the stair banister. Unfastening the
top three buttons of his shirt, he then strode down the hallway toward the back of the house. His fingers brushed along the
bottom edge of a simple pale gold frame, which set off a landscape painting of an old castle shining beneath the moon.

At the end of the hall was a set of French doors, stained dark gold though the designer had tried to insist on painting them
white - Tori had fired her after she'd suggested pink in the living room to give the house a 'feminine touch'. As if he cared
about females.

The French doors led to a wide sunroom, the hardwood floor covered with scattered rugs in blues, cream, and gold. The
furniture matched, deep soft couches and warm gold whicker. Glass top tables and paper lanterns for evening - currently
late afternoon sunshine spilled through the screens.

On the long, wide couch two figures were twined together, dozing lazily in the sunshine, looking more like cats than
dragons.

"You two are the laziest…I feed you, house you, let you run wild on acres of land costing me hundreds of thousands of
dollars…and what do I get after a hard day of work? Not even a kiss."

The dragons chuckled and stirred on the couch, shifting from their glinting steel-colored dragons forms to human. Compact,
toned figures with shoulder-length, curly gold-brown hair and amber eyes. Mirror images of each other. They held out their
arms, untwining enough to make a space for him, dragging Tori down as he drew close.

Warm lips eagerly, greedily, sought his. One twin, then the other, taking a deep kiss before those lips moved to the rest of
his face, his neck, as fingers stole into his shirt to explore skin.

"Missed you, Tori."

"Gone too long."

Tori snorted softly and allowed the dragons to push him onto his back. He curved one hand around Sie's waist, his other

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around Ril's, and tugged them down to curl up against his sides. They nuzzled and pet, nipping and lapping at his throat. "I
was gone five hours, and I can see you barely noticed."

Sie nipped hard where his pulse beat, guaranteed to leave a bruise.

"Sie," Tori said, voice firm.

A tongue lapped at the forming bruise, an apology.

"I know very well you missed me. Did you do anything besides lay about?"

"Ran. Played. Almost went in the hot tub but decided to come here instead."

Ril leaned up enough to steal a proper kiss, his hair soft against Tori's cheeks. "Did you bring us cookies?"

"No, I did not bring you cookies," Tori said, rolling his eyes at the twin pouts. He gave a long-suffering sigh. "I told you I
would make some tonight. The groceries will be delivered in about an hour or so. There are other things to eat besides
cookies in the mean time."

Sie sniffed. "What's better than cookies? Other than Tori."

"Nothing," Ril agreed.

Tori laughed. "You two are hopeless. I think I may have something better than cookies, though. A puppy is going to be
renting the old cabin."

On either side of him, the dragons rippled with surprise. "A puppy?" Ril asked.

"A werewolf. Loner. Seemed sort of sad. Asked Oliver if he could rent the cabin - I told Oliver to let him."

Now the twins began to all but vibrate. Unlike most dragons, they loved to have playmates, companions. Something about
having each other only made them want more. Unfortunately, other dragons were fairly solitary and didn't want other
dragons in their territory - minus Cal and Lin, but they lived hours away with Tori's brothers. Other races were simply too
intimidated to play with dragons.

Ril and Sie were generally nothing more than over sized cats with shiny scales instead of fur. They could be as nasty and
brutal as any other dragon, and could hold their own against the rest of the Clan just fine…but they liked to play, and nap,
and steal more cookies than they could actually eat.

"Will he play?" Ril asked. They had recently turned twenty-six, but were far mellower than most dragons at that age. Perfect
for him, who had always been too serious for his age. Even Dri said so, and he had no room to talk.

Tori frowned in thought. "We'll see. A lone wolf always wants a home…give him his space, you two. At least until I've
learned more about him." He spoke firmly, emphasizing he was giving them an order - as their Owner, he would be obeyed
even if they disliked it. "I guess we'll know for certain how he'd take to it when he smells dragon all over the forest. Keep
away, let him get comfortable. We'll see how he does…and if he doesn't run, perhaps you'll have someone to play with."

Sie nibbled at his neck. "Is he pretty?"

"Quite pretty," Tori replied, gasping as Ril shoved his shirt open and bit down on one nipple with his sharp teeth, then
lapped at it with his rough tongue. "About your age. Glasses. Shaggy looking. You'll like him."

Making a sound that in a cat would have been a purr, Sie leaned up to kiss him. "Tori likes him, so we will too." He turned
to kiss his brother, a sight that never failed to take Tori's breath away, leave him hot and aching. So very fine, his dragons.
Born of the same egg, sharing a rare bond, and for that reason beyond the control of most - rare was the person who could
tame two dragons.

For that reason, and in the spirit of his older brothers in all their cheesiness, he'd named them after the seat in which only
knight could sit - Siege and Perilous. To tame twins took a man willing to play with them…and rather a more open mind
than most had. More than a few of the Clan had raised their eyebrows high at some of their antics.

That stuffiness was only one reason he, Ricky, and Dri had all left.

Tori moaned as the twins kissed again, his fingers flexing on their smooth, golden skin. They broke apart panting and
descended upon him, Ril biting hard, Sie soothing the marks with his tongue. Two sets of hands stripped away his shirt and

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opened his pants, tugging at his cock, rolling his balls. The twins each gave him another hard, hungry kiss, leaving his lips
bruised. As they kissed each other again, Tori came with a hoarse cry. A second later the twins followed, shouting his
name, each other's, before they collapsed on either side of him.

"Up," he said after awhile. "Shower. Then eat, because I doubt you miscreants bothered to while I was gone."

Lazy, sloppy kisses trailed along each of his cheeks. "Warm sun. No Tori. Weren't hungry."

"Tori back. New toy. Hungry."

Teeth nipped his throat, and Tori started to finally notice all the new, slight aches scattered along his shoulders and chest -
owning a dragon, never mind two, guaranteed a lifetime of bruises and bite marks. "I am not a steak, you brats."

"Better than," Ril said with another bite.

Tori grunted, then smacked both their backsides. "Shower time, let's go."

*~*~*~*

Kipling padded to the edge of the woods, stopping just far enough back that he wouldn't draw the attention of the three
down below.

Down in the valley below was a large pond, complete with a small waterfall. The water was a deep blue-green, surrounded
by lush greenery and wildflowers. To one side was a large, flat rock on which a man stretched out to soak up the sun. He
was stunning. Tall, slender, dark wavy brown hair. Sprinklings of it across his chest, darker at his groin. Muscular, but not
overly.

The other two were shorter, all tight, toned muscle and sun-darkened skin. Even from a distance he could see those
muscles flex and move as they splashed and played in the water, chased each other - completely nude - around the field
before going back to the water. They had curly gold hair that fell in wild tangles to their shoulders.

Dragons. His very first day up here he had smelled dragon. It had terrified him, to realize he was so close to creatures so
dangerous. He'd been to the Pits before, back before he'd been driven from the pack. Hated it, even as the fighting lust
excited the animal in him. Nothing was more awful than seeing such beautiful creatures so maltreated.

Except in all those visits to the Pits, he'd never seen dragons like this. Scales the color of steel, flashing in the sunlight as
though truly made of metal. As beautiful as they were dangerous.

Kipling wasn't even certain why he'd been allowed to rent a cabin anywhere near dragons. They were notoriously territorial,
even more so than werewolves. No dragon would ever tolerate having another predator in their territory.

Then again, of what possible threat could a lone werewolf be to two dragons? If they noticed him at all, it was no doubt in a
vaguely amused sort of way. In the six weeks he'd been here, they'd done nothing to acknowledge his presence. They didn't
care. Instead, he'd come across them and their Owner here one day…and had been unable to stop searching them out,
though always from a distance and never for longer than a half hour or so.

Watching them hurt. Not just because all three were so very fine…they were obviously a pack. Mates, even. It made him
ache for the home he no longer had. Would never have again.

He wasn't sorry he'd done it. It had been necessary - but it had cost him everything. Home. Family. Pack. Now he was
nothing and the people he'd grown up with were hunting him down.

At least they weren't likely to find him here. He'd made damned certain the trail went cold.

The twins climbed from the water onto the rock where their Owner lay, and Kipling gave a wolfish grin, tongue lolling, as he
watched the Owner protest being covered in cold, wet water - though those protests almost immediately changed into
something else entirely.

Kipling whined softly and turned away, racing back through the forest, up higher into the mountains toward the ramshackle
cabin that was now his home. It was as sad and pathetic as he was now. All that he was fit for anymore.

His claws clicked on the old wooden porch. Even his wolf form caused him pain these days, though to deny it would be like
trying to give up breathing. Dark gray fur and the trademark deep blue eyes of the Blue pack. The pack he was no longer
part of. Kipling wanted to cry, to howl his pain away - but such a display in the territory of dragons who permitted him to stay
would be poor behavior.

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Shifting, Kipling raked back his thick, black hair - it was badly in need of a cut, but he never felt like seeing to it. No but him
cared how he looked anymore.

Fucking hell, he was sick of his own company. Maybe the dragons would stay inside tonight and he could go for a real run,
just let the wolf take over and work out all his frustrations. He couldn't spend the rest of his life depressed. Somehow he'd
get through it.

The cabin was pure dumb luck. That stupid snotty lawyer hadn't liked him at all, but somehow Kipling had lucked out. It
wasn't much - especially when he was used to being one of the Alpha's personal assistants. Not much, but far better than
being dead.

Patting his pockets, Kipling pulled out his glasses and slipped them on. A lifetime of reading, writing, and working with
computers had left him near sighted.

Sighing, Kipling dropped down onto the garage-sale couch he'd picked up a few days after moving in. It was the most
hideous shade of green on the face of the planet, but he hadn't been able to get away with much money. Once it was safer
to venture about, he'd have to get work…

That was depressing him all over again. He'd been a personal assistant to the Alpha of the Blue pack. Now he'd have to be
an office monkey or something equally horrendous. Which wasn't really the problem. He didn't miss the pomp and
circumstance of the life; these mountains were beautiful. It was the solitude. Wolves didn't deal well alone. He wasn't
handling it well at all.

Damn it. He needed a drink. This whole fucking mess was driving him insane. Nobility was highly fucking overrated. The
next time he felt like doing the "right thing" he was going to kick his conscious in the goddamned ass. All the right thing had
gotten him was abject misery.

Mope. Sulk. Whine. Bitch. Obviously he was good for nothing anymore. Sighing, Kipling dragged himself off the couch and
to the little corner kitchen. His fridge was an ancient ugly yellow thing but it still worked. Pulling out a longneck and twisting
off the cap, Kipling strode back outside to sit on the porch steps.

The warm breeze felt good on his face, carrying a thousand scents to him. Pine, water, all manner of animals - dragons.
Gods above they smelled good. All he'd had were trace scents and those made him all but dizzy. It had freaked him out the
first time he'd realized what the smell was…but almost immediately he'd found it appealing. Like sun-warmed metal,
mingled with the sharp, tangy scent that only came off animals truly wild. To ever call a dragon tame was a foolish, stupid
thing.

Every now and then he caught a hint of their Owner too - like wild grass and aloe, fresh and clean, so fine a contrast
against the sharp, wild tang of the dragons. If he ever got a chance to smell them up close, it would likely drive him insane.
Intoxicating was the best word for it. Those scents tortured and soothed all at once.

The first time he'd found them in the pond he'd nearly expired on the spot. His life might suck, but he plenty of images to
keep him distracted on lonely nights - even if in the morning the ache was deeper than ever. Sighing at himself, Kipling
drew one knee up and rest his forehead against it, setting the longneck down.

Pack. He wanted a pack. Instead he'd never have anyone. Other packs would never take a banished wolf. He had nowhere
else to go.

All because of that stupid, back stabbing bitch. He'd kill her all over again even if it meant his life turned into a living hell.
Whine and moan as he did, he wasn't sorry he'd killed her.

It was just a goddamn pity no one fucking believed him when he said the fucking bitch was a backstabber who'd tried to sell
Blue out. No, she'd had the last laugh there. Everyone thought he'd done it out of jealousy. If only they'd fucking listened!

Maybe over time the truth would come out and they'd let him go home. Not that he really wanted to. The pain of knowing
not even his sire had been willing to trust him was one that would never fade.

He couldn't take this. Snatching up his beer, Kipling downed it in one long swallow then let the empty bottle clatter to the
porch. Moving up the steps, he stretched out along the porch and closed his eyes. Nap until dark, then it would be time to
run.

Kipling woke with a start, immediately shifting, tensing for a fight. Something was different. He sniffed the air, searching for
what had changed. Froze in shock as realization flooded him.

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The dragons. He smelled like the dragons. Their scent was all over him…like they'd been right here. Had scented him.

It made him cold with fear to realize that he'd slept right through it. Two dragons had snuck to his cabin and touched him
and he'd not stirred a bit. What did that mean? He'd stayed out of their way, had been so careful not to seem a threat. Why
were they bothering him? Scenting him?

Snarling, Kipling threw himself off the porch and raced off into the forest, following scent and memory down the mountain to
the valley where the dragons' cabin resided. Barely had he cleared the forest when he saw them.

Their steel-colored scales flashed like silver in the moonlight as they slunk off the back porch and into the yard. They sat
back on their haunches and waited for him. Behind them, on the porch, the dark haired man sat smoking a cigar.

Kipling bared his teeth and growled - but stayed well back. If he angered the dragons, it would take no effort on their part to
kill him.

The dragons gave what seemed to be smiles, though with that much teeth showing in such hard faces Kipling wasn't sure.
They slunk toward him. Kipling continued to growl low as they circled him, slid and rubbed against him. He fought to keep
growling, not to whimper as the sheer smell of them finally began to invade his anger, overwhelm his senses. Those scents.
He wanted to drown in the smell of them, hot metal and untamable creature. He snarled when teeth nipped his side, jerking
away - but that only sent him into the other dragon, who nipped in turn.

"Behave!" the dark haired man said sharply from the porch. "You have manners, use them."

Making a series of sharp, chirping sounds the dragon bowed their heads in obedience. Then they started nudging him
forward, across the yard. Kipling attempted to get away, go back, but one werewolf against two dragons had only one
result.

"Pretty, pretty," the dark haired man murmured as the dragons herded him right up to the porch. The man took a pull on his
cigar and then set it aside. "Come here," he said, voice gentle but firm - the tone of an Owner, a master. Kipling could not
resist, not when he ached so deeply for an Alpha to follow, a pack to which he could belong.

Fingers sank into his fur, petting roughly, knowingly. Before he could stop himself, unable to help it, Kipling moved close
enough to rest his head on the man's thigh.

"Very pretty," the man murmured, stroking his head and ears.

Kipling tensed as the dragons came close again, rubbing against him and the dark haired man, settling on either side of
them.

"Now, now. These idiots won't hurt you." The man snorted. "No more than they hurt me, anyway."

The dragons made a strange barking sound that Kipling realized a moment later was laughter.

"Let's see you in human form, hmm?"

Unable to resist that commanding tone, Kipling backed up a bit and shifted. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"My apologies," the dark haired man said. "They were getting impatient. I told them they could try something tonight if they
behaved and didn't push too hard." He swatted at each twin as they changed. "For the nipping, you miscreants - no cookies
for a week."

The twins pouted. Kipling boggled to see it. Dragons didn't pout.

Kipling shook his head. "Try something? What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"My apologies," the dark haired man said, flashing a rueful grin. "None of us are being very polite tonight. My name is
Torvald Cross. Most people call me Tori, please feel free to do the same. These two trouble makers are Perilous and
Siege." He stroked each of the twins' hair. "Sie and Ril, for short. You are Kipling Blue."

"How did you know that?"

Tori chuckled. "It's my cabin you're renting; I prefer to know a bit about my tenant."

Kipling tensed and made to back away, not liking the knowing look on Tori's face - but Ril reached and snatched him close,
and all of Kipling struggles only resulted in him being crowded onto the wide steps, sandwiched between Ril and Tori. A

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hand raked through his hair in a rough caress. Further struggles only resulted in a strong arm wrapping about his waist.
"What is this all about?"

"Pretty wolf," Ril murmured, nuzzling his throat. "Want to keep. Tori said we could."

Tori rolled his eyes. "No, dragon. I said we could keep him if he agreed. There's a difference."

"What?" Kipling, rather displeased the word came out as something resembling a squeak. "I want to know what's going on
here!"

Tori laughed softly and picked his cigar back up. "My apologies. I'm used to them, I forget how overwhelming they can be to
others. I…there is a lot to explain, and certainly if you want to leave we will not stop you. Before that, however…is it true
you killed the Alpha female of the Blue pack? After you showed up and asked to rent the cabin…as I say, I like to know
about anyone close to me. It is nothing personal…there are many who would kill to get their hands on Sie and Ril. I have to
be careful. A lone wolf is strange to see…

Curling up around himself, refusing to be comforted by the arm wrapped about his waist, Kipling ducked his head as
memories washed over him.

"Tell me what happened," Tori said with gentle but firm command.

It soothed some deep ache in him to have commands to follow, to know at least in some small measure his place. To ever
fully resist Tori would be far more difficult than defying his Alpha had been. He should be resisting, there was no good
reason to trust Tori with anything. He couldn't help it though, not when he'd spent every day since he'd fled longing for a
place to call home.

"She was working with another pack…Colerain, to take out my former Alpha and join the pack up with Colerain's. Nothing
more than a stupid, greedy bitch. The Alpha wouldn't believe me, neither would anyone else. I kept track of her movements,
tried again and again to make someone believe me. They wouldn't. Finally I sniffed out her plan to kill the Alpha - and killed
her first. Then I ran. Fought off a few of them, but I think now I'm far enough away they won't find me for some time."

"Our pretty wolf," Sie growled. "We saw you first."

Tori snorted. "I saw him first, you idiot lizard."

"Same difference," Ril said, leaning in close to nuzzle Kipling again, voice whisper soft in his ear. "Our Kip."

The soft words made him shiver. "I'm not-why-I don't understand what's going on here."

Tori sank fingers into his hair and dragged him forward, covering his mouth with warm lips that tasted of sugar cookies and
cigar smoke. Kipling moaned softly as Tori demanded entrance to his mouth, unable to resist the taste of that mouth, the
intoxicating smells all around him. Wild grass and aloe, hot metal and the tang of wild animal. He whimpered as Tori
plundered and possessed his mouth, and Kipling had the strange feeling the man was staking a claim.

"You are a pretty wolf," Tori said with a pleased hum as he pulled away. "I am astonished you've no mate."

Kipling started to reply that no one had wanted the mildest and seemingly weakest of Alpha Blue's assistants, but a sharp
bite to the back of his throat changed the words into a startled gasp.

"My turn," Sie said, leaning across Tori's lap to take a kiss of his own - tangy, sharp, almost burning. Sharp teeth dug into
his lip, not quite drawing blood. Kipling struggled to keep his sanity. It was ridiculous - to be kissing not one man but a man
and two dragons. They felt and tasted and smelled so good though. So much like home it left him terrified.

He drew a ragged breath as Sie let him go, only to be shifted so Ril could have his turn. Warm hands held and steadied
him, more hands than he'd ever thought would be involved in such things.

"Why?" he managed when Ril finally let him go. "You don't even know me."

Tori gave him a smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, I have an eye for these things. Something told me you'd do
well in our unorthodox little family. The dragons need a playmate besides each other, someone who can mostly keep up
with them and doesn't mind they play rough. Wolves don't do well alone. You need a pack - though if you choose to go back
to Blue if and when everything is cleared up, we will not stop you."

No. Certainty cut through Kipling, so deep and sure it took what remained of his breath away. He didn't want to go back to
Blue. They'd betrayed him when he'd most needed someone to believe him. Blue was no longer his pack, no longer his

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home.

"You're making this decision awfully fast," he managed.

The dragons chuckled. "Tori's always quick to decide things."

"It's called being decisive, and hasn't my decisive nature brought you a pretty Kip?"

Kipling snorted. "I'm not pretty."

"Pretty Kip," Sie said, licking at his lips. "Want to play."

"Inside," Tori said.

"Outside," Ril challenged. "He smells like the earth, the trees." He bundled Kipling close and covered his face in sharp,
hungry kisses. Not waiting for anyone to disagree or order otherwise, he all but shoved them off the steps and to the
ground. His brother was right beside him, both of them all but attacking in their eagerness to "play".

Tori laughed softly from the porch, stamping out his cigar. "Dragons. Someone come give me a kiss before I get jealous."

"Silly Tori," Ril replied, pulling away from Kip to wrap himself around Tori before dragging him off the porch.

"Dragons, I'm too old to roll around in the dirt with you. Inside."

For reply, Ril merely kissed him again, then pulled him down to tangle with Sie and Kipling. "Tori's not old."

"You brats are going to be the death of me." Tori kissed each of them in turn, then descended upon Kipling. "So do you
want to stay and play, pretty wolf?"

Kipling stared up into eyes that carried a hint of red even in the darkness surrounding them. "It's probably dangerous. They'll
come after me."

On either side of them the dragons laughed.

"All right, so maybe not dangerous. I…" Oh, who was he kidding? Here was a chance for a home, if only for a night. Some
part of him whispered it would be far longer than that, and he wanted to believe it. "Yes. I want to stay and play."

The dragons cheered, and Kipling couldn't help but laugh into Tori's mouth as they kissed.

Made to be Broken

"The kits look like they're doing well."

Ricky yawned. "Better than I could have hoped, all things considered. This is the first time any of us have left the house
since we took them in. I'm glad they're doing well, especially with Tori's bunch."

Dri looked out over the porch, to the beach where a young man, four dragons, and a dark gray werewolf played in the surf.
He shook his head. "A wolf. Leave it to Tori to add a wolf to his brood."

A soft chuckle came from behind him, followed by the sound of glass clinking as Tori set three longnecks of a dark, foreign
beer on the sea-foam colored glass table top. "What can I say? He fits right in."

Picking up a bottle opener, Dri opened the beers and dispersed two to his brothers. Both he and Tori had their mother's
dark brown hair, Ricky had their father's black. Tori had their mother's strange rust-brown eyes that often looked more red
than brown. He and Ricky shared the green eyes that ran so strong in their father's side of the family. All of them were tall,
though Dri was the tallest at six one. Ricky had more muscle, Tori was probably the prettiest.

"What would mom say if she knew you were trying to build a harem?" Dri teased.

Tori snorted. "Hell, at least she'd be speaking to one of us again." The three brothers shared a grimace.

Ricky sipped his beer and looked at the group romping on the beach, laughing as a dragon with scales that looked like ice
tackled one of the steel-colored.

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"The frost dragon is beautiful, Ricky," Dri said. "Truly. I'm glad you and Cal were able to save him." At his feet, another
dragon rumbled in a lazy purr-growl. He rubbed the top of his dragon's head with his bare foot. "Not as beautiful as you and
you know it, Lin." Teeth nipped lightly at his toes, and Dri smiled fondly at his dragon. Practically from the moment he was
born, Dri had been told he was destined to lead the Clan someday. It had seemed only fitting to a young boy that if he were
going to be the next 'Arthur' then his dragon of course should be equally grand and suitably named - 'Merlin' had seemed
perfect at the time. Not long after they'd simply stuck with 'Lin.'

Tori snickered. "Who would have thought that of all of us, the big, tough motorcycle bad boy would be the one to wind up
with kids?"

"Oh, shut up," Ricky said with a roll of his eyes, cheeks heating slightly.

"Ken is doing alright?" Dri asked. "He seemed fine to me, but it can be hard to tell…"

Ricky shifted his gaze back to the water, where the frost was now pouncing the young man, sending him crashing into the
water with a shout of laughter. "I think so. It's gotta count for a whole hell of a lot that he's down there playing with a bunch
of dragons and a werewolf."

Dri snorted. "If I were him, I'd be less intimidated by the animals than the three of us."

"Nah. Kid's got guts - would have to, yeah?" He smiled fondly at Ken and Nevada, the frost dragon.

"Aw, Daddy Ricky is cute," Tori said with a chuckle.

"Shut the hell up."

Dri laughed softly and took a long pull of his beer. "Has the kit fixated on anything yet? Besides Ken, obviously."

Ricky groaned. "Caramel. Apparently he's always been a fan. It's only gotten worse now."

Tori started laughing so hard he had to put his beer down. "Caramel. Which goes so well with chocolate."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up? We don't all want orgies, you pervert." Ricky took a swing at his brother, knocking him lightly
upside the head. "Behave."

"Never."

"Speaking of behaving," Ricky said, sobering. "I never heard back from the Clan. I'd wanted to take Ken and Nev there, to
teach them a little bit more about real dragons…I don't suppose anyone has spoken to either of you?"

Tori shook his head. "No."

"I never hear anything except through Oliver," Dri said. "Haven't spoken to him in weeks."

Ricky and Tori shared a look that made Dri frown. "That would certainly explain why he's been an ass lately."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Dri asked, setting his beer down with a clink.

Tori rolled his eyes. "Oh, whatever. You're not fooling us."

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Dri snapped.

"Oliver's been in a bad mood for weeks. I mean, the guy is cool as hell so far as lawyers go, and he's remarkably nice to us
terrible and horrid deserters - but he's positively chipper where you're concerned."

Dri stared at them in absolute confusion. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You really didn't notice?" Ricky asked. "Dri, with us he talks business, business, and more business. Every now and then
the weather, even less often the Clan. When you go to visit him, you guys talk and talk and talk. We can always tell when
you've been to see Oliver because he's all smiles for days after. Even the office has noticed you brighten things up."

"That's stupid. You're both insane."

Tori snorted but otherwise said nothing.

Ricky snickered. "Bro, Oliver likes you. How much exactly, we couldn't say, but Mr. Cool Cucumber Lawyer becomes Mr.

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Sunshine when you're around."

"Yeah," Tori chipped in. "Call him up if you don't believe us. Schedule an appointment. I bet that whole, hassled office will
send you a bouquet of flowers in thanks."

"Insanity," Dri said. "You're both fucking nuts." Oliver. Liked him. Ha! Oliver was…Oliver. Good looking, sure. He was
slender, boney, a look that worked for him, especially in the suits he wore like a second skin. Sharp and clever as a fox.
Pale blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. Definitely a pleasure for the eyes, but Dri had only ever noticed in a distant way. It
was suddenly bizarre to think of Oliver as something other than his lawyer. "There's no way Oliver likes me. We just get
along, that's all."

Both his brothers rolled their eyes.

At his feet, Lin slowly stood up, then shifted to sit on the arm of Dri's chair. He slid an arm around Dri's shoulders. His hair
was dark blonde, and like Dri's it was close-cropped, a few feather strands brushing across his forehead, into his eyes. Like
all dragons, his eyes were pale amber. He ducked his head to nuzzle Dri's hair, free hand stroking his cheek. "Oliver? The
lawyer…you always come back smelling like mint and silk."

"That's Oliver all right," Tori said with a grin.

"His cologne has mint in it," Dri said absently. "He loves silk." He shook his head. "I cannot believe for two seconds that
Oliver likes me."

Tori snorted. "Call him, arrange to see him, I guarantee his mood will immediately improve."

"I have no reason to make an appointment."

Ricky frowned in thought. "Maybe you and Oliver can get the kits into the Clan. I really think it would do them good, but no
one will talk to me."

"That's what you get for playing in the Pits," Dri said with a grimace. "In perfect keeping with the Clan, they overlook your
saving the kits."

"Good ol' Clan," Tori said dryly. "I'm getting more beer. Anything else?"

Lin dipped his head again to nibble on Dri's ear. "Snack time."

Dri turned his head to steal a soft kiss. "Is it? I'm not so certain."

Growling at the tease, Lin nipped Dri's bottom lip before kissing him hard. "Snack time."

Ricky laughed. "Yes, but what sort of snack are you after?"

"Honey," Lin answered. "I'm saving Dri for later." He turned to look at the group still wreaking havoc on the beach. "When
the kit is gone. Smelling lust would not be good." His amber eyes warmed with amusement. "Ken might get a little
overwhelmed." Around the table the men chuckled. "Dri still has scars from the first time," he said with a soft smirk.

"Don't we all." Tori laughed loudly as he returned with more beer and a small plate on which rested a large pastry
smothered with honey and nuts. "Don't let the others see or we'll be stampeded with demands for treats."

"They'll get theirs later," Lin declared, slowly licking honey from one finger before he started devouring the bun itself.

Dri wrapped an arm around Lin's waist and leaned up to lick honey from his lips. "Mmm, dragon and honey."

Lin's eyes nearly glowed. "Honey and Dri is better. However, now I wonder what Dri would taste like with mint and silk."

"What?" Dri blinked. "Are we back on Oliver already? You're all insane. Why do you want to know more about Oliver?"

Another soft kiss was placed on his mouth, tasting of honey and sweet pastry. "Dri smells good with mint and silk on him."

Tori chuckled. "Oh, looks like I might not be the only deviant in the family."

"Enough," Dri said firmly. "Lin, we'll discuss this later."

"Yes, Dri."

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Dri hugged him briefly, then gently shoved the dragon off and up. "Go fetch the troublemakers. They need to eat and rest
before they tire the ocean out."

Tori and Ricky smiled smugly as Lin vanished. Ricky opened the new beers and passed them out, grinning like a pleased
cat as he handed one to Dri. "So - going to make that appointment?"

"Shut the hell up," Dri muttered, looking out over the water and pointedly ignoring his brothers. Who had clearly lost their
minds. There was no way Oliver liked him. He would have noticed.

*~*~*~*

Oliver's fingers twitched on the back railing of the elevator. He resisted the urge to fidget with his tie. It was too much.
Stupid. He never should have accepted it for his fifteen year anniversary with the firm. Especially not from giggling office
women. Damn it. This one made him look like he was trying too hard.

Not that it really mattered. He could walk naked into Dri's bedroom with a gilded invitation and the man still wouldn't catch
on. Not that it really mattered, anyway. Dri had Lin. That was the end of it. Damn it, he was too busy today to do this. At
least Dri was coming to see him, if only for a couple of hours of business.

Which was why he'd debated all morning over what to wear, like some idiot high school girl, and he definitely should not
have warn this tie! Too late now. Maybe the girls would grant him some measure of dignity. He didn't know how they knew,
he'd never said a damn word or acted that different when Dri was around, but somehow they knew. Girls always knew.
Damned women.

Though he'd take the girls over the newest man to join the firm that seemed to think Oliver's drawing a breath was an
invitation to hit on him. Ugh. He'd managed to block out that little problem under the rush of knowing he'd be seeing Dri
soon. Damn it.

The elevator chimed, sounding like a death knell. He should not have worn this tie. It would accomplish nothing but grief.

On the bright side, he finally had a competent secretary. Ginger was everything the last six hadn't been. Meaning he didn't
walk into chaos anymore. No, today he only had to deal with the damned tie. He should have worn the blue one.

He stepped into the office and Ginger absently greeted him, her eyes on the screen as she spoke to a client, scheduling an
appointment.

"Good morning," Oliver murmured, breathing a sigh of relief and quickly striding past her desk toward his own office.

"You're wearing it!"

Cursing, Oliver ground to a halt and conceded defeat. He smiled at the woman who'd run the mailroom for the past ten
years. "Elise, good morning."

As if sensing a suffering man, women from all over the firm began to appear, clustering around like hens - or hyenas
moving in for the kill. Oliver calculated how much of his dignity would be lost if he bolted for his office. It was just a tie.

"You look so good, so sharp, we knew you would." Eyes glittered with amusement. With knowledge. "Especially with that
suit, sir."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Eli, in fifteen years you haven't once called me sir. Don't be a smartass. Would you hens get away
from me? I have work to do." He fought a smile, knowing that would just encourage them.

"Yes, you're quite busy today, sir," Ginger said, joining the other women as they whispered and laughed. She was way too
smug and knowing for a woman who'd been working for eight weeks. "Your ten o'clock moved the appointment up to nine.
I've got the coffee brewing and called the bakery." Her eyes sparkled. "I put you in the back conference room, since Mr.
Walter will need room one for his meeting with the Phillips group. Is there anything else you require sir?"

Oliver sighed in defeat. "How about a new staff?"

Ginger laughed tolerantly and reached out to adjust and smooth his tie. "Now what would you do with a staff that behaved?
The tie is beautiful, it matches your eyes exactly." She winked. "If I were a certain client, I'd jump you. Maybe find new uses
for the tie."

"Inappropriate for the office!" Oliver turned and bolted down the hallway as quickly as the shreds of his dignity would permit,
chased by affectionate laughter.

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So many clients complimented his cool aplomb, his perfect professionalism. Thank god they never saw him being harassed
by the office women. Setting down his laptop bag, Oliver pulled his cell phone from the side pocket and set it down beside
the files and ledgers Ginger had brought to the small conference room. Strolling to the sidebar, he poured a cup of coffee
and moved to the wide picture window that looked out over the east side of downtown. Overcast day, but the sun was
fighting. By afternoon maybe it would finally beat out the gloom.

Why had Dri moved his appointment up an hour? Was something wrong? No, Dri would have called him directly.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Oliver topped off his coffee and sat down to begin reviewing all they'd be discussing - he knew it
all by heart, but a review never hurt. Dri wanted to work on moving things around to adjust for the kit Ricky had taken in.

Ignoring the pang in his chest that always sprang up when he thought of dragons, Oliver forced himself not to muss his hair,
to pull out his reading glasses even though he hated them, and not to take his stupid tie off.

A perfunctory - smartass - knock at the door broke into his thoughts and Ginger appeared in the doorway. "Sir, your nine
o'clock is here and I've brought the pastries."

"Thank you, Ginger." He shot her a quick glare as she set a tray of pastries on the side bar.

"My pleasure, sir. Mr. Cross, a pleasure to see you again." With a smile, Ginger closed the door behind her.

"Dri," Oliver said, striving to keep just how happy he was to see Dri again from his voice. The man was too independent;
why couldn't he be like the other clients who called him every day and demanded appointments at least every other? "It's
good to see you again. I was starting to think you'd found someone better than me."

Dri grinned and poured a cup of coffee, then slid into the seat next to him. Unusual - Dri usually sat opposite. Not that he
would complain, the man smelled and looked wonderful. Of course, the entire Cross family looked good - the blood of kings
and all that. Still, Dri had dark brown hair and green eyes, body built by swimming in his backyard ocean - and living with a
steel dragon. He smelled like the sea, a touch of sandalwood. "Hardly, Oliver. You know damn well you're the best there is.
Though if it were true, I'd think you'd relish being free of one Cross. How've you been?"

"Oh, fine. Busy but can't really complain." Well, he could. About a lot of things. That he wasn't thinking about. "How are you
and Lin?"

"Lin is as beautiful and spoiled as always - though not as spoiled as a couple of twins I could name." Dri winked. Honestly,
the best part of Dri was how much he loved the two brothers who had joined him in rebellion. Hell, Dri still loved the family
that didn't talk to him. That smile as he rambled about his dragon for a bit, though…it made Oliver ache for things he'd
never have.

Dri, for one. To for once in his life see and touch a dragon. Both together… He may as well ask for his sanity back.

"Have you decided how to renovate your house yet?"

"Not really," Dri said with a shrug and sheepish smile. "Haven't decided what to do with it. Not like I need more empty room,
and Lin certainly doesn't. He'd just try to move a piece of the ocean inside."

Oliver laughed. "Or put in a bigger hot tub."

"A sauna," Dri replied, rolling his eyes. "He's latched onto Cal's lust for a sauna."

"I see." Oliver chuckled and refilled bother their coffees. Black, a rich, dark French roast that was both their favorites. It was
what had first relaxed things on their first meeting - him expecting another stiff and proper Cross, Dri clearly expecting a
lawyer who acted like all the Clan. Dri had accepted the coffee automatically, and been pleasantly surprised. Oliver had
been surprised, since most Cross eschewed any sort of drug. One commonality had spilled into another. Oliver wasn't
certain he was allowed to call Dri a friend, but the man was the closest he had. A near-workaholic lawyer all but chained to
the Clan didn't have friends. Not when he couldn't go anywhere near a dragon for fear of death.

An old pain. Oliver shoved it aside with practiced ease and locked it up. "An entire ocean, a hot tub, and a custom shower
aren't enough for the shiny lizard?" Never mind Lin had Dri. "You Owners do spoil them so." He winked.

Dri chuckled. "I suppose we do. It's hard not to, really. But I didn't come here to make you listen to me ramble about Lin. I'm
sure you've got far better things to do with your time."

"Oh, yes. I would far rather help Lisbon work out his will for the millionth time. Please, do hurry and stop talking about your

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dragon so I can go reassign who gets the pearl and the Tupperware."

The coffee cup hit with a bang on the table as Dri set it down before he spilled, laughing loud enough to fill the room. "Now,
now, Oliver. I think that's one of those things you're not supposed to tell me."

Oliver shrugged, smiling briefly. "I didn't say a word. Come on, let's get your work out of the way so you can enjoy those
pastries Ginger bought for you."

"I know very well the orange Danish is all yours," Dri said with a wink. He picked his coffee up. "Well, you know what I want
to do better than me. What do you suggest?"

Biting back the urge to tell Dri that he wanted to tell Oliver he looked perfectly molestable, Oliver opened the ledgers in front
of him and slid into Business Mode. They argued lightly back and forth, hammering out details, moving money, checking
properties. Working with Dri was a genuine pleasure; he knew what he was about, but knew Oliver wasn't stupid. He could
do this all day.

So of course he heard an all too familiar rap on the door. Against his will his shoulders tensed. He could feel the throbbing
beginnings of a headache as the door swung open and his latest and greatest problem strode in as though he owned the
place.

William Bell was the living definition of city slick, smooth and glassy and positively shiny. Perfect cut to his dark brown hair,
those blue eyes had to be contacts, and he didn't doubt the man got every little bit and piece waxed every two days. Yech.

"Oliver," William said. Even his voice was slick. "There you are. I told that silly chit you've hired we were supposed to get
together at ten thirty."

"What for?" Oliver said, voice going chilly. "We finished the business with the Nelsons. There's nothing else to discuss."

William didn't immediately reply, his gaze on Dri. "Who are you?"

That was it. William could be obnoxious and rude and come damned close to sexual harassment with him, but he would not
tolerate rudeness to Dri. Or any client. "This Rhodri Cross, one of my most esteemed clients." And the man I'm in love with,
so back the fuck off or I will show you how nasty lawyers can really be.

"Ah, I've heard much about the notorious Cross family," William replied, sliding into superslick mode as he scrambled to
undo what damage he'd done. "I did not mean to interrupt. Perhaps my eagerness got away with me."

Eagerness. That didn't sound good. "What did you need, William?"

"Why, to make reservations. You never told me what time we're going to dinner."

Oliver's mouth went dry. Fucking bastard. He knew Oliver wouldn't make a scene by refusing dinner with a client in the room
- especially such an important one. Damn it, he'd already told the man no. Five times. This month. Fucking hell, why didn't
William just give up and find someone else? Oliver wished he could just shove the man out a window or at least report him
or something - but that never ended well and he didn't know what else to do short of turning things ugly and just…no. He
didn't want a goddamn mess. All he had to do was hold out 'til William finally got bored - or he finally did lose patience and
punch the bastard.

Damn it, he couldn't do this. Not in a million years did he want Dri thinking he'd go out to dinner with William. "I don't think I
ever said we were going to dinner."

William quickly hid his surprise. "That little Italian place you were raving about. Just name a time. I was thinking tonight."

"That isn't possible," Dri cut in. "He's having dinner with me tonight. At my place." Oliver barely kept himself from turning and
staring - or from jumping straight up into the ceiling when a heavy arm settled across the back of his chair. "Now if you'll
excuse us, Mr. Bell, we were busy."

"Of course," William said, eyes widening ever so slightly as he stared at Dri. Then he turned and beat a hasty retreat.

Oliver blinked. Finally made himself turn to Dri. "You-didn't have to do that. I would have dealt with him later."

Dri grinned - but it was the sort of smile that was more a baring of teeth. "Call it habit. Anyway, I was going to suggest you
come for dinner sometime anyway. What friends do, yeah? At the very least you can finally meet Lin, lord knows I torture
you enough talking about him."

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Pain ripped through him. No, no that would be bad. But it was all he'd ever wanted… Christ, it hurt to breathe. Meeting Lin,
having dinner with Dri…it wouldn't play out well. Hell, he'd be lucky if after meeting Lin he would last more than five seconds
before they killed him or ordered him off their property. Ah, well. It had been bound to end someday. At least this way, he
could sort of go out the way he wanted. "Should I bring alcohol?"

"Bring some of that brandy you're always going on about," Dri said with a wink. "I'll let you make the rest of the decisions
here, hmm? Looks like I have dinner to prepare." He paused at the door. "I like your tie by the way. You're always a sharp
dresser, Oliver, but that gray…it brings out both shades in your eyes. The light and the dark ring right around your pupils.
Dinner is casual, jeans, t-shirt. House rules are sandals, flip flops, or bare feet. We never dress up, not with sand and water
and dragon everywhere." He winked as he left.

The door closed with a muted click. Oliver sat there blinking, feeling sort of lost and confused. Happy and utterly miserable.
Only he would manage to come so close to what he'd always wanted on the condition that he immediately lose everything.

Deep breaths. Oliver swore he had to remind himself to breathe period. Thank god he'd given up eating; if his stomach
wasn't completely empty already he'd lose the contents of it all over his black leather interior. The sports car wasn't the best
vehicle for a trip to the beach, but he hadn't felt like going to get the jeep out of storage for one little trip.

He ran over all his plans as he turned off the highway and onto the winding roads that would eventually lead to Dri's remote
beach house. Another reason he and Dri had almost immediately gotten along. Ricky, Tori and their dragons were like most
of the Clan in that they preferred mountains or remote forests. Dri and Lin preferred the beach. Sunshine, sand, and enough
money to ensure they didn't have to put up with tourists and the like. Oliver had only seen it once; when he'd first scouted
areas that he thought Dri would like. He'd been sorely disappointed to have to refuse going to the small housewarming
dinner Dri had arranged.

Everything was ready. After it all went to hell here, he could retreat to his own little cabin - a few miles from a resort up in the
mountains to the east. About a two day trip, a little less if he hurried as he intended. Stay there until he could finish his plans
to start a new life somewhere else. Overseas. Away from anyone that could possibly know him. A life that didn't involve the
dragons and Clan that would hate him the moment they realized what he was.

The flip flops felt strange on his feet. It was a well used pair, but not worn in a while. Not since he'd gotten too big and busy
in the firm to have time for trips to the boardwalk every weekend or so. He wore an old, pale blue t-shirt and his favorite pair
of jeans - butter soft, worn to the point they were threadbare but fit perfectly, so comfortably he never wanted to take them
off. Brown flip flops, and he'd even lost the office prissiness to his hair. Stupid white-blonde hair that belonged on a little kid,
not a man pushing forty.

Now he was just being dumb. Trying to distract himself from the fact that his world was about to fall apart because he hadn't
been smart enough to make up some excuse about why he couldn't go to dinner.

All because Dri had noticed his tie…his eyes. Did that mean anything? Had Dri been….well, it didn't matter. Whatever Dri
might suddenly think or feel, it was about to change.

With a stomach full of knots and butterflies and a heart that felt as though it was weighted with lead, Oliver made the last
turn and drove down the long road that spilled into a wide driveway. Dri's SUV and Jeep were there, and he pulled up
alongside the Jeep. Here we go then.

His fingers refused to unclench from the steering wheel. Movement caught his eye and he could only stare - thank god his
sunglasses were mirrored - as Dri and Lin came around the back of house.

Dri was dressed in faded jeans and an old short-sleeved button down that was half-unbuttoned. The clothes sort of clung a
bit and his brown hair was damp, sticking to his head. He'd either just gotten out of the shower or had recently been for a
swim. Either way, holy hell the man looked good damp. Beside him Lin looked just as edible, his dark gold hair plastered to
his head, amber eyes near glowing even from a distance. He wore jeans as well, old stone washed denim, but nothing else.
Oliver had to remind himself about what was about to happen.

Finally unclenching his fingers, Oliver drew a last deep breath, dredged up a smile, and climbed out of his car.

Those amber eyes immediately widened, Lin's nostrils flaring. A low growl cut through Dri's enthusiastic greeting. "Mordred."

Dri froze, body rippling in surprise as Lin's words registered. He turned to his dragon. "What?"

Lin stepped forward, hovering protectively, tensing as if to spring. "You're a Mordred."

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Oliver smiled sadly. "Not by choice. I never wanted to be." Thank god the sunglasses hid the real proof of his hated lineage.
The bloodline he'd worked so hard to hide from the world, from the Clan. Far too many close calls in his life. Now it was
over. Some part of him felt relieved that the hiding and the fear were finally over. Most of him, however, was merely
breaking into little pieces.

"Y-you're a Mordred?" Dri asked. "How…how did no one ever know?"

"I'm a lawyer. I can uncover a secret, or bury it."

Anger, hurt, and confusion flickered across Dri's face. "So this whole time…what were you planning to do?" He laughed
bitterly. "Deception does come naturally to the blood, doesn't it?"

Pain lanced through Oliver, to hear such cruel words from the man he loved. He deserved them, sure, but that didn't keep
them from cutting deep. Somehow, he'd been stupid enough to hope Dri might at least hear him out. After all, here was the
man who by all rights should have been the next head of the Clan. He'd given it up because he didn't believe himself to be
anything like his family. He was a rebel.

Not enough of one, it seemed, to give up his hatred of the bloodline which had so long ago betrayed the Clan. The ones
responsible for all the elemental dragons filling the Pits. They who had given the secret of dragons to the rest of the
paranormal world.

Somehow, he'd thought Dri would understand.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said. The words came heavily, his mouth so dry it was hard to speak. "I…you have no idea how sorry I
am. I'll go." With that, he climbed back into his car and turned it back on. Seconds later he was speeding along the winding
streets, roaring away from the beach and toward the mountains. Angrily he threw his sunglasses aside, and stared into the
rear view mirror as he pulled back onto the highway.

His eyes, usually pale gray, were so dark that to most they appeared to be pitch black. It only ever happened when he was
in abject pain or full of black rage. The mark of the Mordred, the betrayers of Arthur and his knight dragons.

Against his will, he kept checking behind him every few minutes, that small, stupid part of him hoping to see a familiar Jeep
or SUV chasing after him. After two hours, he finally gave up.

In a few weeks, his new life would be in order. He wished he could find those words cheering.

*~*~*~*

Dri waited an entire day before he finally was able to pick up the phone and call someone. He finally decided on Ricky, who
knew when to stop being a smartass.

"What's up?" Ricky asked by way of greeting, never the type to waste time with pointless pleasantries.

"Oliver is a Mordred." The words tumbled out of him, feeling strange and heavy. Even now, twenty-four hours later, he could
not believe it.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "What?"

"He's a Mordred. I invited him to dinner, and the minute he stepped out of his car Lin pegged him. I…" He couldn't
understand why Oliver had done it. Surely he'd known Lin would figure it out. Obviously he'd been hiding it for years. Why
lose it all now? It made no sense.

"Interesting," Ricky finally said. "Done a damned good job of hiding it. How the hell did he get that by the Clan?"

"Dunno," Dri said.

Another pause. "So over the course of dinner you didn't bother to ask him that little detail? What the hell did you do? Snark
a bit and then go straight to the sex?"

Now it was Dri's turn to be silent.

"…Dri? Bro, what exactly happened?"

Unhappily, emotions still a whirling confusion, Dri replayed the entire awful scene for his brother. He and Ricky were the

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closest in age outside the clan. He had a total of eight siblings. Ricky was third born, Tori sixth. Between him and Ricky was
a sister, and then a sister and a brother between Ricky and Tori. After Tori were three more sisters.

"Dri, man…I love you, Bro, but you're a fucking idiot. What in the hell did you act like that for?" Ricky sighed, a long and
heavy sound. "Never mind. I know why. Lord fucking knows you had enough lies growing up. It's made you tetchy. Still,
man…"

"I know," Dri said tightly. "I overreacted." He'd acted stupidly. The whole reason he'd left the Clan was to get away from the
severe traditions that guided the rest of them. The old-fashioned rigidity and tired notions. Obviously he'd failed to truly
escape, if he'd treated Oliver like a criminal just because he happened to be a Mordred.

Lin was feeling no better, his scales having lost much of their shine to shame and depression.

After his brothers had left several days ago, Lin had surprised him by turning serious over what they'd said about Oliver. Lin,
apparently, had always liked the traces of Oliver that followed Dri home. It was something Dri had never thought about; he
and Lin had always been perfectly happy with just each other. In typical dragon form though, Lin had fixated on the idea that
'mint and silk' liked his Owner. He wanted to know more, and for himself.

Still Dri had not believed for a minute that Oliver actually had any interest in him. Until he'd gotten to the office, anyway, and
started noticing little things he never had before. The way Olive smiled at him. How he'd unconsciously moved closer when
Dri had sat next to him. They way he'd leaned closer still when William had entered the room.

Just how good that damned tie had looked. Pale gray with thin stripes of darker gray, lined with palest silver. It had brought
out the fact that his eyes were not just gray - they were pale gray around the outside, but close to the pupil they were
darker. He'd surprised himself by wondering if an attentive lover had at one time given Oliver the tie and feeling jealous.

Remarkable how quickly things could change, all because his brothers were smartasses.

He hadn't liked that asshole Bell at all - neither had Oliver. Dri doubted anyone else would have noticed that Oliver paled
the slightest bit when Bell had entered the room. He did though; he was an Owner, it was his duty as caretaker to notice the
slightest details. Dragons showed much, but they could also hide things - or not properly notice. Like any wild animal who
did not like to acknowledge weakness.

Stating that Oliver was coming over to his house - staking a claim, he'd realized later - had seemed as natural as breathing.
Whatever was or wasn't or could be between the three of them, no one else was allowed near Oliver until it was figured out.

So, in typical stupid fashion, he'd been mean and nasty upon realizing Oliver had been lying to him all these years. He was
a Mordred. Most of the Clan would have immediately killed him; one of the oldest sworn duties of the Clan was to annihilate
the betrayers.

Ricky was right. He'd left all that crap behind. All three of them had. Except somehow he'd not left all of it behind. Instead
he'd been a complete and utter jerk - and then let Oliver leave.

"I'm a fucking idiot," he said into the phone.

"Definitely. Might be able to fix it though. Gimme a few, I've got a source that will find him. Assuming he's gone to ground,
which is what I'd do in his place. Call you back in a bit. Stay out of trouble."

"Thanks, Ricky. Owe you."

"Help me build the damned sauna before this lizard kills me with harassment."

Dri laughed, feeling a million times less tense than he had in hours. "Sure thing."

"Call you back later."

"Bye."

Feet padded softly on the wooden floor behind him, and Dri turned to bundle Lin close as the dragon reached him. He
smelled of salt and honey, with an edge that only dragons could have."

"We'll find Oliver?" Lin asked softly, the words muffled against Dri's shoulder.

"Yes," Dri said, stroking Lin's hair and skin. "Ricky will find him, and we'll fix the mess we made, huh?"

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"I…I should have said he smelled good instead. I was surprised. Bad Lin…"

Dri held him more tightly, pressing kisses to whatever soft skin he could reach. "No, Lin. The fault was mine." He would be
cringing a long, long time over his own words. If he could, he'd kick his own ass. Oliver had deserved more of a chance
than Dri had given him. He tilted Lin's head up and kissed him softly. "Good Lin, always."

Pressing closer, all but crawling into his skin, Lin pressed a harder kiss, arms tight around Dri's neck. "Good Dri, too. Good
Oliver."

"Yes," Dri said softly. "Good Oliver."

It had taken him, Ricky, and finally Tori - who needed his mouth sewn shut - three days to finally figure out where the hell
Oliver had gone.

Dri really hoped there weren't any cops around, because he'd likely not stop. He needed to find Oliver. Maybe he'd ruined
whatever might have possibly been between them, but he couldn't just leave Oliver thinking Dri hated him. He didn't.
Surprise had led to stupidity, but that was it.

Beside him, Lin shifted restlessly in the passenger seat. He seldom left his beach territory, and the dragon would not be
able to relax completely until they'd fixed the problem with Oliver. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But it was past the point of
recrimination. All he could do now was hope they'd really found Oliver and that he could still fix things.

He flooded with relief to see the small, unremarkable cabin that came into view as they drove over the last rise and the
ground leveled out. Lights were on, but he could see no sign of movement.

Parking alongside Oliver's dark blue sports car, Dri made himself walk calmly to the front door. Beside him, Lin had given
over to nervousness and shifted to his dragon form. Dri pet the smooth scales with one hand while he knocked with the
other.

No reply, but Lin rippled and crept forward, nosing at the door. He let out a low growl, a sound of worry and concern. Dri
tried the door, which opened easily. Not a good sign. Pushing the door open, Dri let Lin precede him.

The cabin was one big room, with a kitchen in one corner and a door that was probably the bathroom. Everything else was
right there, even the wide bed in the corner. A retreat, meant for one or two people who had no need of separate rooms.
Something in Dri's chest twisted and ached.

So strange, to feel this strongly about someone besides Lin. All because his brothers thought they were funny and oh so
clever. He'd never in a million years tell the bastards maybe they were right.

He shouldn't need or want Oliver though. He had Lin…yet Lin had been the one truly intrigued, eager to meet 'mint and silk
who loved Dri'. Now, instead of sipping wine or brandy while they watched Lin play in the surf and catch fish, he got to
untangle the mound of blankets on the bed and find a bedraggled, miserable, unconscious Oliver.

The man looked awful. Unshaven, clothes wrinkled, reeking of sweat and alcohol.

Lin chirped and growled in anxiety, and Dri turned to see what had upset him - a glass of brandy…and a bottle of
prescription sleeping pills. Heart stopping, even though he knew Oliver wasn't that stupid and the man was still breathing,
Dri twisted off the cap and let out a loud sigh of relief to see it was still mostly full.

"Is he all right?" Dri asked softly.

Chirping, Lin climbed smoothly onto the bed. It dipped and creaked beneath the dragon's weight, but held. Gently Lin
nuzzled and pet Oliver, scenting the man, fretting and petting him. At last he shifted, sitting with his back to the headboard
and bundling Oliver close. "He's fallen into a deep sleep, probably won't wake for a day or two, but he's all right."

Dri nodded. Already he was beginning to feel better than he had in days. "Take him to the car. I'll grab his things, clean up
in here. If you can drive the SUV, I'll drive his car."

Lin grinned. "I get to drive?"

"Obey the speed limit, dragon," Dri said, smiling back. "Do as I say and all that."

Laughing, Lin leaned forward and kissed him, humming happily. Already the light was coming back to those amber eyes,
and Dri bet Lin's scales were already regaining their shine.

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"Get a move on, dragon. We need to get home."

"Yes, Dri." Fumbling a moment to get a good grip, Lin stood effortlessly and carried Oliver to the door as though he weighed
no more than a sack of feathers.

It took the better part of an hour to get everything in order, then one last check to make certain Lin and Oliver would be all
right before he slid into Oliver's sports car.

Ordinarily he'd spend ages admiring being inside the sleek and sexy sports car, but right now all he cared about was
surviving the long trip home. At least they wouldn't have to make too many stops - only one to catch some sleep, make
certain Oliver was all right, then they'd be home where they all belonged.

*~*~*~*

Whoever had used his head as a chopping block was going to die. Oliver groaned as he sat up, wishing valiantly that he'd
just fall over and die. What in the hell was wrong with his head? It felt like he'd been either drugged or drunk.

Or both, he realized as memory flooded. He'd felt like shit. Worse than. Sleep hadn't wanted to come and he was sick of
being conscious. He'd taken two sleeping pills instead of one and had washed them down with brandy. It was something
he'd done before, though not often, when the hiding and the pressure and the stress got to be too much.

He always regretted it, but never enough to stop doing it.

With another groan he sat up and shoved the blankets aside. Frowned, because something was off. Blankets. His blankets
were deep turquoise. Forget it. Water. Water would be good. To dunk his head in. To drown in. He fumbled briefly, one
hand landing on the nightstand to steady him as he swung his legs over the bed. Next time, either he didn't mix drugs with
alcohol or he mixed them to the point he didn't have to deal with waking up. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

And who the hell said the sun could come out? Oliver glared darkly at the open balcony and the ocean beyond it, then
dropped his head into his hands with another groan.

Wait…

Ocean? Since when did his cabin have an ocean view?

Hands beginning to shake, Oliver forced his head up and slowly looked around the room he was in.

Hardwood floors in a warm gold tone. Massive king-sized bed in a similar wood, slightly lighter stain. Dark turquoise sheets
and comforter. Sheer curtains of the same shade were tied back from the balcony, and there were deep brown throw rugs
scattered about. A plush chair of the same turquoise was in the corner, a tall reading lamp behind it, a small table beside it.

Dresser, a door that was a closet, another that probably led to a bathroom. Heart pounding, Oliver tried to stand but found
he couldn't make himself move. Was he dreaming? There was no way he could be where he thought he was. How many
goddamn pills had he taken this time? Maybe it was time to give them up for a bit and just deal with the insomnia.

Oliver buried his head in his hands again, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths until he either woke up or otherwise
stopped dreaming.

A sound broke into his futile attempts to calm down…something that sounded far too much like claws clicking on hardwood.
Oliver slowly looked up, and his eyes widened to see Lin walking towards him, eyes glowing a warm amber. His scales
flashed in the sunlight spilling in from the balcony, looking more like they were made of silver than mere steel.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but couldn't make the words come out. Then Lin reached him, rearing up
and planting his front legs on Oliver's shoulders, shoving him back down on the bed - and suddenly Oliver found himself
covered by a man clothed in nothing but too-thin jeans, smelling of sweat and ocean. "You're awake."

"Uh-I'm not too sure about that," Oliver said shakily, far too aware of the temptation so casually straddling him.

Lin dipped his head to nuzzle Oliver's cheek, making a sound remarkably close to a purr. "Awake. Smell healthy. Feel
better?"

"Um…yes? I could, uh, use some water?" And for the dragon to get off him before he did something really really stupid.

Except it was Lin who did something stupid first, brushing his lips softly across Oliver's. It wouldn't be surprising, except

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dragons only acted affectionately with those they considered theirs. They'd never act so with strangers…definitely not with a
Mordred. So he was dreaming. Great. As soon as he woke up, he was severely overdosing.

More soft kisses were scattered across his face, and Oliver was helpless to resist though he tried to put up at least a token
struggle.

Quiet laughter came from the doorway, and Oliver froze.

"Lin, stop attacking him," Dri said. Oliver suddenly found it harder to breathe than ever, as Lin slowly pulled away and stood
up. The dragon clung to Dri as he drew close, and Dri absently stroked the dragon's back. "Though I can see why you did."

Oliver blinked. Blinked again. "What?"

Releasing Lin, Dri bent and tugged Oliver up. He pressed the back of his hand to Oliver's forehead. "Feeling any better?
You've been asleep for three days. I'd imagine taking sleeping meds with brandy will do that." The tone was slightly
reproving. "You caught a slight fever, as well."

"What in the hell?" Oliver demanded, and for the first time he realized he wasn't in the clothes he vaguely remembered
passing out in - he was in the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn the day everything had fallen apart. "Did I miss something?"

Dri's hand fell away from his forehead - and curled around his hip instead. Too close. Dri was standing way too close.
"Come eat, or at least drink." Dri winked. "Water. No booze for you."

Oliver winced. "I've only done that three or four times. Only way I can sleep sometimes. When everything…"

"I think we can find better ways to help you sleep," Dri said with a wink. "Come eat. If we stay in here much longer, Lin will
attack you again."

"Mint and silk smells good in here. Fits," Lin said, crowding up against Oliver and nuzzling again.

Oliver wondered if he was always going to have this new breathing problem. Dri's hand slid from his hip with agonizing
slowness. "Lin, don't overwhelm him. Both of you come eat."

"Yes, Dri," Lin said, but nuzzled Oliver one last time before stepping a bit back and taking his hand, leading the way as they
followed Dri out of the bedroom and down the stairs to a wide open dining room made up of the same warm gold woods,
but decorated with true green rather than turquoise. Food was set out, and Oliver could see it was mid afternoon now.

He shook his head as he was bustled into a seat. "What's going on here? How did I get…" A glass was pressed into his
hands and he curled his fingers around it, enjoying the feel of the cold ice water against his too-hot skin. He was a lawyer.
The scariest judges in twelve counties showed him respect. He was one of the youngest but most successful lawyers in the
firm. He didn't sit meekly at dining tables, especially when said table was the property of a man who now hated him. Dri's
parting words played through his head. "Are you trying to ascertain how much the lying and deceiving Mordred lawyer
knows about the Clan? What precisely he's planning to do with that knowledge?"

Dri winced. "I deserved that."

Oliver said nothing. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want Dri being wonderful and Lin nuzzling him like it was only
natural. A plate was set in front of him, but he barely noticed what was on it. "Why didn't you just leave me the hell alone? I
said I'd go. I went. There was no reason to bring me back." His fingers tightened around the glass, and he forced himself to
set it down and let go before it shattered. "I wouldn't have hurt anyone. I haven't so far."

"I know," Dri said quietly. "We brought you back because we never should have let you leave in the first place. We also
need to say we're sorry."

Oliver's head shot up. "What?"

Lin pressed against him, warm, soothing, lips sliding lightly across his cheek. "Shouldn't have hurt our Oliver. Mint and silk
belongs."

"W-what?" Oliver tried to pull away, but Lin wouldn't let him, clinging with all the tenacity of an octopus.

Dri smiled fondly at his dragon. "He's right. We shouldn't have acted as we did. I shouldn't have said what I did. I invited you
to dinner…" He gave a sheepish smile and finally sat down, playing with his own food before shoving the plate away. "You
and I have always gotten along, right? Friends, after a fashion. You never seemed interested in anything outside the office,
though, so I let it be. My brothers…they came to visit me a couple weeks ago and made a wisecrack about you liking me. I

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told them they were being stupid."

Oliver closed his eyes, mortification flooding through him. Could they not leave him with even a shred of dignity? How the
hell had Ricky and Tori noticed? "What's your point?" he finally asked, forcing the words out of a throat that didn't really feel
like working.

"Mint and silk," Lin said softly against his skin. "Wanted to meet. Smelled liked need. Need Dri. Lin too?"

The words made Oliver shiver even as he wanted to crawl beneath the floor and die.

Dri chuckled softly. "Lin, stop torturing the poor man. We're doing that enough as is." He reached out and tilted Oliver's
head up, fingers soft and warm. "I'm sorry, we're doing this poorly. Look - I didn't believe it when they said it. I scheduled
the appointment just to see for myself and tell my brothers they need to find a hobby other than 'make Dri look like an idiot.'
Except…I saw they were right. Then that stupid Bell showed up and I realized quite suddenly I didn't feel like letting anyone
else near you until I figured out what to do. So, dinner." He grimaced. "Then Lin and I ruined everything by acting exactly
like the Clan we left. So for what it's worth, Oliver, we're sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. You're not like that. If you
were, we never would have gotten along."

"I'm sorry too," Lin said. "You startled me. I should not have focused on the Mordred smell." He nipped lightly at Oliver's
ear. "You still smell like need."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Who wouldn't with a dragon clinging to him?"

Dri laughed. "Sounds like you're getting back to your old self." He rose up a bit and leaned across the table. "I know I've
been incredibly stupid about all this - first I was oblivious, then I drove you away - but could I cling to you too? Eventually?"

Definitely going to have breathing problems the rest of his life, Oliver decided. Good thing he was already getting used to it.
"I'm a Mordred."

"Lin and I were supposed to lead the Clan. Obviously none of us are very good at sticking to the plan laid out for us." Dri
leaned closer still, so close their breaths mingled, the warm smell of coffee clinging to him, mingling with the sharper smell
of Lin. "You know what they say about rules, Oliver."

"Yeah," Oliver said softly, and finally gave up. He reached up and hesitantly touched Dri's face, brushed back a strand of
dark, so soft hair. "I think there's one about things you're not supposed to do with the people that work for you."

Dri grinned, looking suddenly boyish, and caught the hand touching his hair, pressing a kiss to the palm. "Yeah, it says I'm
not supposed to be thinking about forgetting food and dragging you back to bed. How the hell did I never notice you,
Oliver?"

"I wouldn't notice me either with Lin to come home to." Oliver shivered as Dri pressed another kiss to his hand, to his wrist.

Lin growled low and bit his throat. "Belong."

"Exactly," Dri said, and finally gave up the teasing, standing up and pulling Oliver up, tugging him close and dipping his
head to kiss him properly, wasting no time with gentleness but immediately taking over, pressing deep, consuming -
marking. Oliver clung to him, unable to believe it was happening but too aware of the man pressed to his front, the dragon
pressed to his back. "Hungry? I should let you eat."

Oliver shook his head, groaning at the mouth that tormented his throat, his ear, the hands that slipped beneath his clothes.
He pressed back against Lin, then forward into Dri. "I want to know this is real."

"Then we'll convince you," Dri said, taking one more deep, dizzying kiss before he dragged Oliver and Lin back to the
bedroom.

Burn

Blaze snarled as he woke, furious as he realized someone was pounding on his door.

More furious still when he realized only one asshole would dare to have him bothered at – he looked at the clock on his
nightstand – 2:36 AM.

Fuckers.

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From the floor he heard Erie stir, the dragon growling low in annoyance of his own.

"Stay," Blaze snapped, then flicked on his bedside lamp and retrieved his wife-beater, tugging it over his head before
picking up his gun from beside the alarm clock. He stalked across his small studio apartment and threw the bolts, then
yanked the door open with a snarl, pointing the gun at the offender’s head. "What?"

The man in the hallway appeared unfazed. "A job for you."

"What?" Blaze repeated. He heard claws click on hardwood as Erie disobeyed him to draw closer, and he could hear the
dragon’s low, suspicious growl. He tightened his grip on the gun.

"There’s a newbie in town, uninvited. With a frost. Find out what he wants and get rid of him. No rush, but don’t waste time."

Blaze grunted. "Money?"

"Usual already deposited. You know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaze said, and slammed the door in the man’s face as soon as the man had given him an address.

Fucking hell, couldn’t he go one night without being interrupted?

Why the fuck did Kay get so fucking uptight whenever a new dragon showed up without proper permission? He probably
just wanted into the Pits. Snorting, Blaze strode away from the door back to his bed.

Erie padded toward him, claws clicking, bright red scales glimmering in the weak light of the bedside lamp. Blaze glared. "I
told you to stay."

Giving a low, contrite growl, the dragon subsided, lying down on the floor at Erie’s feet.

Sighing, Blaze leaned down to stroke the brilliant red scales. "Sorry, Erie, I’m just in a bad mood."

The dragon rumbled and nuzzled into his hand, and Blaze could not help but smile faintly. His flame was fine as dragons
went, loyal and obedient, strong and clever, one of the finest around for miles upon miles – Blaze had been damned lucky
to get him.

Then again, some said it was only logical. Tough little street boys who beat the shit out of a handful of goliaths tended to
wind up either dead or in the boss man’s favor. Blaze had been smart enough to make sure of the latter.

And lo – tough little street kid got himself a name, a dragon, a gun, and a steady if bloody income. Not the life he wanted,
but far better than what he would have otherwise had.

Erie was definitely worth it. Blaze had thought that right from the start. He’d poured his everything into his flame from the
day they’d met. Erie was quiet but tough. Together they’d built a reputation of not to be fucked with that had nothing to do
with Kay.

Hell, he’d managed to get Erie to change at will, rather than being forced to use Triggers to make the dragon shift between
dragon and human forms. A very handy trick.

Especially when they were called out in the middle of the fucking night to go talk to other dragons, the sort of situation
where it was hard to predict in which form Erie would be more useful. Blaze heaved another sigh and thought longingly of
saying fuck it and going back to bed.

Making a series of low rumbling cheeps, sounds of concern, Erie rose back up to his feet and abruptly shifted, pushing into
Blaze, wrapping arms around his waist.

"Stop it!" Blaze snapped, pushing the dragon away. "I’ve told you a thousand times not to do that!" It wasn’t a good idea to
let a dragon get all touchy feely, that’s what Kay had always told him. It was…well, he wouldn’t ever let a dog get so fucking
personal, would he?

Snarling, Blaze stood up again and strode to the bathroom, turning on the water and sliding beneath it despite the cold,
soaping up quickly, scrubbing the short fuzz of his hair, rinsing off beneath water that had finally turned hot.

Turning off the water, he snatched up a towel and roughly dried off as he turned to the corner of the room that contained his
bed and dresser, the sole closet in the place, yanking out his favorite jeans, dark denim worn down to perfection, and a

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clean wife beater. Finally he tugged on a snug fitting sweater, yanking up the zipper that went half-way down the front,
adjusting the high neck of the collar.

He grunted a thanks as Erie brought his boots, sitting down to yank on socks and then the sturdy, old dark brown boots.

Running a hand over his head, feeling the sharp fuzz of his dark blond hair, he retrieved his gun, tucking it into the
waistband at the small of his back. He wouldn’t need it for general business, but the streets were full of crazies of both the
normal and abnormal kind and he’d rather scare off normals with a gun than with a dragon.

"Let’s go," he said tersely, really wishing he could just go the fuck back to bed. He looked at Erie, deciding the dragon
passed inspection in the jeans and black sweater he’d tugged on.

Sometimes, when he’d had a shot or two more of Russia’s finest than he should, his thoughts strayed along paths they
shouldn’t, mind conjuring up images that made him feel sick with guilt and shame later.

Erie was good looking as a human, all trim muscle and long hair as red as his scales, eyes an almost reddish gold. Since it
was fall, his tan was starting to fade, but even without the sun soak Erie was easily the hottest thing – no pun intended –
Blaze had ever seen. He wasn’t much to look at himself, too much of his hard life having etched in lines and scars and an
attitude problem that made him…not quite ugly, but not exactly Prince Charming either. He was twenty five going on eighty.
Erie though – yeah, in his less than sober moments Blaze easily conceded the dragon was dead fucking sexy.

Luckily he was smart enough to be sober ninety nine percent of the time; being the favorite grunt of the owner of Traction
and the resident mob made it not smart to get drunk.

Still, sometimes the only way to deal with his life was to numb it for a bit. Except for the part where it made him want to beg
his dragon for a nice hard fuck and that just wouldn’t do. Dragons were no different than bomb dogs or some such, even if a
hell of a lot tougher and scarier and shit.

Wishing sorely he could tap the bottle of vodka he’d bought yesterday but hadn’t been able to open as of yet, Blaze
grabbed a couple of extra clips from the closet, then retrieved his keys and led the way out, Erie following obediently behind
him.

"A frost, Blaze?" he asked, polite and quiet.

"Yeah," Blaze replied. "We’ll just see what he wants tonight. I don’t give a fuck what the old man says, we’re not killing
anything tonight. Not after the shit storm from yesterday."

Goblins. Only slightly less annoying than vampires, which Blaze detested with a particular passion.

Erie growled low.

They hit the streets of the city, everything eerily dark and calm. Only in the earliest hours of the morning was the city ever
like this. It tended to creep Blaze out, not being what he thought a city should be. Erie liked it this way, but his dragon was
nothing if not strange. He’d been told more than once that he’d been too goddamn nice to Erie while they were growing up –
but something in him could not stand the beatings and cruelty the others inflicted on their dragons.

Hell, the only reason he’d put Erie in the Pits years was that it was pretty much required. You didn’t work for a Pit boss
without throwing your dragon in the ring for at least a few years. Luckily, he’d been good enough at other stuff he’d been
able to take Erie out of them without causing a fuss.

That, however, led to dangerous thoughts he couldn’t afford to think. Shunting them aside, Blaze focused on the mission at
hand.

All sorts of transient Owners and dragons passed through, and those the boss didn’t mind so much. When they showed
signs of settling? Then it became a problem. No dragon lived in the city without being under the thumb of Kay – ‘Traction’ to
most, as he preferred to be called after his biggest moneymaker.

In no time at all they reached the parking garage two blocks from his apartment building where he kept the bikes that made
negotiating city traffic a fuckton easier, and made the country roads they’d be traveling tonight a good deal less boring.

His mood improved slightly as he took in the bikes that waited – one cherry red, the other stark black. Erie moved
immediately to the red one, Blaze taking the black, and in mere minutes they were speeding out of the city and to the shitty
motel on the far outskirts that was apparently where the potential threat was holing up.

The motel was dark as they reached it, save for a dingy fluorescent that didn’t do a whole hell of a lot to cast light on the

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place. Rundown and unremarkable, but it didn’t smell like piss and sex and alcohol as Blaze had expected. The only scents
on the wind were the thick trees around them, the slightest hint of a coming storm….and something that made Erie growl.

"Dragons!" Erie said, and bolted forward.

"Hey!" Blaze snarled, thoroughly displeased to hear the plural and not the singular of that word.

Before he or Erie could do anything however, he heard a hoarse shout and then a figure came flying through the window of
the room right dead center of the u-shaped line of rooms.

A black dragon. Shit.

"Erie!" But even as he spoke, his dragon shifted, scales glinting and shining like a bonfire, as though they’d burn the flesh
from hands foolish enough to touch them.

The black scrambled to its feet, roaring in anger as a dragon that looked as though it were carved from ice leaped into the
parking lot, followed immediately by two more dragons.

Erie snarled at the black, which immediately turned and ran at him.

"Hey!" Blaze roared angrily, wondering where the fuck the Owners for all these dragons were.

His question was almost immediately answered, as four men came spilling from the ruined window, three in dark clothing
bolting after a man dressed in nothing but jeans and a blue t-shirt that was torn to shreds, barely hanging on him.

The man ran toward the frost, which snarled as it realized the two black had him pinned.

Blaze pulled his gun out and fired three shots in the air. Everyone turned to look at him. "Erie. Here. Now. What the fuck is
going on?" He demanded.

"They’re savaged," the man in the ruined t-shirt said, voice filled with a depth of anger Blaze had never heard before.
"They’ve savaged their dragons."

Erie felt a rage to match the stranger’s, looking contemptuously at the Owners of the Blacks. He didn’t give a fuck if the frost
was the one he should be taking care of – the fuckers were going to die.

Savaging a dragon was something even Kay didn’t tolerate. He was all about urging them to a bloodlust before a Pit fight…
but savaging a dragon meant torturing it, angering it, inflicting all manner of physical, mental, even sexual abuse so that the
dragons literally went wild with rage – with hate. It made them far more dangerous than they would be otherwise, and
dragons were fucking dangerous enough to begin with.

The kindest thing he could do… "Erie," he said. "Kill."

Growling in acknowledgement, Erie threw himself at the nearest black, eyes flashing as he breathed fire hot enough to burn
damn near anything. The black, of course, could do a hell of a lot more – but Erie was no pushover.

Blaze left his dragon to the fight, trusting Erie to succeed, and focused his attention instead on the motherfuckers who
thought it okay to savage dragons. He didn’t hesitate or waste time with words, simply pointed and fired.

The nearest bastard dropped, making a gurgling, choking sound, blood seeping between his fingers before he collapsed to
the ground.

Just in time Blaze ducked behind his bike, all but feeling the bullet that had barely missed him. "Goddamn it! I did not get
woken up at this motherfucking hour to put up with this shit!" Really pissed off now, he waited a beat longer and then stood,
bolting for the walkway as he fired at the remaining two, swearing as a bullet clipped his right shoulder.

Who the fuck were these bitches? Kay was going to have a shit fit when he found out these bastards were mucking around
his turf. To hell with the frost; it at least had been relatively polite.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

He kicked in the door of the first room he came to and bolted inside for cover, dropping to one knee and reloading swiftly,
then turned and fired.

Fuck he hoped this place was as mostly deserted as it seemed. All he could see was a couple more motorcycles, and a van

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that likely belonged to the asshole Owners. He swore as more bullets flew, throwing himself further into the room.

An unearthly roar signaled one dragon down – they only sounded like that in their death throes. "Good Erie," Blaze
muttered, and ducked into the space between the beds, bracing his arms on the edge of one, gun leveled at the door.

He stopped his fingers from pulling the trigger just in time as the Owner of the frost appeared rather than one of the
bastards in black. "They’re running," T-shirt said. "We nailed two of the blacks, you got one of the Owners." He dropped
down on the bed and ran a hand through his white-blond hair, then looked at Blaze – brown eyes going wide. "Man, why
didn’t you say you’d been shot?" He scrambled to his feet.

Blaze glared at him. "I was only clipped, not a big fucking deal." He stood up – and the world gave a nasty lurch. He
stumbled, catching himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and took a look at his shoulder.

That…wasn’t clipped…actually it was a pretty good shot…and that had been his favorite sweater too…

Fuck.

Blaze blacked out.

"Fuck I hurt," Blaze said with a groan, sitting up despite the screaming protest of his shoulder.

"Blaze!" He looked up just in time to see Erie all but throw himself on the bed, latching onto him in a way he’d told the
dragon a thousand fucking times not to do. It…made him distinctly uncomfortable. But at the moment he couldn’t make
himself snarl about it. "Where are we?" he asked instead. A hotel room of some sort, much nicer than Motel Shithole.

"Well away from the city," a voice said, and Blaze looked toward the bathroom door to see the frost Owner. This time he
was dressed only in jeans, pale hair wet, brown eyes holding a focus that only someone who owned a dragon possessed –
someone used to reading small signs, noting every little detail…someone who spent every single day with a creature tamed
only because it fucking felt like it. His skin was still damp from the shower he must have just taken, chest bare, revealing
deep scratches on his shoulders that could only have been put there by dragon claws.

The man smiled faintly. "I figured it was better to get away before they came back for a second round. I owe you big time –
without you and Erie, we would have been in a world of hurt. How’s your shoulder?"

Blaze grunted. "Fine. Who the fuck are you? I was sent to see why you were settling into Traction’s territory and got tangled
in a nasty fucking fight."

The man’s face clouded. "You work for Traction?"

"Around here, if you don’t work for Traction you wind up in it."

"I see," the man said.

"You still haven’t told me who the fuck you are," Blaze snapped. "Not that I’m not grateful for the help, but I would like to
know who the fuck I got shot for."

The man laughed. "I am sorry you’re the one who got hurt. My name is Kennedy Cross. Ken, please."

Cross. Cross. Blaze felt like he should know that name but it wouldn’t click. "Erie –"

The dragon cut him off with a soft rumble. "Called Kay’s man. Told him you were down but problem solved. Back…soon."

"Good," Blaze grunted. He switched his attention back to Ken. "Where the hell is your frost?"

Ken chuckled and pointed to the second bed, the one closer to the door of the hotel room.

The frost dragon, rather pretty in human form, was curled up and dead to the world in the other bed. He had dark, curly hair
and eyes that were probably some variation of amber, pale skin and a compact, muscular body. "Pretty dragon."

Erie growled low, sounding…oddly hurt.

Ken frowned. "Thanks, but why are you being so mean to your dragon?"

"I’m not being mean," Blaze said, confused. "All I fucking said was that your dragon is pretty. What the hell does it matter?"

Fury filled Ken’s face, startling Blaze with the intensity of it. "You bastards are all alike! They’re just fucking pets to you,

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aren’t they?" His fists clenched. "The way Erie’s been fretting over you, I thought you actually got it – but I guess I was
wrong." He strode over to the frost and woke it. "Come on, Nev, we’re leaving."

"Leaving?" Nev asked, yawning and stretching. "Is Erie’s Blaze all better?"

"Blaze is a fucking idiot like all the rest."

"Oh," Nev said faintly, and sent them a look that was full of sympathy and pain, so much that Blaze could only gawk.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, seeing red when Ken simply tried to walk out. Oh, no. He wasn’t putting up with this shit.
He took care of Erie, no one was calling him a lousy Owner. Fuck that shit. Snarling, he threw back the covers and
launched himself at Ken, slamming the bastard into the wall, hissing in pain but not relenting. "Where the fuck do you get
off, man? What the hell?"

Rage lit Ken’s eyes to a pale cinnamon. "You treat him like a dog, don’t you? All you bastards do. Throw the dragon in the
Pit, make a quick buck, then give him scraps before sending him to sleep on the floor."

"I don’t Pit him," Blaze hissed. "I had to but got out of it. He eats the best food I can get, and so the fuck what if he sleeps
on the floor? I don’t abuse my dragon!"

"You neglect him," Ken snarled. "You reject him."

He suddenly swung a punch, sending Blaze reeling back, pain spiking in his shoulder and face bad enough he felt he was
going to be sick. "Back, Erie!" he said when the dragon gave an angry rumble. He glared furiously at Ken. "You’re making
no fucking sense man. I’ve raised Erie the best way I know how."

Groaning in pain, he ducked his head until it stopped spinning, gingerly testing his cheek, wincing as that simple movement
made pain flare in his shoulder, which to judge by the wet, sticky feeling was bleeding again.

Ken swore softly.

"Look," Blaze said tiredly. "I don’t know what the fuck I did to piss you off, but I think you need to back off. You’re invading
our turf and I was told to get rid of you – but all I wanted to fucking do was talk, man. I don’t like getting woken up at two
fucking thirty and told to beat people up, if not kill them. Instead of a nice chat, I got a fucking fire fight and now you’re
telling me I abuse my dragon when I have no goddamn idea what you’re talking about."

Ken swore again, then sighed as Nev pushed into his arms. He pet the dragon absently, and Blaze frowned. "You’re not
supposed to do that," he said.

"Do what?" Ken asked, his own frown just as confused.

"Be like that with them," Blaze said. "It’s bad."

Ken rolled his eyes. "No, it’s not. For dragons, it’s natural. In a true Owner-dragon bond, that’s exactly how it should be.
You’re the one treating your dragon poorly."

"I am not!" Blaze snarled, furious. He’d always tried to do what was best for Erie. How dare this stupid bastard say
otherwise.

"Blaze…bleeding…" Erie said, coming close, hesitantly laying a hand on his leg, eyes more gold than red as they looked
anxiously up at him.

With effort Blaze dredged up a reassuring smile. "It’s fine. S’what I get for losing my temper. I’ll be okay."

Erie rumbled unhappily but nodded.

Ken heaved a sigh. "Maybe I’m being hasty," he said begrudgingly. "It’s obvious you care – you just were taught wrong."

Blaze bristled and shot him a dirty look. "Are you always this fucking rude to people after you get them shot?"

"Never gotten anyone else shot, so I guess the answer is yes," Ken retorted. "Look – let me patch you up and then go get
food. Then, if you want, I’ll tell you what you should know about dragons."

"What makes you think you’re right and I’m wrong?"

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"Because," Ken said sharply, "I was raised by Owners of Knight Dragons and no one knows them better. I don’t make a
dragon that loves me sleep on the floor like a dog, and I wouldn’t tell someone that his dragon is pretty without immediately
assuring mine he’s a thousand times better."

Blaze clenched his hands tightly in the sheets. "Your dragon is pretty. It was a motherfucking observation. I’d much rather
stare at Erie all day than your fucking frost, so stop feeding me goddamn lectures and go get some food! Maybe then you’ll
tell me why you’re here and hell – if it’ll get you to stop punching me I’ll listen to whatever the fuck you want to tell me about
dragons."

Because he was always honest with himself, if no one else, and if this fucker was telling him that Kay had taught him wrong
– well, Kay was a fucking mob boss who Pitted dragons. Blaze was willing to admit he might not be the best instructor.

"Good," Ken said. "Come on, Nev, let’s go get food." He stalked to the small dresser and yanked on a shirt, snatched up his
wallet and keys, sat long enough to pull on his sneakers, then strode to the door.

"Yes, Ken," Nev said, and gave them a hesitant smile before the two vanished.

Silence fell thick and heavy, though Blaze could not figure out why the fuck there should be tension.

Well, there was the fact that he felt like shit for possibly having mistreated his dragon all these years. Normally he’d tell
anyone as snotty as Ken to go fuck himself…but the intensity to the guy was legit enough. He obviously cared about
dragons, not just whether or not they could Pit fight, and that Blaze would respect. He also clearly thought Blaze was
fucking things up.

Groaning, wishing he’d stayed unconscious, Blaze stood and dragged himself to the sink, slowly and painfully repairing the
damage to his wound.

"Let me help," Erie said softly. Grunting, Blaze let him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do his own bandaging properly.

Silence fell again as Erie urged him to sit back down on the bed, then went about cleaning up the blood and bandaging his
shoulder back up. Finished, the dragon sat on the floor at his feet.

Blaze let the silence stand, not certain what to say to break it, for the first time feeling awkward around his dragon.

"Do you…" Erie hesitated, uncertainty etched deeply into his face.

"What?" Blaze asked tiredly.

"Do you really think I’m better to look at than Nevada?" he asked, the words coming out in a rush, ducking his head as he
finished.

Blaze blinked, the question throwing him.

He never thought about such things except under cover of vodka. Never. It was wrong.

But suddenly he saw again how easily Nev had cuddled up against Ken, how easily the dragon had obeyed – how happily.
He’d always been told doing…such things with a dragon made them disobedient. That it was just plain wrong. Dragons
weren’t human, even if they could look it.

That tone though…he’d always tried to be good to Erie. Blaze swallowed, wondering why his mouth and throat felt so dry,
why he felt so nervous. "Yes," he said. "I think you’re much better to look at. I—I’m sorry I said that about him."

Erie smiled in a way Blaze had never seen before, making him stare, and he suspected his mouth was maybe hanging
open just the slightest little bit. "Good Erie?"

"What?" Blaze asked, utterly dismayed. "Are you asking if you’re good?" He hesitated, then slowly reached out to stroke
Erie’s hair, absently noting the way the wavy strands bounced back when he let them go, wondering how he’d never known
the dragon’s hair was so soft. "Of course you’re good, Erie. Don’t you know that?"

The dragon rested his head on Blaze’s thigh. "Good Erie," he repeated softly, and relaxed against Blaze. If not for the
fingers idly stroking the seam of his jeans from knee to ankle, he would have thought Erie had fallen asleep.

For the first time in years, Blaze was suddenly reminded of what he’d accidentally named Erie and his cheeks heated –
damn it to hell he was not blushing over his dragon.

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He was spared from figuring out what the fuck was going on by the opening of the door, Ken and Nev spilling in bearing
things that smelled sinfully delicious.

Erie abruptly jerked away, standing up, nearly tripping – so unlike his usual graceful self.

Ken gave them an inquisitive look, smirking briefly when he figured…something…out.

Blaze scowled. "What?"

"Nothing," Ken said. "Maybe you’re not as awful as I thought."

"The minute I’m healed I’m going to knock the shit out of you," Blaze said sourly. "Now share the eats."

Ken rolled his eyes but obeyed, handing over a bag that proved to be full of all sorts of delicious, evil things – burgers,
chicken strips, tater tots, onion rings. His stomach growled and Blaze wanted nothing more than to swallow everything
whole. First thing was first, though. "For Erie?" he asked, and caught the bundle wrapped in butcher’s paper that Ken
tossed.

Nearby, Erie gave a low, happy growl. Blaze swiftly unwrapped the paper, then presented the prime cuts of meat to his
dragon, who rumbled a thank you before setting to devouring his meal.

Smiling faintly, resisting a strange urge to once again stroke that red hair, he set to his own feast, quickly devouring the
unhealthy but seriously yum food. For half an hour the room was filled with the sounds of eating, the crinkle of paper and
the low rumble of contented dragons.

Finished, Blaze sighed and finally paid attention to Ken. "So talk."

Ken rolled his eyes, and ignored him to speak to Nev. "Why don’t you two go play in the pool and sauna?"

Nev’s eyes took on a bright, excited gleam, and he wasted no time accepting the keycard Ken handed him and latching
onto Erie to drag him away.

"…Something Erie shouldn’t hear?" Blaze asked dryly.

"Yeah, whatever your stupid mouth might spout off while we’re talking about this," Ken shot back.

Blaze rolled his eyes and made a face. "So fucking talk, already. Christ, Kay is paying me fucking triple for putting up with
not only lousy work hours, getting shot at, but also a goddamn lecture." He scrubbed a hand over the soft bristles of his hair.
"Talk before I decide it’s nap time. I was always told…what you obviously do is wrong. Bad for the dragons."

Ken snorted. "Dragons are possessive. A dragon with a good Owner wants nothing more than to be constantly with his
Owner – in every feasible way." He abruptly yanked his shirt off, fingers going to the deep claw marks on his chest. "I got
these the night Nev and I became lovers. Dragons do it every single time – mark what’s theirs. They do it only to their
Owners. Their Masters. Not even their breed mates get half so much attention – dragons live for their Owners."

"That—" Blaze frowned. "Why the fuck would Kay teach me something so completely fucking different? He said getting that
close to dragons was bad for them. Made them hard to control…that it could cause them a world of hurt."

A bitter, angry look consumed Ken’s face. "It could. How would you like it if you lived and breathed for one person, did
everything they asked, wanted nothing but to love them…and they told you to go and fight other dragons in pointless,
bloody combat – occasionally to the death. In that case, fuck yeah it’s better if the dragon doesn’t love his Owner." He
shook his head slowly. "But that’s not possible. Once a dragon bonds, it’s over for him. It’s like trying to undo a dragon’s
fixation."

Blaze smiled faintly at the mention of fixations. He hadn’t bought Erie any treats in the past few days –he’d have to do that
whenever they returned to planet earth. "What’s Nev’s fixation?"

"Caramel," Ken said with a smile of his own, filled with affectionate indulgence. "Erie?"

"Mint," Blaze said, laughing softly. "I guess the fire dragon likes the cool?"
Ken laughed with him. "Could be."

Blaze shook his head as he turned Ken’s words over and over in his head. "So I’ve really been abusing him?"

"Unintentionally," Ken said softly. "I can see you care about him, which is a hell of a lot more than I usually see. Stop

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keeping him at arm’s length."

Feelings he’d long kept firmly buried began to stir, and Blaze shook his head in a futile effort to clear it. "But—"

"But nothing," Ken said sharply. "You really shouldn’t be listening to a fucking Pit Boss."

Blaze grunted. "I preferred living, despite the ugly work, because dead meant Erie would go to someone else…who would
put him right back in the Pit."

Ken shook his head. "No – if he couldn’t save you, Erie would likely have chosen to die with you."

Cold fear washed through Blaze. "What?" he managed. "No – he shouldn’t –"

"But he would," Ken said firmly.

Blaze scrubbed his face, feeling weary all the way down to his bones. "How did you say you knew all this?" Because he
really, really, wished he could just call Ken a lying bastard and walk back to his aggravating but sense-making life.

"I was raised by a Cross, the family which tames the Knight dragons. I could not have had a finer teacher."

Cross…Cross…he knew that name, goddamn it.

Then it suddenly clicked.

Years and years ago…that story had circulated forever… "The frost!" he burst out. "Your frost is that one that was busted
out of the Pits by a Steel!"

Ken grinned. "Yeah, he was."

"Holy shit, that Steel bit was true?"

"Yeah, it was," Ken said, beaming with pride. "Cal is the name of the Steel, his owner is the man who adopted me and
raised both Nev and I."

Blaze grunted. "Fascinating." He heaved a sigh and raked a hand over his hair again, suddenly feeling restless and twitchy
like there was something he should be doing…and he swiftly changed that line of thought because he’d been told for as
long as he could remember that it was wrong that it shouldn’t be done and these goddamn thoughts weren’t supposed to
plague him when he was sober… "So what the fuck are you doing here, man?"

"Hunting for a couple of backstabbers," Ken said. "I tend to piss a lot of people off in the process, mostly because they all
seem to be related to one mob or another."

Blaze snorted. "I can see where that would sic three savaged blacks on you."

"Yeah…thought I’d outrun that crew." Ken grimaced. "I really am sorry you got tangled up."

"Whatever, man. Doesn’t matter. If I didn’t get shot there, I’d get shot somewhere else. Been a while since anything tried to
shoot me; yesterday a goblin tried to make me lunch. I was due for a bullet."

Ken threw his head back and laughed, then stood and gathered up all the trash, pitching it before tugging his shirt back on.
"You’re alright. I don’t suppose you and Erie would want to tag along with us? We could use the help, and you obviously
want to see dragons treated right – that’s my long term goal."

Blaze blinked. Do something else? That didn’t require being a thug? Erie would be happier… "Ah…Kay – Traction – would
be less than pleased if I tried to bail. We’d have things at least as nasty as the savaged blacks to deal with."

"I’ve dealt with worse – it’s just that usually I’m awake when the shit starts."

It was Blaze’s turn to laugh. "Yeah, I can sympathize."

"So are you in?"

"Sure," Blaze said, shrugging. "Why the hell not?" He’d been wanting out for fucking years. Only the fact that Kay would
have him hunted down and killed, Erie dragged back to the Pits…but with Ken and Nevada…it was worth a try. He knew he
shouldn’t be trusting the bastard so easily…but anyone who treated his dragon that well…yeah, this might work.

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Ken grinned. "Awesome. I’ll leave you in peace for now then. I booked a second room after I got food. We shouldn’t stay
here much longer – probably will move somewhere else come morning."

Blaze nodded. "Fine. Don’t give me a reason to beat the shit out of you."

"I won’t," Ken said. "Don’t give me any more reasons to punch you."

Grunting, feeling the bruise on his face Blaze nodded. "No worries."

Ken departed, and with a groan Blaze stripped out of the little clothing he was wearing and climbed into bed, grateful to at
last be still. His eyes slid shut, the silence around him soothing, lulling him into a light doze.

It was broken by the sound of the door opening, and Blaze slowly opened his eyes to see Erie standing hesitantly near the
door, closing it and putting the chain in place. "Blaze okay?" he asked softly.

Blaze wondered when his heart had started trying to pound its way out of his chest.

He really wished he had vodka to blame for what he was about to do. He’d fucked plenty of people…but taking this step
with his dragon seemed completely different. Was he seriously going to fucking do this?

But he’d always guiltily thought Erie was the hottest thing alive, and more than that the dragon was always there – always.
No matter what. "I’m okay, Erie. I never asked if you were hurt fighting."

"Not hurt," Erie said, still hovering by the door, the normally mellow dragon notably nervous.

"Good," Blaze said softly, slowly sitting up enough to brace himself on his good arm. "Did you have fun downstairs?"

Pure delight flared in the dragon’s red-yellow eyes. "We found a hot tub!"

Blaze laughed. "I’m surprised you left it, silly dragon."

Erie smiled hesitantly. "Wanted to see Blaze."

"Come here," Blaze said, forcing himself to sit all the way up, scooting to the edge of the bed. Erie slowly walked toward
him and knelt to twine his arms around Blaze’s waist, nuzzling into his abdomen. The dragon smelled good, like a blazing
summer day, and he was nearly just as hot to the touch. Always his flame dragon burned. Blaze stroked his hair, guilt and
remorse flooding through him as Erie quietly made clear just how goddamn stupid Blaze had always been. How had he
ignored this?

He really was a goddamn fool. What sort of bastard claimed to care for his dragon and let him suffer like this for so long?
"I’m sorry, Erie. I’ve been bad to you, haven’t I?"

"Good Blaze," Erie said softly, not looking up.

Blaze sank a hand into Erie’s hair and gently tugged the dragon’s head back, then leaned down and covered his mouth in a
soft, easy kiss.

Erie made a sound that was part gasp, part squeak, and Blaze could not help laughing softly, briefly, before he focused
only on the fact that his dragon tasted surprisingly sweet, though he could just barely taste the copper tang of blood from
the raw meat he’d eaten earlier. Erie’s mouth fit perfectly with his, the dragon hesitantly kissing him back, fingers flexing
against his sides.

How the hell had he not done this sooner? Blaze tightened his grip and made the kiss harder, firmer, voice harsh with self-
loathing, rough with sudden, consuming desire as he whispered Erie’s name.

The dragon froze for a moment, clearly startled, then made a low, deep growl and suddenly surged up, pushing Blaze down
on the bed, mindful of his shoulder but quite firmly holding him in place. "Blaze…" Need and hunger were plain on Erie’s
face, and Blaze found he could no more refuse the dragon this than give up breathing.

He reached up and dragged the dragon down for another kiss, this time finding himself utterly, wonderfully dominated.
Claws raked lightly at his arms, and Blaze shivered with the sudden thought that he might possibly have scars to match
Ken’s quite soon.

"My Blaze," Erie rumbled against his skin, and whatever hesitation he’d had earlier was gone, the dragon attacking him with
hands and mouth, seeming to stroke or lick every last part of him, making Blaze feel dizzy, drugged, oblivious to the pain in

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his shoulder. He screamed as Erie focused his devastating attentions on his cock, bathing it with that tongue before
swallowing him whole, humming and sucking eagerly, reducing Blaze to babbling.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, but maybe those things were overrated because right now he just wanted more and where
the hell had Erie learned to be this goddamn evil and—Blaze shouted hoarsely as he came, spilling to Erie’s mouth, still
shuddering in the aftershocks as the dragon crawled back up to take his mouth in another kiss, a rumbling-purring sound
vibrating in his chest.

"More," Blaze finally gasped out when Erie released his mouth.

"Blaze?" Erie asked.

He thumped the dragon lightly on his shoulder, wishing his injury didn’t prevent him from participating as much as he’d like.
Grabbing Erie’s head, he yanked the dragon down for another kiss, breaking away only just enough to speak. "Fuck me,
dragon."

Erie’s eyes lit with a level of heat he’d never seen in his dragon before – deep, scorching, and Blaze wondered how he’d
lived so long without seeing it. "Blaze…" Erie pushed away, vanishing briefly, returning wonderfully naked, a faint sheen of
sweat on his skin, that red hair… Blaze wanted to touch, and did so as Erie once more came close.

Cool, slick fingers were suddenly teasing at his entrance, one rapidly becoming two and Blaze moaned as he writhed on the
fingers, riding them, dizzy as he thought of whose fingers they were, who was holding him. Erie was hot to the touch,
fingers far too knowing for a dragon he’d always neglected and curiosity tried to become jealousy but he couldn’t think far
enough beyond the fingers boldly stretching him, how shamelessly he rode them. He moved restlessly on the bed, begging
silently, stunned at his own eagerness after just coming. "Erie!"

The dragon growled and withdrew his fingers, replacing them with a hard, blunt heat that burned and stretched, painful at
first but by the time Erie was fully inside him, Blaze knew nothing but heat and a burning desire for more. He rolled his hips,
rocked, grinning wolfishly at the gasp that elicited from his dragon. "Now, Erie!"

Needing no more encouragement, the dragon began to move, thrusting hard, pulling out only to thrust even harder, and
Blaze could do nothing but meet each thrust, struggle for balance with his one good arm, cursing his bad shoulder.

Starbursts flashed behind his eyes as he came with a hoarse cry, and the only thing he knew as the world whited out was
the feel of his dragon inside him, and a brief flash of pain that he thought came from his back.

When he could finally see and more or less think straight again, panting in the suddenly too-warm room, the first thing of
which he became aware was the feel of a warm tongue bathing his back. He was on his stomach, then, and he could feel
more than hear the soft rumbling of a contented dragon behind him, Erie lapping at his back for some reason.

Then he could feel the sting, and wondered at the small thrill he felt as he realized the dragon was lapping at the blood
made by claws. Somewhere in the heat, Erie had staked his claim.

"Silly dragon," Blaze rumbled sleepily, hoping his shoulder would keep the protests to a minimum.

"Love Blaze," Erie said softly, setting down behind him once the fresh wounds were properly tended, nuzzling the back of
his neck.

Blaze smiled softly. "I love you too, Erie…I’m sorry I was an ass for so long." He laughed as a hand ran over his short hair.
"Where the hell did you get so goddamn skilled, Erie? Do you invite boys over when I’m out?" he teased.

A low, sad growl vibrated against the back of his neck. "Watched. Read. Watched Blaze. Pretended all was with Erie."

Closing his eyes, Blaze called himself every vile, nasty name he could think of. "I’m sorry, Erie. I don’t deserve you."

"Love Blaze," Erie said softly. "Have now. All good."

Blaze smiled and squeezed the arm wrapped around him. If he were more awake, he might feel more stupid and
embarrassed, but right now he could feel only perfectly happy, if a trifle silly. "That’s what your name means, you know…"

He could feel Erie tense slightly behind him, and pressed back against his dragon, wishing he could turn around but that
would mean lying on his injured shoulder. He settled for rolling onto his stomach, bracing himself on his good arm. "Yes.
Erie. Short for Eros. I named you that because as a kid I somehow thought it meant ‘red’ when really it means ‘love.’

Erie blinked, then smiled.

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Blaze stole one last taste of that smile, then settled down to sleep curled up with his dragon.

St. George & the Dragon

"What is up with you?"

Conway shook his head and ignored Tricia, intent upon the man across the room.

So fine and sexy.

"You're soaking wet, Con! Christ, do you know what jackets and umbrellas are?"

"Yes," Conway said, growling low. "I don't need them."

Tricia rolled her eyes. "You're crazy."

Conway finally looked at her, growl turning into a snarl. "Leave me alone."

"Okay," Tricia replied, paling and swiftly retreating.

Feeling sort of guilty, but not guilty enough to apologize, Conway wished he was back out walking the streets of the city and
not here on yet more business.

It was a beautiful night, rainy and chilly. He could stay out in it all night.

The only thing he loved more was the man across the room.

He looked like spring. Soft blonde curls and bright green eyes, a dusting of freckles across his nose. It was the freckles he
liked best. Rafael was so stern looking, despite his features...but the freckles completely ruined that when you were close
enough to see them. He wanted to kiss every last one, then move on to the rest of that fine, slender body. Rafael would
barely come up to his shoulder, which Conway thought was perfect. Then he could hold him close and protected and snarl
at anyone who tried to upset him.

Ignoring the looks he got for walking around soaking wet, dripping water everywhere, he crossed the cozy bakery cafÃ©
and waited patiently for Rafael to look up.

Look up he did, and a faint smile formed on his face. It made Conway happy. "Raf, boss wants you."

Rafael's smile died, and he gave a terse nod. "Did he say why?"

Conway shrugged. "He never tells me."

"Right," Rafael said with a frown. Slowly he packed up his books and papers, then swallowed a last bite of muffin. Slinging
his messenger bag over one shoulder, he finally stood up. "Would you like something to eat, Conway?"

Conway looked at him, surprised. No one ever gave him treats. He hesitated, waiting for the catch even though he knew
Rafael wasn't like that because otherwise he wouldn't wish and long and want for this man to claim him as Owner.

Which he never would. Because the Boss had taken Conway, and kept him chained. Even now he could feel the restraining
drugs in his system, keeping most of his draconic instincts dormant. That wouldn't change until he was pitted tomorrow.

Then Rafael gave another of his small smiles, but didn't quite look at him as he spoke. "They have fresh pumpkin squares."

Conway growled low. He'd smelled them coming in, but had tried to ignore it. Pumpkin. No one ever let him have pumpkin,
except after he'd made a particularly bloody victory. "Yes, please."

Rafael reached up suddenly and pushed back a damp strand of Conway's black hair. His fingers burned where they
touched his skin, and all the drugs in the world, Conway knew, could not keep the heat from his eyes.

This man should be his Owner. "Rafael..."

"I'll get your pumpkin squares," Rafael said, voice rough. "Wait at the entrance. You really should have brought an umbrella,
dragon."

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Conway wrinkled his nose. "I like wet."

Rafael burst into surprised laughter. "Yes, I noticed, you silly frost. Wait one moment and you'll have your treats."

Immediately Conway obeyed, moving to the entrance and waiting impatiently as Rafael went to the counter. His nostrils
flared as Rafael approached him, the scent of fresh pumpkin bread, hints of cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves washing over
him. Only the underlying sweetness of his Rafael was better, and Conway could not resist accidentally brushing his fingers
as he accepted the treats. "Thank you, Rafael."

"You're welcome, Conway. Shall we go?"

"No," Conway said, but obediently wolfed down one of the pumpkin squares, tucked the other two away to enjoy later, then
grinned and led the way outside.

It was still pouring rain, a torrential downpour he hoped would not stop anytime soon. He always slept better when it was
raining.

"Silly frost," Rafael said, but with a smile. The rain beat down on his black umbrella, hiding him from the glow of the
streetlights, but there was still enough Conway could see him clearly.

They walked along in a companionable silence, splashing through puddles as they wove their way through the city. "Good
mood or bad?"

"He has a good mood?" Conway asked as they reached the exclusive apartment building, at the top of which was the
Boss's penthouse.

Rafael sighed.

Inside the building was simply decorated in green and brown, trimmed in antiqued gold. Rafael nodded to the man behind
the desk and walked to the elevators. Inside, he inserted his key and pressed the button for the penthouse.

Being alone with Rafael in such confined quarters was hell. It wasn't fair. He should be able to touch his Owner all he liked
and he couldn't even stand too close.

Conway forced his mind to other matters, such as the fact he was going back into the Pits tomorrow. That was always
sobering and distracting.

The elevator chimed, a hateful sound, then opened slowly, spilling into a blue and black foyer. Fingers brushed ever so
slightly over the back of his hand, and then Rafael was walking down the hall.

Always he was walking away.

Conway growled low and followed three steps behind, passing Rafael only when he reached the double doors which led to
the Boss's study to push them open, somewhat mollified when the guards there recoiled from him.

Humans. Nearly every one of them recoiled at some level. Even if they didn't always realize it, they feared dragons. Only a
precious handful did not flinch. Boss flinched.

Rafael never had.

"It's about time you got here," the Boss said coldly, bright green eyes locked on Rafael. His hair was cut severely short to
rid him of its tendency to curl. If he'd had freckles at any point in his life, he'd long ago managed to get rid of them.

"What did you want?" Rafael asked, voice just as chilly.

The Boss grunted and sat back in his plush leather seat. Where Rafael was short and slender and positively beautiful, Boss
was built tall and wide and ugly. He might have been handsome, but he'd long since spoiled. "Just received word we've got
a new shipment coming. We 'diverted' it from Sanguine."

Rafael grimaced. "You need to stop being so fucking reckless, Leo. We're top of the Concussion tournament right now. We
shouldn't be risking everything by stealing dragons when we've already got more than we know what to do with."

"More dragons, more pits," Leo snapped. "I fully intend to take territories. I've already taken out-"

"I know what you've taken out," Rafael snapped. "It cost us fifteen high element dragons."

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Leo stood up. "Then I don't see why you're bitching about us getting more."

"You've completely fucking ruined everything mom and dad worked to build. They didn't want th-" He was abruptly cut off as
Leo backhanded him.

Conway growled low.

Leo's gaze snapped to him. "Be silent, dragon."

Reluctantly Conway subsided.

"He's fine," Rafael said, wiping blood from his lip.

Leo glared at Conway distrustfully. "He needs to be drugged again. Damned dragons. Useful, but the maintenance is
ridiculous."

"If you drug him now, he will still be doped when you pit him tomorrow," Rafael said flatly. "I know you have no patience with
the dragons you kill on a regular basis, but try to show a little common sense." He took the next backhand with a grunt.
"Drug Conway now and he'll fight for shit tomorrow and this far into the tournament you don't want to fuck up. In case you
didn't notice that Conway is the one doing all the real work."

"You're awfully smartass this evening," Leo said. "I thought I'd beaten that out of you."

Rafael's face tightened. "No, that was Marianne."

"The bitch should have kept her mouth shut," Leo retorted. "If you know what's good for you, keep yours shut. And do what
you're told. Those dragons should be arriving shortly."

"It's fucking ten thirty at night!" Rafael snapped. "They'll keep 'til morning. It's not like they're going any fucking where. If
they were being transported, they're too fucking drugged to do anything with anyway."

Leo backhanded him again, and Conway wanted badly to kill him. He wanted nothing so badly as to kill the Boss. Nice and
slow. Then he would take Rafael away and no one would strike his Owner again.

Except he couldn't fight the drugs...unless he was ordered. Only one person could order him, and instead of doing that
Rafael continued to let his brother hit him. It made Conway ache.

He didn't understand why Rafael let it happen. A dragon, however, had to trust his Owner.

"Fine," Rafael said. "I'll go look at them. Conway comes with me, though. If I've got to look at scared kits I want a good
dragon with me. He'll help keep them quiet."

Leo shook his head. "No. He's fighting tomorrow, I don't want him up all night."

"I do not fight un-"

"You were not told to speak," Leo cut in.

Conway fell silent, keeping himself still only because disobedience meant he would not get to spend more time with Rafael.

"He doesn't fight until evening," Rafael said quietly. "You want my ass to work at this hour I'm taking Conway with me."

Leo grunted. "I think I'm getting sick of that dragon. You're entirely too chummy with him."

Rafael turned away. "He's better company than you. See you in the morning." He turned sharply on his heel and stalked out.
Conway followed, growling low as they entered the hallway and walked back toward the elevator.

"It's all right, Conway," Rafael said softly as the elevator doors chimed shut behind them. He gently tested his bruised cheek
with his finger tips, grimacing but otherwise giving no indication of the pain. "Stop growling."

Conway stopped.

Rafael smiled sadly, and watched the glowing numbers as the elevator went down.

*~*~*~*

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Conway snarled low, tale whipping out sharply as he ducked the claws of the rival rock.

As if.

He felt the crack as his tail connected with face, hearing the roar of pain as his scales cut into an eye.

Snarling, he withdrew to the opposite side of the circle.

Of all the pits in the area for roughly a hundred miles around, Concussion was the most brutal and the most sought after. It
featured only D-pits and fighters were brought in by invitation only. It had been owned by the same family for years -
Galleon.

Now Galleon was selling out, and in typical D-Pit style, they would give the Pit only to whoever won a brutal, bloody
tournament.

He snarled as the dragon approached him. It was losing and knew it. The rock's movements had turned jerky, graceless -
desperate.

Conway felt a twinge of pity, but it wasn't enough to let him throw the fight. No. If he died, his Owner would go unprotected.
And he did not want his Owner to see him lose. Snarling he feinted left then lunged to the right, whipping back around and
sinking his claws into the dragon's soft underbelly. The wound was long and deep.

Lapping blood from his claws, his scales, Conway waited as the lights around the arena were raised. He listened to the
shouting and cursing of those who had bet against him, the dead silence that was all the praise he would get.

When the doors opened, he obediently went to his handlers and stood as they reattached collar and chain. He growled as
one brushed against a wound, turning around to snap at him, growl turning into a laugh that only made them recoil more.

A smell distracted him.

Turning sharply, he ignored the sharp jerk to his chain as his handlers tried to make him obey. The chemicals were
fading...and that smell, yes...

Still ignoring the chains, dragging his handlers along, oblivious to their threats and curses, he prowled to the man who
smelled like warm sun and treats, who carried a scent only of heat and welcome and affection.

No fear.

Conway nuzzled into the hand which stretched out to pet him, rumbling low.

"Good," Owner said quietly.

The rumble turned into a low, unhappy growl as he heard footsteps he did not like, turning to see the hateful Boss approach.

"You're entirely too chummy with that damned dragon," Boss snarled.

Rafael's hand slid away from him and Conway hung his head in dejection, wanting badly to take a bite out of the Boss who
had taken his Owner's touch away.

"He's still worked up from battle lust," Rafael snapped. "Yanking him around on chains is not going to calm him down. When
will you get it through your head that if you want to control the D-pits then you have to understand the creatures you're
pitting?"

Leo grimaced, impatience in every line of his body. "That's what you're for. Speaking of which, get him the hell out of here
and see he's patched up. He's fighting again at dawn."

"What!" Rafael snapped. "Why the hell have you got him fighting again so soon? He's been fighting since fucking noon. It's
eight o fucking clock, Leo. He's exhausted. He needs rest unless you want him to get his ass kicked."

"He'll fight alright," Leo said in a soft, dangerous tone.

Conway growled in sudden wariness - then roared loudly with pain as Leo kicked a shallow wound he'd taken earlier. He
lunged, jaws snapping, tail whipping, only to let out a ragged squeal as his chains were jerked hard.

Then he felt the push of a needle into the unprotected portion of his throat. He mewled. No, no.

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"If you drug him," Rafael said coldly, "he definitely will not be able to fight tonight. You'll kill him."

Leo shrugged, but Conway could not work up the energy to resist as the potent chemicals almost immediately began to
overrun his system. He could rage and hate all he wanted, but he could not act.

Then the vile Boss knelt down and slapped him. It didn't hurt; he barely felt it. Humans could not get through his scales -
but he'd long ago learned that gesture meant pay attention. He held still and listened.

"If you lose tomorrow, I will kill him," Leo said, and jerked his head to indicate Rafael.

Conway snarled, but could not attack. Too sedated. They could not take his Owner away, they couldn't. He hung his head in
acceptance.

"No!" Rafael said. "Leo, he's too worn out for such a strenuous fight. He's your best dragon, why are you wasting him like
this?"

"Galleon is getting tired of the tournament dragging on. He's giving us and Evermore a chance to settle things tonight. Our
best dragons." He paused. "To the death."

"No," Rafael howled, and Conway growled to hear the pain in that one word. "You can't kill him. He's too exhausted. Even if
he wins he'll never survive such a brutal-"

Leo's hand lashed out, connecting with his brother's cheek, the sound loud in the sudden silence. "You need to learn to
obey me. It's just a goddamn dragon. Are you so bad with the boys and girls you're reduced to lusting after pathetic
animals? Maybe I made a mistake killing Marianne instead of you."

Rafael said nothing, merely stood and waited.

"He fights tonight, and he'd better win." Leo turned back to the dragon. "Because if you lose, dragon, he dies too."

Conway mewled low to acknowledge the order. He won, Owner lived. Yes.

"What happens if he wins and lives?" Rafael asked demanded.

Leo shrugged. "He keeps fighting. That's all he's good for."

"He'll need recovery time," Rafael said, looking at the floor.

Conway barely kept back a growl.

"Whatever," Leo said. "Take him to recover then, if that's what you're angling for. But don't try anything stupid because I can
do a hell of a lot worse than you've seen so far."

Rafael nodded. "I'm taking him now. He'll be back to fight."

"No," Leo said.

"Shut up," Rafael bellowed, startling everyone. "You want him to win tonight, he's fucking coming with me. He's been pitted
all day. You just drugged him. Now you're telling him that my life is at stake if he loses. You want him to win, but you've
pretty much guaranteed he's going to lose. He's coming with me. I'll get him ready to fight for you. If he loses - well, shit,
you already said I was dead anyway." He turned sharply away. "Conway, come on."

Conway tugged, rumbling in approval when Leo barked a command and his chains were released.

Outside, he ignored everything but his Owner, padding alongside him as they reached Rafael's car, a sleek and shiny piece
painted midnight blue. "You can change, if you want."

Rumbling a negative, Conway waited until Rafael opened the back door, then slid inside and almost immediately fell asleep.

He woke to the pressure of a needle in his throat, but could tell from the smell that it was only Rafael. Opening his eyes, he
slowly lifted his head and looked around.

Treats. The room smelled like treats, warm and rich and bright.

Stronger still was the smell of Owner, soaked into everything. He nudged against Rafael's shoulder, and fingers came up

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obediently to stroke his scales.

"Cold," Rafael said with a smile. "There's a bath, if you want it. That shot should counter the sedative." He pointed to an
open door.

Conway looked around, not recognizing the place itself but knowing it immediately to be Rafael's. Perhaps some room his
brother did not control. He could smell traces of the outside, trees and water, nothing of smoke and grease and sweat that
was the city.

Nudging the door open a bit more, he padded into the bathroom, claws clicking on green tile. The bathtub in the center was
massive - big enough even for a dragon. He hefted himself up and then into the hot water, giving a soft, deep rumble of
satisfaction as the heat soaked in. Lovely lovely.

Eyes hooded, he continued to rumble quietly in pleasure as he enjoyed the steaming bath.

"Dragons. It's no wonder the water bill is always the highest at the dorms."

Dorms. More like prisons. Conway had grown up there until they realized he was good.

On either side of the tub, and along the back, were wide spaces of tile, probably intended for bottles or towels or whatever.
Rafael sat on the right side and reached out to stroke Conway's scales, fingers made slippery from the water. "You haven't
been badly injured, thankfully. Just that nasty bruise that Leo did not help at all."

Conway snarled at the name, no longer needing to hide his contempt. He turned his head to look properly at Rafael - then
shifted, catching the hand on his head before it could pull away, nuzzling into it.

The sedative was, as Rafael had promised, wearing off. It was becoming easier to do what he wanted, what he knew was
right. "Rafael..." he breathed the name, holding tightly to his hand, absorbing the scent of the only one whose orders he
wanted to take. The only one who was fit to give him orders.

"Con-" Rafael's hand tightened. "You shouldn't."

"Tell me no and I will stop," Conway said quietly. "You know I will."

Rafael nodded, acknowledging his words - then pulled his hand away and raked it through Conway's dark hair. "Get
cleaned up, then there's food for you."

"Where are we?" Conway asked, obediently reaching for soap and a rag.

"A cabin I bought; it's only an hour from the city. I'm sure Leo knows about it, but he lets it be. I think, sometimes, he fears
going too far."

"What would you do if you went too far?"

Rafael smiled faintly and stroked his hair again. "I wouldn't, because that would put you in danger. Dragon first."

Conway moved, bracing his hands with one on the tub, one on the tiles where Rafael sat. The words were hard to form,
despite the fact he'd wanted to say them for so many years. "Owner first."

Face twisted in misery, Rafael reached up to rest his hands against Conway's cheeks. Those green, green eyes were dark
as they stared into his. "You should have picked someone better."

"There is no better," Conway replied solemnly. "Only you." He hesitated a moment, then decided that just once he could
throw caution entirely to the wind, closing the last remaining space between them and kissing his Owner hard and sure,
immediately taking that sweet, so warm mouth when Rafael gasped in surprise.

He felt Rafael resist and made the kiss harder and deeper still, until with a shudder Rafael gave in, the hands on Conway's
cheeks moving to slip around his neck, holding tight.

With a satisfied growl, Conway yanked and turned, pressing Rafael back against the far side of the tub. He broke the kiss
just enough to breathe, then surged back in to take another, straddling Rafael, covering him, determined now never to let his
Owner go. "Rafael..."

Hands gripped his shoulders. "Silly dragon," he finally managed when Conway released his dragon. "You could have gotten
out of the tub."

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Conway nuzzled against him, rumbling low in happiness and pleasure. "Like water. Like you."

Rafael chuckled and ran his fingers through Conway's hair. "Then you could have let me undress. Lucky I have a change of
clothes."

Taking another kiss, unable to figure out how he'd kept away from it for so long, Conway then set to stripping Rafael of his
wet clothes. It was a slow, tangled process, because he could not resist touching and memorizing every bit of skin revealed,
but finally the last bit of clothing was tossed over the side.

"Rafael." He sank his claws into Raphael's arms, not quite hard enough to pierce skin, and bit down on one shoulder, liking
the way that made Rafael buck.

"Bed, dragon," Rafael gasped out. "I'm not doing this where I could drown."

Determined now there would be a next time in which he could convince Rafael to play in the tub, Conway obediently
bundled him close and stood. Water splashed everywhere as he stepped out of the tub. Carrying Rafael out of the
bathroom, he strode back to the bed and carefully set him on it, following him down and taking another dizzying kiss.

Everything about Rafael was beautiful, from the freckles to the faded scar on one shoulder, from the small birthmark on his
left hip all the way down to his feet. All his life, it seemed, he'd waited for this man to be his.

Conway lavished attention upon every last bit of flesh he could reach, starting with the freckles and slowly working his way
down, licking or kissing or nipping everything. Before this night was out, he would absorb the scent and flavor of his Owner.
He was determined.

When everything but that leaking cock had been paid adequate attention, he turned Rafael over and started again, biting
down hard at the back of his neck, growling at the way it made his Owner shiver. He nibbled his way down the Rafael's
spine, hands stroking the rest of that fine body all the while.

"Dragon," Rafael whimpered. "You are driving me mad. Stuff-drawer-" He gave up as Conway's tongue found his entrance.
"Conway!"

Yes. His Owner. All his, now. No one else was allowed. Conway continued his assault until the air was saturated with want
and need, only then shifting to cover Rafael, slowing pushing inside, wrapping his arms around Rafael, claws biting into his
skin.

Rafael's knuckles were white as he gripped the sheets, and he pushed back as Conway rocked forward. His cries blended
with Conway's growls as they moved, drowning out everything, even the fight that weighed down upon them.

He came with a roar that likely would have woken most of the apartment building if not for the careful soundproofing
installed by a man who dealt daily with dragons. Blood splashed against his hands as he raked his claws down Rafael's
chest.

A cry of pain was quickly bit off, and when he turned Rafael around to lap away at the wounds, he was distracted by a deep
kiss. "Conway."

"Love," Conway murmured, brushing Rafael's lips with another soft kiss before moving to lap at the blood from the wounds.

Rafael laughed softly, a trifle shakily. "Those are going to need more than your tongue, Con, as wonderful as it is."

Smiling, Con finished lapping at them, enough to stop the worst of the bleeding, then rose to go find stuff to bandage them.

When the wounds were dressed, Conway tugged Rafael to lie on top of him, nuzzling and petting. "Raf."

"I'm not sure truly being your Owner helps anything," Rafael said sadly, idly stroking his chest.

Conway frowned. "Matters."

Rafael lifted his head and kissed him softly, until Conway could not maintain his frown. "You're right. It matters. I don't want
you to die."

"Then I won't," Conway replied.

"Rest," Rafael said at last, lying back down. "I guess the morning will have to take care of itself."

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*~*~*~*

Conway padded alongside Rafael as they entered the Pits. All around him was the smell of blood and battle and death.
Fresh goblin meat. Rotten human. Dying dragon. He growled low, wanting to be back with Rafael in their bed, warm and
safe and happy.

Not here. Not where his Owner might die if he didn't kill another dragon.

Dragon. He snarled and whipped around as the smell of dragon and wind and sky washed over him.

A dragon padded out of the back room, its scales gray with a faint purple sheen. They gleamed in the dimmed overhead
lights of the empty arena, bright and healthy.

Growling, he moved to stand in front of Rafael protectively. Something was wrong. That dragon smelled...familiar, but he
could not place it yet he knew he did not know this dragon. He was a fighter, like he, scars splitting the seamless line of his
scales here and there.

Still growling, he altered his temperature in threat, cooling the air all around him.

Soothing fingers touched his head, calming him, and Conway eased back the slightest bit. "Steady," Rafael said calmly but
firmly.

Conway obeyed, and eased his temperature back down a little more.

"You are too chummy with that dragon," Leo said contemptuously. "Disgusting."

"Shut the fuck up," Rafael said, eyes never leaving the tall, slender man who had entered with the gale dragon. He had
deep auburn hair and eyes the color of peridot, looking odd in jeans and t-shirt, a worn leather jacket. "Who are you?"

Leo frowned. "We're supposed to be fighting a red dragon."

"A flame," Rafael snapped. "Not a fire, a flame. There's a fucking difference."

"Whatever," Leo said.

Ignoring him, the man bowed his head in an elegant half bow, a strange greeting but in the paranormal world there were
certainly stranger. "You can call me Cambridge." He touched his fingers lightly to the head of his gale, which pushed up into
the touch and rumbled low. "This is Zephyr." Green eyes focused on Rafael. "You are the frost's Owner."

"Yes," Rafael said unflinchingly, ignoring the look his brother shot him.

Conway bared his teeth at Leo, stopping only because of the fingers on his head.

"Rafael St. George," Rafael said. "This is Conway."

Cambridge grinned. "Nice frost, though my gale is better."

"I beg to differ," Rafael said, but with a faint smile.

"What the bloody fuck is going on here?" Leo demanded.

"A good question," Cambridge said. "Galleon is...an old friend, or the closest approximation we have in this business. I
called in a favor to meet with you, as I had no chance of getting close to you by normal means without you learning too
much too soon...and the Pits are hardly conducive to murder."

Rafael's eyes widened.

He wasn't restrained, but Conway didn't move anyway. The man did not seem a threat to his Owner...and anyone
threatening Leo was a comrade. So he waited.

Cambridge's eyes were as hard as the stone they resembled. "Zephyr, shift if you please."

The dragon obediently shifted.

"Oh good Christ," Rafael whispered. "Marianne...you look..."

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Conway growled in surprise as comprehension flooded. That's why the smell was similar, but not quite right. He shifted to
match the other dragon, still growling. "You look just like her."

"Sister," Zephyr said sadly. "Baby sister."

Cambridge abruptly brandished a gun as Leo tried to move. "I suggest holding still," he said with icy calm. "If I tell Zephyr to
attack...well, you pit dragons. You know what they can do." He shifted his attention to Rafael. "You I wasn't sure about. If
you've got a dragon...I can't see you as playing a role in her death."

"No!" Conway snarled. "He tried to protect her. The scar on his shoulder is from the knife he took to save her. Leo beat him
unconscious after that."

"It's alright, Conway," Rafael said softly, stroking his cheek as he looked at Cambridge. "I didn't kill her, but I failed to protect
her. We were friends." He smiled sadly. "Maybe 'brothers in arms' would be more apt. We had a mutual enemy."

Conway snarled at Leo.

Rafael let him. "I tried to save her, I did my damnedest - but he was fucking furious she kept defying him to save some of
the dragons. That we kept trying to defy him. I should have tried harder."

"No," Cambridge said quietly. "I can see you did your best - and you could not act for just yourself, could you?" He looked at
Conway.

"Rafael good," Conway said fiercely.

"Yes, I can see that. Very well, then." He shifted his attention back to Leo. "If I were a kind man, I would shoot you and be
done with this. I doubt you'll be missed, and your blood won't stand out here in the arena unless someone looks hard or a
dragon tells. Which they won't. Unless, of course, your little brother will speak for you. I rather like him."

Rafael looked at Leo, then looked back at Cambridge. "He beat his wife to death and dumped her body in a river. He took
our business and turned it into a pit ring. He abuses his dragons in far more ways than merely pitting them, though that's
bad enough. He threatened to kill me if Conway did not win tonight. Perhaps some brothers love their siblings - not I. He lost
that a long time ago. I simply could not risk Conway to do it myself."

"Then step this way," Cambridge said pleasantly.

The sound of his gun exploded, and Conway snarled in surprise, shifting back to dragon. His nostrils flared at the stench of
blood and the only thing sweeter was Leo's cries of pain as he held his injured leg.

"About to use another knife on you, mate," Cambridge said congenially to Rafael. "Let the dragons handle him, now."

Rafael tensed. "Dragons? Conway-"

Conway growled, temperature dropping, cooling the air, and he stalked across the wide arena to the bleeding, whimpering
ex-Boss who had hurt his Owner and killed Marianne.

"This way," Cambridge said, and Conway only distantly noticed as the two men finally left. Exchanging comradely growls
with Zephyr, he sprung.

Rumbling in satisfaction, Conway dumped himself into the massive cleaning pool just outside the arena. Normally he did not
get to use it; Boss had always been too impatient. But he would not go to Owner covered in dead-Boss's blood.

Climbing out, he shook the worst of the water away and padded outside to where Rafael stood with Cambridge.

Pushing up, he let his front paws fall heavy on Rafael's shoulders. He nuzzled one cheek, knowing the scales would abrade
the skin a bit but this was his Owner to mark whenever he wanted now. He switched to the other cheek and raked his
tongue across it, barking his laughter as Rafael sputtered.

Shifting, he promptly took a deep kiss. "Mine," he said happily, taking another kiss before Rafael could speak.

"Dragon!" Rafael finally managed. "Are you alright?" he asked when Conway stilled, smoothing his hair back.

"Fine," Conway said, disinterested in anything except Leo was dead and he had his Owner.

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Cambridge chuckled. "So what are you going to do now, St. George?"

"Rafael is fine," Rafael replied. "Get rid of all the fucking pit stuff and build what my parents wanted. Thank you," he said
quietly. "I know you did it for Zephyr, but you've helped me all the same."

"Your parents...I seem to recall that once St. George was trying to raise dragons for other things, to create something other
than pitting. Is that true? I mean before your brother fucked things up? And call me Jude, please."

Rafael nodded. "Yes, that was their goal. Dragons are weapons, not dogs. They should be properly used again. That's what
they wanted."

"Mmm...I'm looking for work, now that revenge is over...if you wanted help." Jude said the words easily, but Conway could
almost smell the hope and anxiety. "I rather like it here."

"Help would be appreciated," Rafael said. "Got a ride? You can follow me, I'll put you up for the night and we'll get you
settled tomorrow. We can visit Marianne's grave, if you like. She's in the family plot."

Zephyr all but vibrated where he clung to Jude. "Please?" he asked quietly.

"Of course." Jude looked at Rafael. "For that, we would be even."

"Agreed," Rafael said with a smile. "Follow me, then." He turned and strode across the field to where his blue car was
parked, sliding into the driver seat.

Conway settled into the passenger seat and twisted so he could watch Rafael.

Rafael paused with his hand on the ignition and turned to face Conway. "Are you happy, Conway?"

"Naked and then pumpkin would be better," Conway said with a grin, sliding his arms around Rafael and dragging him close
for a slow, deep kiss. "Otherwise, yes."

"Then let's go home and make everything better," Rafael said, then with a last quick kiss started the car and drove away
from the pits.

Safe From All Harm

Edison let out a startled cry as he was jarred roughly from behind, which caused him to hit the curb rather than step up over
it, which sent him tumbling hard to the pavement. His glasses went flying, and even as he struggled to stand up in the midst
of the crowded sidewalk, he heard the ominous crunch of someone stepping on them.

Damn it.

What was he going to do now? He couldn't see, not really, everything was a horrible blur and soon he'd get a headache and
he was already tired and hungry-

He let out another cry as someone knocked him over, cringing against the curses hurled at him, the demands to know if he
was stupid or what.

Fighting back tears, Edison struggled to stand again, this time managing to stumble his way through the crush of people to
what he thought - hoped - was a wall of some sort.

In a long list of bad days, this one had not taken long to move straight to the top. The only thing keeping him from losing his
mind completely was that he was almost there, almost done. Just a little longer and he would no longer have to do this
alone.

He hoped. But reminding himself for the millionth time that it was stupid to pin his hopes on a debt that was not actually his
to call in was pointless. He had no other options. It was this or let them kill him - which reminded him, as if he could forget,
that he had an hour left until his protective charm wore off and the bastards managed to find him.

Christ, he needed his glasses. Turning to face the wall, trembling with fear and exhaustion, he pulled out a piece of chalk
and quickly drew the required circle and marks, fervently hoping he got them correct. Muttering the necessary words, he
splayed his hand flat against the chalk mark - and felt his glasses.

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He didn't dare cast a spell to repair them, not as tired as he was, but just having them was hopefully enough. Slipping them
on, he realized it was barely enough to have them. One lens was gone completely, the other badly cracked.

Still, he could sort of see, and that was better than being blind.

Pushing away from the wall, he headed towards the twenty story apartment building that was his destination. As he reached
it, he fumbled for the scrap of paper in his pocket that told him the floor and room number.

The last of his expendable energy went toward a spell that would persuade people to ignore him for a full minute, which was
all he needed to get into the elevator - which, thankfully, did not require a key to activate. He'd been trusting to fickle luck on
that one.

When he reached the seventeenth floor, it took him a good ten minutes to figure out the hallways and which direction he
needed.

At last, at last, he stopped in front of apartment L24.

He looked a wreck, which wouldn't help him plead his case, but he didn't have the time or the energy to clean himself up. It
was a damned miracle he'd made it this far. Taking a deep breath, combing a hand through his hair in a futile effort to
neaten it, he knocked on the door.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" The words were snarled as the door was yanked open by a man Edison had seen
before in an old picture. It hardly did him justice. He had the look of an athlete - short, short hair, muscles that nicely filled
the plain white t-shirt and faded jeans, broad shoulders and chest. Classic blonde and blue eyed jock, except there was
nothing about him that fit the thick and stupid stereotype that went with it.

"I'm not Thomas," he said quickly, anxiously, almost begging the man not to slam the door in his face.

"Try another," the man snapped.

Alex, Edison though his name was, but he wasn't sure. Thomas had only mentioned it once, and too quickly for Edison to
really catch it.

"I'm not," Edison said desperately. "Thomas was my twin." He laughed, knowing he sounded more than a little hysterical.
"Good twin, bad twin. He was the bad twin. Please, I swear it."

"Not sneaky," said a new voice, deep and almost…growly. A man appeared behind Alex, resting his chin on Alex's
shoulder. His hair was dark brown, freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks. "Not sneaky," the stranger repeated.
"Close, but not the same."

"What the fuck-"

"Please," Edison said, not caring how pathetic or desperate or needy he sounded. "I need your help, you're the only one.
You are Alex, right?"

"Alec," the man corrected curtly. "Why in the fuck would I want to help anyone related to that mother fucker?"

Edison flinched. "Like or hate, you owed my brother a debt. He's dead - I'm calling it in."

Alec swore loudly, then reached out and yanked Edison inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Magic," said the strange man with the freckles, his nose wrinkling, and it was only now that Edison realized he must have
been standing on his toes or maybe just clinging to Alec, because he was a good two inches shorter than Alec. "Magic,
blood, death. Very smelly."

"Yeah," Edison agreed weakly, not able to muster the energy to be amused. "In about thirty minutes my charm of protection
is going to die, and at that point some very angry people are going to come after me." He looked at Alec, wishing he could
see better, that he didn't look so stupid and pathetic. "I want you to protect me."

"Go to hell," Alec snarled. "If he's dead, good-fucking riddance. I don't owe that bastard a goddamn thing. Even if I did, I
don't recall saying that debt was transferable, so I don't owe you shit."

The freckled man growled - positively growled - and moved to pet and touch and nuzzle Alec, calming him down.

Edison fought tears, feeling about a hundred different kinds of stupid. This had been a bad idea, but what choice did he

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have? Damn it, what was he going to do now?

The ocean? No one could get him if he was out on the open sea, right?

Except the money he needed wouldn't be his for one more month.

God, he was tired.

"Why are you still here?" Alec finally said, still looking mad enough to spit nails.

"I had nowhere else to go," Edison said. He was tired. Exhausted. So fucking sick of it all. Maybe he should just say fuck it
and let the bastards kill him. Then everyone would have what they wanted and the world would continue merrily along.

Damn it. Thirty days and it would all be over. Why did it feel more like thirty years?

"Sad," said the freckled man. "Not sneaky."

His manner of speech was the oddest Edison had ever heard - not exactly childlike, more…just simple. Strange when the
amber eyes focused so intently on him shone with a great deal of intelligence.

Wait a minute…

Yellow eyes. The simple speech. The growling, and his protectiveness of Alec. Edison drew a sharp breath. "You're a
dragon."

Alec snatched the freckled man back. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Edison nodded, but still could not give up. He didn't want to die, damn it. "You promised," he said. "A life for a life. That's all
I'm asking. I'm not my brother, I swear to god. Shit, I've put up with more because of him than you can possibly imagine."
He looked at Alec, not caring how desperate or pathetic he looked. "Just for a month, that's all I'm asking. Keep me alive for
one month."

"No," Alec said. He shook his head. "Why the fuck did you think I'd even agree?"

"I didn't," Edison said miserably. "You were just my last damn chance."

Alec just looked at him. "I doubt it."

Edison bit back a sudden surge of anger. What right did he have to be angry? Of course Alec would assume the worst, and
even if he hadn't - it was stupid to think he'd actually agree to play bodyguard. But all the logic in the world did not undo the
simple fact that Alec and his brother's old debt were his last fucking chance.

"I know you hate me, because of my brother. Everyone fucking hates me because of him. I don't have anything now, but if
you keep me alive for one month I can pay whatever you demand. Money, magic, land - anything. I wouldn't be here if it
wasn't necessary."

"Oh, yeah," Alec said scathingly. "And just why in the fuck would you think someone who hates your brother and was glad
to see the back of him would agree to help his goddamn twin?"

Edison gave up, no longer caring that fear and anger made him shake, that his head was throbbing from the ruined glasses,
that he was probably going to pass out soon from the exhaustion - and by tomorrow he would be dead, because he was just
too fucking tired to keep running. "Because the Knights in Shining Armor shop down the street was closed due to rusting!"
he snarled. "Because I've tried every fucking thing else, and I figured it was better to try everything to avoid dying."

Yanking open the door, he stumbled into the hallway. Everything was a blur, even though he still wore what was left of his
glasses. He realized he'd finally started crying. Damn it.

Then the world gave an uncertain lurch, and the blurry smear of color that was all he could see turned gray. Then it all went
mercifully black.

*~*~*

"Shut up, dragon."

Ignoring Blade's snickering, Alec scowled at the young man currently dead to the world on his couch.

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It was the knight crack that had done it, he conceded reluctantly. That and the tears, he fucking hated to see people cry.
Gods, the number of times his sisters had cozened something out of him just by crying…

Shaking his head, he moved back to his chair and sat down with a sigh. "What in the hell am I going to do?"

"Protect?" Blade asked.

Alec grimaced. "Yeah, right." Thomas had a twin brother. Who the fuck knew? Certainly not Alec. Christ, that incident
seemed years ago. At least twelve years now; god he'd been so fucking stupid when he was young.

Not that he'd gotten any brighter since. Oh, no, he was still dumb as rocks.

Blade growled softly, kneeling to rest his head on Alec's thigh. "Love Alec."

Alec sighed softly, unable to stay angry in the face of his dragon's unhappiness. "I love you too, Blade."

Absently petting Blade, soothed by the feel of warm skin and soft hair, the spicy smell that always clung to Blade, he looked
back at the unconscious man on his couch. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He knew the answer even as he asked the question, and damn it didn't that just fucking suck. But he was a man of honor,
even if everyone else would say otherwise, and a man did not go back on his word. He had promised Thomas a life for a
life. Thomas was dead, which meant that Alec had failed to keep his promise - if unintentionally.

If Thomas had a twin, and that twin was begging for help…

The man really was Thomas' twin, an exact duplicate…

Except not. Now that he wasn't fighting an urge to punch the man's face in, he could pick out differences. For one, his face
wasn't as cold as Thomas' had always been. It was softer, lacking the hard edges and lines that came from living a
dangerous life. The dark brown hair was longer, though the very tips were a shred lighter, holding a hint of wave. Thomas'
hair had been military short.

And the tears. Thomas wouldn't have been capable of even faking tears - unless maybe he was paid a great deal of money
to do it, and likely he would have purchased the tears somewhere else and faked it that way.

These tears had been real. Alec didn't know much in life, but he knew what real tears looked like. Damn it. What the fuck
was wrong with him? Hadn't he learned the hard and painful way that honor and loyalty and all that shit were things of the
past?

His hand tightened unconsciously in Blade's hair as images flickered in his mind, silk sheets and long blonde hair, moans
and pleas but-

Blade's whimper broke the thoughts off.

"Sorry," Alec said, immediately bending down to give a kiss of apology.

Blade rumbled an acceptance. "Good Alec," Blade said firmly. "Brother bad. Katherine bad."

"Yeah," Alec said, and forcefully shoved the thoughts away. "I have you."

Blade nodded and kissed him again. "Protect?"

Alec grimaced and looked again at the man on the couch. Remembered the tears. That damned knight crack. When was he
going to learn? Obviously not today. Sighing, he nodded. "Yeah, we'll protect him. Don't seem to have much of a choice."

Laughing, Blade moved away with a last, soft caress. "Good Alec." Not bothering to stand, he crawled on all fours to the
couch, sniffing and delicately touching the prone figure stretched out on it. What had the man said his name was? Had he
said? "Does not smell like Thomas, except in blood."

Alec nodded. "That's good."

"Exhausted," Blade added, touching the man again, a curious dragon exploring the strange new addition to his territory.

Ha. Territory. Shame and humiliation washed over Alec for the millionth time. His dragon should have land, a proper home -
a proper territory. Instead, because of Alec, all they had was this fucking apartment and just enough money to eke out the

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pathetic living that was now their life. Someday he'd give Blade a proper territory again, though it would likely never be as
grand as the one he'd lost.

Forcing the unhappy thoughts to the back of his mind with the rest, he replied to Blade's comment on the man's exhaustion.
"He would be, if he managed a charm of protection. Those have killed the people attempting to cast them. It's no damned
wonder he passed out."

Blade growled softly and moved to the side of the couch, where the man's jacket was draped over the arm. He picked up
something which must have fallen from the pocket, holding it up for Alec to inspect.

"Chalk," Alec said with a grunt. "So definitely a magic user of some sort. Sorcerer, I'd say. Not many of those floating
around, not human ones anyway. Thomas didn't have magic." That he was sure of - if Thomas had possessed even a drop
of magic, he would have made full use of it. Was it possible for one to twin to have magic and the other none?

He realized he had no fucking clue. Dragons tended to share everything, on the extremely rare occasion twins popped up.
Humans…he supposed twins weren't much different from ordinary siblings. Still, an ability like magic…

"I wonder what protecting him is going to entail."

Blade shrugged, and left off exploring the jacket to go back to gently poking and prodding at the unconscious man. "Won't
be boring?"

Alec laughed. "Just looking for trouble, huh, Blade?"

"Good Blade."

"Yeah," Alec said, chuckling. He started to speak when his eyes fell on the clock on the far wall. "Damn, later than I
thought."

Blade's expression turned speculative.

Alec knew that look, and attempted to head it off at the pass. "Dragon-"

"Pizza?" Blade cut in, looking hopeful and pleading and don't you see I'm starving to death, Master?

Alec scrubbed at his face. "You go eat real food, and I'll let you have a few slices of pizza. But you'd better eat properly!"

"Yes, Alec," Blade said, then crawled back across the floor and up into Alec's lap, straddling him and dipping his head to
take a deep kiss, soft growls blending with Alec's own gasp.

It eased away every ache in him, the way his dragon loved him. They'd taken away everything else, but no one could take
Blade. Holding tight, Alec just let Blade do as he pleased, let him have all he wanted.

Except, of course, there was an unconscious man in the room and Alec didn't have much in the way of manners and
modesty, but he did have that much.

He ignored the memories that flashed, of a time when he'd been more than happy to make out with his dragon while others
were in the room. Individuals he'd trusted as much as he trusted Blade.

Pushing gently, he forced a halt to the hot kisses, the not quite painful scrape of claws. "Go eat, dragon," he said, coughing
when his voice came out ragged and husky. "We don't know what will be coming because of our new friend, so you need to
be at full strength."

Growling, discontent at having to stop but understanding and always obedient, Blade wandered toward the little kitchen in
the corner and opened the fridge.

Sighing, Alec stood and moved to the couch. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table, he contemplated the sleeping man.
Definitely not Thomas, who even asleep probably looked like a scheming rat. This man looked…familiar, as much as Alec
hated to say it. He knew that grimace of pain, the lines of exhaustion, the feeling of desperation and loneliness.

Damn it.

Bitterness was a thick bile in the back of his throat. He'd meant every single vow he'd ever made. They'd never been just
platitudes to him. Every promise that he made, he meant.

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Every promise had made him a fool.

The instinct wouldn't die though. This man had asked, and by accident or design had hit his weak spots. Alec turned his
head just enough to glance at the far wall. Below the cheap wall clock hung his sword, mounted in place shortly after taking
the apartment and not touched since.

In the end, they hadn't been able to take it, either. How could they? It was his, until his death, and its first real taste of blood
at his hands had only proven that he was its true bearer this generation. It had chafed them, to let him walk out with it, but
beyond their control to prevent it.

Standing, he walked slowly to the sword and took it down from the wall, drew it sharply from the sheath. The blade was
pristine, as sharp as the day it was first made, immune to the ravages of time. Magic was not often found close to dragons,
but what magic was present was some of the most powerful. Though a dragon's greatest weakness, magic had also been
involved in their making.

He who bears this sword is destined to kill his closest friend.

Sheathing the blade with a rough sound, Alec returned it to the wall and strode back to the man on his couch. Resuming his
place at the coffee table, absently noting as Blade sat down in the recliner, he reached out and gently attempted to shake
the man awake.

Long lashes fluttered, then lay still against the pale cheeks. Then they fluttered again, turned into long, slow blinks, until he
was staring into sleep-glazed eyes the color of honey.

"Glasses?" the man said, voice hoarse, thick with sleep. "You're blurry, whoever you are."

Alec frowned, looking around, hadn't he set-ah. Picking up the glasses, or what was left of them anyway, he pressed them
carefully into the man's hands.

The man gasped when he slid the glasses on. "You-but-"

"Look," Alec said, "I need to know what protecting you is going to entail. What sort of danger I'm facing."

"O-of course," the man said, struggling to sit up.

Alec felt a brief pang of guilt for waking him, cause the guy looked ready to fall right back over and not move for a month -
but he squashed it, calling himself stupid. What the hell was there to feel guilty about?

"Uh-" The man licked his lips, ducked his head. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I-"

"Just tell me what I need to know," Alec said, cutting him off, not interested in what he might say. He would repay his debt
and that would be that.

"Yes," the man said. "I'm sure I need not tell you about my brother."

Alec grunted in agreement.

"He was always the bad seed of the family," the man said. "My parents were good people, and they never knew what to do
with him. They were extremely wealthy, my parents. They died about a month ago."

"I studied abroad for years and years, improving my magic, staying the hell away from my brother. Growing up, I was his
favorite victim. He hated me." The man sighed, closed his eyes, face a study in pain. "When my parents died, there were a
lot of people who thought they'd finally be getting their hands on the money - Thomas and some of his 'friends' included."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was coming next. "Your parents left everything to you."

"Yeah," the man said. "Everything. But it's held in trust by the law firm my parents used until I reach the age of twenty five."

"Which I'm guessing is in one month," Alec said. When the man nodded, he continued. "So what, after you get it you're out
of danger?"

The man nodded. "If I die before my twenty fifth birthday, then everything gets divided up between the executive officers.
Thomas was killed because he was useless without the money from our parents he promised he'd shortly have. After I
reach my twenty fifth birthday control of everything reverts to me and nothing goes to any of them if I die at that point."

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Alec frowned. "What sort of people are we up against?"

"Abnormals," the man said tiredly. "I wish it were just normals, those I could take care of myself. All I want is to make it to
my twenty fifth birthday, then I can sell everything to the one person who has asked to purchase the company."

"Why not go to him for protection?"

"He's on the opposite side of the country, and I have very little money of my own. I never lived off my parents, and much of
what I did have has been taken in the attempts to kill me." The man looked at his hands. "I truly am sorry to burden you
with this; I simply had no where else to go and no one to trust."

"What makes you think you can trust me?"

The man laughed sadly. "Thomas mentioned you once, when he was mocking me. He said nothing was more useful than a
man of honor, because he'd do anything to keep his word, even if that meant doing something he hated or getting himself
killed. It amused and pleased him that he had your promise to save his life. I think he was going to call you himself, but he
underestimated just how pissed off his compatriots were with him."

Alec tamped down on his temper. "Yeah, there's nothing dumber than a man of honor."

Flinching, the man looked at his hands again. "I don't expect you to do it for free. I told you - in one month I'll be an
extremely wealthy man. I can pay you whatever you want."

"You mentioned land," Alec said, something in his chest twisting. It would be so easy to ask, and he'd finally have a territory
for Blade…

"Yes," the man replied. "If it's land you want, that's easy."

Alec allowed himself to dream for a moment before finally shoving the wistful thought aside "No. A promise is a promise,
even when foolishly made. A life for a life. Your brother once saved mine, and I failed to save his." His hands curled into
fists as he fought an urge to take the stranger's. Ceremony and tradition had no place here, not anymore. Not for him. Still,
old habits were hard to break. "To make up for that transgression, I vow to keep you safe from all harm for a period of one
month."

The man blinked at him, and Alec actually looked at him, really looked, and was suddenly hard-pressed not to smile. He
looked more than a little ridiculous, mussed and wrinkled and the glasses a mangled mess. Like a child who had stumbled
home after an adventurous day of summer vacation.

Or, he thought, levity dying, a kid who'd gotten roughed up by bullies on his way home.

Alec could no more fight his protective instincts than he could stop breathing. He was what he was, even if being that meant
everyone played him for a fool.

"You should get cleaned up," he said. "I'll find some new clothes, unless you've got some stashed on your person
somewhere."

The man shook his head. "No. I threw up the charm of protection and ran. The less I carried, the less likely they would find
me when the charm wore off."

Alec grunted. "I'm impressed you could cast such a charm."

"I cast two, actually, back to back. It's why I'm not dead yet."

Despite himself, Alec was impressed, and looked at the man with a bit of respect. "That certainly explains why you passed
out."

The man's cheeks flushed scarlet, and if he stared any harder at his hands Alec didn't doubt he'd burn a hole right through
them. "I'm sorry."

Alec sighed. "Go get cleaned up. The shower is straight down the hall. My bedroom is on the left. The clothes will be on the
bed there when you're done showering. Do you like pizza?"

"Yes," the man said. "Though at this point I'd eat anything you put in front of me." He looked up with a brief, hesitant smile,
but it died as quickly as it had come, the man looking away again. "Thank you. And I hardly think it a mark upon your honor
to demand payment. If you change your mind on the matter later, just let me know." Standing, he moved across the living

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room and vanished down the hall.

Reaching for the phone, Alec dialed the pizza place number by rote, putting in his usual order and adding an extra pie.
Tossing the phone aside as he finished, he stood and stalked to the kitchen in desperate need of a beer.

"Alec…" Blade said quietly, amber eyes bright and intent upon him, narrowed a bit in concern.

"I'm fine," Alec soothed. "Just hoping this shit doesn't blow up in our faces. Is this okay with you, Blade?" Because if he was
going to protect…fuck, he'd never asked the guy's name. Scrubbing at his face, suddenly wanting a nap, Alec strode back
to the living area and dropped down into the couch.

"Protect," Blade said, eyes blazing in a way no human's could. An animal shine - a dragon shine. He abandoned his chair to
crawl into Alec's lap, rumbling and petting and kissing, a devoted dragon intent only upon soothing his Owner.

Alec held him close, content simply to have Blade close. Everyone else had betrayed him, but never his dragon.

He didn't know how long they remained that way, but it was finally broken by a faint "Oh."

Opening his eyes, he saw Thomas' twin - wet and flushed from the shower, with only a towel clinging to his hips.

Lust slapped him, sudden and sharp, leaving him breathless and dumbfounded. He'd never thought Thomas attractive, and
since his wife's betrayal Alec had not been turned on by any but his dragon.

Thomas had been whipcord thin, all muscle and movement and deadly talent, so much like the butterfly knife he'd always
carried. His twin was nothing like that, nothing at all. This body bore the scars of a magic user - burns and scrapes that
normal life would never inflict. The dark hair was plastered to his head, making him look younger than his twenty five years,
and the body was neither soft nor toned, but a pleasing in between.

He heard Blade growl low in surprise, knowing the dragon must be more than a little startled by what he was smelling. Alec
absently pet him, soothing with soft, nonsensical words.

"Sorry," he finally said. "I forgot to lay out clothes."

"I can just put mine back on," the man said quietly, eyes skittering away, and Alec recalled how they'd been the exact color
of honey.

Alec shook his head, and gently eased Blade off his lap before standing. "No, hang on. I'll get them."

Striding past the man, forcefully ignoring how he smelled, carefully not looking at him, he strode into his bedroom and
quickly scrounged up some clothes. They'd be too big, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now.

"There," he said, turning to where the man stood in the doorway.

"Thank you."

Alec shrugged. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Oh," the man blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. With one thing and another, I forgot that part. My name is Edison."

"Edison," Alec said, blinking slowly. "Thomas and Edison?"

Edison grimaced in a way that only someone who'd been stricken with an unfortunate name could. "My mom's idea. I'm just
glad we were born male. Her girl names were much, much worse."

Alec turned sharply away, refusing to give in to an urge to smile. He'd learned his lesson, and he'd learned it well.

The door bell rang, mercifully drawing his attention, and he snatched up his wallet from a side table on his way to the door.

*~*~*

Edison tamped down on his curiosity. He was damned lucky to be where he was, and he wasn't going to express his
gratitude by asking the million questions suddenly on his mind.

A dragon. Thomas had never mentioned Alec had a dragon. Even to most abnormals dragons were a mystery. Only pit
fighters and their ilk knew anything about dragons, and it wasn't the sort of information they were inclined to share.

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One of the enslaved races, Edison knew that much. There were different kinds, all elemental in nature. They were high on
the list of 'creatures not to piss off under any circumstances'.

All he could think about, however, was the way Alec had been holding his dragon - Blade. The way Blade had held Alec just
as fiercely. Like they each considered the other the most important thing in the world. He wondered what it felt like, to matter
that much to someone, to care that much. Between people who only wanted his parents, his magic, or to get even with his
brother, Edison had never had much chance for a real relationship.

He finished his slice of pizza and licked the grease from his fingers, wishing he knew what to say or do. Alec had already
made it pretty clear he had no interest in doing anything but following the strict letter of the law. I vow to keep you safe from
all harm.

It had sounded like a promise - like Alec actually meant it. Edison rather thought he did, and it left him reeling. People never
meant what they said; they just made the appropriate noises to get what they wanted.

"More?" a quiet voice asked, and then a second slice of pizza was all but shoved into Edison's face.

He took it, looking up in surprise. Blade stared at him intently, his amber eyes like nothing Edison had ever seen. "Uh.
Thank you."

Blade smiled and then went back to devouring his own slice of pizza, making odd little rumbling noises. It made Edison think
of a cat purring away while it was pet.

He bit his tongue against asking if dragons could eat pizza, because that was probably a horribly stupid thing to ask.
Instead, he focused on his new slice of pizza and the beige carpet, trying valiantly to ignore the loud silence.

Finally he dragged his eyes up, desperate for any distraction. They landed on the far wall, the sword mounted on it. A
sword? It didn't look like it was fake either, some harmless bit of decoration - especially when the room was otherwise
devoid of knick knacks and miscellany. No, it was an honest to god broad sword, like something out of a movie about clan
one killing clan two all because of some dumb bimbo.

It was rather plain, for all that, the hilt just silver and black, the sheath unadorned black leather.

"It's not going to hurt you," Alec said, making Edison start.

He jerked his head around. "What?"

"The sword," Alec said with careful patience. "It's not going to leap off the wall and attack you."

"Well, obviously," Edison said with a frown. What the hell did he mean by saying something like that? "I was just fascinated
you had a sword. I didn't think anyone used them anymore."

Alec shrugged. "Swordsmanship is a tradition in my family," he said. "For that and other reasons, I never had much of a
choice."

"I see," Edison said. "It's impressive, all the same. In high school, my gym teacher taught us fencing for six weeks. The only
thing I was worse at was archery." He pointed to his eyes. "Anything requiring aim tends not to go well for me."

"Speaking of which, those glasses can't be fun. Do you have a spare set?"

"No," Edison replied. "I can fix them once my strength is back up. I met another sorcerer once who taught me a handy repair
spell for our glasses." He allowed himself to think wistfully on that man, one of the few truly friendly faces he'd encountered
in his life. That had been years ago. He wondered if the man still had his angel.

He shrugged the idle thoughts away.

"Are you going to be up to travelling?" Alec asked. "If there are people after you, and they can find you now, I doubt we
should be holding still much longer. Do you know how close they were?"

"I managed to hop a plane," Edison said, "and came this far. I'm hoping it's far enough to buy me a few days, but I can't say
for certain. If they've hired a magic user, it won't take them long to find me. I can travel, though. I managed before, I'll
manage again."

Alec grunted and finished his own slice of pizza, washing it down with the last of his beer.

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Edison watched the throat work for a moment, unable to help himself, then finally forced his gaze away.

"Magic smell strange," Blade said into the silence, eyes bright and intent. He braced his weight on his hands and leaned
forward, and Edison was again reminded of a cat. "Strange. Not bad. Magic is usually bad…but not always." His nostrils
flared, eyes brighter than ever. "Smell like Alec."

"Blade," Alec said sharply.

Immediately Blade withdrew, crawling up onto the couch to drape himself across Alec's lap.

Edison no longer felt like eating. He turned away from the sight of Owner and dragon, wondering if they even remembered
he was in the room. Doubtful, and he could hardly blame them. Maybe he could just find a place to curl up and fall asleep…

Suddenly Blade growled, surging off the couch to the door - and screamed as it suddenly blew in. Edison heard a pained
grunt, then everything turned into chaos.

Damn it.

His chalk. Where was his jacket? He saw it on the couch and made for it - only to be snatched hard around the waist and
thrown to the hallway. "What-"

"First rule of being protected," Alec snarled, yanking his sword from the wall and turning. "Do what I say. Stay back."

"But my chalk-"

"Shut up and stay back," Alec repeated. He faced the group of three men who'd stormed into his apartment. "There are less
flashy ways to go about killing people."

"No one told me to do it quietly," the man in the lead snarled. "He's led me an aggravating chase, but we've finally caught
up with him."

"How can you be here already?" Edison demanded.

The leader smirked, and motioned to the man just behind him and to the left. "Demon."

Edison swore. Who the fuck was trying to kill him that could summon a demon and bind it to a human body? He looked
anxiously at Alec - and froze in shock.

Alec was laughing. "Demon?" He drew his sword and tossed the sheath aside. "You're fucking with the wrong man if you
want to bring demons to the party."

The demon returned the laugh with one of his own and moved forward, eyes glowing with an inhuman light - but never
made it, as something massive and silver and snarling knocked him to the ground.

"What…" Edison could not tear his eyes away from the creature which looked up from the bleeding body to which the
demon was bound. It was massive - not quite as big as a pony, but not too far from it. Long and sinuous, and it had to be
almost as long as two men stacked head to foot. The teeth were nasty looking, especially where the ends dripped blood.
Amber eyes glowed. The scales…he'd heard of dragons that were red, green, blue, black…never had heard of silver. Like
steel flashing in sunlight.

The two remaining men shouted, brandishing pistols. "What the fuck kind of dragon is that?" gasped the leader. "He just-no
one takes down a demon that easily."

"You're fucking with the wrong guy," Alec repeated. "Get out, and don't fuck with us again."

Light abruptly flashed, and Edison heard Blade scream, and then the demon was standing. No longer bleeding, but still
grimacing in pain, the demon-possessed man glared furiously at Blade.

Blade growled, slinking around Alec like a cat nuzzling his master, then stopped in front of him.

Edison climbed shakily to his feet, wondering what the fuck was going on. He'd had no idea this would happen when he'd
asked for protection.

"Come on, demon, see what it's like to fight a knight of two swords," Alec taunted.

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"I only see one," the demon sneered.

"Then you're blind," Alec replied. "Blade, kill."

Blade needed no further prompting, but lunged with more grace than Edison had ever witnessed in another creature. The
demon fought back, and more than once Edison cringed away as Blade roared in pain.

Then Blade was cast aside, roaring once more - but Alec, still until then, abruptly lunged forward, plunging his sword
through the demon's chest. "Be gone, demon, and trouble no longer this world."

Something between a snarl and sob escaped the demon, and then Alec shoved the limp body off his sword.

The remaining men lifted their guns, but even as they fired Blade lunged, his tale a flash of silver as he knocked their arms
aside.

To judge from the state of their arms, the screams of pain, he suspected the arms were broken.

"Knock them out," Alec said, voice cold as ice.

Blade obeyed, growling low as he moved to rub and nuzzle against Alec.

Alec knelt, wrapping his arms around Blade, stroking the steel-like scales, murmuring words Edison couldn't catch.

"What the hell?" he asked, looking from the body to the blood - oh god there was a body and blood - to the destruction that
was all that remained of Alec's apartment. "Oh, god." He covered his face with one hand, then tore it away when he realized
how bad his hands were shaking. "I didn't know they'd resort to this. Fuck, my parents weren't that important. It's just fucking
money. Oh, god, oh god."

"We need to get the fuck out of here," Alec said, standing with one last caress. "It's a goddamn wonder we didn't hurt
anyone else."

Even as he spoke, Edison could hear people coming. His chalk.

Moving past Blade and Alec, he snatched up his jacket and pulled out a piece of chalk. Turning, he drew quickly on the
coffee table, muttering the necessary words - then slammed his hand down as he spoke the last one.

The world grayed out as the spell worked, and he barely kept from planting his face on the coffee table.

Someone grabbed him, it must be Alec, but Edison could only feel the arm that slid around his waist, the hard chest against
which he rested for a moment.

"You're too tired to be casting magic like that," Alec said, voice quiet but firm. "Don't make me protect you from yourself on
top of demons, sorcerer."

Edison shook his head and forced himself to pull back, away. He immediately missed the warmth of Alec's body, only then
realizing he was cold. "No. I knew abnormals were hunting me. I didn't know they were desperate enough to risk
summoning demons. I won't endanger someone that much. My life isn't worth fighting demons."

He turned away - then yelped as he was yanked back against that hard chest.

"Do I look like I failed to take care of a damned demon?" Alec demanded, snarling the words. "Do I?"

"N-n-no-" Edison stuttered.

Alec grasped his shoulders and shook him. "Then shut the fuck up. I vowed I'd keep you safe and I will. Don't fucking insult
me by rejecting my word now."

"But that's not-"

"Shut up," Alec snapped, and shook him one last time for good measure before his hands slowly slid away.

Edison shut up.

A series of sharp chitters made him realize he was staring at Alec, who glared furiously back. Breaking their locked gazes,
feeling seared by blue eyes, he blinked several times at Blade.

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Still making those weird sounds, Blade looked back and forth between them. He barked at Alec, tail swinging back and forth
in lazy arcs.

"You shut up too, dragon."

Edison stared at them. "You can understand him like that?"

Alec grunted. "I'm his Owner, of course I understand him. He thinks we're amusing."

"Is he okay?" Edison asked, looking at the blood smearing his scales, the two cuts he could see, wondering what he couldn't
see.

"He's fine," Alec said. "This is the first challenge he's had in a very long time."

Edison nodded. "What kind of dragon is he?"

Alec grinned. It was - Edison couldn't stop staring. "He's a knight dragon, also called a steel dragon."

"I thought all dragons were elemental?"

"Only the lesser dragons are separated into individual elements," Alec said, voice taking on a condescending note. "Blade is
perfect, and beautiful." He knelt, reaching out an arm, stroking Blade's long neck, laughing softly as Blade's tongue lapped
his cheek and throat. "My first and greatest sword, forever and always."

Edison nodded, not really understanding a bit of it, except that he once more felt like a third wheel - and one who had
caused all the trouble.

"We need to go," Alec said, standing. "Blade, change and get our things." He whirled around. "You - fix those glasses, if you
can. If not, we need to find you a pair that will suffice until you can."

"I'll fix them," Edison said. He refused to be weak when they these two were…like nothing he'd ever seen. Returning to the
coffee table, he used his shirt to wipe away the spell circle. Picking up his chalk, he drew a new one. This one was much
simpler then the previous. Repairing a large portion of an apartment and weaving the destruction with a spell of
forgetfulness so no one would question anything was something he was glad he didn't have to do often.

Though after everything he'd been through, his few hours of rest were simply not enough. Repairing his glasses made the
room tilt alarmingly - but at least now he could see clearly out of both eyes. Already his headache was starting to ease.

"Come on," Alec said, and Edison swore his voice almost sounded gentle.

He definitely needed a nap, and for that nap to last at least a month. "Sorry."

"Oh, shut up," Alec said.

Edison allowed himself to be dragged along as they made their way down the hall, into the elevator, slumping against a
hard surface that he suspected was actually Alec, stifling a moan as he was then dragged through a parking garage.

"Blade, into the back," Alec said. "You can stretch out more comfortably there. Get him settled while I situate our stuff."

Several minutes later they were on their way, and Edison wondered sleepily what sort of car Alec owned. It was sleek and
sporty, that much he could tell.

He lifted his head enough to turn and look at Alec, who was strange and fierce and handsome in the city lights. "Thank you,"
he managed, before staying awake simply became too much.

*~*~*

Alec wondered how many times in the next month he'd wind up carrying Edison around.

Not that it was difficult, the man could stand to put on some weight, but when the month was up he was going to give
Edison unmitigated hell about having to be hauled around like a swooning damsel. The thought made him smile briefly,
though it was swiftly overtaken by a yawn.

"This feels familiar, huh?" he asked as Blade rumbled sleepily as he dropped down onto the other bed.

Blade muttered a reply, indecipherable.

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Laughing softly, Alec settled Edison on the bed furthest from the window. He went to remove Edison's shoes, and only then
realized none of them had remembered to give Edison shoes to start with. Shaking his head, he pulled up the blankets. He
started to pull away, then realized Edison still had his glasses on. Reaching out, he carefully pulled them off.

He'd never seen anyone who looked so goddamn tired. Even after he'd been exiled, he hadn't looked like that. Edison
looked as though he could outdo Rip Van Winkle. Alec reached out to brush back a stray lock of hair - then realized what
he was doing and snatched his hand back with a curse.

Striding to the other bed, he removed his shoes and shirt and stretched out on top of the bed. Would that he could undress
completely, but if they had to leave immediately…

Blade latched onto him, claws lightly raking his chest in a rough caress, teeth nipping. "Alec…"

Alec kissed him deeply, the last of the tension of the evening bleeding away at the heat and flavor of his dragon. "Are you
sure you're all right?"

"Blade good," Blade said with a low growl. "Alec good. Magic not good. Will be better?"

"Yeah," Alec said. "He should be fine in the morning." He yawned again, but in all the chaos, all the upheaval, one thing still
burned in his mind. "What did you mean, earlier, when you said he smelled like me?"

Blade was slow to answer, all but dead asleep against him. "Like loneliness and want. Magic smells strange…but good."

Alec stroked Blade's back lightly, enjoying the weight of his dragon against him, partly on top of him, the soft rumbles that
were a dragon snore.

Loneliness and want, huh?

He was too tired to think, especially about something like that - especially when he'd already learned his lesson. Sighing
softly, kissing the sleeping Blade one last time, Alec closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

A noise woke him some time later, and he sat up with a start.

He stared uncomprehending as he saw Blade and Edison sitting on the other bed, talking quietly but enthusiastically.

"What's going on?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.

"Alec," Blade said, beaming, immediately coming over to him, giving him a lapful of happy dragon. "Better?'

Alec grunted an affirmative, then yawned. "What time is it?"

"About six am," Edison said quietly. "Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," Alec said with another yawn. He pushed Blade away, then swung his legs over the bed and fumbled for his shoes.
He grabbed his shirt and stood, finally looking at the other two. He was nine tenths asleep, but one tenth was all he needed
to make note of the way Edison was looking at him - and how quickly that gaze skittered away to avoid being caught. "I'm
going for coffee and food. Would you like anything, Edison?"

"Whatever you get, I'm good with," Edison said. "Thank you."

Grunting something that he thought sounded close enough to 'no problem', Alec tugged his shirt on, grabbed his wallet and
keys, and departed.

By the time he got back, half a large coffee consumed, he was feeling much more human. Edison and Blade were again
talking - chatting like old friends, almost, and Alec could only stare a moment.

Another man might feel jealous, he supposed, to see someone like Blade talking and laughing with Edison so easily. But no
small part of being an Owner was a level of confidence that could be mistaken for arrogance. He knew Blade was his, and
often he thought he and Blade were even closer than most Owners and dragons because they were all the other had after
being exiled.

Being a dragon, Blade seldom could be bothered to speak more than a few simple words at a time. With Edison, however,
that laziness seemed to have faded a bit. He hadn't seen his dragon that happy in a long time.

He dropped down at the foot of the bed and handed over a bag filled with muffins and bagels and whatever else he had

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grabbed while still mostly asleep. He didn't really remember. Next to it he deposited the grocery bag which had Blade's food.

"Thank you, Alec," Blade said, kissing him enthusiastically before snatching up his breakfast and moving to eat it on the
other bed, devouring the hunks of raw meat with a cheerful vengeance.

Edison gave him a hesitant smile. "Thank you."

Alec shrugged.

"Blade was telling me a bit more about dragons - the other ones, I mean. He says you're not allowed to talk about what he is
- and what you are."

Shrugging again, Alec drank his coffee for a minute or two. "He's a knight dragon. They were the first dragons, the real
dragons. All other dragons were bred down from the original knight dragons."

Edison nodded. "I've never heard of knight dragons. I'm guessing they're a deep secret?"

"Yes," Alec said, drinking more of his coffee, taking deep, impatient swallows now that it had cooled. "We're not supposed
to discuss it…but Blade and I are something of an exception, and I'd hardly expect you to remain ignorant of those you've
hired to protect you."

Another nod, as Edison toyed restlessly with a poppy seed muffin, tearing it more than eating it. "So what are you?"

"A knight," Alec said, not realizing he was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth. He threw his empty coffee
cup into a nearby trashcan. "A knight with seriously tarnished armor, exiled from my clan."

"Exiled?" Edison repeated. He started to say something else, then bit his lip.

Alec wouldn't mind biting it himself.

Swearing softly, he stood up and moved to the bathroom. "I'm getting a shower. You two stay out of trouble, all right? And
tell any attackers to wait, because I really don't feel like getting in a sword fight while I'm naked."

Blade laughed, and grinned at him. "Yes, Alec."

Nodding, Alec grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door with a sigh. He stripped out of
his clothes mechanically, turning on the water and grabbing his things from the countertop. Steam filled the small bathroom,
and he slid beneath the hot water with a long sigh.

The last time he'd been in a motel shower, he'd just been exiled. He and Blade hadn't known what to do with themselves.
The clan had been their entire life - training, teaching, communicating with the other clans. Those trips, however, had never
required cheap hotels.

No, back then he'd had all he could ask for and more besides. Wealth, a place, a beautiful and loving wife, and his brother,
his best friend for as long as Alec could remember.

Until he'd come home to find his brother in bed with his wife. The only thing worse was finding out they'd been doing it for
years.

He only vaguely remembered that night. He remembered screams, and shouting, the smell of blood, his wife sobbing. When
he'd finally come out of his red haze, his brother had been dead and the clan was voting to exile him.

A good knight his entire life. When he'd taken the vows, he'd meant them. He and Katherine were just one more arranged
marriage, but it had been a good one, and he'd meant those vows too. Naïve fool that he was, he'd thought she meant
them too.

To this day, he wondered how much of the clan knew and never said, how many of them laughed at stupid, oblivious Alec,
too busy playing good little knight of the clan to see what was right beneath his nose.

Shaking his head, Alec banished the thoughts. Picking up his razor, he started shaving.

He had more important things to think about than his stupid past. Like why a bunch of thugs would summon a fucking
demon to deal with one little sorcerer. That was like sending a werewolf to kill a kitten.

Edison hadn't expected it, that much was clear. Alec couldn't pick out liars for shit, obviously, but he didn't think Edison had

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been faking his shock.

So what did the kitten have that he didn't know he had?

Alec scrubbed down quickly, then shut the water off and grabbed a towel. Drying off, he quickly pulled on the fresh change
of clothes. He glanced at the mirror, but it was still steamed up. Hanging up the towel and grabbing his dirty clothes, he
finally opened the door and rejoined Blade and Edison.

The TV was on, some documentary thing that Edison was watching raptly. Blade, the lazy thing, was dozing on their bed.
Alec's lips twitched, and he reached out to lightly smack Blade's ass as he passed the bed. That got him a faint growl, but
true to form Blade could not be bothered to move from his comfy position.

"Lazy dragon," Alec said fondly.

Blade merely growled again.

Alec picked up his sword and drew it. He'd cleaned it quickly last night, but had been in too much of a hurry to do a more
thorough job.

"That sword contains magic," Edison said suddenly. "I don't notice it when it's sheathed, but the moment you draw it, the
magic just pours off it." He hesitated. "It carries a curse, doesn't it?"

"You can sense that?" Alec said.

Edison shrugged. "My specialty is charms, and the dark side of charms is curses. They're two sides of the same coin, I
guess you could say. It's the art of forcing a strict set of circumstances upon an object or person. Your sword is a talisman -
an object set with a curse or charm. A curse, in this case." He stood up and crossed the room, expression one of intense
focus, and Alec could see he was moving without real thought.

On the bed, Blade sat up, folding his legs and resting his hands in his lap, as focused on Edison as Edison was upon the
sword.

Reaching Alec, Edison reached out to lightly touch the sword. "This is complicated magic. I think I've only met one sorcerer
of the caliber necessary to cast a curse like this. Once upon a time, there would have been more of them around."

"Yes," Alec said. "This sword was made in the days of King Arthur."

"Really?" Edison said, looking up, eyes wide with surprise. "That certainly explains it. Magic was much more prevalent
amongst humans in those days, and the interactions with abnormals much more commonplace. What is the exact nature of
the curse? You're brave to carry a cursed blade; arcane lore states that instruments of blood hold curses best, and they
carry the worst curses of all."

Alec's mouth tightened. "I never had a choice. The blade chooses its owner. It chose me the day I was old enough to hold a
real sword."

Edison frowned. "I see," he said quietly. "Why would anyone create such an awful curse?" He shook his head. "I never
understood the purpose of a curse that lasts generation after generation, causing pain long after the caster and everyone
he might have hated was dead."

"Love," Alec said harshly, wiping the blade clean, gazing at the glinting steel. "A woman angered that her lover was unjustly
slain. She vowed revenge upon the man who killed her lover, sought to ruin his entire world, by cursing him to kill the one
he most loved. He who bears this sword is destined to kill his closest friend."

"That's awful," Edison said. "She needn't have set it for eternity; there was no reason for that level of cruelty."

"They were cruel times," Alec said. "Cruel and hard enough that to help a young king conquer the cruelty and rule his new
kingdom, a priestess created for him a living weapon, once that responded only to the will of the true king. From that one
came others, beautiful living blades which answered to none but the knights for whom they were created."

Edison drew a sharp breath, and turned his head to look at Blade. "No wonder they keep you secret. A knight dragon.
Incredible."

Blade rumbled with pride. "Born of the Lake to defend Owner and Clan and Kingdom at all costs, in the name of the Great
King and Holy Dragon, and the Sacred Lady who made us, until the end of time, amen."

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"You're not supposed to tell me this, are you?"

"Magic smell good," Blade said. He looked at Alec. "Owner smell better. Some secrets, better to tell."

"Dragon," Alec said sharply.

Blade merely growled and repeated, "Alec smell better."

Alec grimaced and said nothing further.

"So…" Edison hesitated, biting his lip again. "What's all this about clans?"

"The knight dragons and those who control them are divided up into various clans, scattered across the world," Alec said
with a sigh. "My full name is Alec le Savage, from the Clan le Savage, and I am directly descended from Balin le Savage, he
who first bore the cursed sword and slew his own brother because of it."

He didn't know why he was talking, explaining everything, except that now he'd started it was hard to stop. Blade's simple
words rang in his ears, echoed in his head - Alec smell better. Blade was telling him that talking about it was making Alec
better.

Only a stupid man ignored what his dragon said. While Alec had long ago decided he was incredibly stupid, he wasn't so
dense he blew off what Blade said.

"Why would a clan hold on to a sword that only causes such pain to its wielder?"

"You say it like there's some choice," Alec said, shaking his head. "Shouldn't you know better? There is no choice. Besides,
the Sword of Balin is as much a blessing as a curse for our clan. Few true talismans from the days of the dragons exist,
and the fact Clan le Savage holds one of them gives us a special place. If one man every few generations must suffer for
the clan to retain that authority and power, so be it."

Edison frowned. "That's stupid."

Alec shrugged. "The sword holds a curse, but also great power. Rare is the weapon which can banish a demon on its own."

"I almost forgot about that," Edison said. "I'm surprised demons haven't tried to destroy the sword before."

"The majority of demons are summoned and bound, and follow the commands of those who summoned them. Of those
most are bound to objects. The few bound to bodies, like the one I killed last night, are not strong enough. They'd have to
get past both Blade and I, and that won't happen. Free demons…have more important things to worry about than a sword."

"True enough," Edison conceded. "I still don't like it, but it's none of my business."

Alec shrugged again, sheathing the sword and setting it down upon the table. "I don't like it either," he said quietly, staring
at the sword, hands balling into fists.

"You…the curse already came to pass, didn't it?" Edison asked quietly.

"Yes," Alec said tersely. He abruptly stood up, forcing Edison to take a startled step back. "I'm not the point here. You are.
We need to figure out why the fuck people would send demons after you. What the hell kind of business did your parents
run?"

"Antiques," Edison replied. "Most of their business came from abnormals."

Alec swore softly. That meant his parents had dealt in magical objects, talismans and books and all sorts of shit. "And it
didn't fucking occur to you that they might possess something that would warrant a demon coming after you?"

"Like what?" Edison said, baffled. "If they wanted something my parents bought, it would make much more sense to steal
the object in question. Anyway, my parents didn't often buy the objects themselves. They acted more like middlemen,
ensuring a secure transaction, things like that. I helped them for a few years before I left to pursue my own studies. The
only thing anyone might gain from taking over the business are the contacts, the…" He stopped. "The reputation. My
parents were trusted implicitly. Abnormals who refused to deal with anyone else would deal with my parents' company. It's
why they made so much money - they could be trusted where no one else could. I never really thought about it. I just
always assumed it was the money…"

"I should knock you upside the head," Alec said.

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Edison sat down on the bed. "You should. I feel like a fucking idiot. Shit." He buried his face in his hands.

"That makes me equally suspicious of your buyer, now, too," Alec said. "Who wants to buy your business?"

"Uh-" Edison looked up, and Alec could see him make an effort to focus his thoughts. "My parents actually received it first.
They turned it down. I read over the offer sorting through the office one day, and thought it sounded like a good idea. So I
contacted the man myself…his name is Sable Brennus."

Alec stared. "Sable Brennus? Is that a joke?"

Edison frowned. "No. Why would it be?"

He moved without thinking, reaching out to grab Edison's shoulders, shaking him hard. "You-" He shook harder. "Sable
Brennus is a demon lord. How the hell did you not know that?"

"Stop shaking me!"

Alec shook him one last time for good measure, then finally let go. "How the fuck did you not know you're selling to a demon
lord?"

"Why should I know? I don't interact with demon lords, why the hell should I know their names?"

"You were going to sell your company and you didn't even know anything about the person to whom you were selling it?"

Edison glared at him, eyes bright and furious behind his spectacles. "I had other things on my mind! I figured I had to live
long enough to sell it before I worried about the details. Go to hell."

Alec managed not to start shaking him again. Barely. "You don't need protection from others, you need protection from
yourself."

"Fuck you," Edison said, turning sharply away and stalking back to his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Blade growled low, and Alec turned to see he was being given a reproving glare. "Shut up, dragon," he muttered, sitting
back down in his seat and glaring at the wall.

It was fucking true. The idiot came begging protection and didn't even fucking know from what he actually needed protected.
A reputation that pristine in the business of magical items? Shit, Alec knew only the basics of magic and he knew people
would commit mass murder for access to a reputation like that.

Not to mention a demon lord was after it, and it wasn't some new demon lord still getting a handle on his territory. No, Sable
Brennus was a force to be reckoned with, the sort of demon lord even other demon lords tread carefully around.

If he were one of the greedy bastards after Edison's business, the very last damn thing he'd want was for it to fall into the
hands of Sable Brennus. That would certainly explain the demon.

Unfortunately, it also told him what he needed to do. What would be best for the man he'd vowed to protect. He stood up.
"We're leaving. Blade, pack up."

They worked in a silence broken only by Blade's low growls, and Alec pointedly ignored the looks Blade continued to give
him. Shooting Blade a glare of his own, Alec moved past him and toward the bathroom.

He was given an abrupt shove, losing his balance, crashing straight into Edison, sending them both to the floor.

"Dragon!" he snapped, managing to drag himself to hands and knees - and accidentally locking eyes with Edison, who'd lost
his glasses in the fall. Though he didn't look as tired as he had before, there was still a great deal of strain there.
Unhappiness. Like the weight on his shoulders was too much to bear.

Katherine had been that way, the day they'd met. The clans weren't humungous, but they were big enough that not
everyone knew everyone else. She'd been tough, Katherine, but also vulnerable. Burdened by an unhappy, argumentative
family and all the obligations the clan placed upon its members. A regular damsel in distress, and Alec hadn't been able to
resist. He hadn't been looking forward to his arranged marriage, but after meeting her he'd hated it a lot less.

He wondered if any part of her he'd known had been real, if any of his happier memories of her had an ounce of truth to
them.

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"Would you get off me?" Edison asked, voice tight.

Alec grunted and carefully climbed to his feet, then helped Edison up. Kneeling down again, he located the glasses which
had somehow wound up under the cheap dresser. Standing, he made certain they were clean, then slid them carefully only
Edison's face.

"Thank you," Edison said, and started to turn away.

Behind him Alec could hear a barely audible warning growl. Conceding defeat, he snagged Edison's wrist and forced him to
turn around. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have been so harsh."

Edison looked at him in surprise. Then he shrugged, pushing up his glasses, a frown on his pretty mouth. "I deserved it," he
said with another shrug. "I thought I knew what this was about; obviously I'm just a fucking idiot. My brother always made
fun of me for missing the obvious with a lot of shit."

"Yeah, well, your brother was an asshole. He saved my life, but only because doing so gained him something. "

"He never did say how exactly he saved your life," Edison said.

Alec shrugged. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, tired and lost and drunk when I shouldn't have been drinking at
all. I also didn't have Blade at the time; I'd left him back at the hotel. Your brother saved me from a shot to the head, and I
was deeply grateful. It wasn't until a little later I figured out what an asshole he was - and that it was probably his fault I
almost got shot." He shrugged again. "A promise is a promise, though, and I don't go back on my word."

He turned away before Edison could speak. "Hurry it up, we've got a lot of driving ahead of us."

There was a moment of silence, and he thought Edison was going to push the subject of Thomas, but instead he only
asked, "So where are we going?"

"To see Sable Brennus," Alec said. "If he wants your business, then he can help ensure you stay alive long enough to sell
it. I'm sure he'll be amenable; demons are usually cooperative when it comes to amassing power."

Edison nodded, and Blade motioned that all was ready. Stifling a sigh, Alec led the way to the car.

*~*~*

A casino.

Of all the things he'd expected to see when visiting a demon lord, it was not to find that said demon lord lived at the top of a
casino. One of three, like some sort of neon castle in the center of a dark, rainy city.

Shaking his head, Edison followed Alec inside, with Blade behind him.

Three weeks and it would be over with, and it was entirely possible that it would be over in just a few short minutes.

Obviously Alec was trying to get rid of him, without dishonoring himself by breaking his word. Why else would he be so
damned insistent about coming to see Sable Brennus and making him tend to Edison's protection?

Why did Edison care? Did it really matter to him that Alec was shunting him off to someone else?

Yeah, it did, though Edison couldn't fathom why.

Irritably he tried to shove the thoughts aside. Really, it would be better for him and everyone else if he spent the next month
alone. God, he still felt so fucking stupid. He'd figured it was the money and hadn't thought further than that. Why was it he
could cast difficult spells but couldn't figure out that two plus two equaled four?

They stepped into an elevator that green and gold and sleek, and Edison leaned against the back wall, letting his eyes fall
shut. He was tired, so goddamn tired. It felt like no matter how much sleep he managed to get, it was never enough.

As soon as this was over, he was going on vacation. Sell the business, sell the property, and just go. Part of him rebelled at
the idea of selling the old family home…but he just didn't feel like wandering around the place by himself. One person didn't
need so much space.

He ignored the images that teased him, because they made about as much sense as the rest of his stupid thoughts. Alec
was dumping him on someone else and he was daydreaming about how they might like the old house?

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Definitely needed a nap.

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open, and despite himself Edison could not help but gawk at the surroundings. There
was class, and then there was this… Intimidating, that's what it was. Black and blue and silver, soft and severe all at once.

A woman sat behind a desk, looking like every secretary Edison had ever encountered. They all had that air of 'do not piss
me off'. "May I help you?" she asked.

"My name is Edison Stuart, I'm here to see Mr. Brennus?"

Nodding, the woman pressed a button on her phone. "Mr. Brennus, Mr. Stuart has arrived." She looked up after a moment.
"He'll see you now. Third door down the hall."

"Thank you," Edison said, and turned quickly away, eager to be done with it all.

The door opened even as he lifted a hand to knock. Pushing it the rest of the way open, Edison strode inside. Back in the
main lobby, he'd seen a wide set of double doors that probably led to Brennus' office. This room looked like a small
conference room - a dark table in the center, with several chairs all around it.

Sable Brennus sat at the far end, his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, so that the storm outside raged and flashed
behind him. It suited, as Edison supposed it should. Brennus was handsome, almost beautiful, the black curls of his hair
about as tamed as the dark clouds beyond him.

"Greetings," Brennus said. His mouth quirked in amusement. "Sit, please. I do not believe I've ever met a man who had so
much trouble selling his business."

Edison sat down, almost groaning with relief to be sitting in something that was not a car or a cheap diner booth. "It's not
the selling that's difficult, it's staying alive until I can sell it."

Brennus laughed. "Well, according to your guardian there, I am to assist in keeping you alive. Hardly a difficulty, and I do
want what only you can give me."

Assist? Did that mean…

Edison ignored the errant thought. He didn't care. The sooner this was all over with, the better. "Why do you want it so
badly?" he asked. "Of all the offers I read through, yours was the most adamant."

Brennus looked at him in surprise. "I guess you did not read all the correspondence I exchanged with your parents. It was
not actually the business I wanted, though that certainly would be a pleasant bonus. I am actually after a book that your
parents refused to part with, though I attempted to assure them I had no ill designs where it was concerned."

"A book?" Edison repeated.

"Yes," Brennus replied. He spread his arms, then lowered them to splay his fingers on the table. His eyes flashed like the
lightning behind him, making Edison startle despite himself. Nearby, he heard Blade give the faintest of wary growls. "I
collect grimoire, tomes, spell books… I am quite determined to possess as many as I can obtain. One of the books in my
possession is The Book of the Angel Raziel."

"Oh, shit," Edison said, the words said softly. "Most believe that one long destroyed."

Brennus shook his head. "It is in excellent condition. However, throughout the course of history I know of four copies that
were made of it - none of them complete, but sufficient to still cause great harm. Of those four, I possess two. Your parents
obtained the third right as I located it. I have been trying to purchase it from them for many years."

"Why didn't you simply take it?" Alec asked.

Edison jumped, having almost forgotten Alec was there; he'd been quiet for hours, speaking in little more than grunts and
single words.

"Because they did nothing with it," Brennus replied. "So long as they did not use the book, I was content to be patient. Over
the years, it occurred to me that their business would be ideal for spreading my reach to obtain the other books for which I
search. So I altered my pleas, though it all came to naught. I am sorry for their passing, I should have expressed my
condolences first. They were extremely stubborn and smart, qualities I admire in any race."

"Thank you," Edison said. "I'm certain they would not be pleased to know I'm selling it, but I lack their acumen for it. Better

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to sell it to someone who understands it, than to let me run it into the ground."

Brennus nodded. "I will take care of it. In fact, I intend to leave it mostly in the hands of some trusted magic users." He
smiled faintly. "Not least of all because the business requires extensive travel, and that is the one thing I cannot do."

Edison smiled faintly. "I suppose not. So what does this book look like? Perhaps I've seen it; I certainly do not mind handing
it over to you. Such dangerous grimoire do not interest me. I have the spells I require in my own."

The smile Brennus gave him was mostly of amusement, but there was something dark and dangerous beneath it that made
Edison shiver - and Blade growl again. "Indeed. Perhaps one day your grimoire will join my shelves."

"I doubt it," Edison said, but nodded at the tacit threat. Sable didn't like magic users who might prove a serious threat.
Understandable, really. Of all the enslaved races, demons were the most used - and abused. "You might check out the men
hunting me. They summoned a demon and bound it to a body, just to kill me. If not for Alec and Blade, I'd be dead. We
haven't been attacked since then, but I'm sure it's not for lack of trying."

Brennus nodded. "I'll deal with them. As to the copy of Raziel… It will probably look something like this." He pushed a
manila folder across the table.

Edison opened it, examining the photos inside, high-quality images of a spell book. To judge from the markings and runes…
it was easy to see why Brennus did not want anyone else to have it. "I've seen this before, or something close enough to it."

"Where?" Brennus asked, voice soft but with all the force of thunder behind it.

"At my family's old home," Edison said. "My parents rarely bought stuff that they intended to keep, but the few things they
did buy were always kept there. I retouched the protective spell work myself only a few years ago - more as a challenge
than anything else, no one has really lived there for years."

"Where is it?" Brennus asked.

"A few hours south of here," Edison replied.

Alec stirred. "You live in the deep south?"

Edison shrugged. "Not for years and years." He smiled faintly. "I guess you could say the house was one of the first
antiques my parents bought. It's straight out of some epic movie about the civil war - columns, secret passages, ancient
graveyard at the far edge of the property. Everything. It's on about fifty acres of land."

Something flashed in Alec's eyes, something Edison knew, sort of. He'd looked the exact same way when Edison had said
he'd be willing to pay for Alec's assistance in land. It wasn't hard to figure out why, after everything Blade had told him
about dragons. Alec wanted the land for Blade. A territory.

Well, what did he need it for? Better to give it to Alec and Blade. He'd just have to find a way to do it.

He also wondered what the hell was wrong with him that he'd hand over so much to a man and dragon he barely knew - but
Alec had definitely saved his life. If he'd faced that demon alone, he would have died almost immediately.

That aside…

He preferred not to think about it. After all the stress and fear and exhaustion, it would be the height of stupidity to trust a
single fucking thing he thought he felt for Alec and Blade.

Except the lust. That he trusted. Never minding the fact that lust always popped up at the worst possible moment, who the
hell wouldn't be turned on by either one of them? The way Blade loved to all but melt in Alec's lap didn't help one little bit.

"I'll see you get the book," he said at last, "and make certain it's included in the list of things that come with purchase of the
business. I'll contact my lawyer this evening and have him make the necessary changes." He frowned. "Do you suppose the
book is safe until the month is up, or should I go fetch it now?"

Brennus shrugged. "If you were attacked by a demon, then it is entirely possible that I am not the only one seeking the
book. It is hard to say. If you are amenable, I can always send my consort to go and fetch the book. I promise I intend no
chicanery."

"I don't care," Edison said, pinching the bridge of his nose, the gesture pushing his glasses up. "However, my parents
dictated in the spells that only our bloodline can activate them. I wove them so that no one and nothing can pass through

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unless my blood is present and living." So that simply carrying along a pint of his blood wouldn't suffice.

Brennus smirked. "Impressive. Even my consort would have difficulty passing through a spell that requires a particular
bloodline."

Edison shrugged. "Charms and curses are my specialty. Those often call for binding to a particular person or bloodline; it's
sort of second nature to stipulate such a requirement."

"Then I leave the decision in your hands. Certainly I prefer to have the book in my keeping as soon as possible, but I
understand perfectly if you prefer to wait out the three weeks. If nothing else, I will set my consort to seeing that your home
is guarded."

"May I think upon it?" Edison asked. He couldn't make the decision by himself. If the book was the source of this, he
preferred to get the damned thing and be done with it - but Alec wanted to be rid of him, so it made more sense to wait out
the three weeks, hope that no one else managed to bypass his spells to get the book…

Brennus motioned. "Certainly. I've prepared a suite for you; my secretary will have the key. If there is anything you require,
simply call the front desk. They know to tend you."

Edison stared. "You're…being awfully considerate."

"You've given me no reason not to be, and if you are going to sell me your business," Brennus said with an amused smile,
"then it behooves me to show you every consideration. At any rate, it does not hurt. Now, you all look tired and I have other
matters to tend. Take your time in deciding, call my secretary with your decision."

Accepting the dismissal, thanking Brennus, Edison stiffly stood and led the way out. In the hallway, they passed a blonde
man in a leather jacket that had seen better days - and who gave off enormous amounts of power. Demonic power.

Too tired to care, Edison stumbled into the elevator and slumped against the back. He yawned, smiling faintly when it
promptly made Blade yawn.

Alec had taken the keycard from the secretary, and shoved it into his pocket as Blade pushed into his arms, laying his head
against Alec's shoulder.

He could watch them forever, no matter how much doing so hurt. What would be like, to know he could just push into
someone's arms like that? To know that whenever he wanted it, there was comfort and affection? The connection they had,
the faith in each other…

Edison closed his eyes and waited for the elevator to stop.

When it chimed, he opened his eyes again only through sheer force of will, following in silence as Alec led the way through
the long hallway. They stopped at a door at the very end - double doors, actually.

He drew a sharp breath when they got inside. Brennus hadn't been kidding - it was indeed a suite. The place was beautiful.
Dark and light browns, touches of gold and green. Two doors that were probably the bedrooms, another that was likely the
bathroom, and a view of the city that was nothing short of breathtaking.

Moving to the window, he stared down at the city below, little more than a collection of bright lights in the gathering dark and
continuing gloom. The weather didn't seem to impede the inhabitants any; they moved through the city like the moon was
high in a clear sky.

A soft rumbling sound was all the warning he got before Edison suddenly found himself draped by Blade. His arms wrapped
around Edison's arms and torso, chin propped on Edison's shoulder. "Pretty," the dragon said with another rumble.

"Y-yeah," Edison said, wondering what the hell was going on. Blade was touchy-feely, but he was usually only that way with
Alec. He turned his head to look at Blade, and then realized that had been a mistake.

"Magic okay?" Blade asked. His eyes seemed to glow, his breath smelled like sausage and mushroom pizza, and Edison
could not have pulled away if he'd wanted to. Which he did, really.

Ugh, he wasn't even fooling himself anymore.

He tried to smile, and hoped it worked. "I'm fine. Tired."

"Magic sleep," Blade said firmly, and leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek.

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Then he was gone, leaving Edison feeling bereft. He continued to stare out the window, shoulders tight as he listened to
Alec and Blade behind him.

"I'm making a call to room service," Alec said, breaking into Edison's thoughts. "Do you want anything?"

Edison started to say no, he'd much rather starve at this point, but even he couldn't ignore how whiney that sounded. "Sure.
Whatever you're having works." Sighing, he moved away from the window and dropped into the nearest chair, groaning at
how surprisingly comfortable it was. "Man, I get the feeling going back to my baby apartment after a room like this is going
to suck."

Did he even have an apartment to which he could return? Not that there was much in it, he moved around too much to
bother making much of a permanent home. As often as not, he'd stayed with his parents when he was in the area.

He listened and watched as Alec and Blade bickered over pizza, laughing despite himself.

"No, dragon, and that's final."

Blade growled, and Edison almost laughed again at the pout which overtook the pretty, freckled face. He stared in confusion
as Blade wandered toward him, jumping when Blade dropped to his knees and folded his arms on Edison's lap, resting his
head on them. "Alec mean."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Cause calling me names is so going to change my mind - and don't think cozying up to Edison is
going to accomplish anything, either. You've had more than enough pizza over the past few days, you spoiled brat."

Sticking his tongue out, Blade only settled more of his weight on Edison's lap, and Edison could feel the vibrations of his
discontent growl. He stared, then shifted his stare to Alec - but Alec had turned away as he called room service.

Edison fought an urge to reach out and stroke Blade's soft-looking hair, the freckles that gave him an air of innocence he
knew Blade didn't possess. Not the way he'd fought that demon. Certainly not the way he touched and kissed Alec.

He kept his hands to himself, but couldn't resist talking to Blade. "I'm not sure why you thought I'd aid the cause. He's way
more likely to do what you want than what I want."

Blade smirked at him. "Alec easy," he said in a way that said he was confiding a great secret.

"Dragon!"

"Oops," Blade said, but even as Alec stalked toward them, he was grinning widely. Growling in a way that Edison had
already come to recognize as amusement, he shifted to wrap his arms around Edison's waist, clinging like a leech.

"Dragon," Alec repeated. "Enough with the games."

"No pizza," Blade said, as if this explained everything.

Alec folded his arms across his chest. "Stop screwing around, Blade."

He moved forward, bending to tear Blade from Edison, but even as he did so Blade stood up - taking Edison with him.

Yelping, Edison flailed, hands landing awkwardly on Blade in an effort to avoid toppling. Then he was half-dragged, half-
carried across the room - and he realized abruptly he was serving as shield between dragon and Owner.

An Owner who looked like he was struggling not to be amused.

"Blade, I don't think-"

His attempts to speak were drowned out by Blade's laughter, and despite his efforts Edison found himself stuck right smack
in the middle of a game of 'keep Alec away from Blade'. He'd never been a human shield before.

It seemed to involve a few bruises, but Edison found he didn't really mind. He laughed, unable to help it, at the utterly put
out look on Alec's face as he tried to get to Blade without having to run over Edison in the process. Wholly without realizing
it, Edison started to play along, too amused by it all not to get caught up in the game.

Finally Alec lost patience and lunged. Blade let out a startled shout and transformed as he lunged away. His long tail caught
the back of Edison's legs, and with a cry of his own he went down, scrambling too late for purchase - and succeeding only in
taking Alec down with him.

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He stared, breathless, into Alec's startled face. Shit, it was as bad the second time as it had been the first. Bad because it
felt too damn good, once the falling and crashing were over. Maybe worse this time, because now he could see as well as
feel and smell.

Blue eyes locked with his, filled with frustration and something else Edison didn't dare put a name to - except, suddenly,
there was even less space between them and oh shit was Alec actually going to kiss-

Abruptly Alec was gone, and before Edison could blink he was slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.

Nearby, Blade growled in a way Edison could not interpret, though he thought it sounded a bit like annoyance or frustration.

Suddenly he felt trapped, like there was no air in the room. Standing, he strode to the door and yanked it open, pointedly
not slamming it before bolting through the hallways to the elevators.

By the time he reached the bar, his hands had mostly stopped shaking. Whether it was from anger or unhappiness or sheer
frustration he didn't know - all he knew was that he was a dumbass.

Ordering a beer, he slumped over the bar and miserably contemplated all the things that were fucked in his life. He was
running from people who wanted him dead. He was alive only because he'd forced someone to play bodyguard. He was
lusting after said bodyguard and the bodyguard's dragon.

He'd stupidly thought, for one minute, that Alec was actually going to kiss him. As if. He was Thomas' twin, had forced Alec
into this, and Alec and Blade had each other anyway. Why in the hell would he think Alec had actually been about to kiss
him?

God, like he hadn't been having enough trouble trying to imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the
kisses he'd seen Alec give Blade countless times. Hell, he'd settle for more of Blade clinging to him, nuzzling and petting.

Fuck, who was he kidding? He'd take whatever he could get.

Except Alec had just made it crystal clear he wasn't interested in giving Edison anything. It hurt, because the time they'd
spent playing - man, when was the last time he'd been silly just for the sake of being silly? - had made it feel like he
belonged.

Stupid him for seeing what wasn't there. He hadn't even known them a week. What the hell was he thinking?

He gulped half the beer down in one go, noting in the back of his mind that it was stupid to drink on an empty stomach.
Well, to hell with it.

Well, at least the problem was easy to solve. Alec had brought him here to dump him on Brennus, so all he had to do was
say thanks for everything, have a safe trip back home. Easy as that. Edison finished his beer and ordered another.

He'd just begun to put a healthy dent in it when he was yanked out of his seat and dragged from the bar. Struggling to get
free, he went abruptly still when Alec snarled at him to knock it the fuck off.

"What in the hell are you thinking?" Alec snapped, once they'd reached an empty stretch of hallway. "Are you fucking
stupid?"

Edison glared right back. "Fuck you. I was thinking I wanted a drink. What the hell is wrong with that?"

Alec made a sound that was remarkably similar to Blade's growls, and suddenly Edison was being shaken hard enough he
swore his teeth were rattling. "Knock. It. Off." He glared as Alec finally stopped. "Why the fuck do you do that?"

"Because I can't beat you," Alec snapped. "You don't go anywhere without me, dumbass. Christ, you really are your own
worst enemy. How the hell did you live this long?"

Edison shook with anger. So what if he was just a little bit oblivious at times? That didn't mean he was stupid, and it sure as
hell didn't mean he couldn't take care of himself. He had lived this long, after all, and so what if the demon probably would
have killed him? The demon would have killed most people.

He almost wished it had killed him.

"Go to hell," he snapped, shoving Alec back - but he didn't even manage a step before Alec snatched him close again,
holding tight enough Edison just knew he'd have finger-shaped bruises on his arms tomorrow. "Let me go."

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"No," Alec said. "You're coming back to the room."

"When I fucking feel like it," Edison said. "I'm perfectly fucking safe here." He thrashed, shoving and kicking, but Alec only
pinned him to the wall again. He glared, so mad he was shaking with it. "There's no need for you to keep protecting me, so
just go the fuck away."

Alec's face turned red with anger, his eyes like blue fire. "You're the one who came to me for help. I vowed to protect you.
Have I failed so far? I didn't-you know what? Never mind. If you'd rather have the demon lord do it, then fine." He roughly let
Edison go. "I've got better things to do than stay where I'm not wanted. Good riddance."

With that he turned away, leaving Edison slumped against the wall, alone in an empty hallway. Edison reached up to touch
his aching arms, wincing at the bruises he could already feel forming.

Good riddance.

He laughed bitterly. That said it all, really.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back to the room. Either Alec and Blade would be there, or it would be
completely empty. He wasn't sure which was worse.

Fuck he was tired of it all.

The idea of sitting around for another three weeks made him suddenly sick to his stomach. He should just get it over with,
once and for all. If the book really was the source of all the trouble, then getting the book to Sable as soon as possible
would bring everything to an end that much faster.

So, the book it would be.

Magic would be the easiest way to get there, which meant he needed chalk and a large enough surface to draw out the
necessary spell circle. Why couldn't this shit have happened after he'd eaten something?

Good riddance.

Choking back the pain that tried to surface as Alec's words throbbed like a raw wound in his head, Edison double checked
he had the chalk he always carried, then went to find a usable surface.

Half an hour of wandering resulted in an open, empty meeting room. The large table was good…but the balcony was better.
The open air was always good to have when casting a transportation spell, and the floor easier to draw on than a raised
table.

It took another half hour to draw the spell circle and double check his work, but at last Edison was confident he had it.
Stuffing the chalk back in his pocket, he stepped into the middle of the circle and knelt. The words came easily, flowed
smoothly, and he brought his hands together in a sharp clap as he spoke the final word, closing his eyes at the same time.

When he opened them again, the air was thick and muggy, a yellow moon hanging fat and full in the sky. All around him
was the buzzing of insects, a few scattered birds. A little ways off he could see the shadowy image of the family home.

He hadn't been exaggerating when he said it looked like something out of a civil war movie. Or maybe a movie about civil
war ghosts.

Doing such a difficult transfer made him feel a bit dizzy, but it was nothing that wouldn't fade so long as he took it easy. That
would be another good thing about finally bringing all of this to an end - he could go back to his simple magics, and leave
off all this fancy stuff that made him long to spend a week in bed.

Brushing off his jeans, Edison made his way toward the house. He frowned as he realized suddenly that not once had he
felt the telltale thrum of magic as he passed through the barriers he'd erected. Had someone dismantled his spells? Why?

If they had, it confirmed that someone was looking for the book - and had thought to check here. Shit. He hoped they hadn't
already taken it. Pushing open the front door, which was not only unlocked but ajar, Edison made his way inside.

Everything seemed quiet. Probably they'd taken the book and left already.

Stubbornly ignoring the voice of reason that said he should be leaving as well, he made his way up the wide, spiral
staircase, bypassing the second floor and making his way steadily to the third.

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The old servants' quarters, most of which were filled with junk his parents simply hadn't been able to part with - normal
antiques, rather than abnormal, but his parents had been fond of old stuff whether it was magical or not.

If he recalled correctly, the book was stowed away in the farthest room, hidden away amongst junk.

At least the house seemed empty - he only hoped it was empty because thieves had failed to find the book.

Several minutes later, he gripped the book tight and let out a soft sigh of relief. Now to get the hell out of here. The ballroom
would probably be the best place to cast the return spell.

Moving quickly, he made his way back downstairs and through the enormous house to the ballroom. He'd just knelt and
begun to draw, book tucked into his jeans, when he heard the door creak open.

"Well, well, look at what we have here," said a voice Edison didn't recognize - though he recognized the tone well enough.
"The sorcerer has our book."

Two men came toward him, guns cocked.

"Stand up," said the speaker. "Throw the book this way."

"Why?" Edison asked bitterly. "You'll shoot me anyway."

"Maybe, maybe not," said the second. "We were under orders to get the book first. Killing you is secondary. Give us the
fucking-"

His words were drowned out by a sound that was like nothing Edison had ever heard. An animal roar, it seemed to shake
the house.

"What the fuck was that?" The first man lowered his gun as he looked wildly around for the source of the sound.

Edison used their distraction to quickly draw more of his spell circle, trying not to let his own fear consume him as the
unearthly sound came again.

His head jerked up at the sound of something breaking - the front door, but even as he realized that the ballroom doors flew
completely open, and he saw the source of the terrible sound.

Yellow moonlight, filtering in thin shreds through the dusty ballroom windows, shone here and there on Blade's scales. Light
flashed as the men fired, but the bullets only ricocheted off. Swearing loudly, the men turned to run - though Edison wasn't
certain to where they were running, there was only one way in and out of the ballroom.

They didn't get far, and Blade's tail made quick work of them, the sound of the hard scales against flesh awful.

He didn't move as Blade padded toward him, heart beating a furious rhythm in his chest. With a deep growl Blade pushed
him down, that fearsome face pushing against his own, against his throat, his chest, the dragon sniffing and rubbing and
Edison realized Blade was making sure he was okay.

It was more than a little unnerving to be pawed at by something as fearsome looking as Blade, but Edison found he was
more confused than anything. He pushed gently at Blade. "I'm okay. What in the hell are you-"

"I'm going to kill you myself," Alec said, appearing as suddenly as Blade had, stalking toward them looking as though he
very much meant what he'd said. "What in the fuck were you thinking?" He bent and yanked Edison to his feet. "I'm going to
thrash you within an inch of your life."

Edison bristled. "I didn't fucking tell you to come here - I'm pretty sure you quit. That's what good riddance usually means,
last I checked."

"Quit? I didn't quit. You're the one who told me to go the hell away, that a fucking demon lord could do a better job-"

"You're the one who tried to dump me off on the demon lord!"

"I did no such-"

"Go to hell-"

They were both drowned out by one of Blade's deafening growls.

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"Knock it off, dragon," Alec snapped.

Blade's eyes flashed, and he growled again, much lower this time - then turned sharply, tail catching the moonlight, and
swept their feet out from under them.

Edison swore loudly, fumbling to find his feet, realizing suddenly that he'd landed on top of Alec this time. He froze as he
caught Alec's eyes in the barely there light.

Tearing away with an effort, he glared at Blade for a moment, then directed it at Alec. "Why does your damn dragon keep-"
He was cut off as Alec's mouth covered his, the gesture abrupt and awkward enough that teeth nicked his lip, and he could
feel and taste the blood, but really didn't care because Alec was kissing him.

A hand sank into his hair, another arm sliding around his waist, and Edison moaned despite himself because fuck, Alec
knew how to kiss. He didn't know what was going on, or if he'd knocked his head somewhere and was making this up, but
damned if he wouldn't take what he could get. Channeling all of his anger from a moment ago into the kiss, he gave back for
all he was worth, jerking away only long enough to get his damned glasses out of the way.

Distantly he heard an approving growl, and it was enough of a dose of reality that he jerked away from the kiss. Fumbling
for his discarded glasses, he shoved them back on even as he scrambled to get off Alec and relocate his brain.

Except he'd only managed to get on his knees when he was bowled over by a dragon and treated to a second kiss that was
just as devastating as the first.

When he was finally permitted to breathe, he was more confused than ever. "What the hell?"

"Magic not Katherine?" Blade said, cutting off whatever Alec had been about to say.

"Huh?" Edison managed.

Blade frowned at him. "Magic not Katherine, right?"

Was he crazy, or was there a bit of plaintive note to that question that still made absolutely no sense.

"He's not Katherine, Blade," Alec said with a sigh. "Look, we're not doing this here." He helped them both to their feet. "We
really need to at least find somewhere to sit and talk."

Edison attempted to make his brain function. "My bedroom here should be good. What about those guys?"

"They won't be waking up," Alec said coldly.

Shivering, Edison turned and led the way out of the ballroom and up the stairs to his bedroom at the far south end of the
second floor.

It was a bit dusty, but overall good to go. The bedroom was huge, half of it a sitting area, the rest of it devoted to a wide
window seat and a massive bed. He was sorely tempted to collapse on it and ignore the world for an indefinite period of
time, but instead he simply threw the damned book on it then stalked to plant himself on the window seat. "Why in the hell
did you kiss me?" he asked.

"Because I was tired of Blade knocking us over," Alec said, then sighed softly. "And also because I've been trying not to
kiss you for the past few days."

Edison stared, truly surprised. "Oh," he said weakly. He scrambled for something else to say, not certain how to deal with
the revelation, not after good riddance. "Who the hell is Katherine?"

"My ex-wife," Alec replied, face going tight.

"Oh," Edison repeated, feeling stupid but unable to come up with anything better. Of all the things he'd expected to hear,
that wasn't one of them. "I didn't know you were married."

"Five years," Alec said, sounding weary, "and then I came home early one day and found her fucking my brother."

Edison winced - and then felt a painful ache in his chest as something else fell into place. "You killed your brother."

Alec nodded.

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"I'm sorry," Edison said softly, standing and moving without thought, reaching Alec the same time as Blade.

He immediately stopped, letting his hand fall, reminded abruptly it wasn't his place or right to comfort - that was Blade's role.

Which reminded him they'd both kissed him, and Alec saying he'd wanted to do it for awhile really didn't clear anything up.
"Wait-I don't get it. You have Blade, but you were married?"

Alec frowned. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

Edison just looked at him. "What do you mean, why wouldn't you? So, what, threesomes are common in clans?"

"Hell, my wife had a dragon too, every once in a great while it was a foursome," Alec said, smirking now.

"You make no sense," Edison said, rubbing his forehead. "Never mind that for now. What are you even doing here? I was
pretty sure you told me good riddance." Thinking about it still hurt.

Alec reached out and yanked him forward, and Edison made a note to talk about this whole yanking him around thing
because-well, if yanking got him kisses, he could probably deal with it. Stubbornly ignoring the part of him screaming this
was a bad idea, he wrapped his arms around Alec's neck and returned the kiss until a need to breathe finally forced a halt.

"I'm sorry," Alec said as they broke apart. "I didn't mean good riddance. I was pissed off you were trying to get rid of me."

Edison frowned. "You were the one who said Brennus should be the one keeping me alive - you were trying to get rid of
me."

"No," Alec said with careful patience, "I said he could help ensure it. Staying in one secure location for the entire month
makes a lot more sense than hopping around cheap motels. I had no intention of breaking my vow."

"Well, you could have been a bit more clear," Edison said after a moment. "It made a hell of a lot more sense that you'd
want to be rid of me, what with the demons and being related to Thomas and -fuck!" He jerked at the sharp bite to the back
of his neck, the hands that landed on his hips, Blade's rumbling growls thrumming through him, making it very, very difficult
to think.

Blade licked the place he'd just nipped. "Talk too much. Magic good. Not Katherine. Alec not dumb?"

"Dragon," Alec snapped in warning.

"Alec not stubborn," Blade corrected, and Edison could not help but laugh at the tone of his voice, which said Blade very
much believed dumb to be the correct word. He leaned past Edison's shoulder to kiss Alec.

Edison figured it he was going to be squished between them - oh god, he really liked that thought apparently - then he was
allowed to watch. A moment later he was participating though, kissing first one and then the other, everything punctuated by
Blade's rumbles and growls.

"Are we really doing this?" he managed to ask between kissing and touching.

Alec smiled. "If we don't, Blade's going to resume forcing the issue, and I don't know about you but I'm getting damned tired
of being knocked to the floor."

"True," Edison said, laughing weakly, breaking off when the back of his legs hit the bed. He shivered as Blade's hands
slipped beneath his shirt from behind, his own hands on Alec's chest. "So you're just protecting me from further harm, is that
it?"

"Certainly one way to keep you safe," Alec agreed, and bent to kiss him, hard and deep and sure, tasting like beer and
Blade. When the kiss finally ended, they were both panting for breath. "Unless Blade knocks you out of bed - he's done that
to me before. Hurts like a son of a bitch."

Edison laughed. "He does seem to like knocking you over."

Blade growled, and moved to shut them both up.

*~*~*

Alec looked at the papers Edison had handed him, sitting in silence for several long moments. Finally he looked up. "You
don't have to do this. It's more than enough you let him run amuck around here, Edison."

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"Yes, I do," Edison said, smiling. They both turned to look as tons of birds abruptly took flight deep in the surrounding
woods. He laughed and shook his head, pointing to the sign of chaos with a thumb. "If only because if someone has to
explain to the cops that no, there is not a wild beast wreaking havoc somewhere on the property, I'd much rather it be you."

"I'm going to lock the wild beast in the cellar in about two minutes," Alec muttered, fighting a smile.

Edison shook his head. "Don't do that - he'll destroy the wine in his struggles to get out."

Alec winced. "Good point. No cellar, then. I suppose I'll have to think of something else." Like he'd do anything to stop Blade
at this point. After too many months with nothing but a tiny apartment to lord it over, Blade was in heaven.

Though if he startled another gator, Alec wasn't going to feel sorry for him one little bit.

"At least he'll get rid of the gators," Edison said, echoing his thoughts. "Though I half think he'll keep them around as toys."

Laughing, Alec set the papers aside, putting his empty coffee cup on top of them so the wind wouldn't blow them away.
Then he reached out and gently tugged, pulling Edison into his lap.

Edison blinked at him in that confused way he had, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Alec kissed him, long and slow,
savoring it. "So what do you want for your birthday?" he asked when they finally broke apart.

"Huh?" Edison asked.

"Your birthday," Alec repeated, smirking.

Edison rolled his eyes. "I'd settle for no longer being under threat of death. Not that I have any complaints about the very
thorough protection you've offered, but it would be nice not to have death threats hanging over our head."

"Things have been quiet since we handed over the book," Alec said. "I'm sure at this point we're being overcautious, but I
also think trouble tends to follow you."

"Oh, yeah, this from a man whose scaly cat picks on gators for fun," Edison retorted.

Alec turned to look at the latest evidence of ruckus. "I guess you have a point."

Blade really was happier than he'd been in a long time. If Alec were honest, so was he. The awful cold fear he'd felt when
he'd realized his words had driven Edison to go off on his own… That wasn't something he'd forget for a long time.

He was drawn from his thoughts by fingers gently pinching his nose.

"You look so serious," Edison teased gently. "Trying to remember a recipe for gator gumbo?"

Alec grimaced. "Perish the thought. No, I was wondering…"

"What?"

"I wonder what we'll be good for once you no longer need a bodyguard," Alec replied.

Edison blinked. "What will I be good for once I no longer need protecting?"

Alec shook his head. "Babe, that's hardly the same thing. You're the one with the land and the money and the magic." He
cupped Edison's chin and pulled him close for a soft kiss. "I'm just a tarnished knight with a crazy dragon."

"I was going to sell this house anyway," Edison replied. "I was going to go back to wandering aimlessly improving my magic
and not much else. Having a reason to stay in one place is worth a hell of a lot. If you get that bored, you can take up gator
baiting. Or help me with my magic." He snickered. "I could always use a guinea pig."

"I'll take the gators," Alec said. He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you should explain what exactly it is you do, magic wise. I
really would appreciate some warning if you're going to be blowing things up."

Edison shifted guilty in his lap - and in a horribly distracting way. Alec forced his attention back to the conversation. "I only
blew something up once, and that was just because I accidentally switched two runes."

Alec shook his head. "I guess my first impression of you was right."

"And what was that?" Edison asked, rolling his eyes. "Who is this crazy person?"

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"Well, besides that," Alec said, grinning. He looked out over the property, grin fading to a faint smile. "After you passed out.
You made me want to protect you." He shrugged, still not quite able to look at Edison. "After Katherine, I thought I'd hung up
my armor for good."

He went easily when Edison turned his head, holding tight and kissing Edison back for all he was worth. Edison was smiling
when they broke apart, eyes the brightest Alec had seen them yet. "You may have to give up knight for game warden, but
it's all good to me."

Laughing, Alec went back to kissing, this time adding touching, as the evening sun slowly set and they listened to Blade
terrify the wildlife in his territory.

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