Read Online Sword of the King by Megan Derr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Megan Derr
Tags: General Fiction
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the cold, dismissive way Rust had said they'd dealt with Ken.
Blaze tried to push thought of Ken from his mind. He'd told Rust about Ken because he knew Rust would take care of it, because it needed to be done. He wasn't sorry about doing whatever was necessary to protect Erie.
But knowing what Rust had probably done to Ken made him feel tired all the same. They made forbidden thoughts of running, of just saying fuck it and taking his chances, stir and try to rise. He shoved them back down and covered them up again, forcefully stilled the trembling in his hands. He could not afford those thoughts. "Come on, lizard. We need to pack and get going, it's going to take twelve hours to drive to St. George territory and we should already be on the road." He gently pushed Erie off his lap, then shoved his chair back and stood up.
By the time they were packed and ready, afternoon was turning into evening. Blaze shrugged into his jacket as they left the building, thanking the doorman who loaded their bags into the trunk of Blaze's Challenger. He handed the doorman a tip, and took the car keys the doorman held out.
Sliding behind the wheel, Blaze buckled his seatbelt and waited until Erie was comfortably settled before pulling away from the curb and into traffic. Erie immediately set to fussing with the radio until it hammered out the hip hop he loved so much. Blaze left him to it, focusing on traffic and his own tumultuous thoughts.
The one thing the reports hadn't mentioned was who he'd be working with on the dragon. There was no fucking way St. George would leave Blaze unsupervised with such a strange dragon. Leonardo St. George was a mean son of a bitch, even by syndicate standards. The protective, trigger-happy goon squad that surrounded him was no better. It was a well-known fact that his pit fighters all played dirty. Blaze hoped he wouldn't have to work with any of them. They would be more interested in getting payback for all the times Erie had kicked their asses in the pits.
But it was unlikely he'd be working with a fighter; fighters weren't typically the ones to start the dragon training. The syndicates usually employed special trainers to help the newly turned transition from human to dragon. Fighters only started training the dragons once that transition was stabilized. That Blaze had trained Erie right from the start was one of the reasons they were so unusual.
Blaze frowned, realizing that a dragon as odd as the one he was going to see would require a trainer that Leonardo really trusted. That meant ...
His hand tightened on the wheel as realization struck. The only person St. George trusted that much was his younger brother, Rafael, who was said to have a magic touch with dragons. Leonardo was notoriously possessive of his younger brother; rumors abounded as to how many people he had killed where Rafael was concerned.
The whole damn trip made him tense, made him think again of just saying fuck it and running. But thinking of unusual dragons and trainers also made him think of Amr.
Should he call Amr? He knew more about dragons than anyone Blaze had ever met. Amr would know what was going on, or be able to figure it out. Blaze hated that Rust had sent him away before Blaze's training had been completed. Blaze didn't understand why, when he and Erie had done so well.
He reluctantly conceded that he probably shouldn't call Amr. Rust would beat him to a fucking pulp if he found out Blaze still had ways of contacting Amr, and Blaze wasn't going to risk angering Rust. Not when he'd finally offered the one thing Blaze wanted most. He knew Rust was just dangling a carrot when he said stealing St. George's dragon would get them out of the pits. But he had to take any chance he could of getting Erie out of those fucking fights. Agitated, he reached out, eyes still on the road, and tousled Erie's hair. He laughed softly when Erie grabbed his hand and pulled it down, nipped it affectionately. "Excited for a trip,
Blaze tried to push thought of Ken from his mind. He'd told Rust about Ken because he knew Rust would take care of it, because it needed to be done. He wasn't sorry about doing whatever was necessary to protect Erie.
But knowing what Rust had probably done to Ken made him feel tired all the same. They made forbidden thoughts of running, of just saying fuck it and taking his chances, stir and try to rise. He shoved them back down and covered them up again, forcefully stilled the trembling in his hands. He could not afford those thoughts. "Come on, lizard. We need to pack and get going, it's going to take twelve hours to drive to St. George territory and we should already be on the road." He gently pushed Erie off his lap, then shoved his chair back and stood up.
By the time they were packed and ready, afternoon was turning into evening. Blaze shrugged into his jacket as they left the building, thanking the doorman who loaded their bags into the trunk of Blaze's Challenger. He handed the doorman a tip, and took the car keys the doorman held out.
Sliding behind the wheel, Blaze buckled his seatbelt and waited until Erie was comfortably settled before pulling away from the curb and into traffic. Erie immediately set to fussing with the radio until it hammered out the hip hop he loved so much. Blaze left him to it, focusing on traffic and his own tumultuous thoughts.
The one thing the reports hadn't mentioned was who he'd be working with on the dragon. There was no fucking way St. George would leave Blaze unsupervised with such a strange dragon. Leonardo St. George was a mean son of a bitch, even by syndicate standards. The protective, trigger-happy goon squad that surrounded him was no better. It was a well-known fact that his pit fighters all played dirty. Blaze hoped he wouldn't have to work with any of them. They would be more interested in getting payback for all the times Erie had kicked their asses in the pits.
But it was unlikely he'd be working with a fighter; fighters weren't typically the ones to start the dragon training. The syndicates usually employed special trainers to help the newly turned transition from human to dragon. Fighters only started training the dragons once that transition was stabilized. That Blaze had trained Erie right from the start was one of the reasons they were so unusual.
Blaze frowned, realizing that a dragon as odd as the one he was going to see would require a trainer that Leonardo really trusted. That meant ...
His hand tightened on the wheel as realization struck. The only person St. George trusted that much was his younger brother, Rafael, who was said to have a magic touch with dragons. Leonardo was notoriously possessive of his younger brother; rumors abounded as to how many people he had killed where Rafael was concerned.
The whole damn trip made him tense, made him think again of just saying fuck it and running. But thinking of unusual dragons and trainers also made him think of Amr.
Should he call Amr? He knew more about dragons than anyone Blaze had ever met. Amr would know what was going on, or be able to figure it out. Blaze hated that Rust had sent him away before Blaze's training had been completed. Blaze didn't understand why, when he and Erie had done so well.
He reluctantly conceded that he probably shouldn't call Amr. Rust would beat him to a fucking pulp if he found out Blaze still had ways of contacting Amr, and Blaze wasn't going to risk angering Rust. Not when he'd finally offered the one thing Blaze wanted most. He knew Rust was just dangling a carrot when he said stealing St. George's dragon would get them out of the pits. But he had to take any chance he could of getting Erie out of those fucking fights. Agitated, he reached out, eyes still on the road, and tousled Erie's hair. He laughed softly when Erie grabbed his hand and pulled it down, nipped it affectionately. "Excited for a trip,
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