and glinted like ice struck by sunlight. At the moment he was warm to the touch, but when riled he would begin to leech cold. Rafael had seen him take a room that was previously eighty degrees all the way down to below freezing. It had only happened once, and afterward Conway had slept for almost an entire day.
Conway butted against Rafael's thighs, rumbling in pleasure when Rafael stroked his head. When Rafael beckoned, he climbed up neatly onto the sofa and sprawled with his head in Rafael's lap. Bending down, Rafael kissed his brow and stroked his scales. "You know I love you, Conway," he said softly. He smiled at the 'obviously' tone in Conway's rumble.
Rafael closed his eyes, hand still stroking Conway. "So what are we going to do with this strange dragon that's fallen in our lap, Conway?"
Conway growled, a low, threatening sound that would have scared anyone else in the room. Rafael didn't move, just said softly, "Yes, I agree. I think we'll see if the Rust goon can tell us anything useful, and then we're going to run like hell."
He stayed put and endured his brother for the safety of the dragons. Without him, there would be no one to curb Leo's ambition or cruelty. But if Cam was even half as powerful as Rafael feared, then they couldn't stay. He shuddered to think what Leo would do with a new dragon that had that kind of power. No, the minute they had a better handle on Cam, it was time to run.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blaze pulled up in front of the warehouse and killed the engine. He pulled off his helmet and frowned as he watched Rust's right hand, Gates, walk toward him. "Gates."
"Blaze," Gate greeted. "Boss needs you to do something special for him. He's in the back office. Go through the alley. They're expecting you."
Concerned, because Rust never wanted him to do anything but fight on the big prize nights—and it definitely sounded like he wasn't going to be fighting—Blaze motioned for Erie to get off the bike, then climbed off himself and threw the keys to Gates.
Did Rust want him to throw a fight? That wasn't likely; if Rust wanted Blaze to throw a fight, he would have just sent someone to tell him and it had been a long time since Blaze had thrown fights. He slipped down the alleyway between the warehouse and the closed furniture store, and rapped on the door.
It opened a moment later, and Blaze slipped inside with Erie at his heels. Erie growled as they went down the dark hallway, warding off the men who watched them with loud snarls.
What was going on? Had Rust found out about him and Erie? But no, that couldn't be. If that were the case, Rust would make a spectacle of him—an example.
Blaze saw Rust's primary bodyguard, Trace, at the end of the hall. They nodded to each other and Trace quirked a brow in silent query. "Just my Beretta," Blaze said, and handed it over. Trace nodded again, trusting him as he trusted few others, and opened the door to let Blaze inside.
Rust sat behind a large, dark-stained oak desk that was far classier than the building it occupied. Blaze could hear the muffled sounds of dragons and their masters practicing in other parts of the warehouse. "What did you need, boss?"
"Sit," Rust ordered, and Blaze obediently sat down in the creaky, green fake-leather chair in front of Rust's desk. Erie curled up at his feet, warm and reassuring, rumbling as he waited impatiently for the meeting to end. Rust took a last drag from the cigarette he was smoking, and then put it out in a glass ashtray near his elbow. "Have you ever heard of steel dragons?"
Blaze burst out laughing. "Yeah, who hasn't? Most popular fairytale in the pits. Why, someone else claiming to have found one?" He started laughing all over again, but stopped at the expression on Rust's face. "You can't be serious, boss. Steels don't exist—they're just wishful thinking."
"I don't know what kind of dragon they've found, but from what I've been told it could be whatever spawned all those steel myths," Rust replied,
Conway butted against Rafael's thighs, rumbling in pleasure when Rafael stroked his head. When Rafael beckoned, he climbed up neatly onto the sofa and sprawled with his head in Rafael's lap. Bending down, Rafael kissed his brow and stroked his scales. "You know I love you, Conway," he said softly. He smiled at the 'obviously' tone in Conway's rumble.
Rafael closed his eyes, hand still stroking Conway. "So what are we going to do with this strange dragon that's fallen in our lap, Conway?"
Conway growled, a low, threatening sound that would have scared anyone else in the room. Rafael didn't move, just said softly, "Yes, I agree. I think we'll see if the Rust goon can tell us anything useful, and then we're going to run like hell."
He stayed put and endured his brother for the safety of the dragons. Without him, there would be no one to curb Leo's ambition or cruelty. But if Cam was even half as powerful as Rafael feared, then they couldn't stay. He shuddered to think what Leo would do with a new dragon that had that kind of power. No, the minute they had a better handle on Cam, it was time to run.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blaze pulled up in front of the warehouse and killed the engine. He pulled off his helmet and frowned as he watched Rust's right hand, Gates, walk toward him. "Gates."
"Blaze," Gate greeted. "Boss needs you to do something special for him. He's in the back office. Go through the alley. They're expecting you."
Concerned, because Rust never wanted him to do anything but fight on the big prize nights—and it definitely sounded like he wasn't going to be fighting—Blaze motioned for Erie to get off the bike, then climbed off himself and threw the keys to Gates.
Did Rust want him to throw a fight? That wasn't likely; if Rust wanted Blaze to throw a fight, he would have just sent someone to tell him and it had been a long time since Blaze had thrown fights. He slipped down the alleyway between the warehouse and the closed furniture store, and rapped on the door.
It opened a moment later, and Blaze slipped inside with Erie at his heels. Erie growled as they went down the dark hallway, warding off the men who watched them with loud snarls.
What was going on? Had Rust found out about him and Erie? But no, that couldn't be. If that were the case, Rust would make a spectacle of him—an example.
Blaze saw Rust's primary bodyguard, Trace, at the end of the hall. They nodded to each other and Trace quirked a brow in silent query. "Just my Beretta," Blaze said, and handed it over. Trace nodded again, trusting him as he trusted few others, and opened the door to let Blaze inside.
Rust sat behind a large, dark-stained oak desk that was far classier than the building it occupied. Blaze could hear the muffled sounds of dragons and their masters practicing in other parts of the warehouse. "What did you need, boss?"
"Sit," Rust ordered, and Blaze obediently sat down in the creaky, green fake-leather chair in front of Rust's desk. Erie curled up at his feet, warm and reassuring, rumbling as he waited impatiently for the meeting to end. Rust took a last drag from the cigarette he was smoking, and then put it out in a glass ashtray near his elbow. "Have you ever heard of steel dragons?"
Blaze burst out laughing. "Yeah, who hasn't? Most popular fairytale in the pits. Why, someone else claiming to have found one?" He started laughing all over again, but stopped at the expression on Rust's face. "You can't be serious, boss. Steels don't exist—they're just wishful thinking."
"I don't know what kind of dragon they've found, but from what I've been told it could be whatever spawned all those steel myths," Rust replied,
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