Indigo Knights: The Boxed Set Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  SQUIRE

  CHAMPION

  LANCE

  NOBLE

  Loose Id Titles by Jet Mykles

  Jet Mykles

  INDIGO KNIGHTS:

  The Boxed Set

  Jet Mykles

  www.loose-id.com

  eISBN: 9781682521748

  INDIGO KNIGHTS: The Boxed Set

  Copyright © 2016 by Jet Mykles

  Original Cover art by P.L. Nunn

  Boxed set cover design by Fiona Jayde Media

  Publisher acknowledges the author and copyright holder of the individual works, as follows:

  SQUIRE—Copyright © September 2010

  CHAMPION— Copyright © September 2012

  LANCE— Copyright © June 2014

  NOBLE— Copyright © September 2014

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the U.S.A. by

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 170549

  San Francisco CA 941117-0549

  www.loose-id.com

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  Chapter One

  This was going to be great!

  Rabin Squire drove his truck up the road, far more energized than he had been all of last year. But this year was his year; he knew it. Things were going to turn around, and the Indigo Knights would finally get what they deserved. He laughed at his thoughts, combing a hand through his short, wind-tossed hair to get it out of his face, elbow braced in the open window. He wasn’t normally so dramatic with himself, but the situation warranted some melodrama. This chance could be his last chance at the life he’d always dreamed of living.

  The need to pay attention to his printed-out directions distracted him. Brent had said the house was easy to find, but Rabin hadn’t expected all the trees. He wouldn’t have pegged either Brent or Hell for the type who wanted to live in a rural area. If asked to guess, he’d have put them in an apartment in the city, not a house on a couple of acres of lakeside property. But it was gorgeous, and there was no doubt that he was now driving through a high-quality area. He could only imagine what a place out here would cost.

  His phone rang. Keeping the hand holding the directions on the wheel, he picked his cell up off the passenger seat with the other and set it to speaker without looking. “It’s Rabin.”

  “You there yet?”

  He smiled. Zane. “Not yet.”

  “Jesus, didn’t you get in town like an hour ago?”

  “I told you, they don’t live in town.”

  “Fuck. Is the studio out in the boondocks too?”

  “Nope. Studio’s in the city. Brent says we shouldn’t have any problem finding an apartment.”

  “Good deal. Damn, I wish I could have come with.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Zane had been his best friend, roommate, and bandmate for seven years, ever since they’d met in college. School had gone by the wayside, but they’d stayed together since, through a dozen different living arrangements. It would be weird looking for a place to live without him. “But I’ll see you at the end of the month.”

  “Right.”

  Rabin stopped at a four-way stop, wondering if he was still even outside Chicago or in a completely different city. “Oh man, this place is surreal.”

  “Their house?”

  “No. I’m not even there yet. I’m talking the trees. It’s like I’m in the middle of a forest.”

  “Whoa. They must have some bucks.”

  “You know it.”

  “That’ll be us someday soon, my brutha.”

  “You’re bloody well right it will.” He laughed. “Listen, I’m gonna cut you off before I get lost. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Okay. Don’t do the fun stuff without me.”

  “You bet.”

  He shut down his phone and proceeded at just below the speed limit down a paved road lined with tall bushes and trees and no streetlights. Gates would break the greenery every now and then, all of them closed and all of them with a security system in plain view. Each gate showed a driveway beyond, but only a few houses were visible. Mostly the driveways just kept going. Occasionally a break in the foliage would show him the great expanse of Lake Michigan to his right. He grew more and more envious of Brent and Hell the farther he went.

  Music. Music and too much fucking talent had landed them where they were today—rich, successful, and happy. That’s what Rabin wanted. What Zane wanted. What Brent had very graciously agreed to help them with.

  When Rabin finally found the gate with the number Brent had given him, he was fairly bouncing with excitement. This place was fucking unreal. He leaned out his window to press a button on a pad mounted in front of the gate.

  “Hey, Rabin.” Brent’s voice was crystal clear.

  “How’d you know it’s me?”

  “Cameras everywhere.” Brent laughed as the gate in front of Rabin began to slide open. “Come on up. Front door’s open.”

  Daylight was slowly fading to twilight as Rabin parked his truck beside a dusty black Corvette and a recently washed white Mazda under the shade of a spreading tree. Rabin knew fuck all what kind of tree it was, but it sure was pretty, matching many of the other trees that surrounded the house and the embankment that led down from the house to the water. The house itself was two levels and looked like a huge cabin, complete with all the rustic finishes. Gorgeous.

  After hefting his guitar case and the largest of his three suitcases from the truck, he headed toward the front door and found it open as promised. “Hello?” He stopped at the threshold. Loud pop music and a truly heavenly scent of some sort of cooking poultry lead him to his right and what he thought might be the kitchen.

  Kitchen it was, all done up in dark colors to match the rural feel of the exterior of the house. The appliances were state of the art, lining the wall to the left of the opening that led into the room as well as the wall in front of Rabin. A huge island dominated the center of the room, complete with copper pots hanging above it. A four-seater table was built into a huge bay window overlooking the lake to Rabin’s right.

  There was a young man who was very obviously neither Brent nor Hell busy at the sink, his back to Rabin. He was on the short side, c
loser to Hell’s diminutive height than he was to either Brent’s or Rabin’s size. His hair was shining black, pulled into a tail that hung in gentle waves halfway down his back. He was singing and jiggling to the music, shaking slim shoulders, a trim waist, and a pert little ass. Reaching the chorus of the song, he belted out in a very nice if slightly off-key tenor. Tugging a towel from where it hung at the waistband of his jeans, he turned around, eyes closed as he sang into an imaginary microphone. Rabin grinned, enjoying the show. The kid was incredibly pretty. A softly rounded jaw and high cheekbones gave his face a gorgeous shape, and a long, thick fringe of that black hair hid his forehead, brows, and part of his eyes. Seen from the front, his snug, lime green T-shirt proclaimed Straight? So is spaghetti until you heat it up. Once the chorus was done, his dusky pink lips curled up in a smile and his eyes opened. Amazing eyes. Big and almond shaped, with irises as dark as chocolate bonbons and lashes any woman would die for.

  Finally seeing Rabin, the young man stopped, eyes and mouth open wide in surprise. “Oh. Hi.”

  Rabin felt like applauding but didn’t, since he still held his bags. “Hi.”

  The kid’s mouth closed and his throat worked over a swallow while an embarrassed flush colored softly rounded cheeks. “You must be Rabin.” Tucking the towel back into his waistband, the young man hastily circled around the island toward him. One hand extended to go with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m Izzy.”

  Rabin set his suitcase down and switched the guitar case to his left hand. “Nice to meet you, Izzy.” If he hadn’t heard Brent’s voice at the gate, he’d think he was in the wrong place. Although Izzy did look a little familiar.

  Izzy stepped back. “I’m Brent’s cousin. I’m staying with them for the summer.”

  “Ah.” Rabin kept his grin, although he had the weirdest feeling that he was drowning in big brown eyes.

  “Hey!” Brent’s voice and slap on his shoulder shocked him out of his trance. Brent took a step into the room so Rabin could see him properly. A few months hadn’t changed him much. His pitch-black hair was shorter, perhaps recently cut, so the curls stopped just below his ears. Rabin had never seen him unshaven before, but Brent’s afternoon shadow wasn’t all that dark. He wore jeans that had seen better days and a threadbare button-down over a white T-shirt. The clothing and the lack of shoes showed that he was right at home. Rabin was profoundly glad to see Brent without a brace on his right hand. They’d last seen each other when Brent had fractured his hand and needed Rabin to fill in for him when Heaven Sent played a New Year’s concert. Since Rabin hadn’t been called to substitute in Japan in March, he could only assume Brent was all healed. Thank God. Great as it had been to play with Heaven Sent, he wouldn’t wish further injury on a man who’d become a very good friend.

  “I see you met Izzy.” Without a word, Brent picked up Rabin’s suitcase. “The brat’s staying with us for the summer. Lucky us, he’s an amazing cook.”

  Not until the mention of “brat” did Izzy’s wide eyes stray from Rabin’s face. He gave his cousin a narrow look and stuck out his tongue.

  Brent laughed. “See what I mean about the brat part?” He spun Rabin around by the arm. “Come on. Let me show you to your room.”

  “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Izzy called after them.

  Rabin glanced over his shoulder to find Izzy’s gaze roaming down his body. Caught checking Rabin’s ass, Izzy flushed, then grinned and winked before retreating behind the kitchen island.

  “Don’t mind Izzy,” Brent said, leading the way up a wide staircase of polished wood. “He’s a good kid and mostly harmless.”

  “Mostly?”

  Brent waited for Rabin to catch up with him on the landing. “He’s gay. Could you tell?” Dark eyes were filled with mirth under a long fringe of hair the same shiny black as Izzy’s.

  Rabin pretended shock. “No. Really?”

  Brent snorted, proceeding down the hall. “My aunt figured Hell and I would be a good influence on him.”

  “And why she would think that, we don’t know,” came a musical voice from down the hall. Hell stepped out of an open doorway, dressed as casually as Rabin had ever seen him in a loose T-shirt and snug jeans. Like Brent, he was barefoot, and Rabin thought he even detected a bit of a tan to that normally porcelain skin. The hair that had been faded lavender when Rabin last saw him was now stark white. Not the white of age. Either the shoulder-length curls were bleached, or that was his natural color.

  “Hey, Hell,” Rabin greeted, accepting an air kiss with a brief hug made a little awkward by the guitar case. “You going blond these days?”

  A graceful hand strangely bereft of all but one gold ring lifted to comb through said curls. “I cannot be bothered with color these days,” he proclaimed, his German accent clipping his words. “Too much to do.” He turned back into the room he’d come from. “Here, this is your room.”

  “He just does it because I like it,” Brent announced, following them both into the room.

  To that, Hell’s only response was a snort.

  Rabin grinned, enjoying their banter. He’d never been close to an openly gay couple before them. It was nice to see them so comfortable together. And to be comfortable with them. He’d never say it to their faces, but Rabin had been kind of leery of gay men before—a product of how he’d grown up, he supposed, since there weren’t any homosexuals he could remember. But he’d known Brent before he’d known Brent was gay, and spending time with Heaven Sent over New Year’s had shoved aside all of Rabin’s ignorant doubts.

  He set his guitar case right beside the bed, then did a slow turn around, whistling as he stopped. “Wow, all this for me?”

  There was a wide window overlooking a lawn and trees. He’d get to see some amazing sunsets if the last vestiges of the sun he could see in the sky now was any indication. The walls of the room were papered in a white and green pattern with a little bit of gold laced in. Two dressers, a table, a large reclining chair, and the bed’s head- and footboards were all solid, heavy pine. The bedding was green and white, with one gold throw pillow perched at the head. He appreciated—and coveted—the framed vintage tour posters for Pink Floyd, the Stones, and The Who that graced the wall. But for those, Rabin had to wonder who’d decorated. Hell might have the touch for it. Doubtful Brent did.

  “This is your bathroom,” Hell told him, indicating the open door. “The cleaning crew keeps the closet stocked, but if you need something, let us know.”

  Brent pushed back the heavy green curtain that had obscured half the window. “Sorry, no lake view, but the only rooms with views are ours and the one across the hall, and Izzy claimed that one already.”

  Rabin nodded, noting that Izzy would be close. Good thing he’d gotten a good initial vibe. “Anyone else living here?”

  “Nope.” Brent sat on the arm of the heavy chair. “Just the four of us. Cleaning crew comes in once a week, and Hell’s been trying out gardeners for the wilderness outside.”

  Shaking his head, Hell wandered close enough to press himself against Brent’s side. Obediently, Brent circled his slim waist with one arm. “Someone must care for the trees.”

  “I know.” As Hell’s arm draped his shoulders, Brent focused again on Rabin. “So, this’ll do for a while?”

  “Are you kidding me? This is great. Though you should’ve put me in the basement or something. I might never leave digs like this.” He made sure to emphasize the joke with his tone.

  Hell smiled. “You might prefer the basement. That is our studio.”

  Brent grinned when Rabin’s face lit up. “I’ll show you that later. And no worries—stay as long as you like. We’ll let you know when you’ve overstayed.”

  Rabin didn’t really doubt they would. “It’ll just be for a month or so. As soon as I find a place, Zane’ll be out to join me.”

  Brent nodded. “And then we can get the Indigo Knights up and going again.”

  “Damn straight.”

  With a
n indulgent smile, Hell pulled away from Brent. He pointed at the one suitcase Brent had set down beside one of the dressers. “Is that all your luggage?”

  “I’ve got two more in the truck, but that’s it.”

  “You should bring them up.” Hell headed for the door. “And we should join Izzy. Dinner should be ready.”

  Rabin smiled after him, then startled when he saw that Brent hadn’t moved.

  “A word of warning about my cousin.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nothing bad, but…” Brent stood, then shoved his hands into his back pockets. “He will flirt. Shamelessly. He only recently came out, and I think he’s feeling the freedom of being around people who understand. It’s harmless, and he wouldn’t do anything, but if he makes you uncomfortable, let me know, okay?”

  Rabin blinked. “Oh, hey, no worries. I’m fine. Besides”—he put on a big grin—“he’s cute. What is he, like, twelve?”

  Brent chuckled. “Try twenty-two.”

  “What? No way.” Twelve was a stretch, but Rabin hadn’t pegged him for more than eighteen.

  “I know. He looks young for his age.”

  “I could see how that could be a problem.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d be staying with us until a few weeks ago, but when my aunt called… Who knows—maybe we can help him.”

  “Hey, really, no worries. I understand about family. Got a few cousins of my own who I’d go out of my way for.”

  “Cool. Thanks. Let’s go get the rest of your stuff. You’re gonna love Izzy’s cooking. He’s going to school to be a chef.”

  “Really? Brilliant.”

  The summer was looking even better.

  Chapter Two

  “So, are you English?”

  Rabin suppressed a grin, badly. “What gave me away?”

  Izzy set the casserole dish on the kitchen table, then took his seat across from Rabin and Brent, who sat on the bench with their backs to the bay window. The youngest man propped an elbow on the table, chin on his palm, and gazed adoringly at Rabin. “You have that überlovely accent.”