“I don’t know. He’s always on time, hardworking, polite—when people deserve it,” he cut Kaz off before he could interrupt. “Loyal. That mutual friend they share? Nate covered for him today because he was a no-show, and if you think you’re the first dick to stroll in here tearing him apart for losing tonight, think again. He’ll probably take crap for this loss for weeks, if not months.”
“He sounds like a drag.”
“He doesn’t start random fires or blow things up on a daily basis like the crowd you’re used to hanging with, no,” Madden drawled. “Look, just forget about him. We both know you’re not actually this pissed off about the race anyway.”
He was trying to avoid bringing up what Flix had mentioned, but they both knew it’d been true.
Kazimir had been in a bad mood for days, ever since the funeral when things had become entirely too real for his liking. He’d lost people to death before, of course, but Sullivan Void had been a paternal figure to him, and now he’d up and left just like every other adult in Kaz’s life had. Logically, he understood it made no sense. But he rarely operated on logic when it came to emotional responses.
“I’m not the letting go type.” He flashed Madden a wicked grin and winked before he got up and headed toward the attached lot where he’d stashed his car earlier.
“Yeah,” Madden groaned behind him but didn’t get up to follow, “that’s what I was afraid you were going to say.”
An idea started to formulate and the corner of Kazimir’s mouth turned up. “Where’s this afterparty at?”
“Kaz. Seriously. Contrary to what it looked like tonight, Nate’s not bad on a bike. I need him. He helps keep operations running smoothly and he’s basically the only person who isn’t a complete asshole around here.”
“I won’t actually kill him,” he reassured. He’d just mess him up a little, that was all. He’d come out for a good time? He’d fucking get one, damn it. “Just tell me where the party is or I’ll find out from someone else.”
Madden sighed and lifted his multi-slate to tap out a message, and a second later, Kaz’s device dinged. “I really wish you’d stop messing around with people I know.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kaz was only half listening, already adding the address Madden had just sent to his GPS.
Besides, it wasn’t his fault that he was smart enough to manipulate people into doing things he wanted and falling for him. When he got what he wanted from them and kicked them to the curb, their negative reactions were their own issue to deal with. All Kazimir cared about were his own feelings.
Given his piss poor mood right now, everyone should beware. The only way he could see himself letting these frustrated emotions go would be to get a proper apology from the man who’d instilled them in him.
The pretty racer might understand how the hierarchy at Vail worked, but it was obvious no one had ever taught him the most important lesson of all.
Never taunt a devil, especially not a Devil of Vitality.
Chapter 1:
It was too loud in here and his head was starting to hurt, but the raucous sounds of beat music and the screaming crowd in the bar helped drown out the memory of how awful he’d been on the track tonight, so Nate didn’t even consider leaving.
Flix had brought him to the main downtown area, a place Nate rarely hung out at on his own. Even during college, he’d never had the time for partying, and drinking wasn’t a pastime he typically enjoyed. It’d been too important for him to show off his grades to his brother whenever Nuri found the time to call, to prove that Nate could be trusted to be on his own and take care of himself and their younger sister, Neve.
He snorted into his glass and then downed the amber contents, coughing a bit at the bittersweet drink. It burned on the way down, but he sort of liked that about it, kept tapping the rim so the bartender would refill it and he could feel it again. Chasing after that lingering discomfort and the way it sat like molasses in his stomach.
There was no one around to tell him to stop, even though he swayed a bit on the stool, his drunken mind chuckling slightly at that. He was meant to be home right now, tucked into bed, getting his eight hours so he wouldn’t be exhausted tomorrow at work. The only reason plans had changed was that he’d had theunfortunate luck of losing the race and coming into contact with that pissed-off gambler.
Contrary to what the guy currently believed after his poor racing, Nate wasn’t stupid. He’d recognized Kazimir Ambrose immediately, and if he’d been more in the right state of mind, he most likely would have walked without stoking the flames and talking back. He’d been too upset with himself, however, to think clearly and had been two minutes away from locking himself in the bathroom so he could disassociate for a minute. Or ten. Flix had merely been passing by at the right time and taken pity on him.
Flix hadn’t said as much as they’d walked out to his car and headed here, but he hadn’t needed to. While the two of them were on friendly terms, Nate wouldn’t really consider them friends. They got on and talked, sure, but that was mostly because they both knew Bay Delmar. Bay was close to Berga, which meant he was close to Flix. Nate was close to Bay, therefore, Flix tolerated him enough not to want his fellow Brumal member to beat him to a pulp.
There was little doubt in Nate’s mind that was the exact direction the night had been about to take, too. Kazimir didn’t seem like the type of guy to make idle threats or misspeak. No, he probably only ever said exactly what he meant. Only did the things he meant to do.
Unlike Nate.
He swallowed more of that burning liquor and motioned for another. When the bartender, some girl he’d had one or two classes with in the past, hesitated, he tapped his glass with a bit more force until she caved.
When his hand shook a moment later as he was lifting it to his lips, he realized she’d probably been right in her hesitation. He should quit now, but a quick glance around reminded him he was currently seated alone with no way homesince he hadn’t driven himself. It was impossible for him to recall exactly when he’d been abandoned by Flix and Berga, but it must have been some time ago and there was still no sign of their return.
Flix had spotted someone in the crowd and excused himself. A few minutes later, Berga had gotten a call on his multi-slate and left as well. Actually, neither of them had given any clear indications they evenwouldbe back.
Someone bumped into him from behind, and Nate’s drink sloshed over the rim and onto the counter.
“I’m so sorry!” Nate rushed to stand, reaching for a pile of napkins nearby, even as the bartender—Sally?—started to clean the mess herself with a rag.
