Page 118 of Shadows in Bloom

“I…” He swallowed and glanced toward the building. The sound of beat music could be heard spilling from within, subtle but there, and the idea of entering all of that already gave him the beginnings of a migraine. What he should do was ask Ledger what the plan was. Find out if he was going in there to help Nikita or get dirt on him so he could be prepared, but… He ended up shaking his head instead. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Ledger made a sound of understanding, not upset by that answer. But when he went to step away, he seemed to reconsider and came back. “Stay inside the car. If you try and run, I’ll make what Oran’s done to you in the past look like a cake walk. Got it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I won’t run. Promise.” Where would he even run to?

“Just to confirm one last time, you said this shithead brother of yours has a thing for Saint, correct?”

Nikita frowned. “Yes…?”

“Why does he look like he has no clue what’s going on?” Madden asked Ledger, but the door shut again before Nikita could overhear whatever the response was.

The two of them walked toward the bar, disappearing inside. Nikita had stayed because he couldn’t see a reason for him to go with them, but now that he was sitting alone he was starting to second guess himself.

Was he really going to just sit here and trust that whatever Ledger had planned, it wouldn’t result in Nikita being worse off than before?

He’d obviously tried to get away from his family, had gotten a few part time jobs over the years in an attempt to save up for school, since he’d always sort of known his parents weren’t going to foot the bill for his education the way they’d always promised Oran they would. The jobs never lasted long though. Oran always found a way to get him fired.

Nikita didn’t even have enough coin to move out, forced to continue living in that hellhole.

And that wasn’t going to change just because he spread his legs for one of the Devils of Vitality.

He swore at himself, a flash of anger slinking past the desperation and hopelessness he typically felt. How foolish of him to forget that one very important detail. Even if Ledger got the debts transferred to their rightful owner as payment for getting to sleep with him, that didn’t mean anything in the long term.

Oran would be pissed as soon as he discovered—if Ledger didn’t outright tell him right from the get-go. It was hard to imagine things being worse than they already were, but Nikita had long since learned not to underestimate his brother.

Ledger was planning on fucking him, and that was it. As soon as they’d slept together, Nikita was going to have to return to his usual life, which meant returning to that house he shared with his tormentor. This wasn’t good.

Nikita was out of the car and racing toward the building before he even processed what he planned on doing. All he knew was he’d been an idiot. He shouldn’t have said anything to Ledger about Oran or his troubles, should have kept his mouth stubbornly shut and let the Devil kill him right then and there. That would be so much better than anything that could come after this night.

He shoved his way through the crowd as soon as he was inside, not caring if he was being rude. His gaze wildly swept over the room, searching for Ledger or his brother. It was only after he’d made it to the center of the dance floor that he realized something had everyone else’s attention.

There was a commotion on the far side of the room, where a couple of faded red velvet couches were set against the wall. Madden was seated in the center of one of them, his legs kicked up on the beer-stained coffee table. He had an arm around two different guys, and Nikita recognized them as his brother’s best friends, Brox and Pierce.

Madden was holding them back while they all watched the real action a few feet away.

Ledger had Oran on the ground, one hand fisted in his white button-up shirt. He was speaking to him, and Nikita found himself moving closer in an attempt to hear, eyes wide as he watched his brother shake in obvious fear of the Devil.

Just as he was about to reach them, someone stepped in Nikita’s way. The man had pink hair and a wicked grin as he stared down at him, and was instantly recognizable. Saint, the Brumal member Oran had a crush on.

“The show is free, but participation is off the table,” Saint said, winking at Nikita as if to lighten the blow and not scare him.

“Let him pass,” Ledger’s voice cut across to them before Nikita could think of what to say. Saint seemed surprised but shrugged and instantly stepped aside.

“This is your rodeo,” Saint shrugged, moving away from Nikita. “We’re just clowns in your shit show.” He dropped down into one of the smaller chairs near the couch, propping his elbows on his knees so he could lean in and get a closer look at Oran. “Is he about to cry? Damn, man. What did he do to you? Or is it just another Tuesday? Guess he’s as good as any to beat up for no real reason.”

“Nope,” Ledger corrected, “this is personal.”

“I swear I’ve never done anything to you,” Oran said. “Honestly! I’ve never—” He noticed Nikita was there finally and tossed out an arm, pointing at him vehemently. “It was him! He did it!”

Saint cocked his head. “What’d he do?”

“Be born into the wrong family,” Ledger stated. He shoved Oran down and glared warningly when he tried to sit back up, not speaking again until he was lying flat on his back with Ledger hovering over him.

For a split second, a rush of jealousy hit Nikita as he recalled he’d been in a similar position with the Devil only an hour so ago, but that feeling dissipated quickly when Ledger lifted a foot and placed it on Oran’s neck.

He used the tip of his shoe to force Oran’s head back, pressing against his chin, all while his heel dug in. When Oran’s hands went to his ankle and tried to pry him off, he laughed, the sound twisted and cruel.

“Hey, Saint,” Ledger motioned between Nikita and Oran, “which of them do you think is the best looking?”

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