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The neon words currently projected from the open textbook began to blur, and Zane fought past the exhaustion by downing his fifth cup of coffee.

Or maybe it was his seventh.

He’d lost count.

Sort of like how he was about to lose his perfect record if he didn’t get his head on straight and focused. This upcoming test was worth sixty percent of his overall grade, and while he could still pass even if he somehow managed to completely bomb it, he’d more than lose his ranking. Then Professor Wells Diar, his senior advisor, would use that as an excuse to call him into his office for alone time.

As if having to dodge his teacher's advances wasn’t frustrating enough, he’d also be losing to Berga Obsidian, which was so not about to happen, for multiple reasons. The first of which was that Berga was a member of the Satellite, and since Zane was in the Retinue, the two fell into a pattern of friendly competition early on in their schooling. It was “friendly” only because their paths were so different; there was no real reason to compete.

Berga was already the Butcher of the Brumal mafia, a job he’d gained recently after the death of their old leader resulted in a power exchange. Technically, he could drop out of Vail University right now and it wouldn’t affect him in the least.

Zane was different. He needed that piece of paper at the end of graduation. Needed it framed and hanging up on the wall.

A wall that wasn’t his.

In a home that wasn’t his.

He scowled and tossed the stylus he’d been using to highlight bitterly onto the desk. Gods damn it. He was losing his mind.

His focusing issues were nothing new. He’d suffered from them all his life—or, at least the parts of his life he could remember. Everything before his tenth birthday was a blur. Medically, there was nothing wrong with him. His memories were blocked and no one could tell him if they’d ever return, but they weren’t concerned. The same statement could be applied to his lack of interest in studying at the moment.

He didn’t struggle with focusing because of his brain.

He struggled because of his dick.

Spreading his thighs wide, he glared down at the offending, protruding member of his body. The one part of himself that seemed to never want to listen to reason. That’s why his thing with Kazimir had worked out so well. Whenever the two of them had needed to fuck, they’d call, get it over with, and move on with their lives. Kaz had meant nothing more to him than that.

But he’d been a constant in Zane’s life since high school, and Zane hated when anyone messed with his routine.

He hated that he’d been so easily tossed aside even more than that.

Bastard.

Three months later he was still thinking about how he’d lost to that poor street racer Nate Narek. Poor in the sense the man bore no social status and virtually an empty bank account. What he lacked in every other aspect, however, he seemed to make up for in looks and wits, which Zane could appreciate.

Truthfully, he didn’t have anything against Nate.

“It’s you I have a problem with,” he grunted, staring down at the straining hard-on in his pants.

Great. And now he was talking to his dick.

This was all Kaz’s fault.

Her fault.

Before the two of them, Zane hadn’t been a slave to his bodily urges. He’d been unable to find a tether, something to quiet those ferocious voices in his head that constantly told him he would never be good enough to be kept by anyone. Sex had become a way to prove his worth, a fucked up way, sure, and a fleeting one, but a way nonetheless. Through orgasms, both giving and receiving, Zane was able to reassure himself that he was wanted, if even for a moment.

When he was allowing them to use his body for their pleasure, making them come, they wanted him desperately. In those moments leading up to release, they wanted him more than anything else on the planet. They’d programmed him to crave sex like the twisted monsters they both were and now where were they?

Kazimir was currently in a happy relationship and Lyra—

That did it. Thinking about her usually did. His cock deflated some, the acrid taste of bile rising up the back of his throat as he tried to breathe through the burst of disgust and panic that overcame him. Whenever he pictured the two of them in bed together, this is what happened. It hadn’t always been that way, but…

Zane shivered and closed his eyes. She’d return home tomorrow and she’d demand to see him.

Maybe demand was a strong word.

She’d request his presence, and he’d come crawling like he always did.

Like the good little lapdog she’d molded him into being.

The one he’d resigned himself into being for the rest of his life.

His eyes lingered on the empty glass bottle he’d drained more than an hour ago. He didn’t usually accept the snacks and drinks other students left for him, typically sweeping them off his desk and straight into the trash, even with the entire class watching. It never seemed to deter anyone and the next day there would simply be more. But a couple of months ago, the glass bottles started to appear and Zane hadn’t had the same disinterested reaction.

Picking it up, he turned it in the light, reading the black and gold label for the millionth time. Doc & Bro . There weren’t many childhood memories left, but this was one of them. When he’d been a kid, the sour green drink had been his favorite. At first, he’d been suspicious. Until he’d looked up the company and discovered they’d recently opened a branch on Vitality, which explained why it was suddenly available on planet. Whoever had chosen the drink for him must have merely wanted to get him something new, thinking that would impress him.

Considering he’d consumed every single bottle since they’d started appearing, they weren’t entirely wrong, though there was no way of them knowing the drink wasn’t new to him.

Maybe he should find out who was leaving them. Three months was long enough to go without a steady bed partner. Perhaps this student—or professor—could fill that role for the time being. Then Zane could go back to concentrating on what was actually important.

His multi-slate—the body borne device strapped to his right wrist that acted as both a computer and communicator —rang, cutting through his thoughts and he answered with a clipped, “What?”

There was a pause and then Madden’s voice asking, “That time of month again?”

“Why are you calling?”

“There’s a problem.”

“Sounds like a you issue.” Zane didn’t have time to deal with whatever his fellow Retinue member had going on.

There was a rustling noise and then a second later, a new person spoke. “It’s my issue, actually.”

Zane immediately straightened and then began to collect his things haphazardly. “Kelevra. Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

“No need,” the Imperial Prince drawled, stopping Zane in his tracks. “The problem is at Concealed. Head there.”

Concealed? He frowned. “Were you injured? Do I need to bring—”

“I’m fine,” Kelevra cut him off. “But yes to bringing the first aid kit. Hurry up.”

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and went for the closet where the kit was kept. His dick was still semi-hard, but he couldn’t deny a direct order. Kelevra Diar, the Imperial Prince third in line for the throne on Vitality, wasn’t just the leader of the Retinue.

He also happened to own Zane.

The drive to the club took less than twenty minutes from Vail campus, and it wasn’t until he was walking up to the two burly bouncers at the double glass doors that Zane recalled who owned this place. It’d been months since the last time Pavel and he had been alone, that weirdness from the night outside of Kazimir’s seemingly a strange dream he’d had more than reality.

Even though he’d only ever been here once or twice before, both bouncers took one glance at him and bowed, stepping aside so the censors to the doors would open for him. Zane didn’t waste time with the front desk, making a beeline for the elevators to the left as he checked the message he’d been sent from Madden.

Room 556.

Zane had no idea what was up there. It could be any number of things. Concealed was an award-winning restaurant, an exhibitionist club, and…actually, the last thing alluded him.

He pressed the button for level five and waited.

The floor he stepped out on was decorated in blood red marble with black and gold streaks, a high ceiling with bright chandeliers every ten or so feet, and doors with numbers lining either side of the lengthy hall. The décor gave nothing away.

But the screams did.

Zane didn’t so much as flinch as he followed the sound. It was coming from a room almost at the end of the corridor, the door left slightly ajar as though on purpose. Sure enough, the number on the door was 556, and he pressed his fingers against the red wood and eased it open to discover a crying man tied to a bed by leather straps.

His face was turned on the pillow, bright red and painted in a mixture of mortification, agony, and anger. He was completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, his ass lifted high in the air and his legs spread wide.

“About time.” Madden stood in one corner of the room, arms crossed.

Zane took a closer look at the man on the bed, his identity finally clicking into place. “Muse, correct?” He was one of Madden’s racers at the illegal dock races his fellow Retinue member organized and ran.

“Yeah,” Madden confirmed.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He got a little…carried away…”

Zane quirked a brow, but before he could demand a better explanation, someone stepped up behind him.

“He put a candle up his ass and a piece broke off,” Pavel’s silky voice came a second before he stepped around Zane. He was in that familiar three-piece suit, his hair carefully styled and his hands in his front pockets like this sort of thing happened all the time.

Hell, maybe it did.

Only Zane wasn’t usually the one called here so…He sent a suspicious look to Madden, who immediately threw up his hands.

“Don’t look at me,” his friend quickly said. “I had nothing to do with this. He called me in a panic and I happened to be nearby. Actually,” he checked the time on his multi-slate and swore, “I’m going to be late for a date with the Butcher. You’ve got this, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Madden didn’t wait around for a reply, slipping past Zane and out of the room in a flash.

“Where’s his partner?” Zane questioned, still unsure why he was the one there. “Someone should take him to the hospital—”

“So reporters can gain wind of the story and plaster it all over the news come morning?” Pavel shook his head. “This wouldn’t look good for either Madden or me. Even once we explain that the offended candle was merely a room decoration,” he leaned closer to the bed and said this last part a little louder, clearly for Muse, “The damage will have already been done.”

So they wanted this handled discretely then.

“Surely you have a doctor on call at a place like this.” Zane couldn’t imagine a person like Pavel, the type who was prepared for anything, not having any medical personnel on staff.

“They’re busy,” Pavel said. “At least, all of the ones I can trust are. Madden suggested we call you and Kelevra agreed.”

“Where is Kel?”

“Why? Are you going to refuse to help unless he gives a direct order?”

It was the challenging glint in Pavel’s eye that did it.

Zane dropped the first aid kit onto a sturdy black wooden desk propped against the wall and pulled out a pair of gloves.

“What are you doing?” Pavel asked as soon as he’d taken a step toward the bed.

“What’s it look like?” He crawled onto the king-sized mattress and positioned himself behind Muse. “Relax,” he ordered when the bound man flinched. “You aren’t my type.”

“Wait—” Pavel began, but he didn’t bother letting him finish.

Zane’s fingers found Muse’s puffy entrance and worked their way inside of him, feeling around until they bumped against something solid. “It’s been sucked in too deep for me to grab.”

“Obviously,” Pavel stated coldly. “We wouldn’t have called you if Arlet could have simply pulled it out.”

Zane’s brow winged up. “Arlet?”

“We’re sort of dating,” Muse’s muffled words came a second before he exhaled as Zane’s fingers popped free.

“Arlet is the reason you currently have a candle lodged in your anal cavity?” That honestly came as a surprise. Zane had no idea that girl had a freaky side to her. She was a student at Guest Fine Arts Academy, but the two of them had interacted on several occasions due to her social status. “Did she abandon you afterward?”

“She’s embarrassed,” Muse said.

“She’s worried about being sued,” Pavel bluntly corrected. “Which is a very real possibility. You both signed waivers claiming to understand the rules of the club before entering. Now, not only have you broken those rules, but you also disturbed Zane and—” He stopped himself abruptly, took a second to collect himself, and then spoke with less fervor, “We’ll have to see how the rest of this goes before I make a legal decision.”

“To be clear,” Zane stated as he got off the bed to grab a pair of forceps from the kit before returning, “this is not part of my job description as the Royal Physician to the Imperial family.”

“ Future , Royal Physician,” Pavel’s tone was the same one he’d used to correct Muse a moment ago and Zane risked a glare at him over his shoulder before getting back to work.

“My point,” he grabbed the bottle of lube that had been left on the bed and squeezed a generous amount over the forceps, “is that fishing through some bastard's asshole is so very far beneath me, I’m tempted to sue the both of you .”

The forceps went in smoothly and he blindly wiggled them around, clicking his tongue at Muse when the guy mewled in discomfort.

Or maybe arousal…

Zane leaned back and checked, and sure enough, the man was hard and leaking all over—A hand suddenly covered his eyes and he froze.

“I don’t think that’s where you need to be looking to get the job done,” Pavel’s voice came directly behind him. When had he gotten so close?

“You want to do it?” Zane shot back, but Pavel didn’t sound amused when he spoke again.

“I’m barely keeping myself collected as it is, Doctor. Watching you play with another man’s naked form was not on my agenda, and I’m finding it difficult not to pull one of your fancy knives free.”

Zane frowned. “Do you and Muse have something going on as well?”

He chuckled darkly and leaned in closer, dropping his voice so as not to scare Muse with his next words. “I’d use the knife to castrate him. Since you liked looking at his junk so much, I feel the need to do away with it so you no longer have that option.”

He sucked in a breath. “What?”

“Work, Doctor.” Despite his order, he kept his hand firmly in place. “We can settle the rest afterward.”

“Um,” Muse took a deep breath, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t how things are supposed to be done?”

“Would you rather we bring you to the hospital and wheel you through the emergency room ass up for all to see?” Zane twisted the forceps and latched onto the offending object buried within the man. He eased it out, trying to avoid damage despite his harsh words.

Pavel shifted behind him and then finally removed his hand, moving quickly to toss a nearby blanket over Muse.

Zane got up and tossed the forceps and the inch-long piece of what used to be white wax into the trash bin. There was no way he was going to be cleaning those. The school could afford to buy new ones, considering what they charged for tuition.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Muse still sounded embarrassed, but there was relief in his tone as well.

“I’m not a doctor,” he replied, closing the lid on the first aid kit with a click. “I’m not licensed yet.” Less than a year to go and he would be, not that he planned on pointing that out. Instead, he tucked a hand into his pocket, picked up the box with the other and coolly turned back to face the pale man now sitting on the edge of the bed. “As your peer, I recommend not sticking random objects up your butt. And you,” he scowled at Pavel, “don’t you supply toys to your patrons?”

Pavel moved toward the tall wooden dresser set in the corner, pulling open the doors. When he stepped aside and swept his arm out to it there was a pompous glint in his eyes.

Zane didn’t bother taking in the vast array of toys displayed in the dresser. Since his job was done here, he simply spun on his heels and left, checking the time on his multi-slate as he went. There was a missed message from over a half hour ago.

She was early.

Shit.

And he was going to be late.

“What’s the hurry?” Pavel fell into step at his side. “Since you’re already here, you should have dinner. On me.”

“I came because Kelevra called,” Zane stated. “This wasn’t a personal favor, so there’s no need for you to compensate me.”

The two of them hadn’t spoken much since that occurrence outside of Kaz’s apartment building, and Zane wasn’t seeing a reason to change that fact. They’d never been close.

“Every member of the Retinue has tried my restaurant except you,” Pavel said. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“Not any more so than the fact you’re trying so hard to keep me here.” Zane came to an abrupt halt in front of the elevators. “What is it? Clearly you need something from me, otherwise you wouldn’t be wasting either of our time like this.”

Pavel’s expression was inscrutable, but Zane somehow got the feeling he’d hit a nerve, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how or why.

“Is that how you view this exchange?” Pavel’s tone was flat. “As a waste of your time?”

Zane opened his mouth only to be interrupted by the ding of his multi-slate.

Samuel: She is waiting.

“I have to go.” Zane hit the button at the elevator with a little more force than necessary, only catching that he was giving himself away once the deed was done. He cleared his throat and straightened, summoning that calm outer exterior he was known for. “Thank you for the invite, but I have dinner reservations already.”

“Do you?” Pavel cocked his head, but once the elevator arrived, he seemed to shed the enigmatic air all at once. With a polite smile, he held a hand out toward the opening doors. “By all means, we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting then. Get home safely, Doctor.”

He nodded and stepped inside, tension still rising as the numbers over the now closed doors slowly ticked down.

Zane was already halfway to his car before it occurred to him that he’d never said his dinner plans were at the Little Palace.

And yet somehow, Pavel had known.