Revived (The Dungeon Black Duology 2)

And even more grumpy than usual.

Scott ducked out from under Kai’s arm and stepped closer. “Max.” He smiled and shoved Max’s shoulder. “Stop glaring and go fucking dance with somebody. You could easily have your pick of half these guys.”

“You go fucking dance with somebody.” Max scowled for a second time at Scott’s libation-less hands. “Or better yet, go get a fucking beer. For fuck’s sake, I thought you wanted to drink.”

Scott’s smile wavered. “I did.” He shrugged. “Now I don’t.”

Max stared at him.

Scott sobered and glanced Tad’s way. “I’m good. Maybe later.”

What the—?

Max flicked Tad a look, then balked incredulously back at Scott. “What, are you trying to be his fucking designated driver?”

“No. But he’s been drinking. He might need a ride.”

“He’s got a fucking ride. That punkass, pretty-boy, Ned.”

“I know.” Scott hailed down a bartender. “Coke.”

Max shook his head and muttered, “Un-fucking-believable.”

Scott chuckled. “Be right back. Gotta piss.”

Dirty Blond reappeared with Max’s drinks a second later. “There you go, man. One pale ale. One Jameson.”

Max finished the last of his old beer, set it aside and grabbed the new one.

Kai moved in beside him. “You’re putting those away pretty fast.”

Max leveled him with a look. Downed his whiskey. “I’m Irish.”

Kai smirked. “Okay. Let’s go with that.”

Max watched him head toward the restrooms after Scott. There was something about that guy. With his tiny black ponytail and that jawline of sleek stubble, and those black, almond eyes that watched everything. He exuded a vibe Max just couldn’t get a bead on. Like one part of his aura murmured, “I dare you to trust me,” while his other whispered, “Most valuable ally.” Not that Max needed a fucking ally, or trusted anyone other than Scott. Still, the guy was intriguing. Max wondered where Scott met him.

Kai disappeared down a hallway. Max took another swig and looked away. He could feel his buzz cultivating, in his head, in his muscles, working to loosen him up. He inhaled deep, then let it out slow, willing his restless mind to unwind. God knew, it needed the downtime. Sean had it burning the midnight oil.

Sean.

His chest tightened. God, that kid drove him crazy. His downshifting brain tried to speed back up again, but his warm, fuzzy buzz wouldn’t let it.

Thank you, Jameson.

Max nearly smiled, his easing gaze resuming its perusal. So many faces. The place truly was packed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it so busy. Not that he went there a ton. Mostly his weekends were spent at The District. Or one of the seedier gay bars in town. This place was alright, though. The music was tight. And their Irish whiskey definitely hit the—

Max froze in mid-thought as, from across the club, he spotted Sean heading his way. His stomach flipped haphazardly. His heart shoved into gear. What was he doing there? Seriously. Tad and Sean?

The universe hated Max. Flat-out hated him.

Either that, or it really loved fucking with him.

SEVENTEEN

Max met Sean’s gaze and held it as he approached, unable to look away even if he tried. Which he didn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man to back down. Then again, neither was Sean. Two stubborn guys with hard-ons for each other, equaling one mighty potent stare down. Steadily, Sean ate up the distance between them as he sauntered his ass across the dance floor.

Max could feel his own gaze hooding, hooding like a junkie, his fingers clutching tighter around his bottle. Couldn’t help it. His all-time favorite drug of choice was only a few yards away. And as always, looking way too fucking good. Dark, snug jeans, a tight printed T, and shit yeah, Max’s cuffs on his wrists. A statement that spoke louder than words. Because Sean knew they held meaning. Knew they represented ownership. A precept he clearly embraced.

Sean’s lips slowly curved. His chin subtly lifted. The kid was oozing some serious confidence. Which surprised Max a little—they hadn’t been on the best of terms lately—but honestly also relieved him. He wasn’t so sure he could handle more strained tension tonight. So, yeah, that happy little gleam in Sean’s eyes was definitely reassuring.

Seven feet… five feet… three feet away…

Sean drew to a stop, then visibly swayed.

Looked like someone was buzzing just like Max.

Good. A level playing field. Max liked that shit.

Sean steadied himself quickly. His sexy smile widened. “Hey, Max.”

Max grinned a little. “Sean. Nice to see you.”

“Is it?” Sean lifted a brow. “That mean we’re back to talking?”

Max shrugged. “Why not.”

“Then we’re back to hugging, too.”

And just like that, Sean’s arms were wrapped around him, his heavenly scent assailing Max’s nose. He stiffened at first, but shit, Sean felt so good…

To avoid being rude, he awkwardly hugged Sean back. “Hmm.” Max pressed his cheek to Sean’s head. “Don’t remember us being huggers to begin with.”

“I know, right?” Sean laughed. “What the hell was wrong with us?”