CHAPTER ONE

      Damien

      I SWIRL THE amber liquid in my crystal rocks glass. Inside the club, I can hear corks popping and the sound of raucous applause, which means Marius, owner of the Veil, has just replayed the end of the Nightgardin Rally. Again.

      I shake my head. He doesn’t need to keep kissing my ass. I’ve already bought out the VIP room for the night, spending my winnings like they mean nothing. Because they never do.

      Below my balcony, drunk revelers party in the street, all because I was reckless enough to use a hand-brake maneuver. One where the last racer to attempt it flipped his car and died before the pit crew could get to him.

      I should be so lucky. Instead, here I am, strangers toasting me like I’m something so goddamned special, even while we all know the truth.

      I’m a brother scorned. A prince banished. A killer.

      But for them, I’m just some larger-than-life entertainment—the reckless, rich playboy who drives too fast and throws enough money around to make sure the party and the ride never stop.

      “Your Highness? Marius has asked me to see to it that you are well taken care of. Can I get you another drink? Perhaps something to eat? Or maybe—a companion for the evening?” A voice beckons from the balcony door, but I don’t turn to face whoever has the balls to address me like that.

      Your Highness.

      Nobody calls me that anymore, not because of any request I’ve made but because everyone the world over knows that an Edenvale prince in exile retains no such rank or respect, especially here in Nightgardin—a country my father and brothers consider enemy territory—which means this asshole is mocking me.

      I hold up my barely touched glass of scotch, my back still to him, and assume this will be enough for him to leave me to “celebrate” alone.

      Instead, the scuff of his shoe alerts