The one time you don't want to see Nobek Lidon...
He was so deep in his thoughts, that he failed to notice the foot traffic as he neared the bridge. He walked into another man.
“Oops, sorry.” Then he noticed who he’d bumped into. “Oh. Zevs.”
“Someone’s not with us in the real world,” his former rival snorted. “Are you thinking, Tukui? Must hurt, engaging your brain for a change.”
“You wouldn’t know a lot about it,” Tukui shot back, trying to step around him.
Zevs moved to block him, his ugly smirk filling Tukui’s gaze. “Are things going poorly? New Matara not working out…or are you not working out for her?”
“Typical jealous Zevs. Get out of my way.”
Maybe something showed on Tukui’s expression, because Zevs sneered. “I’ve often wondered whether Yorso doesn’t regret his choice. Congratulations. Now you’re a disappointment to two clanmates.”
The urge to pound the scorn off Zevs’ mug walloped Tukui, and he obeyed the impulse without a second thought. He swung. The flash of pain that resonated in his fist as it scored satisfying contact with Zevs’ jaw made him absurdly happy.
They bounced from one side of the corridor to the other, trading blows as a crowd gathered. For every punch Zevs landed, Tukui got in two. It was sheer joy to bleed out the worries of the past day—not to mention give his opponent the thrashing he deserved.
Someone yanked them apart, violently enough to fling them both to the floor. Tukui’s heart stuttered when he discovered Weapons Commander Lidon staring down at him.
It took Zevs longer to figure out what was going on. He jumped to his feet with a curse, to be promptly knocked on his ass again by the glaring Nobek. The look on his face when he realized who’d broken up the fight was almost worth the trouble Tukui was in.
Almost.
“Navigator Tukui. Technician Zevs. Thank you for leaving me plenty of skin to flay. My office. Now.”
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