Page 13 of Devil May Lie

“What are you doing here?” Berga was looking up from his multi-slate now, glaring suspiciously at Madden from the top of the steps where he’d stopped.

“Where are you going?” It was obvious he’d been headed to the parking lot. Was he leaving for lunch?

Was he meeting someone else?

Madden’s hands tightened into fists, but he forced his expression to remain lax as he climbed the stone steps and stopped on the one just below where the Butcher stood. It put him at a height disadvantage, but that could work in his favor. People tended to feel less intimidated when they had the higher ground.

Even if it was all an illusion.

No matter what Berga expected from here on out, Madden wasn’t leaving until he’d gotten what he wanted.

“That’s none of your business,” Berga stated cooly, dismissively. When he went to step past, Madden slid right along with him, remaining in his path.

“Do you have what I asked for?” That other morning when he’d used the video to threaten him, Madden had done so without understanding why he was bothering. Now he knew it’d just been an excuse. A reason for future him to stalk the Butcher and hound him.

It worked. Berga shifted on his feet but clearly was no longer thinking about leaving, crossing his arms in mild frustration that thinned his otherwise plump, strawberry-pink lips.

Had they always been that soft looking?

Madden had been too hopped up on the drug to recall what they’d tasted like.

He’d have to remedy that.

Soon.

“I told you,” Berga said, “that I’d send someone over once it was ready.”

“I want it now.” He wanted something, that was for sure, but it was far too soon to say. It was obvious by the other man’s reaction that whatever Madden was feeling about their joint experience, Berga wasn’t feeling the same.

Pity. Things would have gone a lot smoother if the Butcher already wanted him back.

“It’s not ready.”

“How close to ready is it then?”

Berga sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“Almost as ridiculous as slipping a date rape drug into someone's beer?”

The Butcher stilled. “I apologized for that already.”

“Here’s the thing,” he drawled, “just because you say sorry, doesn’t mean the other person has to accept.”

“No?” he seemed genuinely put off by that concept.

“No.”

Berga hesitated and then said, “The pills are in my lab. Come on.”

Madden’s eyes widened when the Butcher retreated a step. “You’re making drugs on campus? Using the school's facilities to do it?”

He frowned. “Where else would I do it? My apartment?”

“You have a personal lab through the Brumal. I know you do.”

“Yes, but that’s at a secure location, which is a bitch to get to. This is more practical,” Berga explained as he led them down the path and then around to the front of the large building he’d no doubt just exited. Underclassmen, identified by the colors of their uniform shirts, bowed their heads at him as they passed.

And stared at Madden, but he continued to ignore them, all of his focus reserved for the man with the mint-colored hair steadily walking in front of him. Despite his obvious disapproval at finding Madden waiting for him, there didn’t seem to be anything holding Berga back from leading him straight to his school lab.