Dearest readers,

This is my second attempt at this story. I apologize for the rewrite but this version is going more smoothly. Please feel free to review and as always, thank you for reading my mindless fluff.

Humbly yours,

Nef

Tribal Connections Southern Style

Chapter 1

Josef Kostan hung up the phone and moved to stare out the large window overlooking the city of Los Angeles. His hunched shoulders, hands in his pockets and frowning brow spoke of a man lost in his own thoughts. When his best friend P.I. Mick St. John called about the rumor that a vampire perhaps older than him was now residing in Los Angeles, Josef said very little. Mick was predictably concerned but this wasn't news to the hedge fund trader. He knew all about the other vampire. After all he invited him here. It had been over 100 years since he had seen the person that had been more older brother to him than sire. Over the centuries they'd lost touch from time to time but never failed to meet up again. Though more adversaries at times than friends, it was always the same whether it had been a few months or a few decades. They would meet up, spend some time antagonizing each other and then fall back into the abrasive but comfortable rivalry that defined their relationship. Yet despite the fact that his sire and he had come to blows more than once over some disagreement, he never doubted that Sebastian Aziz would always have his back. That was simply the way things worked between them. But all that changed the day he'd allowed a woman to come between them; a woman named Lola.

From the first moment he'd seen her, Josef had been in awe of Lola's mystique and the hypnotic power she seem to wield over the pirates she commanded. It wasn't long before he was totally taken in by her beguiling presence and intoxicating allure. Sebastian, on the other hand, had been solely unimpressed, vainly warning his friend that she was trouble and even calling her an unscrupulous amoral slut unashamedly to her face. But he hadn't listened. In the end, she'd given Josef an ultimatum: her or his sire. To his everlasting regret, he'd made the wrong choice and it cost him and the vampires she killed to make her Black Crystal very dearly indeed.

To his surprise, Josef hadn't experienced any grief after Mick killed Lola; only relief mixed with some guilt over letting things with her go as far as he had. But it took the miracle of his own beloved Sarah waking up and returning to his life to finally convince him to reach out to his creator and one time friend. He'd done what he could. Now it was up to Sebastian.

In another part of the city, Sebastian Aziz was under an expensive sports car, just putting the finishing touches on a complex transmission rebuild when someone called to him. His sun kissed shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a neat pony tail to keep it from getting in the way.

"Hey Bashman, you done yet?"

He slid out, wiping his hands as he did. "Almost, Tank." In truth, Sebastian just finished. There were advantages to spending most of your days under a car when it let you use vamp speed unobserved. "Why don't you go ahead? I'll lock up for you."

The burly tattoo covered man now walking across the garage lived up to his nickname. "You sure?"

'Bashman' nodded. "Yes, I'm still on Sao Palo time. I'll be up for a while and I need to finish this job anyway."

Tank's voice was gruff with emotion as he spoke. "Thanks, dude, for everything. Not just locking up. If you hadn't helped me out when you did, I'd have lost everything."

" Forget it, buddy. You're helping me out too." The vampire grinned as he gave the other man a friendly cuff. "I needed a change and Brazil was getting boring. Besides, what else was I going to do with my money? I sure won't be spending it on the walking Barbie dolls you got around here. I like a woman I can hang on to. If I wanted to get cozy with a twig, I'd date a pool cue." His hazel eyes glinted with humor.

Tank's raucous laughter as he departed brought an even bigger smile to Sebastian's face. For all his flaws and rough edges, the former motorcycle champion was a good man. When he contacted his old racing friend Sebastian Aziz with an offer to move to L.A and become a partner in his car repair and customization business, it had been a no brainer. He'd jumped at the chance.

After a final check to make sure Tank was gone, he quickly sped through making the building secure and headed for the office in the back to clean up and change. At almost 6 feet, Sebastian was not as tall as some men, but was definitely powerfully built. Broad chested and broad shouldered, he'd always garnered attention if not respect from both sexes. Like many riders, he also had a full beard, though he deliberately kept his meticulously closed cropped to his square jaw and prominent chin for neatness.

As he put on his characteristic black motorcycle gear, he couldn't help pondering what Tank might make of the high ruff collars, bejeweled doublets and silk leggings he'd worn as a human. Chuckling to himself, he could almost picture the horrified confusion such an outfit would inspire in his fellow biker.

Whoever said it was good to be a king had never actually been a monarch, at least in Sebastian's day. While modern royalty had mainly ceremonial roles and enjoyed immense personal freedom, he was tossed into a chaotic quagmire of political intrigue and religious conflict after inheriting the throne at the tender age of three. With no father and an absent mother, Sebastian grew up under the brutal tutelage of a series of greedy self-serving guardians who sought to control the country through its young ruler. Even after reaching his majority, he constantly faced conflict in the form of overly ambitious courtiers, backstabbing advisors who undermined his authority at every turn and quibbling factions eager to advance their own agenda. If he'd been less enlightened, he would have executed the lot of them. Instead, he'd endured as best he could but it had still been a living hell despite all its royal trappings. He'd been only too happy to leave his human life behind unlike many other vampires.

Sebastian took a last look around before setting the security alarm and heading outside to the classic 1949 Triumph motorcycle he was currently riding. After a moment of hesitation, he turned his bike in the direction of Kostan Industries and roared off.

With a heavy sigh, Josef turned away from the spectacular view in front of him and headed down the private elevator to the underground parking garage where his limo waited. But just as he was about to get in, the sound of a revving motorcycle made him pause. This garage was supposed to be secure. No one should be able to gain access. Yet, a few hundred yards away a rider dressed completely in black leather, their face obscured by a tinted helmet sat atop a huge motorcycle. Josef paused as the rider revved the engine loudly again almost as if in challenge. The limo driver got out, obviously alarmed at what he saw, but Josef waved him off. Though confused, the man returned to the car. He knew better than to question Mr. Kostan.

Moving to the middle of the garage Josef planted himself directly into the motorcycle's path. His stance and body language made him appear ready for battle. The challenge went on for several seconds until he finally spoke, his words clear even above the noise. "Bring it on, velho amigo!*"

In an instant the motorcycle roared to life, hurtling towards him in a blur of speed. But just as it seemed he was about to be run down, the rider expertly turned the powerful machine aside literally at the last second, missing his target by less than an inch. Then the rider smoothly turned back around and screeched to a stop, once again only inches away from Josef.

As the rider cut the motor and removed his helmet, Josef spoke, his voice oddly casual considering what had just occurred. "Well, that was an interesting entrance. Still melodramatic as always, I see Sebastian. I guess I should just be glad you didn't run over my foot again."

"Give me a break, Josef! That was over 150 years ago! Besides, if you remember correctly, the only reason I stole that carriage was because that baron was after your head for sleeping with his daughter! You're just lucky I managed to keep those horses under control long enough to come rescue your skinny ass!"

"I seem to recall I wasn't the only person who availed myself of the young lady's affections!" He snarked back.

'Yeah, but I wasn't dumb enough to sleep with his wife too!" Sebastian shot back acerbically.

The two men squared off, scowling menacingly at each other and looking for all the world on the verge of fighting. Suddenly, though, Josef's face broke into a wide smile that would have made anyone who knew him worry. Quickly, he engulfed the newcomer in a very uncharacteristic hug, slapping him on the back companionably. "Damn, I missed you!"

Sebastian grinned back. "Of course you did. Who else would put up with an asshole like you?"

Josef tried hard to look insulted. ""Need I remind you which one of us is wearing cow hide and which one of us is dressed in Armani, my dear Sebastian?"

Sebastian just shrugged. "That just makes you a well-dressed asshole, Josef!"

Josef's ringing laughter echoed off the walls filling the garage with its mirth as the two old friends turned and headed in the direction of the private elevator.

* Velho amigo is Portuguese for 'old friend".