My Dark Knight (gay biker romance) (Kings of Hell MC Book 2)

by K. A. Merikan

  Laurent sighed deeply and dropped the wedding catalog to the couch. “Fine, I will go as well. I can cover the eastern wing and the former rail station. But it’s for you, Knight, not for him.”

  Knight shook his head, not even bothering to comment. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he would say something he shouldn’t.

  *

  They didn’t find a trace of Elliot. Even Rev and Fox joined the search, trudging through the snow with Knight and Beast. White fluff blew into their faces and made their clothes damp, only making the whole endeavor more miserable. The heaps of snow were big enough to hide a dead body, and in this temperature it might have not even started decomposing. So Rev had said. Knight didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to find Elliot once all the snow thawed, hidden away from any harm that could come his way under the roof of thick branches. He didn’t want to be the cause of anything this horrid.

  No matter how many times Knight called his name, Elliot hadn’t responded, as if he was gone off the face of the earth. Forever. And once it got completely dark and even Hound failed to lead them to any clues, Knight gave up.

  Without knowing where Elliot was, he couldn’t sleep either and felt the hours pass as he looked at the lamp above his bed, not even counting sheep because he kept imagining them violated by some kind of rabid animal who tore away whole chunks of their flesh and left them to die from their injuries.

  Restless in his own room, Knight needed a change of space, so he went down to the common room hoping for some late-night conversations over beer, but at 2am, there was no one to talk to. He lay his head on the arm of the leather sofa, increasingly miserable.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling this shit. Well, maybe that one time when he mixed wine with beer and tequila, but he’d been fine after he got his stomach pumped. This? The thought of Elliot killing himself was like a parasite in his gut that he couldn’t get rid of.

  He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes, the room was dark, so someone must have turned the light off when he’d dozed off. Knight wasn’t sure what woke him up until bottles rattled somewhere in the kitchen.

  He squeezed his eyes hard to make his eyelids relax and slowly rose into a sitting position, eager to strike a conversation about pretty much anything.

  The ghostly glow originating in the innards of the open fridge cast shadows behind the lamp above Knight’s head and outlined the items on the kitchen counter with blueish lines. Not wanting to wake Knight up most likely, the other guy—he was far too tall to be a woman—attempted to keep quiet as he dove his long arms inside the shelves.

  Knight’s brain was only slowly catching up with his eyes, and he stilled, studying the thin legs in skinny jeans, the narrow hips that never failed to spur dirty thoughts in Knight’s mind.

  Elliot’s hair was a mess held in place by some kind of product, and in quick efficient moves he was stuffing food into a duffel, oblivious to Knight’s eyes on him. It was as if an invisible fist punched Knight in the gut. He couldn’t breathe or think even as he slowly rose from the sofa and approached, barefoot over tiles that burned his feet with their cold surface.

  Elliot was pulling out cans, bread, meats, jam, and he only hesitated a moment before packing the remaining piece of Violet’s birthday cake.

  “This isn’t yours,” Knight heard himself say, and it was as if breaking the silence somehow unlocked his joints too and allowed him to move faster.

  Elliot’s head turned in an instant, and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. His face was covered in white powder, and his cheeks colored with rouge. The effect was much less intense than The Count had usually gone for, but it still made Knight’s blood boil.

  “I…”

  Knight rested his hands on his hips, just because he knew that he’d actually use them, were they not occupied. “Where have you been? The house is locked for the night! Everyone has been searching for you all afternoon!”

  “For me? Why? And you said I can have stuff from the fridge.” Elliot slipped a jar of Nutella into his bag and zipped it up, never taking his eyes off Knight.

  The heat in Knight’s head was starting to boil his brain. “You disappeared. Where have you been, you shit? And why are you wearing all this again?”

  Elliot’s eyelids lowered in that self-righteous expression Knight had last seen on him when they first met. None of that helpless vulnerability, or even a hint of smile, was left. “What do you care where I was? Did you have a nice Christmas? We’re not a couple, so I’m free to wear whatever I want.” He closed the fridge, leaving them with only the moon illuminating the scene with its faint glow.

  “Where have you been?” hissed Knight, stepping closer. In the dark Elliot moved almost like a snake, ready to bolt and sink its venom into flesh at any second. “I’ve been worried sick!”

  Elliot took a few steps back, circling the kitchen island. “It’s none of your business anymore.” He held his chin up as if he wanted to show Knight just how much better than him he somehow was.

  Knight gave a deep exhale that felt as if he’d just spat out his lungs, and he surged along the kitchen island, straight at Elliot, whose eyes got wider. Elliot’s wrist was so fragile in Knight’s grip, his entire body light enough to be thrown off balance with one powerful tug that sent Elliot into Knight’s chest.

  “What did you say? You live here. You live under my roof. And you still hide from me—from everyone—like a cockroach.”

  Knight’s mind was in turmoil, exploding with a sense of joy at having Elliot back and seeing him safe, and yet the hateful expression in Elliot’s eyes stabbed him over and over.

  Elliot yelped, and the bag slid off his shoulder. “Let go! If you don’t want all of me, you can’t have any of me!”

  Knight grabbed Elliot’s bony arms and shook him, backing the slim body against the closed fridge. They were so close now he could sense Elliot’s breath on his face, and he stalled, unsure what to do next. “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone’s worried for you. You couldn’t have answered a single fucking message?”

  “No one’s worried. No one likes me here! Back off!” Elliot’s scowl deepened, and he grabbed Knight’s arms.

  The kick straight between Knight’s legs came like out of nowhere, and a split-second before the pain exploded in his balls, Knight still couldn’t comprehend it.

  He staggered to the side and grabbed the table top as needles of pain coursed up his stomach and down his inner thighs. His knee hit the floor, and he gasped for air, sucking it in despite the innate urge to just curl up into a ball.

  “You... you fucking piece of shit...”

  “I told you to back off!” Elliot grabbed his bag and walked off to fuck-knew-where. His fast walk soon turned into a run.

  Oh, hell no. If Elliot thought he could disappear again after this, he had another thing coming.

  Everything hurt, but Knight had been shot twice, had gotten his bones broken, and been beaten so badly he could hardly see through the swelling. If he’d survived those ordeals, then he could deal with a weak kick in the balls. He swayed along the kitchen island, his elbow sliding over the smooth surface for support, but the moment he left the kitchen, it was only his strength and endurance that mattered. Fighting through the lingering ache, he rushed past the seating in the common room and bolted into the long corridor, following the sound of Elliot’s rapid footsteps. He was still visible ahead, the dark silhouette passing a spot where light was allowed in through a large window.

  Knight ran as fast as he could, biting the insides of his cheeks and gaining speed by the second. It was as if he suddenly had tunnel vision, and the only thing that mattered was catching up.

  Elliot glanced over his shoulder, looking like a ghost in his makeup, and the one thing that was missing from the creepy scene was a storm with lightning raging outside. Elliot sped up, but his bag was heavy, and his shallow panting told Knight just how tired he was getting even after this pathetic excuse for a jog.<
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  The food items thudded and jingled inside the bag, and the noise echoed in the empty hallway as they sped toward the front of the house. Strips of light lingering on the walls were like the ribs of a beast that swallowed them both, and they were now speeding down its throat, about to be burned alive by acid and anger.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” hissed Knight through his teeth, speeding up as the pain caused by Elliot’s cowardly attack subsided. He was gaining on Elliot, and soon enough he would grab him.

  Elliot kept looking back, which was slowing him down as well, but only when the gargoyle statue emerged with the background of the moonlit hall did Knight realize where Elliot was heading. The cellar door was wide open, and Elliot disappeared in its hungry mouth. Did he think Fane’s ghost would help him against a living, breathing man?

  Knight rushed past the monstrous sculpture and dove straight into the open staircase that lead to the very gut of the building where all the dirtiest secrets were hidden. He went in blindly and stumbled on the uneven stairs, but with the passage so narrow, he saved himself from a fall by extending his arms. The wall rubbed his skin raw, but he didn’t care. The light was on downstairs, and the door to Fane’s room was open, and...

  “How did you get in here?” Knight growled, stepping inside with all his muscles tense and ready to fight. The air smelled of stale food and sweat—proof that the chamber must have been lived in for at least a few days.

  A tangle of comforters and pillows lay in the narrow corner at the other end, close to it was the bag of food, and trash lay around by one of the walls.

  Elliot stood in the corner with his fucking cane in hand and sported that ugly Count-like smirk that just begged for being wiped off with a fist. “You really thought you could keep me away from here?”

  The sudden realization that Elliot had been staying here, locked up with Fane and listening to his verbal venom, was making Knight sick. Day and night Elliot had talked to that fucking psycho.

  A blow of cool air that sounded suspiciously like a sigh rolled against Knight’s neck, and he looked back, his feet freezing to the floor when Fane’s blue eyes looked back at him.

  “He believed I would not tell lies. That a dead man cannot have an agenda,” Fane said and rolled his eyes.

  Knight squeezed his hands into fists, reminding himself that Fane was only an apparition. He could not do any physical harm but still very clearly put Elliot back under his spell. “Elliot. This is fucking stupid. You’re forbidden from coming here.”

  Elliot’s laugh filled the room, and it didn’t sound like him anymore. Manic, high-pitched, and sharp, it cut straight into Knight’s heart. “You can’t forbid me shit.”

  Knight’s eyes grew wide when Elliot pulled on the handle of his cane, and steel flashed in the weak light as he produced a long, thin blade that must have been hidden in the prop all along. Knight twisted away in time, but the knife still grazed his bare arm.

  A flash of heat speared through his skin, and he instinctively grabbed Elliot’s wrist, tugging so hard the sword fell to the floor with a loud clatter. His elbow surged for Elliot’s face, and the entire body of Knight’s opponent flew at the wall, knocking against it with a nasty crack.

  Something contorted in Knight’s gut when he saw Elliot roll down the wall with blood dribbling down his lips, but then he reminded himself that Elliot had just attacked him. He’d attacked him with a fucking sword and only Knight’s reflexes combined with Elliot’s inexperience saved him from a serious wound.

  He gathered the blood off his exposed arm and met Elliot’s gaze in silence.

  Something changed though.

  The air seemed slightly warmer, and he no longer felt that piercing chill in his bones.

  Elliot’s red-stained lips trembled, and he wouldn’t get up from his knees, watching Knight as if he’d grown horns. His unfocused gaze settled behind Knight, but when Knight spun around, wary of Fane possibly communicating with Elliot, there was nothing to fear there.

  In fact, Fane was gone.

  Elliot crawled along the wall on his knees, visibly shell shocked. He hadn’t got a concussion, had he?

  Knight swallowed and touched the shallow scratch again, glaring at Elliot as the truth sank in deeper. “You tried to fucking stab me. What the hell?”

  Elliot slowly got up, helping himself with the wall, because his legs trembled so violently he would have never been able to rise otherwise. “I… I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

  “You don’t have the right to be alone here. This is my house, and I didn’t allow you to come here!” he shouted, approaching Elliot in big strides.

  “Why do you care?” Elliot backed off into the corner, but Knight now saw him as a scorpion. Small, but ready to sting at any moment, causing serious damage.

  Knight spread his arms, indicating the nest of sheets, the litter, the food. “I brought you here so that you could live like a normal person, not sleep on the floor and listen to what the ghost of a fucking murderer has to say! I told you not to come here, and you what…? Broke my trust and stole the key? You’re a useless fucking piece of shit!” He picked up the hidden blade along with its wooden sheath and looked at the red stain on the sword. “You don’t even know how to use this.”

  Elliot wrapped his arms around himself and wouldn’t say a word, just nervously looking from side to side, as if Fane’s absence took away all his ridiculous bravado.

  Chapter 19

  Elliot stumbled forward with his ears still ringing after hitting his head. Blood dripped down his lips and the coppery taste in his mouth was as prominent as the pain radiating through his body following Knight’s assault. William stood close by, looking between Knight and Elliot, but Knight spoke right through him, as if he didn’t register the ghost’s presence anymore. As if despite all of William’s hopes, drawing Mercier blood hadn’t managed to give him the mortal body he so desperately wanted.

  The punch must have weakened Elliot, and he shifted helplessly, watching William’s face, which tensed in utter horror as he stared at his open palms before settling his beautiful blue gaze on Elliot. “What have you done?” he asked, and instead of walking over, he disappeared from Knight’s side and appeared right next to Elliot, making him stir. His instincts told him to move, but William’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and kept him in place. It was cold as it had been, but this time Elliot could sense its weight, as if it were material and solid as a real man’s flesh.

  “I did it,” Elliot whispered, which earned him a frown from Knight, who shook his head and wiped away blood off the blade with his hand.

  “I’m not fucking blind, you shithead. I buy you stuff, I feed you, and you attack me? You ungrateful piece of trash,” Knight hissed and approached Elliot in aggressive stomps, his unruly hair in a dark halo surrounding his face. “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me!”

  Elliot licked his lips. That much was true.

  “Damnation. You... you tricked me,” hissed William straight into Elliot’s ear, and his fingers tightened on Elliot’s shoulder. They felt bony now and so cold they might have been made of ice.

  “I… did what you wanted,” Elliot said, all too aware that Knight was listening. Yet, he seemed to be looking right through William, now frowning deeply and stepping away.

  William’s face, always so perfectly chiselled now looked sunken, with hollowed cheeks, dark circles around the eyes and cheekbones so pronounced his face was reminiscent of a skull clad in a layer of skin. A phantom with solid, exposed teeth that could tear through Elliot’s own flesh.

  “You offered me a man whose veins don’t carry a single drop of my killer’s blood,” hissed William, rapidly moving his fingers from Elliot’s shoulder to his throat. Uncontrollable shudders overcame Elliot’s body when the long digits tightened, preventing him from talking when Knight shouted something unintelligible.

  “He can’t hear me,” William growled, “so you keep silent, you maggot, and listen. I don’
t know what game you think you’re playing, but you have Mercier blood in you, and now I’m trapped inside you. If you want to survive this, you better keep this a secret. I cannot believe I am sharing a body with someone’s bastard!”

  Elliot had to fight against the chokehold, but when he finally managed to pull William’s hand away, he realized it had been his own hand that squeezed around his throat in such a punishing way.

  I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Elliot thought, hoping that if they shared a body, then they shared a mind as well, but there was no recognition in William’s eyes, so that didn’t seem to be the case.

  Was he now… possessed? Was this what William had wanted from Elliot all along? Not to get his own body back, but to take over Knight’s? He shuddered at the thought that he’d almost enabled such a thing. Even now, so hurt and heartbroken after Knight’s rejection, he wouldn’t wish him dead, or for his soul to disappear.

  But if the body William wanted was the strong, athletic form of Knight, then Elliot’s own must be a prison of gangly limbs and looks far below what William was used to in his lifetime. No wonder he was angry.

  He missed it when Knight squatted in front of him and tapped Elliot’s cheek with a deep frown that spoke of worry rather than aggression. “What’s up with you? Have you helped yourself to some of Joker’s stash? What was it? The shrooms?”

  William stood by, handsome again, with his arms crossed and tapping his foot against the floor. Knight really didn’t see him.

  Elliot looked away from Knight’s face, afraid Knight would read him like a book. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m dizzy. I’ll go if you want me to,” he mumbled, still shocked that he’d been deceived.

  Knight hung his head, and for a moment the thick mass of hair obscured the handsome face that was in no way an inheritance of the Mercier bloodline. It was only now hitting Elliot that for all the efforts and energy Knight was putting into discovering and celebrating his ancestors, he was really a stranger to all the people who’d made him so proud to carry his surname.