“Yeah, the fucker was big, but a small fish. He’ll eventually give up on looking for Elliot,” Knight added.
Beast contemplated it for a few seconds. “Your responsibility, Knight. If he as much as breathes air that he shouldn’t, I will be treating you as guilty for it, no matter how long we’ve been friends. So think again.”
Knight’s lips pressed together, and he glanced at Elliot with resignation.
“My tastes might be unusual but I’m not actually evil,” Elliot muttered.
Beast’s mouth trembled, and the badly burned side of his face pulled into an odd grimace. “Oh, really?”
“You heard him. He’ll be a good boy,” Knight said and patted Elliot’s shoulder. “Laurent?”
Laurent shrugged and wouldn’t grace Elliot with his attention. Infuriatingly, even the pout didn’t make him look any less pretty. “As long as I don’t have to deal with him, he’s not of interest to me. I just wish he could have met William Fane and found out for himself what a charming man he was.”
“He won’t bother you, cousin,” Knight said and pushed at the back of Elliot’s head, as if urging him to gently tip his head forward. What was this? An audience with the king?
Elliot took a deep breath, finally giving in and glancing at his toes as he bowed. “I won’t.”
Beast scanned Elliot once more. “Just make sure he knows exactly where not to go.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Knight said and pulled Elliot with him, to the same door Jake left through. It was only when they entered a short hallway with wood-lined walls that tension left Elliot’s body somewhat. “The others will be fine if Beast said yes.”
Now that they were alone, it was time to face the other burning question. “I didn’t know this would be official. That we… you know.”
“What are you on about?” Knight said, pushing at a pair of swinging doors that led them into an atmospheric space with two huge billiard tables.
Elliot tried to remember the floorplan, but his brain was fried from information overload. “You told everyone I sucked you off! Three times.”
“Because you have,” Knight said, brushing his hand against one of the tables as they passed.
Elliot rubbed his forehead only to wince when he pressed too hard on the bruise. So that was how things would be then. “Fine. Where do we sleep? My backpack's getting heavy.”
“I’ll show you to the room. If you’re hungry, help yourself to something from the kitchen, unless it’s labeled as someone else’s.”
Elliot watched Knight for a long moment. “So anything that isn’t labeled I can just eat? Whose is it then?”
Knight shrugged. “I mean... one of our hangarounds takes care of those things. Her name’s Nao. Hot Asian lady with blonde hair—I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. We’re always stocked up, but I’ve never seen her actually deal with the kitchen, so she’s probably doing it when I’m still asleep.”
Elliot couldn’t wait to check out what was in the fridges then. His backpack contained the most valuable things he owned, and it was getting really heavy, especially when he was so painfully hungry.
Knight must have noticed his struggle, because he took the backpack from Elliot’s hands and hung it over his shoulder, leaving yet another crooked passage within the labyrinth of corridors and leading the way upstairs.
Elliot was out of breath by the time they reached the second story, but when he looked around, recognition pierced his head like a dozen arrows. He’d seen this hallway in old photographs. There were ugly posters on the gray walls now, but the elegant—if somewhat crumbling—detail at the ceiling and the shape of the tall windows running along the entire length of the wall told him where he was.
He straightened his back and touched the wall, completely enchanted when he sensed the aged stone beneath his fingers. “Are we doing the tour now?” His heart began beating in a frantic rhythm. Why hadn’t Knight told him? He wasn’t prepared.
Knight looked around. “You wanted to leave your backpack.”
“Is this where you live then?” Elliot looked around in excitement, trying to memorize every crack on the walls. “It must be magical to sleep here.”
Knight’s mouth crooked into a cocky smile. “I have the best apartment in this entire house. It used to be our former president’s, and Beast didn’t want to move from his own place. It’s right where Fane’s bedroom used to be, apparently.”
“You sleep where Fane’s bedroom was?” Elliot couldn’t help the whine escaping his lips, and he stroked the back of Knight’s arm. This was destiny.
Knight glared at him. “Christ, don’t get all horny on me because of another guy.”
Elliot backed off and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m just excited. I’ve dreamed of seeing this place, but to find out that I’ll actually be sleeping where Fane had—”
“Walked,” said Knight, entering one of the open doors across from the huge windows. The room was by no means as grand as the hallway, rather narrow and with one window hugging the right wall so tightly it was clear the floor plan must have changed since the building was first erected. The interior was bare, with no decoration whatsoever and furnished only with a double bed and small desk.
Cogs finally moved in Elliot’s head. Of course. He wouldn’t be staying with Knight. What had he been thinking? He licked his lips. “This… is nice.”
Knight dumped the backpack on the bed and approached a radiator, which he must have only now switched on, because the room was quite cool, even if much less so than Elliot’s trailer. “Raise the temperature if you want. It works perfectly. I did all the wiring here myself.”
“And I’m allowed to go to that kitchen and main room, and all that?” Elliot just needed the green light and he’d be feasting tonight.
Knight sat on the bed and leaned back, supporting himself with his elbows. The position made his body stretch and uncovered a little bit of that tempting line between the hem of his T-shirt and his belt. “Sure. Just leave when someone asks you to. If anyone approaches you, just tell them you’re with me and that Beast knows.”
Elliot nodded and sat next to Knight, still confused by how this whole day had gone. He’d recorded a video, he almost died but was saved, he ate some first-class dick, and now he was getting a new place and free food. Fuck knew what tomorrow would bring.
He sensed the heat of Knight’s thigh against his own and looked down at him, eager to touch the dark hair spilling all over his handsome face. Elliot’s heart thumped faster as he leaned down to kiss the man who’d saved him from certain death. Maybe they wouldn’t sleep together but at least they could fool around some more before Knight left to get back to his life. The hand pushing back at his chest was a cold shower that left Elliot not only flushing with embarrassment but also deeply disappointed. And the worst thing was that he couldn’t express any of those emotions.
“Huh?” Elliot raised his eyebrows, unsure of what he’d done wrong. Hadn’t Knight suggested they’d have sex again?
Knight tapped Elliot’s chest. “I don’t kiss guys.”
Elliot just stared. “Oh. Okay. That’s cool.” So not cool. He sat back with a sigh and rested his head against the wall.
Knight’s body twisted, and he stood up, swatting Elliot’s back on the way. “Gonna do some work now, but I’ll give you the tour later.”
Elliot smiled and nodded. The last thing he wanted was to put Knight off spending time with him. When Knight was gone, though, Elliot repeatedly hit the back of his head against the wall.
“Fuck my life,” he whispered to himself and hid his face in his hands.
Chapter 8
There were days when Knight loved his new position within the club. Regardless of the more annoying set of responsibilities, he enjoyed talking to people over the phone, and negotiating good terms for the club gave him a sense of pride. Today however, his excitement lay someplace else, and going through notes left for him by Fox had been a tedious process when all he could think of was
the prospect of showing The Count just how little he knew about Fane and the history of the land around Brecon. He kept getting distracted as he wondered what things he ought to show to Elliot and in what sequence. There were obviously spots associated with Fane but also random things of interest, like the antique ornamental monkey in the billiard room, which used to be a glorified bell for summoning servants. With a house like this one, with so much history and mystery soaked into its walls, there was more than enough material for several tours. And for once Knight would be doing it with someone who was actually interested, even if prejudiced.
Holding the silly leather shoes and the cane Elliot must had left behind on the night of the party, Knight knocked on his door.
“Come in!” Elliot yelled.
Knight stepped into the guest bedroom and spotted Elliot at the desk, sitting in a chair he must have dragged in from somewhere else. Unable to fit his long legs under the desktop, Elliot held them sideways, but once Knight’s gaze trailed north, he could only huff with annoyance. Elliot was wearing a silvery wig and was patting a piece of sponge against his forehead, covering his entire face with white foundation.
“Why?” Knight asked, spreading his arms in a helpless gesture.
Elliot looked back at him, and his big dark eyes stood out within the background of the powdery face like two coals. “I need to make a good impression. And I will be filming too. Can’t have my viewers seeing me out of character.”
Knight groaned and tossed the shoes and cane on the bed. “I just don’t get it. You have a nice face. Why cover it with all that plaster?”
Elliot rolled his eyes. “My face is so ordinary. Besides, people expect to see The Count when they tune in.” He walked up to the bed and grabbed the cane. He looked at it and lovingly stroked the smooth wood. “It’s a replica of Fane’s.”
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Knight walked up to the little desk and picked up the white tube where the fluid covering Elliot’s face had come from. “This isn’t even real makeup. It’s meant for Halloween.”
Elliot groaned. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy real white foundation? It’s not even funny. And I can put a filter on the video anyway.”
With his hair up under the wig, the little half-moon tattoo was clearly visible, and it was the one thing Knight liked about Elliot’s face right now because it was a part of his real face. From the neck down though, Elliot retained his charm. In tight jeans and a fitted turtleneck his skinny figure had a certain elegance to it, much more evident now than when he wore the polyester Count outfit.
Knight sighed. “Okay, whatever. Don’t really care. I came because I promised you a tour, and that’s what we’re gonna do. You can film, but you stop if I tell you to, and no pictures when I tell you not to take them. Is that clear?”
“Yes. I just want to film the house not… whatever it is that you do.” Elliot’s painted-on eyebrows went high and he placed the cane in front of him, positioning himself as if Knight was here to sketch him for a portrait.
“I just want you to remember and understand that you’re only here and still walking on those legs because I like a man interested in his history. My brothers would not be forgiving if you pissed them off,” Knight said. It wasn’t the first time he put that across to Elliot, but with that rotting Jell-O that was his brain, it was better to repeat himself. On the upside, as idiotic as Elliot sometimes behaved, he really was only interested in the history of the building and wouldn’t interfere in any club business. If girls could live here, so could Elliot.
Elliot waved his hand dismissively, as if he was already getting into his stuck-up character. “I understand, and I’m grateful. I believe I’ve put that across quite well.” He slid his feet into the heeled dress shoes with buckles and walked out first.
Knight rubbed his face but followed him and leaned against one of the windowsills in the corridor. “I studied the original plans of the house. This place where we are now was used for functions. It was only later divided into the hallway and rooms,” he said and looked at the ceiling. It was rather bare, but according to a description from a letter between Fane’s father and an acquaintance, it used to be decorated with a fantastical fresco depicting the abduction of Helen of Troy. Knight had never been interested in ancient myths before, but after stumbling upon this piece of information, he found Helen’s story online and read it. There was even an ancient book dedicated to it and written over three thousand years ago, and while he thought it was ridiculous to go to war over a woman—even if she were as pretty as the current Miss World—he supposed it was a good topic for a ballroom where people romanced each other.
But as he and Elliot walked down the corridor and Knight talked about all the details he knew, it was the look of sheer amazement and joy on the painted face that drew Knight’s attention. Sure, he’d had girlfriends who would listen to some of the history, but what they were really after was an exciting fuck in one of the rooms associated with Brecon’s infamous serial killer.
Elliot on the other hand? He was so into it. He inspected every creak, touched the walls, asked questions about the windows, seemingly in a world of his own making. His interest made Knight glad that he chose to do the tour at night instead of waiting until tomorrow.
When not spewing rude lies about Laurent Mercier or tweeting about how handsome William Fane was, Elliot was a surprisingly pleasant companion. He actually understood some of the genealogy jokes Knight was usually forced to enjoy on his own since none of his friends knew enough on the topic to see the humor in his stories.
After a lengthy introduction inside the former ballroom, they descended the stairs and viewed the billiard room, which still retained many of its original features, and Elliot was so delighted by the monkey-shaped bell handle he kept talking about it even as they progressed to view the former kitchen, which now housed beer kegs, toilet paper, and other things necessary for the daily running of the clubhouse. Despite its simple appearance, this room had remnants of paint running along the ceiling, and Knight even dragged in a ladder so that Elliot could take good pictures of it.
Knight in the meanwhile enjoyed the view of Elliot’s long legs.
“Do you think he ever came in here?” Elliot asked as he climbed down the steps. “I imagine his housekeeper would fetch him a snack whenever he felt like it, so that he never had to step a foot in here.”
Knight shrugged. “Maybe as a kid. But I don’t think it was something rich people did back then. He could hire enough servants to keep one just for wiping his ass.”
Elliot laughed out loud, more joyful by the minute. “I bet he had a whole army of them. Apparently he was also a keen rider and had ten horses to choose from.”
“Yes. And he fell off a horse when he was a kid. Remained unconscious for two days. Maybe that was what fucked him up,” Knight said, somewhat sour that he could provide any excuse for Fane’s actions. Regardless of the source of William Fane’s madness, he had still been perfectly able to hide his deeds long enough that he must had known how horrific they were.
The tour took them to the original entrance hall next, and even with the period decorations and statues gone from the niches in the walls, the space still had a distinctly historical feel to it. It was no different in the corridor that ushered them down the longer side of the original building, all the way to the spiral staircase, which led to Knight’s apartment one story above. The ever-problematic wiring was throwing yet another tantrum, so Knight ended up illuminating the interior with a large-beam flashlight. Its white glow licked the little hollow spaces aligned symmetrically in the walls—as was the style in Fane’s time—and each time somewhere on the edge between light and shadow, Knight noticed indistinct shapes. It was his imagination materializing things that used to decorate the glorified shelves. Figures of mythological characters made of pristinely white marble loomed somewhere at the back of Knight’s mind. The same ones that watched Laurent Mercier follow Fane to meet his fate.
He we
nt quiet when he thought of the sweet Laurent being targeted by that monster. It made watching Elliot’s smile and his excited narration for the camera a bitter pill to swallow.
“It’s a shame they blocked off the windows,” Elliot said, running his fingers over the concrete filling the frames of where windows once were. “I bet there was lots of light flooding in here back in the day.
“I agree, but we don’t use these hallways much. It’s kinda spooky here,” Knight said, leading the way to the staircase which spiraled above the dust-covered statue like the horns of the creature that owned this house. Knight was well acquainted with the grotesque form of the gargoyle sculpture, but he kept Elliot in the dark and very slowly raised the flashlight for the ghastly form to appear, like an intruder from hell about to take out an unsuspecting visitor.
At first glance its form was reminiscent of a large, muscular ape with wide bat-like wings, but light did not lie and sank deep into the crevices of the monstrous head. Wide and yet sunken like a skeleton’s, the inhuman face had thick brows and a narrow muzzle filled with so much teeth they couldn’t comfortably fit into its jaw. The figure was topped by a set of menacing horns that were the doom of the club’s former prez as he fell down the stairs three months prior. In daylight, the dark stains that couldn’t be completely cleaned off the stone were still visible.
Elliot gasped and took a step back at first, but then rushed up to the statue. “I’ve heard of this sculpture. There’s only one shitty photo of it out there. It’s so much more impressive in real life. My followers will piss their pants when they see it. And Fane’s secret room is behind it, right?” He stroked the gargoyle’s muzzle, and Knight could swear the creature leaned closer.
A shudder went down his spine, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah. It should be right under our feet now.”
My Dark Knight (gay biker romance) (Kings of Hell MC Book 2) Page 9
