Despite the fake Christmas tree at the entrance, it seemed no one would be dressing up as Santa, because the remaining decoration was all furs and heaters that imitated burning flames. The whole thing was just as tacky as Nao’s outfits, which pointed to her as the main organizer of the event. Dressed in the skimpiest shorts Elliot had ever seen and a crop top that exposed the underside of her breasts, she was still working on the finishing touches. She spread yet another fur throw over the sofa as she instructed a young female hangaround how to prepare the night’s special drink - ‘Brain Freeze’. Flames were blazing in the old fireplace, draping their orange glow over the crimson walls.
Elliot finally put down the keg by the kitchen and looked back at Jake. “Well, you’re not blowing him now, are you?”
The fucker just grinned and spread his arms. “I don’t kiss and tell.” Which was a lie, since he’d just been boasting about giving Knight head for years.
“Just fucking say it!” Elliot lashed out and took a step closer.
This time, Jake frowned and looked Elliot up and down. “Seriously? Or what? You know I train kickboxing with Gray, right? And all you train is spreading Nutella on toast.”
Infuriated, Elliot pushed at Jake’s chest, but he didn’t like the way his actions turned heads. He was not a spectacle. “Fuck you and your cocksucking lips! I don’t give a fuck.”
Jake squinted at him, but then a punch under his ribs came out of nowhere and Elliot stumbled to the side, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance. He held his body tight, set on protecting all the vulnerable spots from another punch. He didn’t even try to hit back, since that would be fucking useless against Jake.
Elliot needed a gun. That would have turned tables in his favor for once.
“Come on, boys, the party starts in a few hours,” Nao said, stepping between Jake and Elliot with a slight frown on her perfectly made-up face.
Jake’s jaw stiffened, and he crossed his thick arms on his chest. “You weren’t here to hear what he said. He’s so disrespectful!”
A slim arm went around Elliot’s waist, and he was stunned to see a blonde head styled into a long ponytail with pale pink ends. He’d spoken to her very briefly before, but Violet was Fox’s wife. To be fair, Elliot knew her better than her husband, who spent most days cursing at books and computers while doing club accounting. She seemed nicer than him though. The one time they talked she gave him two slices of homemade pie and praised him for not leaving anything on the plate.
“Are you okay, sweetie?”
His instincts were that of a wounded animal, to shove her away and hiss, but she was too friendly, and he needed allies. Elliot took a deep breath. “I’m okay, thanks.”
Jake sneered at him but didn’t approach. “I might be a prospect, but I’ve got patches to show for it, you shit, so watch it.” He walked off without another look at Elliot.
Nao spun around with her brows low. “Out with it. What did you say to him? Jake’s a teddy bear!”
Elliot groaned. All he wanted was to go and lick his wounds in private. Not only was his body still hurting after the punch, but he was also left with the suggestion that Knight was fucking other people. Sure, it wasn’t as if him and Knight were a couple—Knight had made that pretty clear—but they spent so much time together when Knight was at the clubhouse, and Elliot happily gave Knight so much head, he assumed Knight wouldn’t have time or energy for any more sex.
Trapped between Violet’s compassion and Nao’s irritation, he had to say something. Maybe he’d hear some more gossip about Knight in the process. “He was saying shit about Knight.”
Nao crooked her head, and he knew right off the bat she didn’t believe him. “Jake adores Knight. It’s you who’s constantly antagonizing people. This can’t continue.”
Violet rubbed Elliot’s back, but she wasn’t there to play the good cop. “I know this place might be scary for you, but Fox said that whenever he hears your voice, it’s because of a needless confrontation. Nao’s right.”
“Knock it off. You’re just a guest here, and there’s only so much the patches are gonna take,” added Nao.
“Knight invited me,” Elliot mumbled, wishing he could scream. He turned to Violet. “And for the record, I didn’t eat Fox’s chicken, I saw that redheaded hangaround Missy eat it.”
Violet shook her head and took away her hand. It seemed that even people who’d started out with a positive attitude toward him were slowly drifting away. Soon enough they would no longer react if more violence came Elliot’s way. His breath caught when he looked above Nao’s head, toward the other end of the room where a woman gently spiraled around a stripper pole. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in perfect waves, and the nude bodysuit she was wearing exposed more than it hid. She opened her mouth, saying words he could not hear over the noise, and then laughed as Knight playfully grabbed her ankle and pulled on it.
Elliot stopped hearing what Nao and Violet were saying. His head exploded with throbbing heat, and he once again found it hard to breathe. No matter how much he pretended he was cool with the casual thing he shared with Knight, jealousy repeatedly stabbed his guts with a sharp blade.
The girl was exactly how Knight liked them. Perfectly dolled-up, with a big smile and wearing stiletto heels. Her body was so lean and athletic, that her tits seemed too large in proportion—probably as fake as the tan she was sporting in December. But regardless of the artificial enhancements, she was undoubtedly beautiful. How could Elliot ever compete with that?
He looked back at Nao with a forced smile. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to hold my tongue.”
She frowned at him, then spread her middle and index fingers, which she first directed at her own eyes, then at Elliot. And then she got to her toes with a yelp when Joker slapped her ass while walking past them.
“You’re ruining my authority!”
“Authority? How about you show me some later tonight?” Joker yelled back with a broad grin.
Elliot was happy attention was off him, and he slipped away toward the doors. He looked back at Knight one more time, hoping their eyes would meet, but Knight’s attention was firmly on the beautiful stripper showing off her flexibility by raising one of her legs over her head.
Elliot had seen enough.
He walked out into the corridor with a sense of loss he didn’t understand. He had no right to be jealous, and yet he was. Every night when Knight was actually at the clubhouse, they slept together, talked about history stuff, or joked around about who would win their video bet. In that reality, there was no room for some girl with perfect hair.
Or he’d misunderstood things, and there wasn’t room for him.
With his stomach aching where Jake had punched him, he fled to the narrow staircase that was rarely ever used and sat on a dusty step. Someone started playing music so loudly the walls trembled, but the volume was thankfully reduced very soon. Elliot wondered if the sudden noise made the stripper slide off the pole and break her leg in the process. She wouldn’t be up for fucking then, even with Knight.
To ward off the grim thoughts, Elliot delved into his phone, cheering himself up with the positive reactions on his latest video, and banning all the haters. Being able to just kill the shitty comments was particularly satisfying.
When he reached Knight’s latest comment though, the smug one about the necklace not looking particularly right for the period, his finger just hovered over the ‘delete’ button and he left the comment alone in the end. It did lead him though to Knight’s shirtless man-bun video, which was so drool-worthy Elliot sighed loudly when Knight gave him bedroom eyes and smiled from the tiny cracked screen.
How could one man be so handsome, so funny, so sexy, and yet also interested in history, and a badass who’d smashed Martin’s face on top of that? Just remembering how Martin’s head had bounced off the floor of the trailer made Elliot’s hairs bristle. So much force in those fists, and all on his side.
But while Martin wasn’t as hand
some, or interested in William Fane, back when they were together, Martin only had eyes for Elliot, whereas Knight clearly didn’t. Even if it had been just because Martin was in the closet and Knight could pick and choose, at least for Martin, Elliot had been the only man who mattered.
Despite things getting so ugly later, there had been good times before. Like that night Martin came over when Father was away for business. They’d fucked twice and watched a whole season of Breaking Bad on top of that. Or that other time when Martin invited Elliot over to his place and ordered three pizzas for the two of them to share.
Elliot drifted off to looking through old text messages, and even though they were cryptic, because Martin had never wanted to write anything ‘gay’ in them, Elliot remembered what each of them meant. How ‘You wanna grab a beer?’ was code for ‘Is your dad home? Can we fuck?’.
He remembered that time not long after they’d met when Elliot was taking the TV to a pawn shop, and Martin had texted Elliot that he’d buy it off him if he delivered it to his home.
Elliot had, and Martin fucked his brains out the same day. He’d been so needy, so grabby, so rough and horny. And after they were done, he’d told Elliot that he bought the TV just to have Elliot come over. Wasn’t that the sweetest gesture?
So many good memories, all in the past now because Elliot had felt rejected and had said some shitty things. Maybe it was time to put his pride on the back burner?
Elliot swallowed and texted Martin. [Hey, how are you doing? I’m sorry for how things went…]
He turned his face away when someone walked past the staircase. He didn’t know who it was, and he didn’t want to accidentally catch anyone’s gaze. The wrong person would surely urge him to help out with preparations, and he refused to put any work into an event that would surely culminate in Knight fucking a stripper in front of the fucking fireplace like it was some eighties porno.
He really didn’t want to participate in any of this.
His heart trembled when a reply came.
[Sorry for lashing out. I panicked because of rumors. Deserved it. You friends with this guy?]
Elliot thought back to the stripper who ticked all the boxes Knight had once mentioned. [Just an acquaintance. I hope you’re healing well? I never wanted for any of that to happen.]
Martin replied almost immediately, as if he couldn’t wait to hear from Elliot again. [Still hurting in some places. If you wanted to nurse me back to health, I could order us some food.]
He actually wanted to see Elliot after all that had happened? The flash of heat going through Elliot’s entire body was like a warm blanket. [You still live at the same place? I could bring a six-pack, we could get smashed and I’m sure I could make you feel better.] Would the last bit be too forward over text? Would it make Martin angry?
Elliot was holding his breath until he got a reply as last. [It would be good to reconnect. Been too long.]
Elliot smiled and hugged the phone to his chest.
Chapter 12
Star’s calf flexed gently in Knight’s hands, and he held on as she playfully tried to pull it back while making no effort to cover her exposed body. He grabbed her other foot—clad in a red stripper heel—and pulled it from beneath her so she had to support her entire body weight only by holding on to the pole. Chuckling loudly, Star wiggled her hips, pretending an attempt to get away yet again.
“This is outrageous. It’s my first time here.”
“I thought that must be. I’d have recognized such a hot cookie if I’d seen you before,” Knight said, eventually getting his hands on her hips and pulling her to sit on the edge of the small stage. Her flesh was supple to touch and completely hairless, the faint scent of her body so inviting he wanted to spread her thighs and bury his face between them already.
“Want me to let you in on a secret?” she whispered, leaning closer to Knight.
Heat spread through Knight’s body, and he moved forward to meet her halfway, enticed by her perfume and the fullness of her lips. “I’m all ears.”
“I didn’t even care how much this gig paid, I came over for kicks. I’ve heard the Kings throw the best parties in the area.” Star winked at him, and he could already imagine where this night would end for them.
Knight grinned and rubbed her bare legs—not too gently yet not to roughly—in a promise of a fantastic conclusion to this night. “You heard right. I’m willing to show you around later.”
“I can think of a few things I’d like to see.” She ran her finger up Knight’s arm, pulling up his short sleeve. “Like more of these tattoos.”
Knight groaned and his gaze followed her fingers, which traced the long sequence of names and dates. All the ancestors he’d managed to trace so far permanently etched into his skin. “I’m proud of my heritage. My family came here from France in early nineteenth century. Look,” he said and lifted his T-shirt to expose the battle scene and the early twentieth-century French emblem.
Star bit her lip and tossed her long, shiny locks over her shoulder. “Oh, I definitely like what I see.”
Knight smiled and pulled her hand to his breastbone, hissing softly when the long nails gently scraped skin. “It’s the Battle of Valmy. The French were fighting the invading Prussians. My ancestor, Georges Mercier, was one of the commanders.”
Star nodded, and her fingers glided over Knight’s pec, all the way under his nipple. “And what about this guy?”
Knight was elated to see her interest, but when he looked down at the tip of her nail, he saw a face that meant nothing at all. He took her hand and moved it to rest against Georges. “There he is. His family owned a countryside inn, but he moved to Paris to join the revolutionaries. A tough guy. Married four times but only had one kid outlive him. Can you imagine?”
Star nodded, but her smile died down a bit. “That’s horrible,” was all she had to add. “And have you ever been to France?”
“I intend to. I just need to find the right girl to accompany me. I’m planning to visit my old family seat near La Rochelle. There’s some distant cousins of mine still living there. They’re dairy farmers now. We can trace our common ancestry all the way to Raphael, who was a painter in the late seventeenth century. Once I’m in the old country, I will finally be able to dive into records that haven’t been scanned and published online and find out more. Would have made a cool, romantic trip for two.”
“Oh.” Star smiled, but her gaze seemed to drift off. It reminded Knight of the time Knight had told Elliot about La Rochelle. Elliot had quickly picked up that if they went together they could visit the United Kingdom as well and discover where Fane had come from. They had looked at maps and walked through Knight’s ancestral town on Google Streetview, exchanging comments about some of the older-looking buildings that could have been there in the early nineteenth century.
Elliot had asked so many questions about Georges Mercier that even Knight didn’t have all the answers. They’d spent the whole night looking shit up on the Internet and making a list of things they couldn’t find. Elliot had actually been interested, not just used family history as a pretext to stay in Knight’s bed.
Then again, Knight could always fuck Star and then chat to Elliot anyway. That could work.
“Knight, you have a sec?” Jake asked, approaching him with a tense expression. “We have a situation.”
Knight exhaled, glaring at him, but he knew Jake wouldn’t break up a good thing with a woman over something unimportant, so he ended up promising Star to join her later and followed Jake to a quiet corner.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Elliot. He’s stolen a six-pack.”
Knight frowned and slumped against the wall. “Really? That’s the serious issue that’s taking me away from this new pretty flower? So he wants to have a bit of fun with the girls, or something, big deal.” Though Elliot was pretty weak-headed when it came to alcohol, so Knight could only hope Elliot wasn’t set on drinking six beers on his own.
Jake shoo
k his head. “I know. I’d usually report something like this after the party, but he’s taken it and gone off toward the garages. I wasn’t sure if it matters, but I thought you might want to know that he’s taken our booze and wants to go off the premises. That’s not really on, is it?”
It wasn’t such a big issue, since a six-pack of beer wasn’t exactly a wholesale amount, but it did cause some worry to flare up in Knight’s mind. Elliot hadn’t contacted any friends since he came to stay at the clubhouse. He was such a lightweight that a single beer made him somewhat giddy, and if he had the six-pack by himself, he’d probably need his stomach pumped. What if, under the influence, he got the brilliant idea to drive somewhere and crashed or drove off a cliff, straight into the ocean where no one would find his body until it bloated and started rotting in the saltwater? Knight was regretting that he’d had Jake tow the piece of junk to the clubhouse and repair it for Elliot.
“Yeah. I think you were right to tell me after all. Good job, Jake,” Knight said, mindful of making their only prospect feel appreciated even if he wasn’t getting his patch yet. With that, he walked off and slid through the door that would lead him to the garage. Hopefully, he could still catch up with Elliot.
The fast march turned into a run, and he entered the garage, quietly peeking inside first. Bikes formed a tidy row on one side, cars were parked on the other. When he walked in, the automatic light was still on, but Elliot’s car was gone, fumes from the engine still biting into Knight’s nose. If Knight was fast enough, he could catch up with Elliot’s car. There was no crossroads on the way to the state road, so he should be able to find the idiot before he hurt himself. And once he got his hands on Elliot, he’d tell him off for leaving during a party without letting anyone know.
Knight’s first instinct was to go for his bike, but if he wished to see where Elliot was going with the stolen beer, he couldn’t be easily recognized. His eyes darted to the right where a beautifully restored 1982 Corvette Coupe stood unused. The Barbie-pink shade of the exterior was biting Knight’s eyes, but he’d commissioned this color because he’d known Jordan loved it. Now that she was gone from his life, he wasn’t even sure what to do about this classic sports car uglified with such a jarring shade.
My Dark Knight (gay biker romance) (Kings of Hell MC Book 2) Page 14
