Laurent and the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 1)

The water that came out of the pipe was lukewarm, but as Laurent moved around the lever, he worked out that moving it to one side made the liquid colder while turning it the other way, caused hot water to pour out of the pipes. He chose the lowest possible temperature, to not have blood stain his garments permanently, and watched the pine-smelling gel create a thick, white foam over his jacket. He didn’t know much about those matters, but he had watched the woman who did his and Mr. Barnave’s laundry at work several times, and he knew the garments should soak first.

Proud of his work and discoveries, he inhaled the intense scent of pine. Since Beast wasn’t anywhere to be seen, maybe he’d even taken the dog with him, and had only left Laurent with empty threats? That would be typical of a man as rude as the gruff, swearing giant.

Laurent peeked out into the narrow corridor and approached the closed door that would lead him into the main chamber. He put his ear against it, but no sound of dog paws tapping against the floor could be heard. In fact, he could hear no signs of Hound’s presence at all.

Laurent went back into the bedroom to don his boots, just in case he managed leave Beast’s rooms and explore the area. Perhaps he would then meet some friendlier souls, but with the hideous, oversized trousers pooling at his knees, he surely looked ridiculous. For once he was happy there wasn’t a mirror in sight.

The boots moved the offendingly excessive fabric higher up his leg, making him look like he was wearing some type of trousers from the Orient. All he needed to complete the look was golden jewelry and a saber. Sadly, he had nothing that could be considered a weapon, and a long brush he found in the bathing chamber was made of the same resin as many other items and was not hard enough to be used for that purpose.

Not yet willing to go back to the main room, Laurent chose to explore the last door in the corridor, but it turned out to be locked, which only spiked his curiosity, but left him with no choice but to go out the same way Beast had used to lead him in.

Through a room that was possibly guarded by the vicious dog.

Only now did Laurent realize that all the things he’d done since leaving the bed—putting on boots, looking for a weapon—had been meant to put off the decision that could cost him his throat. It still ached from Fane’s attempt at suffocating him, but remaining Beast’s prisoner was not an option. He needed to continue his mission from a more dignified position.

He took a deep breath and opened the door to the main room oh-so-slightly, to see whether the dog was waiting for him, quiet and ready to attack. But no salivating muzzle tried to push at the slit between the door and its frame. Was liberty really at arm’s length?

He stepped outside, into the large room bathed in the first morning light. The weak illumination made everything even more gray, but the early hours would be Laurent’s advantage. The heels of his boots tapped against the floor as he made his way ahead, for the door that would offer him salvation, but he was only halfway through when a low growl tore through the air and trailed down Laurent’s spine, turning his legs into lead. Focused on his goal, Laurent had forgotten the nest of pillows and blankets hidden behind the bookcase, but the dog was there, already raising its black body off the bed.

If Laurent were quick enough, if he could run up to the door before Hound could, he’d be free in seconds. He’d also need to close the door behind him so that the monster didn’t follow, but the decision had to be made. Now.

Laurent ran. With a yelp escaping his lips, he dashed to the door with the dog’s growl on his heels. He leaped over the sofa and slammed into the door from the impact. With a sense of victory, he pressed on the mechanism that should open the door, but instead of a green flicker that appeared when Beast had done so, a red one flashed along with an unpleasant buzz, and nothing happened. The door was locked, and the dog so close he could sense it behind him.

The bark had Laurent staggering back, but Hound wouldn’t let him regain his composure. He got to his hind legs and pushed the front ones against Laurent’s stomach with all the power behind his combined muscle and weight.

Laurent tipped over, stiffening his neck in the right moment to avoid hitting the back of his head as he suffered a hard landing on the floor. Hound’s reddish muzzle was inches from Laurent’s face, long teeth on show, strong paws pushing down on Laurent’s chest. When the dog barked, the sound drilled painfully into Laurent’s ears.