Laurent and the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 1)

“I understand. No photography.” Laurent took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the dressing on his hand.

Beast smiled at him and picked up the basket, which already held some bottles, and sought Laurent’s hand with his. His skin itched with heat, and he wouldn’t be surprised to be rejected, but Laurent’s slim fingers entwined with his huge paw.

Exhilaration exploded deep within Beast’s body, and he gave Laurent’s hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at him in hope that maybe the mangled skin that was so tight on one side it made all his expressions somewhat lopsided wouldn’t make the expression unpleasant to Laurent’s eyes. “It’s all right. I won’t let anyone take you away.”

“Because you don’t want my foot to explode?” Laurent smiled slightly when they walked to the registers. The playful comment made guilt sting Beast’s insides. The ankle cuff was just a tracker.

“That too. But you’re so lost. Someone needs to help you, right?” said Beast, deciding not to disclose the truth just yet. He couldn’t help but wonder what Laurent really thought of him. Was he honest, or was he looking to gain an advantage?

“I do not turn down any help given, but I wouldn’t wish for you to consider me useless. I will quickly learn about everything you want me to know.” Laurent had already said this many times, as if he needed to repeat it for some reason.

Truth was that seeing him smile made him useful enough for Beast. When Laurent had appeared last night, Beast had thought he’d be a nuisance to the club and him personally, but now he was overwhelmed by the natural charm Laurent exuded. By the silly, old-fashioned way he spoke, by the French accent, the pretty lips, the soft hair, and weirdly enough, even with rediscovering the world through Laurent’s eyes.

Laurent deserved all the best things Beast could give him in gratitude for the attention and interest offered without judgment. And since it was still April, and some days would get cold, Beast decided Laurent needed a leather jacket. And not a cheap one either. Real leather that would allow all that lovely skin to breathe. Seeing Laurent appreciate the quality of craftsmanship in the more upscale store they visited for the purpose melted something that had hardened inside Beast long ago.

Now that Laurent would have something warm to wear, Beast fantasized about taking him for rides on his bike, too. Bringing him to that spot by the lake where Beast used to often bring his hookups back when he still had sex. Back when he could have had any guy he wanted.

Laurent took his time choosing the jacket, asking questions about the buttons, the zippers, the buckles. Even though usually coming to the mall was an in-and-out kind of mission for Beast, Laurent somehow made it enjoyable with his amusingly serious questions.

Could he have those buttons with this jacket? Was plastic better than leather? Did the colors of the jackets signify social status? What brand was considered exquisite? And he actually used the word ‘exquisite’.

But Laurent wasn’t simply following Beast’s lead. Once he gathered all the answers, he chose a soft leather jacket in a pale gray, paler even than his jeans. With pockets inside and out, a side zipper, a fit on the tighter side of things, and silver studs at the shoulders. When he put it on along with the black biker boots they’d purchased earlier, he looked good enough to eat.

Beast couldn’t stop looking at him, feeling both amused and tender with the sense of wonder radiating off everything Laurent said. It made the mundane trip to the mall seem so fresh, even the passersby staring couldn’t spoil Beast’s mood. For once he thought that maybe it wasn’t his tattooed face that they were judging, but that they wondered how a guy like him got the pretty ray of sunshine to hold his hand.

On the way to grab some food, they passed a mirror cabinet, a seasonal attraction meant for children, but with Laurent so eager to have a look, they ended up goofing out in front of the mirrors.

Beast couldn’t remember having this much fun in ages, and as they approached the nicest restaurant in the mall—a steak place with amazing desserts to seal the deal, holding Laurent’s hand made Beast feel like he was just another guy out on a date with a person they liked. He’s missed it more than he’d like to admit.

And Laurent wasn’t just anyone at that. Beast saw the way the attendant at the store with the jackets made eyes at him while offering a potent mixture of advice and compliments. Yet, Laurent walked out of the store with Beast, the other guy forgotten even though he had a pretty face with no scars or tattoos.

“It smells so nice here,” Laurent said, beaming at Beast when they entered the steak house