Laurent and the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 1)

Beast listened to Laurent, completely stunned by the things coming out of his mouth. Was this what the rejection has been about? Laurent feared Beast would beat him to death and bury him in the garden? It was so fucked-up he might have preferred not to know the reasons behind Laurent’s rejection at all. That was exactly why they pretended the humiliation Beast had experienced at the party almost two weeks ago had never happened.

“Laurent, calm down. That is not what this means. A property... it’s like a wife for a biker,” he said in the end, fearing the girl could attack Laurent with her long nails otherwise.

Laurent gave him a weary glance. “Is it not like a servant?”

The girl hissed and put on a T-shirt despite the tattoo not being dressed yet. “What is wrong with you, you dumb fuck? It’s nothing like being a servant! It’s more than a wife even! It’s respect from the club, it’s protection, and a symbol of undying devotion.” She pulled on her vest, as if to make her point even clearer. “Everywhere I go, everyone knows who I belong to. Who would knock their teeth out if they touched me. I’m not just his. He’s mine. I’m done here.”

She shook her head, and left Laurent sitting there without an answer.

Beast crossed his arms on his chest, unsure how to defuse this whole situation, but as the silence went on, he was forced to take a stand and looked at Jabba apologetically. “Sorry, man, he isn’t from here.”

They all had to suffer an uncomfortable silence while Jabba dressed the tattoo and accepted his fee. The girl then walked out, slamming the door so hard the glass in it jingled.

“I’m sorry,” Laurent mumbled as soon as she was gone, but Beast wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to.

Jabba waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like she’s a repeat customer. I’ve seen worse scenes here than that. What are we doing for you, huh?”

Laurent chose to get the words tattooed over his collarbones, in the same place Beast wore them, and didn’t back out even when his eyes watered at the beginning of the process. He held Beast’s hand throughout, and sometimes glanced Beast’s way with such an odd expression that Beast couldn’t decipher what was going through Laurent’s head. The three of them talked, laughed, and yet something seemed to have changed.

The weight of knowledge that Laurent didn’t want to be with him because he was afraid of Beast kept him in low spirits, no matter how funny Jabba’s stories were. Beast felt like he was faking a good mood for Laurent’s sake, but he couldn’t deny that watching the words appear on Laurent’s skin in the same place Beast himself wore them was a thrill, maybe even a compromise on Laurent’s part.

Would Laurent attach the same meaning to them that Beast did? What was his paradise, and what was his hell? For Beast, the words were an expression of hope that after the hell he’d gone through, he would find happiness again one day, that all the pain he’d gone through in recovery after the fire was worth something.

When the tattoo was done, Laurent still seemed to find it hard to smile, catching deep breaths and rubbing his eyes over and over until they were red. He got even more flustered when it turned out he didn’t have enough money to cover the whole price.

Beast didn’t mind stepping in.

By the time they needed to leave, rain was periodically drumming a frantic staccato against the windows of the parlor whenever the wind tossed the drops at the building. It was dark, wet, and unpleasant outside, but at least they had a meal to look forward to. Laurent insisted they have Chinese food from the same place where they’d gotten it the first time. Beast bought two slices of pie at the nearby diner for dessert, and they were off, both longing for the quiet warmth of their apartment.

Beast was surprised to see almost all the bikes gone from the garage, and even some of the cars, but he chose to not assume anything and led the way through the empty corridors. It was eerie to see the clubhouse so completely empty. There wasn’t a soul left in the house, and if anyone had stayed behind, they were likely tucked into their own room, because without any music or chatter to be heard, without any lights on, the vast building felt abandoned.

Laurent held on to Beast’s hand, but they were silent more often than not. Hound was already whining behind the door when they got to Beast’s apartment, and Laurent greeted the dog tenderly, smiling at him and petting his muzzle. It was as if the presence of the dog alleviated the tension that hadn’t left them since Laurent’s heated discussion with the girl at the tattoo parlor.