Laurent and the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 1)

“No, please.”

“Don’t let him have your precious life,” the last words were only a whisper, and Laurent seemed to mouth something more, but his lips turned into gray fumes, his tongue went into a sudden burst of flame… and he was gone.

Beast uselessly tried to grasp at the cloud of smoke that was dispersing around him already, and Hound’s barking came as if from behind a wall, as the dog frantically searched for Laurent.

But he was gone.

Chapter 27 - Beast

The room stank of burning flesh. A horrible, stomach-churning odor that had Beast curling up by the door and frantically clutching at the pale fumes, the last that remained of Laurent. And even that dispersed within seconds, rising to the ceiling in clouds of white smoke. With his mind dulled by shock, Beast tried to grasp at the air, but any traces of Laurent were soon gone, leaving him with an emptiness so profound he couldn’t even find the voice to scream anymore. All of a sudden, his head spun, and he slid farther down the door, gasping for breath as his joints and muscles ached. He shuddered, nauseated by the bout of weakness that was gnawing through his bones.

Hound’s soft whining was the only sane thing left in Beast’s world.

It couldn’t be happening. How was it possible that a man he’d just held in his arms could disperse into nothingness? Was he to wake up to an empty bed again, without Laurent curled up under his arm? But no matter how much Beast tried not to acknowledge what just happened, his hands were empty.

A glint of metal caught his attention, and he spotted Laurent’s pin on the floor. He grabbed it and pulled it close to his face, overcome by a sense of doom the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Not when he lost his mother. Not when he realized he would never be the same man again. His life was about to end, and he couldn’t even have Laurent by his side when that happened. With his throat swollen from a scream he couldn’t voice, Beast took deep breaths, hoping they would somehow soothe his hurting body. It was all in vain, and hot wetness spilled down his cheek and into his hair.

Hound’s expressive muzzle moved closer. The dog leaned down, first nuzzling Beast with its cold nose, and then licking his cheek. He didn’t flinch away when Beast pulled him close for a hug he desperately needed. The dog kept making confused, whining noises in Beast’s arms, as if Hound wished to voice what Beast was feeling.

A weakness spread through Beast’s body, and all the way to his bones, turning into pain within his chest, intense as if his lungs were collapsing, his heart about to stop. The one person who could see Beast underneath the scars and tattoos, was gone, and with the devil ignoring Beast’s pleading, there was no way for Beast to reach through time and grab Laurent before he fell.

Hound’s brows gathered into a worried-looking frown when Beast forced himself to get up. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite like he did now. The pain of burned skin had been horrid, so horrid in fact his brain blocked Beast from remembering it, but he did remember that at the time he could barely move, and even his fingers had remained motionless to avoid further skin breakage. The dull ache Beast was feeling right now wasn’t nearly as bad, but it was a constant, throbbing discomfort spreading through his body like wildfire. Like having a bad case of the flu yet somehow much worse, as if his muscles were not only inflamed but had decided to stop cooperating altogether.

Walking to the bathroom was a feat in itself with his muscles trembling and strange aches appearing out of nowhere. He passed Laurent’s room, and seeing the clothes folded on the bed made Beast hurt all the more. Even when Laurent had known he’d disappear, he’d still taken care to leave everything so neat.

Beast held on to the sink, panting to steady himself. Misery was taking over his body, leaving it unnaturally heavy and Beast’s brain cooking inside his skull.

“Come out,” he said, choking on words when he looked into the cracked mirror. Laurent had left it uncovered in the morning, and now Beast’s own eyes were looking back at him, wet, dark, and tinted with red. Behind him, Hound paced nervously in the corridor, as if he wished to follow his master but was too afraid to.

There was no answer.

He raised his voice, repeating the same thing over and over, but the creature wouldn’t respond. Beast could practically sense each tick of an invisible clock when Laurent’s words slowly sank in at last. King had been feeding off him. It had been Beast’s own life force that kept him youthful and healthy. As absurd as that sounded, there was no denying that the happier Beast was, the worse off King seemed to be. After seeing Laurent turn into smoke in his arms minutes ago, there was nothing Beast would immediately dismiss as fiction. And so he believed his Laurent. He believed that King has been using him for years. That he’d purposefully let Beast waste his life away