On Your Knees, Prospect (Kings of Hell MC 3)

This was no medical emergency. This thing, black like a manifestation of sin, was inhuman, and most definitely not of this earth. It had to have something to do with the demonic presence in the house, but how could that be if the patches claimed Jake knew nothing of it?

Clinging to the memory of last night, Vars frantically ran to the wall where a hose hung on a faucet. Without thinking, he grabbed it and unscrewed the water to as high a stream as possible.

The hose came alive in his arms, sprinkling icy water all over, but Vars grabbed the plastic sprayer attachment and ran back to Jake, directing the wild stream at the twitching body covered in the hardening black layer.

The tar-like substance made a rasping sound when hit by water, like an angry hissing cockroach.

Steam erupted from the goo wherever the water hit, but instead of dispersing, all it did was retreat back into Jake’s body through the mouth, nose, and ears, as if a tentacle monster hid inside of Jake. A few black tears trailed back up into his eyes.

Stunned and horrified to the core, Vars stood over him, still pouring the icy cold water over the man who’d been his lover just minutes ago. The change of circumstance had his heart thump unpleasantly, but he kept up what he was doing until there was no trace of the goo to be seen.

Jake’s skin went from red to ashen. He was trembling from the cold, curled into a ball on the dirty floor, with his wet jeans rolled all the way to his ankles.

“Jake?” Vars asked in the end. “Is this enough?”

A sob tore out of Jake’s chest and he hid his head with his arms. “I don’t know.”

The broken sound pierced right through Vars’s chest, and he hesitated, torn between rushing to Jake’s side and dealing with the fucking hose, but in the end he found a way to switch off the stream on the end he was holding. Dropping it, he kneeled in the water and pulled Jake up into a sitting position. The boy’s eyes seemed perfectly normal now, even if reddened and with tense lines around their pretty blue.

“What the fuck was that?”

Jake’s lips trembled and he gripped Vars’s T-shirt. “Please don’t tell anyone about this! Promise.” Jake’s body felt strangely limp in Vars’s arms despite Jake’s pronounced muscles. The thought that whatever was inside of him could get out again made Vars colder than the water in which they sat ever could.

He took a deep breath, pulling Jake closer and rubbing his icicle-like arms to deliver at least an illusion of heat. Minutes ago, this pretty boy had been clay in his arms, and to see him so ill, so scared, had Vars’s brain fizzling with anger and worry all at once.

“Come on, Jake. Be a good boy and tell me what happened. This same thing was happening to you when you woke me up, wasn’t it?”

Jake wouldn’t look into his eyes, but curled his shoulders and leaned into Vars’s touch like a frightened puppy. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I was also coughing fire the other day. Something’s wrong with me.” He rubbed his eyes, hiding his face from Vars.

“Coughing fire? But that’s—” Impossible? So was black goo hiding somewhere in Jake’s body, only to crawl out like some kind of symbiont. And so was coming back from the dead, and yet Vars was here. He gave up. “Since when?”

Jake took a deep breath, his eyes red but at least not clouded with gray spots. “You have to promise you won’t tell the others.”

Vars licked his lips, rubbing the back of Jake’s hand in his palm. The young, muscular body was shivering from the cold, but there was nothing to cover Jake with. “They should know. What if it happens when they’re present?”

Jake’s eyes widened in terror. “They’d kick me out. I’ll find a way for it not to happen again. Just please, please, please keep it secret for now?” It was hard to resist Jake when he begged so nicely, with the rosy lips trembling and his entire body pushing into Vars’s arms with so much trust.

All Vars’s instincts told him this was a spectacularly bad idea. His experience on the other hand warned that some of the Kings might panic. People as a whole didn’t react well to uncertainty, and many of the men who held Jake’s life in their hands had families and hopes they might not want to risk for a prospect they hadn’t patched in for such a long time. As decent as they seemed—for members of an outlaw biker gang—Vars didn’t know them well enough to reassure Jake with a clear conscience.

“Okay, but I have two conditions. First, you’ll call for me if this happens again. I’ll help you.”