Gray's Shadow (Kings of Hell MC 4)

“This really isn’t necessary. He’s a creature made out of my shadow. Don’t act like he’s some damsel you’ve found on the side of the road,” Gray said as Knight carefully pulled Shadow’s arms through the sleeves.

Only then, as Gray watched them all huddled around the pseudo-human, he noticed how every single one of them cast a long shadow on the sand. Everyone but him.

Knight frowned and zipped up the jacket, which was comfortably oversized on him but barely accommodated Shadow’s chest and arms. The creature’s size was more similar to Beast’s. “He feels pretty human to me. Why don’t you touch him and see for yourself?”

Gray sighed, frustrated when his gaze unwillingly strayed to the naked crotch below the jacket. “He still doesn’t have any pants.”

“I could lend him some,” Vars declared, as if this was all perfectly normal.

Shadow pulled away from Vars, finally standing on his own without falling over. He looked like misery personified, but he no longer tried to keep warm and stared straight at Gray. Fuck knew what his reason for that was.

“I’ve got more important business with him tonight than choosing the right pants,” Gray said. “I need to take him to the stones, Knight.”

Knight gave a low chuckle, but his face stayed serious, as if he wasn’t sure whether the whole thing was a joke or not anymore. “We really need to start calling them trees. Those stones were only seeds, but they are growing so fast I hope we get to cut them all down soon. Anyway, you want to parade him through town in just my leather jacket? If Chief Clover spots us, you’ll have much more to worry about than a few lost minutes. Because I’m not explaining that to him.”

“I’ll get them,” Vars said and walked off, followed by Jake.

Gray bit the inside of his cheek and pushed his hand into his pocket, trying to avoid Shadow’s eerily red gaze. It had been way easier when his face was just a black mass devoid of features.

Elliot, on the other hand, was in a world of his own, assessing Shadow as if he were a specimen in a museum. “I suppose you are much bigger than the average man at Fane’s time would have been. And the way he speaks… maybe the footman was from England. Is it weird to wear someone else’s face?”

Shadow frowned but took his time to answer. “It’s the only face I’ve ever had.” To make things yet more awkward, he reached down and cupped his package.

Gray hissed. “Stop doing that. It’s weird. I don’t care how good it feels to touch yourself there.”

Knight erupted with laughter. “Come on, Gray. Even you must play with yourself from time to time. Don’t deprive him of the simple pleasures in life. Are you going to put a curfew on him too?”

Shadow curled his wide shoulders like a scolded puppy. “Why not touch it? I’m cold.” As if to spite Gray, he placed his other hand over the first one.

Elliot shrugged. “He might as well take advantage of being human. Do you have any er… shadow ladies in your dimension?”

Shadow’s ruby gaze turned to him, flat as if he had no comprehension of what they were talking about. “There’s only… us,” he said in the end.

“See? It’s a male-only dimension. Mystery solved,” Gray said.

Elliot whistled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Hot.”

Shadow cocked his head, but Gray noticed, with some discomfort, that as they were talking, Shadow had inched closer. “Yes, it’s much warmer where I’m from.”

The conversation died a bit after that, and Gray was glad to see Vars return with a pair of sweatpants. They were a tight fit on Shadow’s long legs, but they had to do for tonight. At one point, Shadow had the audacity to try and entwine their fingers, but Gray was pretty sure no one noticed.

“Let’s go, Knight. Show us where the stones are.”

In two months, this would all be over.

Chapter 4

Shadow’s insides were on fire. A dull, throbbing ache that had started at the tips of his toes had progressed up his limbs, leaving behind a burn that would have been painful on its own yet was dwarfed by the inferno in his ribcage. Nausea had thrown Shadow to his knees, but as his head spun with scraps of incoherent thoughts, only one need remained—to get rid of the heaviness that pulled him to the ground. When he first coughed, it felt as if the air exiting his lungs had hooked little anchors into his innards, which were then ripped from flesh, sending a shower of red particles into the air.

Each time he convulsed, more sparkly red dust left his mouth, but despite the relief of feeling less pain each time, a sense of unease settled over him. As the ruby mist scattered, glinting around the small black trunk in front of him like a phantom falling leaves, he was overcome by a flood of confusion and loss. As if somehow by expelling the dust he’d lost a part of him he’d barely discovered.