One day, he would get himself a gun. And from then on, he would use it whenever people denied him the respect he deserved. He imagined all those faces, now red from drinking and laughter, getting pale with fear as they understood their flesh was about to be torn by bullets. He swallowed, sensing the phantom smell of blood and revenge.
“Wow, look at you, handsome!” the woman said, grinning widely. The bared flesh of her neckline was adorned with one of those name necklaces made of thin gold. Hers read ‘Nao’.
Elliot smiled and presented his ticket. “One should always make an effort.” He clenched his hand on his cane when a group passed behind him, one of the men carelessly pushing Elliot with his elbow as if the asshole somehow had more right to space.
Nao didn’t seem to notice and grabbed his hand to stamp it with green ink. “What’s with that costume? Are you wearing it on a dare?” she asked without a trace of malice.
The stamp on his hand felt like a seal of approval. He was in. “It’s an homage to the original owner of this grand house.” He smiled at the thought of the impression he’d surely have made on William Fane if only he could go back in time. If William met him, he wouldn’t have had to kill anymore. He’d have been understood, cherished, and appreciated for everything he was. And Elliot would have given himself to William completely.
Nao smiled. Elliot smiled back, and then she asked, “Who’s that?”
Elliot got caught off guard, staring at her for a moment. He could scold Nao for her ignorance, but he needed to finally walk through the door, without the risk of being denied entry for being rude. “William Fane. A true gentleman.”
“Oh, that guy,” Nao said with a grimace on her pretty face. “But didn’t he inherit the house? Knight always said he built nothing himself.”
Elliot fought the twitch in his eye. Knight. How could one man be a source of so much frustration and temptation all at once? “William Fane was far too busy with his other projects.” He smiled and nodded at her before the conversation could continue.
He exhaled in relief once he got through the door and into a large corridor where the music blasted much louder, and the air was thick with smoke and sweat. A few shaky yellow lightbulbs dotted the long corridor that undoubtedly led to the concert hall, and he hoped to hide in the vast number of people inside, but dressed as he was, Elliot still kept garnering attention.
Maybe he should have come incognito after all?
But then how would Knight know it’s you? His mind screamed, and he dismissed the comment with shame cramping up his stomach. So he’d noticed his nemesis was an attractive man. No big deal. It didn’t mean he wished for anything to actually happen.
The closer he was to the wide-open doors at the end of the corridor the thicker was the scent of a party: beer, liquor, the salty tang of sweat. Elliot breathed it in, walking toward the orange lights and the stage at the end of the long room that was as large as a school gymnasium and filled with so many people he couldn’t outright say how many were attending. The loud, aggressive music coming from the stage wasn’t helping Elliot focus, and neither did all the inquisitive stares from strangers. God, he needed a drink.
He didn’t have money to buy a drink from the bar at the side of the room, but when he noticed one unattended, he snuck closer and downed the bitter-tasting shot that was so strong it made his eyes go wider. He turned around quickly to flee the scene of his crime only to bump into a short young guy with long locks that made him look as if he’d stepped out of an episode of Versailles.
“Sorry,” Elliot mumbled when he looked down into the shocked face
“Was that my drink?” The man’s French accent made Elliot do a double take, but he quickly hid in the crowd and fled, set on making his way to the wide doors at the end of the room, on the left side of the stage. A lot of people went back and forth through those, which had to mean restrooms or other facilities were there, but what Elliot was interested in was more corridors, more rooms, passages that could lead him to the walls of William’s mansion.
With his breath becoming shallow from the sense of being watched, he leaned against the wall right next to a graffiti of a penis spurting cum toward an equally roughly drawn naked woman. He swallowed, leaning his head down when he spotted the towering presence that he’d seen several times around Brecon.
Beast, the new president of the Kings of Hell MC was a man to be reckoned with, and one some parents in the area scared their children with. With a chest wide as a wardrobe, burn scars and infernal tattoos covering all of his body, in the reddish lights above the stage he looked like a demon come from hell to ravage maidens.