My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

And Elliot desperately craved Knight’s attention in any way, shape, or form.

Since they’d met in real life, there hadn’t been a day when Elliot wouldn’t think about Knight at least once. As a Mercier descendant, he had a murderer’s blood in him, and just thinking of that had Elliot breaking out in goose bumps. What was Knight himself capable of? He was the VP of the Kings after all, a powerful man who didn’t get where he was by being a good Samaritan.

Had Knight killed someone? Or many people for that matter? How many? He definitely looked like he could snap someone’s neck with those big hands. A shiver went through Elliot when he thought back to the way Knight had taken control of the situation by grabbing him by the jaw. If Knight weren’t straight, they’d have made a perfect team. Elliot would have found a way to weave himself into the fabric of Knight’s life. He’d be useful, help hide any crime Knight committed and even lie for him in court if necessary.

A loud knocking at the trailer’s door startled Elliot, and he almost dropped the cloth to the floor. Who could that be? There was no mail coming, and he didn’t have friends to drop by either. Nevertheless, he slid from behind the table and opened the door.

He was halfway through ‘Yes?’ when his breath got stuck in his throat, turning into a painful ball of ice at the sight of a sinister-looking face. Martin’s broad jaw and narrow eyes were as recognizable as the clothes he wore the day he’d been arrested a year ago.

Elliot’s attention was at high alert, and he calculated if anyone would hear him scream. Mrs. Tepple, his closest neighbor, wasn’t there, and the other trailers were either too far away or inhabited by people who wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if someone flayed Elliot in their backyard.

“Hey,” he choked out, assessing Martin from head to toe. The guy was even bigger now than he used to be when Elliot last saw him, but even then Martin’s hands had been firm and steady when he held Elliot down as they fucked. Back then, Elliot had no complaints about that, but now he wasn’t sure where he stood with Martin. Their last meeting hadn’t been exactly a bed of roses.

Martin’s mouth stretched into a smile, and he lowered his head, pushing his way inside the trailer. “It’s been a while.”

Elliot’s nerves were on high alert, but he closed the door. Maybe Martin, fresh out of jail, was just looking for a place to stay, and had no hard feelings about the way they parted? Elliot didn’t have much, but for what Martin had done for him, he’d share it all.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Martin looked back at him and leaned against the kitchenette counter, casually rubbing his bald head. “Why? Do I remind you of your daddy?”

Elliot made sure to remain out of Martin’s reach for the time being, but he couldn’t tell if his nerves were fear or excitement. He hadn’t had sex in far too long. “No, you’re nothing like him.” It wasn’t exactly true since both men were big, brutal, and went through life like wrecking balls. The difference was that Martin’s violence had only occasionally been aimed at Elliot, only when he was in one of his moods. “It’s just that you weren’t happy when I visited you in jail.”

Martin sneered. “Didn’t want anyone to wonder why you’d be visiting. Didn’t like your threats either,” he said in a low voice, and a deep shudder trailed down Elliot’s spine. Back when Martin broke up with him during visitation, Elliot threatened to talk about the really bad thing Martin had done. Or rather, why Elliot’s father wouldn’t ever be bothering anyone ever again.

Elliot swallowed, watching Martin’s expression for any signs of growing anger. Seconds before Martin snapped Elliot’s dad’s neck, he’d seemed perfectly calm. He always seemed collected whenever he wasn’t in the process of putting his fists to use. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that, I was just hurt. I… so much time’s passed, and I haven’t told anyone what you did, have I?”

Martin grumbled. “I guess you haven’t. You missed me, or have you been slutting around?”

A familiar tingle of excitement tickled Elliot inside his chest. His thing with Martin had hardly been a normal relationship considering that Martin would only see him at night, away from other people. Martin was in the closet, and who was Elliot to try and force him to come out? They had rarely done much talking, but Martin did listen, and he had saved Elliot from the beating that would have surely ensued after Father walked in on them having sex. Elliot had never seen Martin so furious before, and when Father called Martin a fag, that was his doom.