My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

The Count looked up at him, wide-eyed. “No! We used to have fun.” He got down to his knees and started picking up scattered makeup into a plastic bag. When Knight looked at him, it was still hard to believe that this guy was in fact The Count. Where The Count was all theatrics, bright polyester, and exaggerated pride, this guy was so painfully flesh and bone with his bruises and fucked-up ex-boyfriend stories that it was hard to even comprehend how the two blended together.

“And what? He came here to murder you because of a bad breakup?” asked Knight, somewhat irritated by yet another lie.

The Count took a shuddery breath and zipped up his makeup bag. “I didn’t think he’d want to see me again. He broke up with me. I moved on. Guess he didn’t.” He looked around the trailer with a miserable twist to his lips.

Knight rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe The Count was still trying to somehow whiten the fucker’s name. He grabbed the guy’s bleeding hand and removed two small shards of glass. “You’re not right in the head.”

The Count squealed in surprise and pulled away like a bratty baby. To think that for so long Knight had considered the guy a challenge. “He tried to kill me and I’m not right in the head?”

“It’s like you’re trying to tell me he used to be a good guy. Trust me, I know people, and this scumbag? Not good for anyone. You have the lousiest taste in men,” Knight said and walked up to the broken kitchen cupboard. There was a first aid kit inside, and he took it back to The Count to deal with his injuries.

The Count got up and sat back by the table. “Are you hurt?” he asked, changing the topic. He probably understood himself that there was no way in hell he could defend choosing that ex-convict who literally just tried to strangle him.

“Me?” asked Knight, but now that the question hung in the air he realized there was a sting in his side. He pulled up his long-sleeve to reveal the first dark spots forming along his ribs where The Count’s ex had punched him. “Nothing that’s not gonna heal soon.”

The Count was staring at it, but not with compassion. Knight knew that look all too well. Half-lidded eyes, a delicious flush. He’d noticed The Count’s interest before but was unwilling to acknowledge it since he hadn’t wanted to do anything about it. But with the surprisingly pretty face clean of makeup, Knight could think of a few uses for The Count’s lips.

“Good. I’m sorry I put you in danger,” The Count said absentmindedly, running his fingertips over Knight’s bruises. The long, slim digits were like ice against Knight’s skin, which reacted with heat.

Knight swallowed when the admiration in The Count’s eyes tickled his ego with its warm tongue. “Oh, this? That was nothing. I’ve had worse.”

The Count pulled away his fingers, as if afraid Knight would hit him if he realized he was being drooled over. “You have?” The big dark eyes looked up at Knight with honest admiration.

Knight snorted, rather enjoying himself. “Sure. I’m a King of Hell. We deal with lots of tough shit all the time.”

“I had this feeling in my gut that if you managed to come in time, you’d actually help me.” The Count pulled out some band-aids out of the first aid kit and stuck them over the cuts on his hands.

Knight chewed on his lips, watching the angular fingers work. Would it be exciting to feel their cool touch around his balls? “That’s because I’m a good guy.”

The Count swiped his bangs away with his wrist and smiled. His entire face lit up, becoming something completely different than The Count’s usual pouts and snarls. “That’s why I could never like you.” Lying. And flirting.

Knight cleared his throat and pushed the longish hair away from The Count’s forehead to look into his eyes. “I bet. Since I came to your rescue, can I at least know your name?”

The Count sighed deeply but didn’t take those attentive eyes off Knight. “It’s Elliot. But you’re not allowed to disclose it online.”

Such a normal name for such a freak. Knight found himself grinning. “Nice. I like that one.”

“You’re not named Knight either, right? What’s the nickname stand for?”

Knight laughed. “You should know by now.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined a biker regularly saves people and rescues kittens from trees.” Elliot hid his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, as if afraid they’d wander.

Knight used to hate his nickname. He’d been mocked for always wanting to stand up for those weaker than him ever since school, but it’s grown on him. He couldn’t escape his nature. “Nah. I’m special like that, Elliot.”

Elliot bit his full lip, and a flush creeped up his neck in the most delicious way, like a drop of blood spreading in a pot of cream. Even the wrecked interior couldn’t stop the tension rising between them. “I used to think you were a total dick when we only interacted online. But you’re all right, you know?” He smiled again and it was the cutest sight.