“You better, or there will be no more cock for you,” said Knight with a snigger, and casually patted Elliot’s shoulder. It only made things more confusing. Would he now be Knight’s… lover? Or did Knight generally enjoy getting head from guys and wanted to have Elliot around for that?
They climbed a flight of stairs and passed through yet another hallway, bare and undecorated like a vacated apartment. As they walked on, weird silence made room for an old-school rock and roll melody, which played softly from an open room ahead. That was where they were heading. Knight lead the way into a spacious lounging area with a selection of leather sofas, and music posters hanging in frames along the walls.
Bright red shocked his eyes upon entry, and he blinked, spinning around to take in the vast chamber with a giant flat-screen television on one side and the entrance to an industrial-sized kitchen on the other. Letters painted by hand in shiny black paint drew his eyes to the space above the doorway, and the single sentence showered his back with shivers.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
It was yet another element of the motorcycle club’s image, like the crowned skull they used as their emblem, but Elliot felt sufficiently warned to conclude the imagery was effective.
Tall windows were holes in the blood-red shade of the walls and bathed the entire space with less light than they ought, judging on size alone, as if the entire building were somehow surrounded by shadow that wouldn’t let the sun in for fear of dispersing some infernal power that was on the Kings of Hell’s beck and call, ensuring their continued success.
Elliot’s legs turned into lead when he spotted a severe-looking face twisted by scar tissue and bold tattoos. Beast was spread out on one of the sofas with his feet resting on the coffee table. A stunningly attractive long-haired man sat curled up under his arm like a favorite pet of his highness the King of Hell. They looked up to see who entered, and Elliot found himself completely lost in the etiquette that would be required of him. He’d never been very good at politely dealing with regular people, so how was he to cope with a bunch of bikers?
A dog so huge he could be Cerberus himself (minus two heads) first raised its head off the floor, then rose and ran up to them. The beast was larger than many of those small ponies Elliot had seen online and its sheer size had Elliot hiding behind Knight’s back. His host didn’t seem to mind and scratched the Rottweiler’s head. The dog licked him briefly, but its dark, beady eyes were focused on the newcomer—on Elliot—and it would stop at nothing before it got the sniff it clearly thought it deserved. Stiff as the animal’s proximity made him, Elliot tried to remain calm and stood still as the wet nose dug against his leg.
“Afternoon. Who’s your guest?” Beast asked, and the dog must have had enough of greetings, as it quickly returned to Beast’s side, loudly dropping to the floor.
Knight casually draped his arm around Elliot’s shoulders and led him toward the sofa/throne. Yes, it was an old piece of furniture, with some of the leather looking worn and pale from repeated friction, but when it housed Beast it was nothing short of a throne.
“Ah, you won’t believe it. This is the Count.”
Beast’s eye twitched, which was especially unnerving because with one side of his face so badly scarred, Elliot wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just a normal feature.
Elliot held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His heart was in his throat and the arm around his shoulders, though ridiculously pleasant, made him even more confused about his place.
“He stole my drink,” Beast’s boyfriend said with a frown.
This was a bad start.
Knight groaned and grabbed Elliot’s jaw with his free hand. “Look at that face. You sure it was him?”
“If Laurent says it’s him, then it’s him,” Beast groaned and Elliot decided to let his hand wither away as if he’d never extended it for a handshake.
“I mean… his face was painted, but you’re the one saying it’s him,” Laurent added in a frosty voice. “Are you sure it’s The Count?”
Knight took his hands off Elliot and stretched. “Oh, I’m sure. I just saved his ass. Some idiot tried to kill him, so I thought we could house him in one of the spare rooms until this problem quiets down.”
“I can’t believe this.”
A new voice caught Elliot’s attention, and when he glanced toward a large, well-equipped kitchen divided from the lounging area with a long counter he saw yet another familiar face. It was Jake, the prospect who’d caught him red-handed during the party. So now Elliot was off to an even worse start.