My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

Jake rolled his eyes. “Grow up. I’m not interested in anything more than sex. But I’ve known him far longer than you,” he said and walked along the corridor, holding the two kegs with both strained arms, as if they were bottles.

Elliot stood up and grabbed his only keg, unwilling to be left behind like the weakest gazelle in the herd. Just like he was unwilling to let go of trying to have a shot with Knight. Or communicating with the ghost of William Fane. That poor, tormented man was still trapped downstairs with not a soul for company. How degrading it was for someone whose earthly life had been so grand and interesting.

“But he’s had girlfriends, so he can control himself if he wants to,” Elliot said, panting again as he struggled to keep up with Jake when they entered the busy common room. Just because Elliot had known Knight for a shorter time, didn’t mean he had any less chance with him.

A sneer of disbelief twisted Jake’s face when he looked back, and seeing the mocking in his blue eyes aggravated Elliot to the point of considering dropping the keg on Jake’s foot. And he wouldn’t have stopped at that. Adrenaline would pump into his muscles, and for that brief moment Elliot would have enough strength to slam the heavy container down until Jake’s head was just mush with crumbs of bone.

“He was never exclusive with anyone. I’ve been blowing him throughout all his ladies. They go, and I stay,” Jake said, his eyes shining with pride. Before Elliot could answer, Jake walked past one of the little pole dancing stages, which was being disguised as a sexed-up Christmas tree to kick off December.

From Elliot’s understanding, tonight’s party would not be open to the public. Whether it was because some of the patched members wanted to keep the size of their dongs secret or because the Kings didn’t want public outcry if the wrong people actually saw one of those infamous orgies in real life—Elliot had no idea. But the usual participants must have started to find the group sex parties boring if the female hangarounds decided this kind of evening needed a theme.

Despite the fake Christmas tree at the entrance, it seemed no one would be dressing up as Santa, because the remaining decoration was all furs and heaters that imitated burning flames. The whole thing was just as tacky as Nao’s outfits, which pointed to her as the main organizer of the event. Dressed in the skimpiest shorts Elliot had ever seen and a crop top that exposed the underside of her breasts, she was still working on the finishing touches. She spread yet another fur throw over the sofa as she instructed a young female hangaround how to prepare the night’s special drink - ‘Brain Freeze’. Flames were blazing in the old fireplace, draping their orange glow over the crimson walls.

Elliot finally put down the keg by the kitchen and looked back at Jake. “Well, you’re not blowing him now, are you?”

The fucker just grinned and spread his arms. “I don’t kiss and tell.” Which was a lie, since he’d just been boasting about giving Knight head for years.

“Just fucking say it!” Elliot lashed out and took a step closer.

This time, Jake frowned and looked Elliot up and down. “Seriously? Or what? You know I train kickboxing with Gray, right? And all you train is spreading Nutella on toast.”

Infuriated, Elliot pushed at Jake’s chest, but he didn’t like the way his actions turned heads. He was not a spectacle. “Fuck you and your cocksucking lips! I don’t give a fuck.”

Jake squinted at him, but then a punch under his ribs came out of nowhere and Elliot stumbled to the side, grabbing the edge of the counter for balance. He held his body tight, set on protecting all the vulnerable spots from another punch. He didn’t even try to hit back, since that would be fucking useless against Jake.

Elliot needed a gun. That would have turned tables in his favor for once.

“Come on, boys, the party starts in a few hours,” Nao said, stepping between Jake and Elliot with a slight frown on her perfectly made-up face.

Jake’s jaw stiffened, and he crossed his thick arms on his chest. “You weren’t here to hear what he said. He’s so disrespectful!”

A slim arm went around Elliot’s waist, and he was stunned to see a blonde head styled into a long ponytail with pale pink ends. He’d spoken to her very briefly before, but Violet was Fox’s wife. To be fair, Elliot knew her better than her husband, who spent most days cursing at books and computers while doing club accounting. She seemed nicer than him though. The one time they talked she gave him two slices of homemade pie and praised him for not leaving anything on the plate.