My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)

No matter how much Laurent had annoyed him sometimes, Elliot couldn’t stand the offhand remarks about the cruel ways in which Fane wished to violate him as punishment for a ‘transgression’ which likely saved many lives that would have otherwise been touched by Fane’s cruelty. With his innocent big eyes and pretty face, Laurent was the stand-in for many others who had perished at Fane’s hands over the years.

“Well, you won’t ever make another man bleed again,” Elliot whispered, turning his back on Fane.

A sudden pull at his arms landed Elliot halfway to the mantelpiece. With his knees screaming in pain from hitting the floor hard, Elliot bit on the inside of his cheeks, listening to the steady clicking of Fane’s heels.

“Learn some manners, my boy. I am tired of you not learning the simplest lessons,” Fane said and grabbed Elliot’s hand, tugging him along, farther away from the comfort of the mattress.

Elliot tried to pull away, but it was no use. He was too tired, and Fane’s force was too great this time, as if watching Elliot suffer had somehow loaded his batteries. Regardless of his efforts, Elliot was a puppet in Fane’s hands. Every time Fane pulled on Elliot’s aching elbow, any will to resist died.

“Stop, it hurts,” Elliot whined in the end, unable to think straight anymore.

Fane let go of him only to lean down. At first Elliot wasn’t sure what Fane was doing, but then his eyes spotted a long, pale shape. It was the cane Elliot had tried to stab Knight with days ago. It had been here all along, forgotten yet still stained with Knight’s blood.

Elliot breathed faster, and his throat tightened with tears as he thought back to the stupidity behind his actions. He’d endangered Knights life just because Knight didn’t love him back, as if Elliot had any right to Knight’s love, or anyone else’s. He’d been selfish, just like the damn ghost.

Fane exhaled, straddling Elliot’s shoulders to keep him flat on his stomach against the icy floor. His weight was too great for Elliot to fight, even as steel shone in the glow of the flashlight, bared when Fane removed the short sword hidden inside the cane.

A chill curled in Elliot’s stomach, but he looked up at Fane in defiance. “You can’t kill me. You’d disappear.”

Fane grabbed Elliot’s throat with his icy hand, choking any sound that might have come out. “Oh, I don’t need to kill you, dear boy. But I will help you understand that your body is not your own anymore.” He lowered the sword to Elliot’s face, hovering the tip so close Elliot stiffened, not wanting to accidentally scar his cheek. “You will do my bidding, or you will suffer the consequences. Who knows? Maybe when all of this is over, you will live and walk away from this house. Here’s to hope.”

Elliot choked up, his mind emptying so completely he didn’t even remember what put him in this position in the first place.

Fane lowered the tip of the sword toward Elliot’s eye, and a scream pushed at Elliot’s throat, but with Fane holding his neck so tightly, he was unable to produce a sound.

He’s not there.

He’s not there.

He’s not there.

It took the desperate mantra to re-evaluate what was really happening, and when Elliot opened his eyes, it wasn’t Fane who was holding the knife, but his own hand.

Elliot exhaled with relief when he realized that he was still in control. That he was able to overcome Fane’s illusion. The tip of the sword was so thin it was barely a glistening line. He breathed in and out, still watching it, incapable of breaking the spell and putting the thing down.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. I’m not done,” said Fane’s voice in Elliot’s own head, chilling his skull from the inside.

When Elliot thought about throwing away the weapon, not one of his muscles moved, and he shuddered, breathless with panic. Trapped in his own body, he blinked away tears when his hand came lower, the blade close enough to brush against his eyelashes. No matter how much Elliot screamed on the inside, not a sound came from his lips. It was like being buried alive. Brick by brick, Fane was locking him out, using Elliot’s own body to hurt him.

The sword pressed down suddenly, sinking into his eye as if it were a grape. Pain exploded in Elliot’s body, and yet, he couldn’t do a thing. Warm blood trickled all over his face, and all he could do was suffer in silence as Fane appeared in front of him once again, sitting on his chest and holding Elliot’s hand in the steel grip.

“I own you. You will get me into Laurent’s body or I will slice you up piece by piece, so that even your dear Knight won’t recognize you.”