On Your Knees, Prospect (Kings of Hell MC 3)

Joker gave a loud hiss, but the thud that followed didn’t sound like a body dropping. It was a freaking sofa that must have fallen over.

“Anything else you wanna say to me?” Gray asked, more agitated than Jake had ever heard him be.

“Guys, guys, come on! This isn’t fucking worth it,” Knight shouted through the commotion that was soon joined by Hound’s eardrum-piercing bark.

Jake was ducking for his ice when a hot, steady hand squeezed on his shoulder. He spun around with the bags pulled to his chest to suppress the nasty sensation of tentacles climbing up his throat, as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

“What?” he hissed at Vars.

Behind him, Knight put his arms around Gray and pulled him back from the fallen furniture and—presumably—Joker. For two seconds, Vars said nothing before leaning forward and resting one hand on the fridge, trapping Jake against it.

“Is there something between you and Gray?” Vars asked calmly.

Jake got so caught off guard by the question that he had to grab a few of the oval ice pieces from his bag and swallow them in order to think clearly. “What? No! How is that any of your business?” He ducked under Vars’s arm to get out of the room as fast as possible.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick again?” Vars asked and followed Jake like a rabid dog about to bite Jake’s calves.

At least around Vars, Jake didn’t have to worry about the other guys finding out about the black goo dripping out of his nose and ears. As soon as they were in the corridor, Jake was somewhat relieved, but the tension was instantly back when he realized he was now alone with Vars. He needed to lose the fucker. Couldn’t he spend a few seconds of his time without someone watching him?

“No! I’m fine!”

Vars spread his arms in anger, completely ignoring the shouting coming from the common room. “You clearly aren’t fine. What the hell was Joker thinking just assuming you’re gonna suck him off anyway. What the actual fuck?”

“What? You wanna protect me from dick now?” Jake stuffed some more ice into his mouth, reveling in their pleasant chill. He rushed down the corridor and took the first turn, knocking into Rev, who spun around, showing Jake his teeth.

“Watch where you’re going, prospect!”

Jake wanted to apologize, but with Vars reappearing behind Rev, he needed to gain speed if he wanted to get rid of the stalker. His legs carried him down the smooth-walled corridor, through the billiards room, and straight into the oldest part of the house where he could surely lose the man who wouldn't stop tormenting him with his unbearable sexiness.

Jake crunched some more ice between his teeth and hugged the bag to his chest. “Go away!”

He sped as fast as his legs would allow, mindlessly running ahead like a missile. Leaning forward as he ran, he felt like he could fall at any moment, but he sped on, bursting through doorways and curtains until his legs carried him to the dark hall with empty niches in the walls and the stairway that led to Knight’s apartment.

Shadows licked his feet as he strained his muscles to run faster, to reach the hidden door before Vars could see it shut behind Jake. But suddenly faced with the statue of a gargoyle, he stopped in his tracks, stunned by the memory of King’s lifeless body pierced by the horns on the monster’s head. Knight had told him that King betrayed the club, that he deserved what had happened to him, but Jake still whimpered, frozen in place and unable to move any farther toward the secret passage. Within a flash of memory, he could see thick blood glistening on the monstrous face, soaking into the wood and leaving stains no matter how long he’d taken to polish it clean.

What had he been he thinking anyway? He didn’t want to go back to that creepy-as-fuck cellar.

The gargoyle’s eyes stared at him with glee, as if he were a long-lost friend with whom the beast wanted to share the delicious meal of King.

That was it. He could not continue like this. He could not let Vars push him places Jake did not want to go. He would not be intimidated or questioned. He would not let another prospect boss him around. With a personality like this, Vars would surely keep on bullying Jake, regardless what patches any of them carried.

With the ice bag pressed tightly against his oven-hot chest, Jake pulled out his phone and sent out the message to Damon he’d kept saved for so many days now. He would become his own man, and Vars would not stop him.

If Vars was in Jake’s way, then he would have to go.

Hot arms wrapped around Jake so abruptly he dropped the bag of ice cubes, stiffening with shock as the clear pieces scattered over the floor.