In the Arms of the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 5) - Page 42
Still, when he spoke, his voice didn’t have the strength he wished it had. “What do you want?”
When Baal took a step forward, he left behind a dusty cloud, but Beast had seen this monstrous creature so many times that neither the clawed feet nor the cracked skin seeping what looked like lava made him freeze anymore. His body reacted with fear—feet stuck to the floor and his heartbeat fast—but his mind was clear. This horrifying display meant one thing—Baal was unsure of his fate.
But regardless of the pleasure Beast took from that realization, when the demon uncovered his long, stake-shaped canines jammed into his jaws too tightly, Beast’s heart almost stopped. The long hands reached toward him, each one large enough to crush his skull. “Don’t play games with me, Beast of Kings of Hell. You will find yourself losing.”
Damp sweat beaded on Beast’s back, but he kept himself steady. “What do you mean?”
Baal let out a cackle that sent sparks flying all too close to Beast. “The pact. You’re too busy with other things to give me what I need.”
“It’ll be taken care of.”
Baal’s eyes were bright, like molten iron at the peak of its temperature, and Beast found himself stepping back when the monster leaned forward so they were eye to eye. “Only that’s not the real issue, is it, mortal? You are trying to play both sides.”
A shudder went down Beast’s spine when he remembered Laurent telling him they’d been overheard. Not to mention that some members might not have been cautious enough with their words either.
“We only asked him for a child. It has nothing to do with you.”
Baal opened his mouth, but when Beast thought the creature was about to bite off his head as if he were a gingerbread man, Baal’s entire form withdrew, levitating over the floor. The trail of smoke it left behind twisted in the air, but before Beast could as much as breathe freely again, he saw Laurent standing in front of him. Identical to the way he’d looked in the morning when Beast had left their apartment. He wore the same clothes, and none of the sexy beauty spots on his face were out of place.
In one hand, Laurent was holding the egg.
Baal let out a hum that sounded like the echo from a pit of snakes and towered over Laurent.
“Beast?” Laurent asked, and the way his face tensed with worry had Beast itching to step forward even though he knew it was only smoke and mirrors. Literally.
Laurent’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he let out a small yelp when Baal’s hand trailed down his chest, leaving behind a diagonal line of ripped fabric and blood. Intestines dropped to the floor at Laurent’s feet, but Baal wasn’t done yet and sank his claws into the newly uncovered bone at the front of Laurent’s chest. It cracked apart, as if Baal were snapping dried branchlets of a tree, and revealed the beating heart left without protection.
Beast’s throat was stuck, but when he moved toward this illusory vision, the uncovered innards went up in flames. Laurent’s lips trembled, twisting in pain. “Please, protect Marcel,” was all he said before the fire consumed it all, sending black smoke through his ears, nose, and lips. Laurent’s body was now dried out like a mummified corpse, and within the blink of an eye, his arm snapped, sending the egg to the floor.
Beast screamed but was too far away. The shell smashed into a thousand pieces, and all that was left was his engagement ring in a puddle of egg white and ruby dust.
Something clawed at Beast’s chest, and he had to force air into his lungs to speak. “This is just an illusion. I know this and you know it,” he shouted at Baal with hands balled into fists. Even though the real Laurent was safe outside, his blood itched for revenge, for Baal’s neck to snap like the fake Laurent’s breastbone had.
Baal grinned and shoved away the remains, which instantly turned into a cloud of dust. “Now. Don’t think yourself safe, mortal. There are many people in this house at all hours. And desperate people do desperate things.”
Beast’s blood went cold, and this time he had no answer to the threat. That much was true. Baal’s powers weren’t limited to the destruction of the world. He could use them to make sure his plans came to fruition. And he could make pacts with any of the guests that the club received for orgies and parties that were required by Beast’s own pact.
They were fucked.
Baal nodded. “I can see we understand each other. The choice is yours,” he said before dispersing. The flames became see-through soon after, revealing Hound’s form curled up in the corner where he must have hidden from the illusory fire.
Beast stumbled to the windowsill and cursed at the sight of a small pocket mirror someone must have left there by accident. He turned it face-down and walked Hound’s way on soft legs. “It’s fine boy. It wasn’t real,” he said, scooting down when his dog crawled toward him with a whine.
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