His Favorite Color is Blood - Coffin Nails MC (gay biker dark romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 8) (14 page)

Grim helped Misha
off the porch and disappeared inside the house
for another few minutes before emerging with a soft whistle. They continued a
lazy conversation the whole way back to the truck, enjoying the fresh, cool air
and the bright stars above.

“Are you sure he won’t report
this?” Misha asked, annoyed by the slur in his own voice as he looked on the
blurred edges of the road ahead.

“He’d be an idiot if he did,”
said Grim. “He saw the back of my cut at the mall.”

“I never got to hit back anyone
who hurt me,” Misha mumbled as Grim helped him into the cab of the truck. His
head was light but his limbs heavy, and he enjoyed that there was someone with
a tolerance for liquor that was much greater than his own to take care of him.

Grim carefully adjusted the seat
belt on Misha and took off his mask and gloves before joining him inside the
cab. He petted Misha’s head. “You will from now on.”

The world did a turn in front of
Misha’s eyes when Grim started the truck. “There are so many people I would
just …” he finished with a growl and squeezed an imaginary neck in front of
himself.

Grim started driving away from
the scene of their crime as soon as they were back on the asphalt road. “Who?”

“Gary … no. He’s dead. Fuck. The
others,” he finished, and even saying it left such a sour taste on his tongue
that he had a sip of cognac straight from the bottle he took from Pat’s. The
silence that came after was so overwhelming that it might have as well pulled
them into a black hole.

“What others?” asked Grim in the
end.

Misha took a gulp of air,
fighting back his sorrow and the onslaught of memories he wished he didn’t
have. “After I lost my legs. Before Gary saved me—fuck. He didn’t save me for
shit. He was a fucking shithead.” Misha hid his face in his hands. Grim was
right. He
was
broken.

“Misha?” asked Grim quietly as they
drove between the fields with not a single light in sight.

“What?” Misha looked through the
windshield, sure that he looked as miserable as he felt. It had to be a
comedown after the adrenaline rush before.

“What others?”

“I don’t know their names.” Misha
took another gulp of alcohol, and it bit his tongue with such force he started
coughing. “The first few only cared about the stumps. Wanted to see me naked,
have me crawl. But then this one guy came who was looking for more. There were
many like him. Not devotees, but just guys who saw me as a novelty. I was told
I was supposed to be pleasant to the clients, but I was scared. I’d never had
sex before, and I panicked, and it was so horrible. I screamed at him and he
fucked me anyway.” Saying all of that aloud made Misha tremble all over, and
even his teeth started to clatter as he curled up against the door and held
onto the bottle as if it could shield him from the ghost of unwanted touch.

Grim stared ahead, but his
knuckles seemed more defined as he squeezed the steering wheel. “And you
remember no name? Nothing?” he asked in the end.

Misha shook his head. “Nothing.
He had this … average face,” he said in disgust. “He could be
anyone
. I
was
available
for months. And they would never tell me if I would only
be touched or if the man wanted more. I’m such a coward. I didn’t fight again
and just went with whatever I was asked to do. I should have done something …”
He was getting nauseated just thinking about it.

Grim’s hand was a welcome, steady
presence on his shoulder. “No,” Grim said firmly. “They would have killed you.
You were smart. You wouldn’t be here now if you’d fought. Think about it, you
wouldn’t have even been able to run.”

“Maybe I could have killed one of
them if I really tried. But I was so scared. Things can always get so much
worse, and then these two guards came because they were “curious,” and they
wanted to try double penetration, and they tore me up, I was hurting, and I
pleaded that I couldn’t take anyone again, so when Gary came with his offer, it
felt like my life would be so much better from then on. Like he was a good guy.
But he wasn’t.” Misha frantically rubbed his eyes, surprised at the tears that
wouldn’t stop streaking down his cheeks.

Grim stepped on the brake,
stopping the truck in the middle of a straight road between cornfields. He was
breathing hard, and then, without a word, he opened the door and jumped out of the
cab.

Misha sniffed and rubbed his face
with his T-shirt. Would Grim now realize there was no way to fix him? What kind
of future could he even have? He stirred when the sound of a gunshot tore
through the silence, and in the bright moonlight, a scarecrow sticking out of
the field like a sore thumb started twisting like a spinning top. Its straw and
rag body was torn by an onslaught of bullets and eventually fell off the stick
that was holding it up.

Was telling Grim his secret a
mistake? Misha was too drunk to make a judgment call. He slumped against the
door. He wasn’t the innocent boy Grim wanted to believe he was.

Grim climbed back into the cab
and shoved the gun into the glove compartment. He was heaving as he shut the
door and leaned against the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and banged
his forehead against the top of the wheel several times, so hard it made Misha
flinch.

Misha was seeing double, so it
was hard to judge distance well, but he finally managed to put his hand on
Grim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

Grim rolled his head over the wheel
and, with his face slack, he stared at Misha. “You’re safe now. So many bad
things happened, but your life’s gonna be different from now on,” he whispered,
his grey eyes seeming almost translucent in the moonlight.

“It’s already different. I can be
Misha
again.”

Grim looked at him, and for the
first time there was true sadness on his handsome face. He slid his arm around
Misha’s shoulders and pulled him close. Misha scrambled into his lap despite
the gearshift digging into his leg as he passed. He wrapped his arms around
Grim’s neck and let Grim hold him in place as his head spun out of control.

“You killed Gary for me.”

Grim hissed and clenched his
fingers on Misha’s hair. “I’d have torn him apart if I knew.”

Misha didn’t doubt that
declaration one bit. Grim didn’t even let a guy like Pat slight him. Sure, Grim
was fucked up, violent, and often inconsiderate, but it wasn’t as if Misha was
the perfect fucking angel. There were so many sins in his past that he’d gladly
forget, but there was no way he’d ever shed all of his shame.

“At least I’m here now.”

Grim gave a low exhale and kissed
Misha’s forehead, hugging him tight to his sturdy body. “I’m not gonna hurt
you,” he whispered. “I’m
never
gonna do that.”

“You let me speak my mind. You
don’t even know how much that means to me. I always had to be
nice
to
Gary. Like I didn’t have a fucking soul.” Misha curled his fingers in the
fabric of Grim’s sleeves.

Grim nodded. “You’re gonna have
everything you need.”

“I really like you, Grim.” Misha
leaned in to kiss him. “But I
really
need to take things slow, okay?
Work out what I want.”

Grim stared at him, his eyes
wide, and for a moment Misha thought Grim wasn’t there with him, but then Grim
spoke. “You sure? I am
not
like Gary. You don’t have to ...” He stopped,
seeming lost in what he wanted to communicate.

“I know.” Misha giggled
drunkenly. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the world like you. If we met in an
alternate universe, I’d probably be all over you already, but I need time to
process this.” They’d had the same conversation before, but this time it really
seemed that Grim was listening, taking it all in.

Grim looked through the
windshield at the long stretch of black road ahead of them. He kept massaging
Misha’s back with his fingers and didn’t even once look at Misha’s stumps
throughout the whole conversation. It was almost as if Misha was slowly getting
to him, past the thick layer of Grim’s lust.

“I think we should have a nice
meal somewhere once we’re across state lines. We could order it to go and watch
the sunrise. What do you think?” Grim asked eventually.

Misha smiled and rubbed away the
tears still lingering in his eyes. “I’d love that.”

Chapter 12 - Grim

The week following their revenge
visit at Pat’s was among the quietest in Grim’s life. Misha wished for some
peace, so they rented a cabin in the forest. The property was primarily used by
hunters, but there was a comfortable double bed in one of the two bedrooms, and
the house had everything they could possibly need, including a generator. A
shed for skinning animals brought back many memories.

After finding out more about
Misha’s past, Grim felt like a failure. He knew that technically he couldn’t
have intervened when those things had happened to Misha, because that was even
before he found out about Andrey’s Internet presence. He also knew that, most
likely, Misha wasn’t the only boy put through this, but he still couldn’t shed
the helplessness that opened a void in his chest and wouldn’t close, no matter
how hard he tried to make Misha forget all the bad things.

Even the stumps he adored so much
were now yet another instrument in Misha’s misery. There was something about
the image of a man with no legs being abused by people stronger and taller than
he was that made Grim itch for blood. He couldn’t stomach the thought of
someone hurting the boy who uncovered the many colors of his personality every
day. He was witty and sarcastic, with a proclivity for black humor that Grim
couldn’t resist. He liked to discuss things and was stubborn at pursuing his
goals. When Misha told Grim he needed to learn how to defend himself, Grim had
no idea how serious Misha was being.

Within three days, they had used
up so many bullets Grim had to buy more ammo. They did a lot of strength
training and self-defense techniques, and the longer they were together, the
less surprised Grim was of the desperation at the core of Misha’s attempts.
After being through so much, Misha would rather die than be taken again, and
Grim couldn’t bring himself to argue about this no matter how uneasy he was
about bruises appearing all over Misha’s body. Misha’s fear was as unreasonable
as Grim’s own guilt.

But while Grim longed for
something to relieve the itching in his bones, the bloodlust that crept farther
into his conscious mind with every day of complete peace, he didn’t want to
sacrifice his time with Misha to get his kicks. It was the glint of a blade
versus the lively glimmer in Misha’s eyes and the scent of fresh blood versus the
aroma of Misha’s cum and sweat. And yet, he wished the Coffin Nails would come
up with a contract for him and give him an incentive to leave the calm embrace
of the forest and sense the warm blood sinking into his skin. He was growing
impatient. Nervous. But Misha didn’t seem to sense any change in Grim’s
behavior, as he was warming up to him every day.

This morning was just as sunny as
the ones before, but at least it was less humid. The area around their bungalow
was completely secluded in a valley with a stream down the road where Grim took
Misha on his back a few times and wild animals passing their house at night.

Those moments when Misha explored
nature, when he was in the moment instead of in his head, were the happiest
Grim had seen him yet. Far away from people, he could adjust better to being
outside after such a long period of captivity. It was working. Misha even fell
asleep in the grass once on a sunny day after going through yet another book of
sudoku. His decreasing anxiety could have something to do with the fact that
there was no technology here, no Wi-Fi, only a barely there cell connection
Grim managed to catch at the side of a hill nearby.

With sun pouring down from the
sky, Misha sat outside in just a pair of denim shorts, wearing his new
sunglasses and eating a popsicle from the stash in their freezer. As days
passed, their sexual relationship hit a plateau, but they slept together,
touched, kissed, and jerked each other off a few times. Misha wanted to take
things slow, and he wasn’t going anywhere, so Grim settled on giving him the
time he needed. To his growing excitement, Misha was also less shy about his
stumps, and despite that under-the-knee area still being taboo, Grim could at
least see them, touch them with his own legs in bed, and enjoy the thought that
one day, he would get to lick them all over again.

“Hey, lazy bum! Stop playing with
your phone and come train with me,” Misha yelled to Grim despite still sucking
on the popsicle himself.

Grim smirked and made his way
down the hill without haste, enjoying the warm sun on his skin. In his
downtime, Grim prepared some makeshift exercise equipment that was meant for
Misha’s size. They kept them in the shadow of a tree nearby, but it didn’t seem
like Misha was inclined to move that way yet unless he wanted Grim to carry him
again. He’d been fine with that recently, especially when they ventured farther
away from the cabin. Grim loved the trust Misha offered him whenever Grim took
him on his back and trekked through the forest, giving Misha as many
possibilities to enjoy the fresh air as possible. Misha was already getting a
healthy glow to his skin, and his freckles became darker.

Misha sucked in the rest of his popsicle,
making Grim want to lick up all the sweetness that dripped down Misha’s lips.
He moved down the stairs, supporting himself on his arms, and reached out for
Grim’s hand.

Grim smiled and raised him with
one arm, making the transfer into the wheelchair much easier for Misha. “Ready
for more, birdie?”

“Let’s go.” Misha rolled his
wheelchair forward. With the grass short and the ground even, he had a lot of
freedom to move around the clearing surrounding the cabin. “I want to practice
standing on my arms. At least there’s something that should be easier for me
than for people who have more weight below.”

Grim nodded and cupped Misha’s
head, petting his hair. He enjoyed having him low enough to be able to do this,
and doing so instantly calmed him down. “Your choice. If that’s what you want.
I suppose it also trains balance.”

“Yeah, and stomach muscles. I
don’t want to be a slob, and you bought me too many treats.”

They had taken a big shopping
trip before coming down here, and Misha had spent ages reading the packaging
and looking through hundreds of products he’d never seen before. He told Grim
that he kept in shape not to lose Gary’s interest, but it was nice that he
still wanted to keep up his fitness habits. Grim flattered himself that it was
for him, even though Misha wouldn’t say so.

“You do have very nice muscles
for someone who lived most of the last few years in a basement,” said Grim,
walking next to the wheelchair.

“I did pull-ups and all sorts of
stuff I could. I didn’t want to feel like I’m useless. Otherwise, I could just
as well lay in bed all day and wait ‘til I die.”

Nothing like a touch of morbidity
on a sunny day, but Grim appreciated the comment.

“You feel very alive.”

Misha stopped once they reached
the area where they trained and looked up at Grim, grabbing his hands. “When
all of this settles down, and it’s safer for me to be around people, you will
get me prosthetics, right?”

Grim’s head bobbed up and down as
he stared at Misha, mesmerized by the honesty he could see on his face. Misha
was already planning their future together. “Yeah. It will be easier for you,
because we will be moving around a lot.”

“I’ll never have legs, but I will
be able to walk into a store without everyone staring at me. Maybe I could even
get those blade legs and run again.” Misha squeezed Grim’s hand with a smile.

In that moment, Grim wanted to
get Misha every single thing he could possibly want. “Okay.”

“And if my stumps get tired or
sore from the pressure, you could massage them at the end of the day …” Misha
bit his lip, never looking away from Grim’s eyes.

Grim exhaled, squeezing Misha’s
hand as his mind wandered to those lovely legs, cherished and glistening with
oil between Grim’s hands. “You are such a tease.”

Misha laughed and pushed at
Grim’s hip. “You should have seen your face!”

Grim rubbed his eyes. “It’s all
your fault. I should spank you for baiting me like that.”

“Sorry,” Misha said and looked
away as he made his climb down to the ground, but Grim could swear that he
heard him whisper “not sorry.”

“I will kiss them for such a long
time that it’ll make you come,” he said, looking at the back of Misha’s head
with a sly smile. He knew for a fact that it was possible.

“Are you going to leave hickeys
on my stumps?” Misha asked and supported himself on his hands and knees. It was
just banter, but Grim loved the future tense in it. Like it was a real
possibility. Like Misha was deeming him worthy of worshiping those heavenly
stumps.

“I can, if that’s what you want,
but I like to be really gentle,” whispered Grim.

“I don’t want hickeys on them!”
Misha slapped Grim’s shin. “People would see and think I’m a freak.”

Grim’s face twisted into a scowl.
“I just told you I’m gonna be gentle.”

“Okay, okay. Support me.” Misha
put his cheek on the ground and pushed his hips up but quickly fell back.
“Wait. I’m getting there.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” said Grim,
watching the pink scars crisscrossing the bottom of the stumps. He had no idea
why they looked like this, and why there were so many of them, but maybe
Misha’s doctors had been shitty and botched the work aesthetically? He didn’t
want to ask.

Misha snorted. “I’m not made out
of glass. And I’m stronger every day. All it takes is upper body strength.” He
grunted and pushed his hips up again. This time, Grim touched Misha’s thighs as
soon as they lifted and helped Misha raise his body without losing balance.

The stumps were so close, and
Grim could see them in full sunlight. Even the little bit of muscle beneath
Misha’s knee tensed, and Grim wanted to pet it so bad it was hard to focus.

But he knew he wasn’t allowed to
yet, so he looked down at Misha, who was looking at him upside down with an
oddly serious face. The muscles in his arms were strained, so was his stomach,
but with a bit of support, Misha was able not to fall over.

“Help me down,” Misha grunted,
and a droplet of sweat from under his knee trailed down to Grim’s finger.

Grim squeezed Misha’s thighs and
slowly lowered him to the ground. “Well done.”

“Now you do it.” Misha sat on the
ground and raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Grim smiled and bowed like a
stage performer. Heat was simmering beneath his skin as he felt that curious
brown gaze running across his abs. He leaned his body back before ducking
toward the ground and propping all of his body weight on his hands. For a horrendous
second, he believed he had used too much force and he would fall down and
embarrass himself in front of Misha, but as he tightened all his muscles, he
managed to keep his body upright.

The effort was worth it when he
saw Misha gasp and bite his lip. “That’s hot.”

Grim laughed, blinking against
the sun, proud as if Misha were petting his abs already. “It’s all yours,
birdie.”

“Look who’s teasing now.” Misha
didn’t even blink as he ogled Grim with no shame. “I can’t believe you’re
still
standing.”

Grim would drink Misha’s praise
until he burst. “That’s because I have a killer body,” he said before lowering
himself to his feet when the weight started becoming too much.

Misha hesitated for a moment
before he spoke. “You do. You’re really my type. I used to like watching porn
with really fit guys. Maybe because I’m fucked up, so I like seeing their
healthy limbs.”

Grim felt his mouth fall, and he
wasn’t sure what to say at first. “You’re a bit broken. Not fucked up.”

Misha pouted and wiggled his
stumps. “I used to hate being like this with all my heart, but I guess they’re
what got me out and caught your interest at the end of the day, so all the pain
was worth
something
.”

Grim slowly sat on the ground. For
once, he was uncomfortable about the way he felt when he watched Misha’s
struggles. He quickly swallowed, pushing the darkness away, deep into his
skull. Grim knew he was a catch. Strong. Handsome. But he wasn’t worth going
through what Misha had gone through.

He didn’t come up with an answer,
and instead looked to the horizon, surprised by the sound of a car approaching,
his focus instantly razor sharp. He got to his feet, listening to the engine.
“Wonder who that is,” he muttered, stretching as he walked toward the clearing
that bordered the forest.

Misha pulled his wheelchair
closer and transferred into it with a bit of Grim’s help. “Tourists? Hunters?
The owner?”

“He did say he wanted to pick
something up next week. Maybe he needs it sooner,” said Grim, walking toward
the dirt road, which soon revealed a blue van with three young men sitting in
the front, squashed like sardines. It was one of the small vans used for
transport with no windows in the back and ledges running along the body below
side doors at the front.

Misha went quiet when Grim approached
the road to meet them. One of the men smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

Grim nodded and walked up from
the driver’s side, listening to the bird chatter above their heads. “Looking
for something?”