His Favorite Color is Blood - Coffin Nails MC (gay biker dark romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 8) (18 page)

Grim squeezed Misha in his arms
and slowly lowered them to the grass. It looked so fresh and vibrant, and Misha
still couldn’t fathom that he could lie here however long he pleased.

“Why are they after you?” asked
Grim once he placed Misha on the ground, careful of the bandaged stump.

Misha took a deep breath, knowing
that it was time to come clean. “I stole a flash drive from Gary. I think it
has some insider intel on the organization. But they might not even know about
that. Before I tell you, I … I just want you to know that it’s fine if you
decide I’m too much of a burden. You’ve got your life, and I get it. I
appreciate all that you’re doing for me, and I don’t expect it to last
forever.”

Grim’s face fell, and he looked
straight at Misha, handsome like a 1940s movie star with his slicked-back hair
and masculine features. “It’s not fine. Don’t lie to me.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t feel good about
it, but I’ve had worse things happen to me than being abandoned. I just don’t
want you to feel obliged to help me.” He picked at a few strands of grass,
loving the fresh smell of pine around them.

Grim picked up Misha’s hand and
traced the inside of his palm with his fingertips. “You’re not a dog. I’m not
gonna abandon you. I will always stay with you.”

Misha got that happy tingle in
his chest again despite knowing that one day Grim could still change his mind
no matter how much he believed what he was saying now. “You’re very sweet for a
man who flays people.”

Grim laughed loudly. “That’s
because I only flay people I don’t like. And those guys who came after you,
they were the worst. I mean ... attacking a disabled guy?”

“Soo … I know why they are after
me, and it’s not just out of revenge for leaving with the enemy. When I was
seventeen, I was really good with code, you know, like a hacker. I’d probably
be able to do a lot even now, but I’d be rusty with new systems. I used the
deep web a lot. Do you know what that is?”

Grim’s brows shot up. “Sure.”

Of course, Grim would know. He
was a professional killer. “So between all the offers of drugs for sale, and
other shady stuff, I found this … riddle. I was attracted to it, because I
really like puzzles, and there was supposed to be a great prize for whoever
solved it, and it just was this
mystery
. At first, I had to break a
simple numerical code to get the next clue, and when I did that, I had to make
a phone call, then solve another numerical puzzle that was a mixture of a
coding language and a maths problem. That went on for a few weeks. It was …
intense
.”

Grim petted Misha’s shoulder and
pulled off the band, loosening his hair. It stayed slightly upright, but Grim
started combing it free from the form it froze in. “So ... you believed some
random guy on the dark web that you would win something? I mean ... that’s a
shady place. What was the prize that you wanted it so much?”

Misha sighed, knowing he sounded
naive, but he hadn’t been that experienced back then. “I didn’t know what the
prize would be, I got lost in the chase. I felt like I was achieving something.
I cracked codes. For one of the clues, I had to go into the kitchen of a Korean
restaurant and pull a flash drive out of a freaking fish. You lose perspective,
you feel like you’re part of something great, like you are about to become part
of some Super-Mensa organization. And I didn’t have much growing up, so it was
thrilling and addictive.”

Grim kissed the back of Misha’s
head, twisting all the long hair around his hand and untangling it gently.

“As one of my last clues, I found
a lot of foreign money—dollars—and a phone number. I called it, and a man
picked up, congratulating me on having a unique mind, amazing abilities, blah,
blah.” Misha slouched. He had been such an idiot to believe that crap, no
matter how many mathematical problems he could solve. “He said they would pay
me a lot of money to hack into their system so that I could help them find any
holes in their security. But because they were so super-secretive, they said I
would have to do it at their headquarters. I felt so appreciated, so proud,
that I wasn’t thinking straight. For once, I achieved something, and I believed
that there was more out there for me. They were talking
big
money for
this service. The kind of money with which I could leave for Moscow, or
wherever else, start a life that wasn’t about working at the salt-extraction
facility, eating cup noodles, and spending nights in Internet cafes.”

Grim kissed Misha’s shoulder and
loosely tied his hair into a low ponytail. “What happened?” he whispered, as if
there was anyone here to eavesdrop on them.

“I did it. I traveled to their
headquarters, got treated to nice food, and they even offered me a prostitute
as some sort of perk. I err … declined. It was getting weird, but I sank into
the task. I could feel it under my skin that something was wrong, but when I
saw what it was that they wanted me to protect with a security system, there
was no going back. It was a closed network, so I couldn’t send a message out
while I was there.” Nausea hit Misha at the memory of endless videos of men,
women, children, and animals violated, tortured, raped, and mutilated in
horrific ways.

He never forgot those images.
They still haunted him in the relative safety of Gary’s apartment, in
nightmares that he hurriedly drew in sketchbooks that Gary always took away
once there were no more empty pages left. Misha didn’t know what happened to
them afterward, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Grim exhaled and pulled Misha
harder against his chest. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh air and
the aroma of wild flowers that grew all around them, and it provided the
necessary peace for Misha to keep it together.

“They realized you knew?” asked
Grim.

“Oh, they let me find out. To
secure the whole thing, I had to look through some of that stuff, and it scared
me shitless, so … I did the best job I could possibly do for them. I smiled,
nodded, and coded until my fingers were sore. I wanted to be out. I didn’t want
money. I just wanted to forget about the whole thing. I could barely sleep. I’m
so ashamed now. All these people who got hurt later because I helped them keep
a secure system …” Misha shook his head, evading the thoughts of his most
shameful moment and his biggest guilt, much more recent than the whole
hackfest.

Grim slid his hands along Misha’s
arms and entwined their fingers. “They took you,” he whispered knowingly. It
wasn’t even a question. Grim knew this was how this world worked.

“Once I finished with the system,
closed my mouth shut, and smiled some more, hoping they wouldn’t see the crazy
in my eyes, I didn’t get any money, and I didn’t get to leave. You must have
seen pictures of those amazing domes of St. Basil’s cathedral in Moscow. They
were commissioned by Ivan the Terrible, and the architect had done such a
beautiful job with them that when he was done, the tsar had him blinded so
nothing like them could ever be built again. I knew their secrets. They wouldn’t
let me go. When I think about all that I’ve been through, I don’t know if I’m lucky
to still be alive or if it was some kind of punishment for my crimes. I guess I
have a pretty face, so they kept me.” He shrugged, not for the first time
wishing he were uglier. But then he would probably have been killed, and he
would never have met Grim.

Grim was silent for several
seconds and eventually pulled his hands away. “How did they get you into the
US?”

Misha looked over his shoulder.
“In a container on a cargo ship.”

“It’s over now,” said Grim calmly
as he picked up Misha’s ponytail. Then came the slight pressure at the back of
Misha’s head, and his skin crawled with ants, sensing a blade without even
touching it.

He stopped breathing and
stiffened, but there was no fear in him despite the visceral reaction of his
body. Grim wouldn’t cut him up. “It is. The chip is out, and I want to think
I’m free, but I don’t know if they’ll ever give up. I still remember ways to
crack into their files, their records and videos, and all. If I were brave, I’d
give it all up to the police so they could track down those bastards.”

The last few hairs left of the
long ponytail stung as Grim cut their strings, but immediately after, Misha’s
head felt so insanely light, and soft waves fell against his jaw.

“You are brave,” said Grim. “If
it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to get the first guy back in
Tennessee. You distracted them.”

Misha smiled and touched the
endings of his hair, ecstatic over how much weight had been taken off his heart
with that one cut. “Nah, you would have managed.” He tipped his head back and
gave Grim a kiss.

Grim smirked and pressed the cut
hair, still tied together with the elastic band, into Misha’s hand. “Yours.”

“Thank you.” He looked at the
bundle of hair that had been a burden for so long just for Gary’s pleasure.
Misha shook his head vigorously, enjoying how light it felt now. “So … that’s
why I said I’d understand it if you wanted to leave. Because I have a target on
my back, and I might never wash it off.”

Grim smirked, resting his chin on
Misha’s shoulder. Even now, he was so ridiculously well groomed. And he didn’t
do it because someone told him to. It seemed he just enjoyed his hair sleek and
his face clean-shaven. “No one will cry if I’m gone anyway.”

“I guess there wouldn’t be,
because I’d be dead as well.” Misha reached up and stroked Grim’s smooth cheek.

Grim laughed and put his big,
mean-looking knife back into a pouch at his hip. “It’s nice to have someone
over. It’s been years since I had a guest.”

“Could we have a little campfire?
I’d like to burn these.” He pointed to the hair with his head. “I’ve also got
something else of Gary’s that I’d want to get rid of.”

Grim stiffened. “A fire? Why
don’t you just ... bury it?”

“It won’t feel like it’s really …
gone, you know? Like the flash drive from Gary. Now that the chip is gone, I’ll
keep stealthy, and I want it all behind me. Gone.”

Grim grimaced. “Why don’t you
give it to the police?”

Misha shook his head quickly and
squeezed his hand around the hair. “They’d know it was me and retaliate. I
think now they might just forget about me. I know it’s selfish not to tell the
police, but I’m so sick of living in fear, wondering if I’m entertaining enough
for Gary, or if I’m bringing him enough money, or if I will meet Zero again.”

Grim’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but
he finally gave Misha a nod. “But we’ll take precautions. Don’t want another
fire around here.”

“Yes, scoutmaster. We will.”
Misha turned around and planted a kiss on Grim’s lips.

Chapter 15 - Misha

Before the sun went down, Grim
gathered some stones and broken pieces of brick and put them in a circle
between the remaining walls of the burnt-down house. The second floor must have
been made of wood, because the blackened skeleton of the first floor was all
that remained with the floor burned all the way to the cement of the
foundations. There was a sparse layer of moss and grass growing all over the
structure, but Grim removed any growth from a section of the floor that he
intended to use as the fireplace. For someone who didn’t want to have anything
to do with flames, he was quite adept at preparing a campfire. Misha made some
sandwiches in Grim’s house, as Grim insisted he didn’t need any help and worked
in the ruins for two hours at dusk.

Misha didn’t understand why Grim
insisted on preparing the fire there of all places, but he didn’t argue and let
Grim carry him to the charred remains of the house. They walked in through a
collapsed doorway and into a narrow, long space that had been the living room
in the past. The brick walls had lost their color, covered by a layer of soot,
and there was not much left in the ruins, not even rubble and random trash that
he would have expected in a place like this. Grim spread a blanket over
waterproof canvas, farther away from the circle of impromptu fireplace than
Misha would normally consider sensible, but he didn’t want to point it out and
suggest Grim was being overprotective.

“I thought we could stay here for
the evening,” said Grim as he scooted down and sat Misha on the blanket, which
hid some extra padding underneath.

Misha nodded, squeezing the
cut-off ponytail in his hand. “I like natural surroundings, even at night.
There’s no one here. Only me and you.”

Grim scratched his head and
passed Misha a pack of matches. “It’ll be cozy here. And I always visit these
ruins when I’m around.”

Misha got to his knees and
crawled toward the tidy stack of dry wood that Grim had prepared. He shook his
head and smiled, enjoying the freedom of the new, lighter haircut. “Did anyone
actually die in the fire?” he asked and lit a match. When he threw it into the
campfire, the wood went up in flames immediately, so Grim must have poured
something flammable over it.

Grim hummed behind him, and Misha
heard the sound of a can opening. Grim had a beer in his hand, and he leaned
back against the wall, far away from the flames reflected in his eyes. The
glass pendant with the tiny skull glistened in the light, as it lay flat on his
chest. “One person.”

Misha returned to the blanket and
cuddled up in Grim’s big hoodie that he was still wearing despite having two of
his own. It smelled of Grim’s skin and the spicy cologne he favored, and so
Misha put it on to feel Grim’s presence even when he wasn’t around. “Who?”

Grim exhaled and put an arm
around Misha as he sipped his beer, watching the fire for a moment. “The
disabled kid I told you about. He lived here.”

Misha’s eyes grew wider, and he
looked up at Grim. “Oh.” He went silent for a moment, his mind going white and
empty. He should have made the connection earlier. “So is this how your
interest developed? Watching the neighbor?”

Grim shrugged, and a strange
smile passed through his lips without reaching his eyes. “Who knows. He died in
that fire when I was still very young.”

Misha threw the ponytail into the
fire, and it went up in flames like an offering to the old gods. “That’s
horrible.”

Grim gulped down what seemed like
half the can of beer, curling his legs farther away from the bursting fire. “He
was really close with Logan, his younger cousin. They had a ... thing going
on.”

“What? You perved on them?” He
slapped Grim’s arm.

Grim smirked. “I saw them from my
window once. They were not acting like cousins, but they were always together.
I suppose, with his cousin confined to the house, Logan was always by his side
to help out. The guy had terrible pain in his stumps, so Logan would comfort
him. Maybe that’s how they stopped acting like cousins. That it wasn’t planned
and just happened.”

Misha cuddled up to Grim, and his
face was getting warm from the fire that danced far from them. “I had really
bad aches as well after my legs got patched up. But it’s much better now. I
just get … cold sometimes. It’s this phantom pain that goes down all the way to
my toes, and I feel like my legs are freezing. It’s the worst at night, when I
lay in bed, and I have this cold sensation. I sometimes look under the blanket
to check if they’re not there. They’re not, yet it feels as if I’m in bed with
my severed, dead legs …” he finished quietly, uncomfortable with the thought.

Grim exhaled and held Misha
closer. “But it doesn’t hurt at least?”

“Very rarely.” Misha cleared his
throat, not willing to go on with the morbid topic. “You said the house caught
fire during a party. Was Logan a junkie as well?”

Grim brushed his forehead,
staring at the flames. “No. He was fourteen the last time I saw him and never
wanted to touch the stuff. He was out in the woods that night and only ran back
when he saw the glow of the fire from afar. The house was burning, and everyone
was out, staring as the fire licked its way out the windows. The one person
missing was Coy,” said Grim and slowly looked at Misha. “He wanted to run in,
but they held him. And he looked on at the house while Coy was burning to death
inside.” Grim cleared his throat. “I could even hear him screaming from my own
house.”

Misha inhaled the air that still
smelled of char. “That’s horrific …” He put his cheek against Grim’s chest,
listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“He had this pet bird, and it
flew out of the house. Coy must have let it out of the cage. Logan couldn’t
help him anymore. The selfish prick left him alone in that dump of a house. If
he were there, Coy would still be alive,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Is that why you’re so sensitive
to people … like him?” Misha hugged Grim’s chest, watching the tension dance in
his jaw muscles.

Grim wouldn’t look back at him as
he spoke. “He was one of the best people I’ve known, but he got the short end
of the stick. All he had was this lousy, cheap wheelchair. The house wasn’t
accessible, but his father wouldn’t give up the room on the first floor so that
Coy could easily move around. The bastard had a back problem, you see, and his
comfort was a priority, so Logan would carry Coy up and down the stairs every
day. They were making plans to leave as soon as they were old enough, start a
new life somewhere, but then Coy died so abruptly. Someone should have helped
him,” whispered Grim.

Misha petted Grim’s arm, sad to
see him so upset. “That’s so fucked up. How old were you when it happened?”

“Same age as them.” Grim pinched
the bridge of his nose and downed the remaining beer. “It was a fucking
disaster. Logan wouldn’t forgive his family, and I don’t blame him. They moved
into this house closer to town. It was rundown, but they didn’t have much, so
the farmer who owned it agreed to let them stay there for a few weeks. Logan
helped out with the horses.” Grim glanced at Misha and gently petted his neck
as the bursting light from the fire cast shadows all over his handsome face.
“Turned out he was stealing animal tranquilizers and then used them to put his
whole family to sleep. He burned them all down. All of them. All the adults,
all the children.”

Misha frowned and looked into the
fire, feeling as if the flames were crawling up his skin. “Christ …”

Grim kissed Misha’s temple and
looked at the blackened walls, which were now brightened by the fire. “But
whenever I’m here, there are no bad vibes. It’s almost as if Coy is still
here.”

“Do you remember him so well
because you have this ... interest in stumps? Or was it that these guys your
age were gay, just like you?”

Grim swallowed hard and picked up
Misha’s hand, playing with it. “Coy was handsome. He had these blond curls that
would go up instead of straight down, as if they defied gravity. And he always
smiled, even when he was hurting. I guess ... I was attracted to him, and he
had no legs. I remember being fascinated by how they looked, how the stumps
twitched when he moved his muscles. So I think it did start because of him.”

Misha pulled up his pants,
revealing the stump that wasn’t wrapped in bandage and tensed the muscle in the
calf that wasn’t there anymore, even though he felt like it was. “Like this?”
he teased and gave Grim’s jaw a kiss. Misha wanted to give back for Grim
opening up to him and allow Grim to touch the most vulnerable parts of his
body.

He couldn’t miss the way Grim’s
breath caught, and his eyes suddenly focused on the flesh Misha hated so much.
“Yes. Just like this. He let me massage the stumps sometimes, because I wanted
to help, and it eased his pain.”

The tension between them became
hotter than the campfire, and for once Misha felt the interest in his stumps
didn’t come from a morbid fascination with something damaged and ugly. It wasn
born out of an adolescent crush that clearly still held power over Grim’s
heart, making him much more human than his tough exterior would suggest.

“Show me.” Misha turned his back
on the fire, and with his leg curled up between them, he looked up into Grim’s
eyes.

Grim chewed on his lip, peeling
his back away from the wall, and his hand hovered over the naked stump. “I ...
I would be gentle and move the flesh between my fingers.”

Misha swallowed, and the growing tension
was killing him. How would the caress feel when given by someone Misha craved
so much? “You can touch me, I trust you.” For once, he was with someone who
found his body exciting but seemed to also like him for who he was. Grim wanted
to spend time with him regardless of whether he was allowed to touch the stumps
or not, and that realization fizzled inside Misha’s skull like the most
expensive champagne.

For a split second, Grim seemed
too shocked to move, but then he kneeled down and stroked Misha’s intact stump
with his fingertips, gently moving them up and down. His eyes were focused and his
breath raspy as he slowly squeezed the flesh a bit harder, as if checking what
kind of pressure Misha could take. “They are so ... squashy,” he said with a
small smile.

Misha had to bite his lip not to
laugh from the ticklish sensation. “Thanks. Nice way to boost my confidence.
‘Squashy.’ Can’t believe you.” But his cheeks were heating up already as he
thought of Grim getting excited and his massive cock becoming hard.

Grim laughed and sat
cross-legged, which made his bulge even more prominent inside the faded jeans
he was wearing. His fingers ran up and down Misha’s calf, sliding underneath
Misha’s shorts to tease the covered skin, only to slide back to the stump. “I
love how it feels. Will you move your muscles again?” he added in a whisper,
his gaze shooting up.

Misha smiled, and for the first
time in a fetishistic situation, he didn’t feel like he was being abused. He
was sharing a part of himself that turned on his partner. He tensed the muscle
while Grim held the stump in his palm.

The low groan that came from
Grim’s throat was all the appreciation he needed. Grim shifted and lay on his
side, facing the stump, which he petted, never pulling his hand away. There was
an intense longing in his eyes when he leaned in and audibly sniffed the
scarred skin.

“Oh, God. Does it stink?” Misha
shied away embarrassed and trembling with nerves despite being in sexual
scenarios a thousand times more ugly and dirty many times.

Grim’s face followed the stump
over the blanket until he pressed his nose against it again. “No ... it smells
of you, and of the wood, and of soap. It’s so delicate and smooth,” he
whispered, looking up into Misha’s eyes.

With Grim touching him in this
new intimate way, Misha’s blood was starting to rush in his veins, and there
was no stopping it. He was falling for Grim all too fast, and with those big,
knowledgeable hands touching him, even Misha’s stumps felt worthy of adoration.
“Thank you. I think.” He took a deep breath. “I think you’re really sexy,” he
blurted out.

Grim’s smile widened, and he gave
a brief, featherlight kiss to the very bottom of Misha’s stump. “I could say
the same about you.”

With the campfire and the warm
weather, the air was pleasantly hot around them, but Misha still felt as if it
was his skin that radiated with as much heat as a nuclear reactor. But he
needed to know more about Grim to let this go any further “You said you like
how the amputations make someone helpless. Is that in the same way bondage
would? That someone can’t move the way you do?”

Grim looked up, tickling the
stump gently before teasing it with his tongue. “It’s complicated. It makes me
feel that the guy needs me. That’s why I love carrying you around. And yes, I
like watching you scramble on your knees, too. I didn’t meet many hot gay guys
who had ... what I like, so I would sometimes tape men’s calves to their
thighs.”

“But with me you don’t have to,
because I’m perfect already?” Misha brushed the stump over Grim’s lips, feeling
bolder by the second.

Grim gasped and gently suckled on
the scarred flesh, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his face forward,
nuzzling the skin beneath Misha’s knee. “Yes. When I saw you for the first
time, I knew you were perfect, even though I didn’t know anything about you
yet. I love watching you drag your legs over the bed. It’s so fucking hot I just
want you to hold them against my face and jerk off.”