His Favorite Color is Blood - Coffin Nails MC (gay biker dark romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 8) (32 page)

“Don’t say that …” Misha ran his
fingers over Grim’s shoulder. “I’m yours regardless.” And in the most arousing
motion, the stumps slid over Grim’s thigh and into his lap, both nudging his rock-hard
cock.

Grim closed his eyes, shivering
at the touch. Only after several seconds, he glanced to where his cock was
framed by Misha’s legs. His hand dove for the lube, and he frantically drizzled
it all over his dick, hissing at the cool touch.

“My legs too,” Misha whispered,
and it was the sweetest song he could ever sing.

Grim squirted some more of the
gel on Misha’s stumps, hardly keeping himself from thrusting against the
scarred skin. His mind was in a meltdown at this point. “You’re the hottest man
ever ...”

“... and you’ll never let me go,”
Misha finished for him and squeezed Grim’s cock between his slippery legs.

Grim couldn’t even answer, too
overcome with excitement. He touched the soft skin underneath Misha’s knees and
positioned the calves against his cock so that he could rub against them with
more ease. With his brain in a frenzy, he didn’t care about anything but the
stumps touching his dick, ready to take his cum while Misha watched on,
handsome and relaxed as he generously offered Grim the honor of touching him.

“Go on, fuck them.” Misha moved
his stumps back and forth around Grim’s cock, making Grim lose sense of time
and place. He grabbed Misha’s calves and held them in place, delighting in the
slick slide of the skin against his dick as he grinded against it with complete
abandon. His heart was thumping in his ears, and his breath was shallow and
quick. Misha gave him a lazy smile, lying there like a king, whom Grim would
forever serve.

Grim dug his fingers into flesh
as he came and watched the knees get covered in his pearly white cum, which
drizzled lower, toward where Misha’s legs abruptly ended.

Misha licked his lips, his chest
no longer heaving. “You are so hot. Every gay guy we meet will be jealous.” He
lifted one of his stumps and a string of cum extended between its flesh and
Grim’s cock.

Grim exhaled and rubbed his cum up
Misha’s leg, not ready to accept anything but watching it melt into skin. “I
hope so. Need to keep you interested.”

“Keep up the cardio, and you’re
good.” Misha snorted, shifting his hips and only reminding Grim that the toy
was still deep inside of his boy.

He reached for it and slid it out
as gently as he could. For now, he just put it on the bedside table and pulled
Misha into his arms, sleepy, sated, and immensely happy. “You’re only pretending
to be low maintenance.”

“I’ll be very low maintenance
once I get my prostheses.” Misha smiled and clung to Grim in a sticky hug. And
despite both them knowing that there was danger lurking in their future, it was
nice not to acknowledge any of it and just dream.

Grim smirked and kissed Misha’s
rosy cheek. “No way. You’ll be frequenting your prosthetist a lot. It’s not a
one-time thing. But that’s all right. I don’t mind helping you.”

“As long as you get your weekly
stump fucking?” Misha shook his head and closed his eyes.

“You know me so well.” Grim
rolled on top of Misha, trapping him with his weight and holding his head in
place.

Misha looked up at him with those
dreamy eyes as if Grim were the sun in the sky. “Like no one else.”

Grim exhaled, looking straight at
Misha. He never felt this kind of intense longing, even with Coy. “So ... will
you?”

A smile pulled at Misha’s mouth.
“Will I what?”

Grim hid his face in Misha’s
neck. “Marry me.”

There was a hand on his nape,
petting him as if he was a kitten, and Misha wrapped his legs around Grim’s
hips.

“I will.”

*

The yell of Grim’s cell phone
ripped him out of his slumber. He sat up, frantically looking around the dark
room. What time was it?

He reached for the phone and
grabbed it without thinking. “Yes?” he muttered, trying not to be annoyed as he
squeezed his eyes shut to release the muscles around them and feel less sand
under his eyelids.

“I expect to see you in an hour.
The coordinates are in the text message.” Zero’s modified voice pushed Grim out
of sleep and right into a nightmare.

His eyes darted to Misha, who
stirred underneath the covers next to him. His heart started thudding when he
met his lover’s eyes in the dark.

“We will be there.”

Chapter 26 – Misha

The prospect of meeting Zero eye
to eye was making Misha sweat like a pig going to slaughter. He would do it
though. He wouldn’t run. He had Grim on his side, and he was not giving the
fucking bastard the satisfaction of seeing Misha cower in fear. He held on to
Grim’s forearm as they drove out of town and followed the monotone voice of the
navigation system in Grim’s cell phone, which broke the eerie silence in the
car once in a while. Tension was jolting off both him and Grim without either
of them saying a thing.

Before they left the clubhouse,
Grim had contacted Tooth and Priest about where they were going, but with the
narrow time window Zero gave them, there was no way they could wait for the
Coffin Nails to show up right away. Not at three in the morning.

The coordinates led them to an
area outside of Detroit. Fenced parks grew along the narrow asphalt road so
overgrown with vegetation that it seemed most hadn’t been tended to for a long
time. Grim slowed down as they approached their destination, directed by the
navigation’s lifeless instructions. Misha’s heart skipped a beat when he
noticed a break in the thick line of tall evergreens. There was a gate there, old-world
style, with stone columns on each side, but it was open wide despite the rust
visible in the glow of their headlights.

Grim glanced at Misha briefly,
but he said nothing as they entered the darkness, leaving the safety of the
public road. It was almost like driving through the woods with thick shadows
enveloping the trees and bushes that had creeped onto the driveway since the
last full-time occupant of this address left. It was so dark that once the road
faced a clearing, the sky ahead seemed like the bright blue skies over Grim’s
house in the woods.

The car rushed into a field of
grass with just a few trees spotting the flat grounds around a gothic
structure. From afar, it looked like a castle Misha imagined could be a setting
for
Jane Eyre
. There was light coming from the open doors at the front
of the vast building, and in the background of the bright sky, a single tower
stared at Misha with the moonlit eyes of its windows. A sinking feeling curled
in his stomach as Grim drove into the empty yard and stopped the car in front
of the stairs that led to the main entrance.

The gravel crunching underneath the
wheels recalled the rasp of the saw against Misha’s bone, and he shuddered,
rubbing his face in an attempt to keep as calm as possible. Grim didn’t have
any conventional weapons on him, but he
was
prepared, though as much as
Misha trusted him, he’d known Zero for long enough to know the extent of his
madness. This evening could end in ways he didn’t even want to envision.

As they approached the heavy
doors, a big bald man emerged from inside the building and gave them the kind
of stoic nod that made all the hairs on Misha’s arms bristle. The man searched
Grim and even gave Misha a quick pat down that made him want to hold on to Grim
and never let go.

They went inside, with Grim
pushing the wheelchair up a stone ramp, followed by the bodyguard who shut the
heavy doors behind them.

Misha squeezed his hands on the
wheels as he rolled inside a grand entrance hall. With tall windows letting in
a lot of light even at night, he looked around the naked walls, stripped of
most of the flowery wallpaper and even plaster. There was a reception space
ahead of him and long corridors topped by arched ceilings spreading to both
sides. He stirred when the bright light of the guard’s flashlight hit his back
and confronted Misha with a bastardized version of himself stretching over the
floor: hunched and small on a pair of giant, elongated wheels.

“This way,” said the guard, and
instead of walking into one of the large walkways, he directed the stream of
light at an inconspicuous doorway behind the reception area. “You go first,” he
added, and Misha shuddered at the metallic clang that he immediately recognized
as the gun safety mechanism.

“Shall we?” asked Grim, patting
Misha’s back.

Misha needed to be brave tonight.
If not for himself, then for Dennis. The moment Zero’s voice penetrated every
pore of his skin, he knew this meeting wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t even sure if
they
had
a plan of taking Zero down, but Grim claimed it would be taken
care of. Misha had to cling to every bit of hope fate threw at him.

“Finally! My dear guests,” Zero
said, and his words resonated in the empty room as an echo that whispered with
a split second’s lateness. “We get to meet and exchange gifts.”

It was some kind of ballroom,
judging by its size, but the sight of fat metal bars blocking all the huge
windows gave Misha a shiver. They were trapped. There was an armed man behind
their back, Grim was defenseless, unless he intended to kill Zero with toothpicks.
His hand itched to hold Grim’s, but even as his stomach turned and his fingers
shook, he knew he shouldn’t be obstructing Grim’s movements. Grim was his only
chance to get out of here alive and save Dennis.

They approached Zero, who turned
on his heel to face them, handsome as he’d always been in his pristine
cream-colored suit. The soft smile ghosting across his lips awoke memories
Misha had tried to bury for such a long time, and yet, being confronted with it
again called back images of bright red on pale expensive fabrics and the
graceful smile on Zero’s face as he brutally rammed his cock inside Misha. It
was as if the screams and fear weren’t enough. The pervert needed to be covered
in blood every time he came. And with that ageless face of his, it seemed like
all the creepy legends could be true, and the two of them were about to face a
ghoul straight from a nightmare.

Misha felt sick. His throat was
blocked, his stomach curled into a knot, sweat was soaking into his T-shirt,
and even his hands were stiff, weak. It was difficult to roll the wheelchair
forward, and it was only when Grim pushed it from behind that Misha could
exhale his relief. A second goon emerged from the shadows with a chunky
flashlight in hand. He approached a simple wooden chair and placed it on the
seat before switching it on.

Misha’s heart became a black hole
as he followed the ray of white light, which brought out a whole palette of
purples and browns on Dennis’s naked body. He stood on another chair, shivering
like a dying puppy, and a noose hung loosely around his neck from one of the
thick beams underneath the ceiling. His lips were covered with duct tape, but
he still let out a little sob every now and then.

Zero looked back at him, seeming
completely at ease with two muscled goons in charge of his safety, though with
both the bodyguards giving the vibe of spec-op soldiers, Misha could understand
why. The cold steel of assault rifles was enough of a warning for him.

“You’re Zero, I presume,” said
Grim, and Zero’s eyes darted toward him for the first time.

“So you are the good soul who
picked up this little mongrel after he fled his home,” he said, stepping
closer.

Misha couldn’t bear to look at
Zero and glanced at Dennis instead, desperate to make sure he was fine. Their
eyes met, and guilt rolled over Misha’s heart, trampling any hope he had before
the unexpected phone call awoke them in the middle of the night. He knew the
look Dennis was giving him. It was pure, unadulterated terror. Dennis would
rather die right here than have Zero take him back to his current headquarters.
Misha’s eyes stung, and he blinked away the tears that pushed at his eyes when
he remembered all the times he faked a connection with Dennis, just to lure him
into Zero’s grasp and save his own skin. Nothing in the world could ever make
up for that kind of betrayal

When he spoke to Zero, Grim’s
warm tenor was as calm as it always was. “I’m far from being a kind soul. I
didn’t save him out of sympathy.”

Misha felt his face tingling when
it drained of blood. He trusted Grim. He loved Grim, but far too much truth
rang in his words. It was as if Grim were seeking a common ground with Zero by
revealing a part of him that Misha knew Grim was ashamed of. The part, which
wanted Misha just for his stumps, for the way he took cock on screen. Maybe it
was a necessity, but it still hurt to hear him say such things out loud.

A slight frown ghosted across
Zero’s face, but he finally laughed. “Not what I expected. You’re a bold one.
What’s your name?” he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and
offered the pack to Grim, who declined with a gesture.

“I’m Logan. What about you? Is
Zero your real name?”

Zero blew out some smoke. “It is
now.”

Grim nodded, his body relaxed as
if he were about to go for a ride on his beautiful Harley. It was odd to hear
him introduce himself with a name he no longer used, but maybe this time he
was
Logan? Maybe it really wasn’t
Grim
who entered this place at Misha’s
side?

Zero stepped toward the two of
them, and one of the goons immediately raised the rifle, aiming it at Grim. It
made Misha so tense he could throw up any second.

“I’m glad you brought him here so
that I can say my goodbyes the right way. Would you mind if I touched him?”
asked Zero, as if he really somehow considered Misha transferrable property.

Grim pushed his hands into his
front pockets. “I would.”

Zero looked up at him, blinking.
“Well, I will still do it. If you say no, my man’s gonna blow your head off
your shoulders. It seems to me you are confusing simple courtesy with a real
question.”

“That might be the case,” said
Grim. “I’m a farm boy. Nuanced social interaction was never one of my strong
points.”

Zero laughed, and with the way
his eyes followed Grim, the strange duality Grim displayed piqued Zero’s
interest.

“How about you show me your home
video?”

Grim waited a whole two seconds
before handing over the flash drive, maybe just to show that he wouldn’t be
blindly compliant, but Zero accepted the device without a word and walked over
to the window. Misha noticed a laptop on the windowsill. His blood rushed, and
he was grateful for the wheelchair keeping him up, because his head became
uncomfortably light the moment Zero opened the computer and connected the flash
drive.

He looked at one of the goons,
the bald giant who invited Grim and Misha into the building. “T4, where’s the
projector? I’m sure Dennis wants to watch the movie as much as I do?”

Misha let out a quiet whine, but
he was ready to accept the consequences of his actions. He stared at his
stumps, hidden away by the pinned-up sweatpants, but eventually, the room
became slightly brighter, and he looked up at the large rectangular screenshot
of a computer screen on the wall. The peaceful picture of a green forest at
sunrise had the same quality that Zero’s suits had. It was a mask. A mask that obscured
all the ugly faces of the man who tortured people for fun.

A window popped open, revealing
the one file in the folder. A movie that lasted less than fifteen minutes. It
seemed much, much longer in real time. A quarter of an hour seemed hardly enough
for the amount of torture Grim inflicted on Tomas. A human life terminated
within such a short time frame. It was less than the length of an average
cartoon.

Zero looked back at them, as if
hesitating whether he should open the file. “Misha, come over. I want to share
this with you.”

Misha sank into the wheelchair,
and Grim eventually pushed the chair forward, but Zero snorted and stopped them
with a gesture.

“No, my friend. You stay right
there. I’m not interested in you.”

Grim hesitated but eventually let
go, leaving Misha to confront his fear alone. His attention dispersed when the
chair wiggled under Dennis, but one of Zero’s bodyguards steadied him before he
could fall, and the relief was enough to pump Misha’s muscles with just enough
strength to approach his biggest fear.

His knees were going soft and his
shoulders tensed as he rolled the wheelchair toward Zero. It was like walking
on a tightrope over an endless canyon full of spikes that would pierce his body
if he fell. He was out of breath, and his brain blanked, defying Misha and
leaving him without words. His silence didn’t seem to bother Zero, and the
bright smile the man gave him was enough to send Misha into a well of unwanted
memories. The pain had been so intense. He was going crazy just smelling Zero’s
favorite cologne, but unlike an abused dog, he was not ready to bite the hand
that slid down his cheek. Without Grim at his side, Misha felt completely
defenseless in the face of Zero’s cruelty.

“Show me your legs. I want to see
my handiwork one last time,” whispered Zero with a rasp to his voice.

Misha took a sharp breath,
fighting against his windpipe, which abruptly clenched, as if refusing to be
agreeable. Instead of an answer, a broken sob left Misha’s mouth, and his eyes overflowed
with tears the moment he felt those warm, bloodthirsty hands on him.

They were on his head. Zero would
make him suck his cock. He’d make Grim watch, and then he’d have them both made
into quad amputees, to be abused without any chance to fight back. They
shouldn’t have come here, yet if they left Dennis to die, what would that make
them? They couldn’t run all their lives.