“What was that?” Knight asked, rushing to Elliot’s side. “Was that him?”
“I feel he has more control over me each time,” Elliot said.
Fane sneered. “Because you’re weak.”
Elliot was set on not arguing with Fane, but he had no doubt that Laurent was the one telling the truth about what had happened all those years ago. It was Fane who was the snake. Cold-hearted and set on achieving whatever he wanted, at anyone’s expense. No matter how many sweet promises of undying love Fane had whispered, they were as empty as Fane’s heart. It had been Elliot who filled them with his own craving for true feeling and devotion.
It was time to let go of something that would have never happened anyway.
Knight’s arm felt secure around him, and yet its presence left a bitter aftertaste in Elliot’s mouth. Regardless of how much Elliot enjoyed his care, Laurent’s words didn’t lie. Knight was friendly toward most people, and he would surely continue to enjoy Elliot’s company for a long time, but Elliot implicitly knew from the start that he couldn’t have him.
Elliot rested his head on Knight’s shoulder.
It was fine. At least Knight didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
Chapter 29
Knight exhaled with relief once he walked Laurent and Beast to the landing outside his apartment. Regardless of what Elliot might say, the strain Fane was putting him through each time Laurent was around was unmissable. Tension had been back in the set of Elliot’s shoulders and around his eyes the moment they entered club-owned grounds, and the helplessness of Elliot’s situation had Knight on edge.
“We need to get that motherfucker out of him,” he said, leaning back against the closed door.
Beast nodded, absentmindedly stroking Laurent’s hair. “I don’t think there’s another way we can come up with on our own. We need to talk to the demon. Is that something you want though, Knight? Do not take it lightly.”
Laurent looked to his feet and pushed under Beast’s thick arm, clearly still disturbed by what happened inside. And Elliot, poor Elliot was living the nightmare of Fane’s presence day and night.
“We could see what he says. I mean... maybe he won’t ask for God-knows-what,” Knight said, but Beast cut off any other words Knight might have had.
“I’m dead serious, Knight. You like that guy, I get it, but one can only make a pact with the devil once. This would be life-changing for you on so many levels. You can’t be rash and play the white knight just because it feels right in the moment.”
Knight frowned and squeezed his fist with his other hand until it crackled. “It makes me fucking crazy that I can’t get my hands on that son of a bitch!”
Beast’s frown told Knight he really did get it. “Okay, we’ll talk to… it... him. But remember that talking things over doesn’t mean you have to decide yet. Take a few hours to think if through and cool off.”
Laurent stepped closer and put his hand on Knight’s forearm. “If you decide against it, we will find another way.”
Only what other way was there?
Knight nodded and sent them off with a few more cocky words, but he was worried, and nothing could change that. He couldn’t just watch Elliot’s personality gradually crumble under Fane’s influence. It wasn’t like he could be kept in a straitjacket forever, and even if he moved out of the property, the danger of Fane somehow managing to take over even beyond the demon’s domain was too much of a risk. Knight wasn’t willing to take it.
Somber, he returned to the apartment, instantly gravitating to the unfinished bottle of beer on the coffee table.
Elliot looked up at him without a word, still attached to the hook as if he were a danger to humanity, not a lost boy in desperate need of help.
Knight picked up the barely-started beer and walked up the steps to his bedroom, keeping his eyes on Elliot’s pale face. “How are you coping?”
Elliot’s dark gaze followed every step Knight took, and meeting it suddenly filled Knight with a new kind of fury at the thought that Elliot would never again have two of those strikingly black eyes.
“It’s fine.”
Knight rubbed the cool bottle with his fingers, watching Elliot at a distance. The straitjacket contained him very efficiently with the straps and buckles, but his narrow, straight legs stood free, clad in gray jeans and spoke of a normalcy that was now long forgotten. “Are you comfortable?”
“I mean… If you could scratch my nose, that would be great.”
Knight smirked and walked through the expanse of the wooden floor. He rubbed his fingertip against the warm skin at the very tip of Elliot’s nose. “Here?”
“No, higher, on the bridge. Right there.” Elliot sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
Knight crooked his head and enjoyed the refreshing, hoppy taste. Elliot’s lashes were long and somewhat curled, a fact easily noticeable when he closed his eye and let them lie on the pale cheek.