Grays shadow, p.7
Gray's Shadow, page 7
part #4 of Kings of Hell MC Series
“Put me down, you idiot,” Gray shouted, banging his heel against Shadow’s knee. As he shook his head, his silvery ponytail repeatedly smacked Shadow’s face, dusting him in particles of the scent that made his chest burn and his cock stiffen.
“No,” Shadow said tightly, holding on despite the sharp pain in his leg. His mind was on a different track at this point and wouldn’t be derailed by something so minor. He shoved Gray onto the bed and wouldn’t let him squirm away, with a hand pressed firmly between the slender shoulder-blades. It was as if his head emptied, leaving only the need for Gray’s body to suck his in.
Gray’s eyes flashed with anger, but Shadow spotted the movement of Gray’s hand just in time to stop him from using the knife he’d grabbed. With a low growl, Shadow slapped Gray’s hand so hard the blade clattered to the floor. He wouldn’t be wasting time on this game.
Gray turned under him like an eel, but Shadow was quick to grab his wrist and pin him to the bed with his body weight. The movement ended up with his cock pressing against Gray’s thigh, and bliss exploded in his brain like the brightest of fireworks.
Gray let out a choked sound, twisting his body and blindly kicking at Shadow, even though he had no chance to win this fight with just one arm. Shadow knew that all would be well once they connected, and if Gray couldn’t see that yet, then so be it, even if the erratic twitching of the wide hazel eyes staring back at him was making his insides shrink.
How could Gray not see this was what they were made for?
“Let go. This isn’t a game, you dumb fuck,” Gray said through his teeth, dragging himself up the bed with the stump. His breath was like the sound of a broken ventilator—rough and uneven, and despite the heat exuded by his body, his face lost its color, as if his blood had drained elsewhere.
"I don't care if I'm dead! I want this!" Shadow was surprised how much of a struggle it was to hold down someone so much smaller. Gray kept moving, shifting, and kicking, as if he truly didn’t understand that connecting with Shadow would make him so much happier. So Shadow was cold, and maybe touching him wasn’t all that pleasant yet, but it was Gray’s fault he was cold, and if they touched, they’d both be warmer. Hadn’t Shadow suffered enough tonight?
He finally managed to push up Gray’s T-shirt, desperate to reach the warm flesh.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Gray growled, arching away from Shadow, as if touching him were a despicable act. “Let go now!”
But Shadow ignored the threats, focused only on the searing heat radiating to his face from the uncovered flesh. Muscles were a tight bundle under Gray’s skin, hard as stones when he leaned down and licked the fresh salt off Gray’s navel.
“No! Shadow… you can’t do that! I’m serious.”
Words meant nothing when the taste on Shadow’s tongue made his insides flutter in excitement. He hadn’t even noticed when he started rocking his hips between Gray’s legs, his mind fizzling in the heat of pleasure. But he only had two hands, and if he wanted to connect his body to Gray’s, their clothes were in the way.
Shadow took a deep breath and released his two other arms, the ones that had no material form in the human body he’d been offered. With the ruby at his core, the black limbs could be as material and immaterial as he needed them to be, and right now he would use them to gain access to more of Gray’s delicious skin.
He pressed his face to Gray’s stomach and pulled his sweatpants down with the extra arms. Everything but Gray was a blur. The night around them didn’t matter, and even the red room was a distant memory when Gray’s sweetness still lingered on Shadow’s tongue.
For a glorious moment, Gray lay still, as if he’d finally opened up to Shadow, but the peace only lasted for a few heartbeats before he twisted, painfully digging his heels into Shadow’s flesh. His breath came out in rigid, swishing gasps, but despite the strain his struggle put his body under, he wouldn’t stop and even dug his nails into Shadow’s hand.
“You’ll be back in that fucking lake. I swear!”
Shadow hissed at Gray, and grabbed his hand when it slipped out of Shadow’s grip. None of this should have been so tedious in the first place. Gray should feel the same as him. He should understand, and yet he remained stubborn like a horse that hadn’t yet been broken. Running out of patience, Shadow shoved Gray’s jeans and underwear down so rapidly the button snapped off and hit him in the stomach. But when instead of the hole he’d expected, Shadow saw a cock and balls between Gray’s legs, he stilled with a sense of confusion burning through his brain.
This wasn’t right. In the red room, one of the humans had a cock, the other an opening designed to accept penetration. Granted, there were also breasts in that picture—and Gray didn’t have those—but Shadow’s knowledge of human bodies was filled with blank spots. They came in all shapes and sizes, but Shadow had a cock. Where was he to put it to connect with Gray?
He looked up when Gray’s chest expanded rapidly and his muscles flexed, just in time to spot the narrowed eyes rushing toward his face, yet not soon enough to anticipate what was to happen. Gray’s forehead smashed against his like a hammer held by an arm the size of Gray’s entire body.
Red color exploded under Shadow’s eyelids, creating a thudding echo in his head. The buzzing in his ears was a physical discomfort, enforced by the sudden worry that his human skull had somehow cracked and was about to leak fluids onto Gray’s bed.
Blinded by the searing pain, Shadow was too preoccupied to pay attention to the periphery of his vision, but Gray slid off the bed and rolled to the floor like an animal about to strike again.
“Why?” Shadow whined, grabbing his head, but there were no answers coming.
A blade swished through the air when Gray faced him again, followed by a sting that turned into agony when Shadow saw black blood seeping from a wide cut across his chest.
He screamed in panic and jumped to his feet, desperate to close to wound with his hands, but the hot drizzle kept covering his fingers. “It hurts! It hurts!”
With the knife in hand, Gray appeared composed again despite loose strands of silver hair creating a messy halo around his head. “Yeah? Guess what else hurts, you motherfucking animal?” he whispered before charging at Shadow like a wolf about to bite through Shadow’s neck.
Paralyzed by fear, Shadow curled his shoulders to cover his torso, but Gray’s hard fist smashed into his face instead.
Shadow’s teeth throbbed as if they’d been struck by lightning, and a sour, odd flavor exploded in Shadow’s mouth like a physical manifestation of violence. He yelped and crouched by the wall, hugging himself with all four arms. "I just wanted to be close," he whined, starting to shake when his vision darkened and hot liquid spilled down his cheeks. "I'm bleeding from my eyes! Help me…”
Something clicked, and the dark hole in the muzzle of the gun in Gray’s hands captured the entirety of Shadow’s focus. Gray’s hand was still, and so were his legs, but there was a tremble to his voice—barely there yet noticeable.
“I don’t want you anywhere near me. If you try this again, I will kill you, even if it dooms my brothers, so keep the fuck away from me,” he said, searing Shadow’s flesh with cold eyes.
Pain was like a living being crawling under Shadow's skin where he bled. How could Gray not share Shadow’s feelings when they were meant to be one? Maybe it was Gray who wasn’t human at all.
Shadow sniffed and rubbed the black, watery tears off his face.
“I’m in pain. Help me,” he whimpered again.
“Why? You didn’t help me when I told you to stop. You can bleed to death for all I care,” Gray declared, but he lowered the gun.
The accusation was yet another punch—so hurtful Shadow might never recover from its blow.
“I would never hurt you!” Desperate to stop the large wound from bleeding, Shadow squeezed it shut with his fingers, but that only made it hurt more, and left him sobbing. So maybe he wasn’t obedient, but he hadn’t meant to hurt Gray, only to hold him close. To reconnect with his other half. Even now, with his skin slashed open, hurting and rejected, attacking Gray wasn’t an option. The concept felt like planning to cut his own hand off.
“You already did. You have no right to touch me, or anyone, without permission. Am I making myself clear, or should I put an end to your pathetic existence here and now?” Gray spat.
Shadow’s sweatpants were still down, so when he sat on the floor, its cold touch made him wince. Was this misery really how humans lived? Were some of them simply not allowed to ever touch another person, banished to the hell of rejection forever? “No, don’t hurt me.” He dared to look up at Gray, who was still pointing a gun at him, as if he expected a vicious attack.
Gray’s mouth twitched, and his arm faltered, as if the weight of the gun could no longer be supported by just one hand. “What have you learned today?”
Shadow whined, finding it so hard to focus with the open wound prickling with pain every time he inhaled. “Not to touch you. Or anyone,” he whispered, but saying that out loud was like yet more torture. Being with Gray was the purpose of his existence. How was he supposed to deny himself what was at the core of his nature?
Gray swallowed and finally lowered the gun with yet another click. “Get up,” he said and walked past Shadow, straight into a small space adjacent to the bedroom.
It was simple in design, though it contained a large tub and a collection of bottles on shelves. When Gray ordered Shadow to take off his pants and sit in the tub, he did so despite the throbbing pain that at this point overcame his entire body, even the places where he hadn’t been hit.
“Will this ever stop hurting?” Shadow asked, pointing to his torso. Still, he would have taken a thousand slashes like this if it meant a chance to touch Gray again.
Gray picked up the showerhead from an attachment on the wall and directed it at Shadow, as if it were yet another weapon. His face was still, like a statue’s, with only the lips moving when he spoke. “If I hear one more word from you, I will lock you up underground.”
Shadow opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Gray wasn’t joking. He knew no mercy when angered. He was cold, unfeeling, and cruel to the one person who lived to please him.
When icy water splashed Shadow’s face, he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But Gray’s threat was terrifying, so he bit through his lip, desperate to remain still under the cold stream that extinguished the fire in his loins. Even when his skin was going numb, he stayed silent, defeated.
The water torture seemed to last for ages, until the biting needles stopped bringing pain and transformed into a steady discomfort. In the end though, Gray tossed Shadow a towel and exited the bathroom, leaving him alone with his pathetic reflection in the mirror.
When Shadow looked intensely enough, he could almost see the darkness of the Other Side looming beyond the surface, but he was stuck here, in a world of loneliness and suffering. Why had Baal chosen him for this miserable short life? If only Shadow could melt back in with the others and forget all this humanity nonsense, existing would have been much easier.
“Come in,” Gray said from the bedroom. He didn’t sound as scornful as before, which lit up the tiniest flicker of hope in Shadow. He covered his shoulders and upper back with the damp towel, to protect himself from the cool air, but his teeth still clattered when he entered the main room.
Gray watched him from above a white box and called him over with a gesture. “Let’s take care of that wound. I don’t want you bleeding that goo all over my floor.”
Shadow didn’t dare object, and approached Gray, making sure to not cross the couple of inches of space between their bodies, no matter how much he craved the warm touch. Did humans deny themselves everything pleasant, or was it just Gray?
Avoiding his gaze, Gray dried Shadow’s wound with a paper towel and then applied something to the open flesh, keeping skin-on-skin contact to a bare minimum. It stung a bit, but the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the pain Shadow had experienced earlier, so he carefully listened when Gray explained what he should avoid until the skin healed.
He would do his best to follow Gray’s rules from now on, because alternatives inevitably ended with horrible suffering. So he nodded, and licked his aching lips, afraid to make a sound even when the treatment hurt him.
Gray seemed to appreciate his silence, and his handsome mouth stopped showering Shadow with mean words, which would have been a step in a good direction if it wasn’t for the fact that without talking they barely connected. Shadow couldn’t read Gray’s thoughts, and with the ban on talking, Shadow wasn’t able to communicate the depth of his feelings. Silence was a wall Shadow resented already.
During Shadow’s time alone in the bathroom, Gray had prepared a nest of sorts for him, and even though it was far away from Gray’s bed, Shadow’s spirits were lifted when he realized he’d lie next to a radiator.
The comforter offered to him was soft and warmed up quickly when Gray handed Shadow a hot rubber container wrapped in fabric. Had there been a different start to this gesture, he would have seen it as caring, but that wasn’t the case, because Gray didn’t want to know how much Shadow was hurting, how there was a lump on his head, or how his hair was wetting the pillow.
Shadow couldn’t help but feel even more rejected when Gray chained him to the radiator with a pair of cuffs, but he no longer had much hope for the miserable two months awaiting him here. He couldn’t wait to be back with the others, on the Other Side, away from the pain of being unwanted.
Without paying Shadow any attention, Gray was getting ready for bed himself, and when he disappeared in the bathroom, Shadow couldn’t help a whimper. Despite everything Gray had put him through, Shadow hated to think about Gray’s lovely warm skin being subjected to the icicle bath.
When Gray walked out, he was wearing different clothes—a disappointment, since Shadow had hoped for a glimpse of skin at least, but maybe it was for the better.
The light died and Gray slid under the covers without another word.
Shadow lay in his nest of comforters, sulking and restless, with only the hot water bottle to keep him company. He hugged it tight, imagining it was Gray resting so pliantly in his arms.
Chapter 6
Gray hadn’t gotten much sleep. His mind overflowed with thoughts of what could have happened had Shadow not gotten distracted, and his racing brain was on the constant lookout for threats. Curled up under the comforter, he’d gotten sweaty, but he refused to kick off the covers, comforted by the illusion that they were protecting him somehow. In the fragile state between reality and dream, the folds almost felt like Mike’s arms. Still, any sound, screech, rustle, was a warning sign that had his muscles tensing and his ears turning into overly sensitive receivers.
The urn containing Mike’s ashes was what helped him through the insomniac hallucinations. Made out of the peanut tank of Mike’s own motorcycle, it was as extravagant as he used to be—polished and decorated with blue flames airbrushed over a black base. And when it rested in Gray’s bed and absorbed the heat, it let him imagine Mike was there.
Shadows shifted on the wall as night moved on, and every time Gray shut his eyes, he feared he would see the large shape looming above his bed, about to pour down and choke him. So he refused to open his eyes, as if not seeing Shadow’s silhouette could somehow keep him safe. But he wouldn’t uncover his cards. Showing your opponent weakness was what put you six feet under. And Gray wasn’t ready to die yet. His biker family still needed his help.
Last night had been a bitter dish that he had to consume whole and even lick the plate. It didn’t matter how tough of a training regimen he followed, or how religiously he exercised at the hospital. Without one arm, he was in a vulnerable position, even more so when pitted against someone physically stronger and larger than him. The advantage of being prepared meant nothing when he’d lost one of his tools of trade, and it would take only days for his brothers to notice that he was no longer the capable man they could rely on when a job needed stealth and precision. Some would try to be kind, others less so, but ultimately they would all see that Gray was no longer an ace in the hand of cards that represented all the members. They would see he was a liability, at best a joker, a filler to be left on the side when the game got heated.
As his heart counted the seconds, night slowly transformed into day, and by the time light turned from purple to yellow, Gray’s eyelids finally became heavy.
A whimper woke him up after what felt like only a couple of minutes, but when Gray glanced at the clock, it showed that he’d slept until eleven. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what the sound was, but then he heard it again and looked its way. A grunt escaped his lips at the sight of the man—creature sitting by the radiator in a pile of comforters, covering his head with a blanket and staring at Gray in that needy way a dog might. While the whinging was a nuisance, at least it seemed that Gray managed to discourage Shadow from speaking.
Shadow whined again, pulling more of the blanket over his head. In the light of day, obviously in discomfort, he appeared pathetic rather than intimidating, but Gray wouldn’t underestimate his potential to do damage. All night, Gray had feared that the immaterial arms hiding somewhere inside Shadow’s body would sneak into his bed. They were there for Shadow to call upon and would remain an invisible threat.
But as much fear as they caused deep in Gray’s heart, he needed to address whatever was happening, so he sat up in bed and glared at the beast, even though seeing him first thing in the morning was the last thing Gray wanted.
“Stop whinging.”
Shadow hid his whole face under the blanket so that only some of his long black hair remained visible. Instead of shutting up though, he pointed a blanket-covered hand to the window and made a needy complaint with a high pitched noise.
So even when not talking, he’d still be a nuisance. And he looked ridiculous. Like Mike when he’d dressed up as a ghost one Halloween.
“What? You want to go outside?” Gray asked and reached for the glass of water he’d left on his bedside table. He drank all of it, just like he did every morning. Rituals were what often kept his life from falling apart, an element of stability in a world without the balance of the other half of his soul.
“No,” Shadow said tightly, holding on despite the sharp pain in his leg. His mind was on a different track at this point and wouldn’t be derailed by something so minor. He shoved Gray onto the bed and wouldn’t let him squirm away, with a hand pressed firmly between the slender shoulder-blades. It was as if his head emptied, leaving only the need for Gray’s body to suck his in.
Gray’s eyes flashed with anger, but Shadow spotted the movement of Gray’s hand just in time to stop him from using the knife he’d grabbed. With a low growl, Shadow slapped Gray’s hand so hard the blade clattered to the floor. He wouldn’t be wasting time on this game.
Gray turned under him like an eel, but Shadow was quick to grab his wrist and pin him to the bed with his body weight. The movement ended up with his cock pressing against Gray’s thigh, and bliss exploded in his brain like the brightest of fireworks.
Gray let out a choked sound, twisting his body and blindly kicking at Shadow, even though he had no chance to win this fight with just one arm. Shadow knew that all would be well once they connected, and if Gray couldn’t see that yet, then so be it, even if the erratic twitching of the wide hazel eyes staring back at him was making his insides shrink.
How could Gray not see this was what they were made for?
“Let go. This isn’t a game, you dumb fuck,” Gray said through his teeth, dragging himself up the bed with the stump. His breath was like the sound of a broken ventilator—rough and uneven, and despite the heat exuded by his body, his face lost its color, as if his blood had drained elsewhere.
"I don't care if I'm dead! I want this!" Shadow was surprised how much of a struggle it was to hold down someone so much smaller. Gray kept moving, shifting, and kicking, as if he truly didn’t understand that connecting with Shadow would make him so much happier. So Shadow was cold, and maybe touching him wasn’t all that pleasant yet, but it was Gray’s fault he was cold, and if they touched, they’d both be warmer. Hadn’t Shadow suffered enough tonight?
He finally managed to push up Gray’s T-shirt, desperate to reach the warm flesh.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Gray growled, arching away from Shadow, as if touching him were a despicable act. “Let go now!”
But Shadow ignored the threats, focused only on the searing heat radiating to his face from the uncovered flesh. Muscles were a tight bundle under Gray’s skin, hard as stones when he leaned down and licked the fresh salt off Gray’s navel.
“No! Shadow… you can’t do that! I’m serious.”
Words meant nothing when the taste on Shadow’s tongue made his insides flutter in excitement. He hadn’t even noticed when he started rocking his hips between Gray’s legs, his mind fizzling in the heat of pleasure. But he only had two hands, and if he wanted to connect his body to Gray’s, their clothes were in the way.
Shadow took a deep breath and released his two other arms, the ones that had no material form in the human body he’d been offered. With the ruby at his core, the black limbs could be as material and immaterial as he needed them to be, and right now he would use them to gain access to more of Gray’s delicious skin.
He pressed his face to Gray’s stomach and pulled his sweatpants down with the extra arms. Everything but Gray was a blur. The night around them didn’t matter, and even the red room was a distant memory when Gray’s sweetness still lingered on Shadow’s tongue.
For a glorious moment, Gray lay still, as if he’d finally opened up to Shadow, but the peace only lasted for a few heartbeats before he twisted, painfully digging his heels into Shadow’s flesh. His breath came out in rigid, swishing gasps, but despite the strain his struggle put his body under, he wouldn’t stop and even dug his nails into Shadow’s hand.
“You’ll be back in that fucking lake. I swear!”
Shadow hissed at Gray, and grabbed his hand when it slipped out of Shadow’s grip. None of this should have been so tedious in the first place. Gray should feel the same as him. He should understand, and yet he remained stubborn like a horse that hadn’t yet been broken. Running out of patience, Shadow shoved Gray’s jeans and underwear down so rapidly the button snapped off and hit him in the stomach. But when instead of the hole he’d expected, Shadow saw a cock and balls between Gray’s legs, he stilled with a sense of confusion burning through his brain.
This wasn’t right. In the red room, one of the humans had a cock, the other an opening designed to accept penetration. Granted, there were also breasts in that picture—and Gray didn’t have those—but Shadow’s knowledge of human bodies was filled with blank spots. They came in all shapes and sizes, but Shadow had a cock. Where was he to put it to connect with Gray?
He looked up when Gray’s chest expanded rapidly and his muscles flexed, just in time to spot the narrowed eyes rushing toward his face, yet not soon enough to anticipate what was to happen. Gray’s forehead smashed against his like a hammer held by an arm the size of Gray’s entire body.
Red color exploded under Shadow’s eyelids, creating a thudding echo in his head. The buzzing in his ears was a physical discomfort, enforced by the sudden worry that his human skull had somehow cracked and was about to leak fluids onto Gray’s bed.
Blinded by the searing pain, Shadow was too preoccupied to pay attention to the periphery of his vision, but Gray slid off the bed and rolled to the floor like an animal about to strike again.
“Why?” Shadow whined, grabbing his head, but there were no answers coming.
A blade swished through the air when Gray faced him again, followed by a sting that turned into agony when Shadow saw black blood seeping from a wide cut across his chest.
He screamed in panic and jumped to his feet, desperate to close to wound with his hands, but the hot drizzle kept covering his fingers. “It hurts! It hurts!”
With the knife in hand, Gray appeared composed again despite loose strands of silver hair creating a messy halo around his head. “Yeah? Guess what else hurts, you motherfucking animal?” he whispered before charging at Shadow like a wolf about to bite through Shadow’s neck.
Paralyzed by fear, Shadow curled his shoulders to cover his torso, but Gray’s hard fist smashed into his face instead.
Shadow’s teeth throbbed as if they’d been struck by lightning, and a sour, odd flavor exploded in Shadow’s mouth like a physical manifestation of violence. He yelped and crouched by the wall, hugging himself with all four arms. "I just wanted to be close," he whined, starting to shake when his vision darkened and hot liquid spilled down his cheeks. "I'm bleeding from my eyes! Help me…”
Something clicked, and the dark hole in the muzzle of the gun in Gray’s hands captured the entirety of Shadow’s focus. Gray’s hand was still, and so were his legs, but there was a tremble to his voice—barely there yet noticeable.
“I don’t want you anywhere near me. If you try this again, I will kill you, even if it dooms my brothers, so keep the fuck away from me,” he said, searing Shadow’s flesh with cold eyes.
Pain was like a living being crawling under Shadow's skin where he bled. How could Gray not share Shadow’s feelings when they were meant to be one? Maybe it was Gray who wasn’t human at all.
Shadow sniffed and rubbed the black, watery tears off his face.
“I’m in pain. Help me,” he whimpered again.
“Why? You didn’t help me when I told you to stop. You can bleed to death for all I care,” Gray declared, but he lowered the gun.
The accusation was yet another punch—so hurtful Shadow might never recover from its blow.
“I would never hurt you!” Desperate to stop the large wound from bleeding, Shadow squeezed it shut with his fingers, but that only made it hurt more, and left him sobbing. So maybe he wasn’t obedient, but he hadn’t meant to hurt Gray, only to hold him close. To reconnect with his other half. Even now, with his skin slashed open, hurting and rejected, attacking Gray wasn’t an option. The concept felt like planning to cut his own hand off.
“You already did. You have no right to touch me, or anyone, without permission. Am I making myself clear, or should I put an end to your pathetic existence here and now?” Gray spat.
Shadow’s sweatpants were still down, so when he sat on the floor, its cold touch made him wince. Was this misery really how humans lived? Were some of them simply not allowed to ever touch another person, banished to the hell of rejection forever? “No, don’t hurt me.” He dared to look up at Gray, who was still pointing a gun at him, as if he expected a vicious attack.
Gray’s mouth twitched, and his arm faltered, as if the weight of the gun could no longer be supported by just one hand. “What have you learned today?”
Shadow whined, finding it so hard to focus with the open wound prickling with pain every time he inhaled. “Not to touch you. Or anyone,” he whispered, but saying that out loud was like yet more torture. Being with Gray was the purpose of his existence. How was he supposed to deny himself what was at the core of his nature?
Gray swallowed and finally lowered the gun with yet another click. “Get up,” he said and walked past Shadow, straight into a small space adjacent to the bedroom.
It was simple in design, though it contained a large tub and a collection of bottles on shelves. When Gray ordered Shadow to take off his pants and sit in the tub, he did so despite the throbbing pain that at this point overcame his entire body, even the places where he hadn’t been hit.
“Will this ever stop hurting?” Shadow asked, pointing to his torso. Still, he would have taken a thousand slashes like this if it meant a chance to touch Gray again.
Gray picked up the showerhead from an attachment on the wall and directed it at Shadow, as if it were yet another weapon. His face was still, like a statue’s, with only the lips moving when he spoke. “If I hear one more word from you, I will lock you up underground.”
Shadow opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Gray wasn’t joking. He knew no mercy when angered. He was cold, unfeeling, and cruel to the one person who lived to please him.
When icy water splashed Shadow’s face, he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But Gray’s threat was terrifying, so he bit through his lip, desperate to remain still under the cold stream that extinguished the fire in his loins. Even when his skin was going numb, he stayed silent, defeated.
The water torture seemed to last for ages, until the biting needles stopped bringing pain and transformed into a steady discomfort. In the end though, Gray tossed Shadow a towel and exited the bathroom, leaving him alone with his pathetic reflection in the mirror.
When Shadow looked intensely enough, he could almost see the darkness of the Other Side looming beyond the surface, but he was stuck here, in a world of loneliness and suffering. Why had Baal chosen him for this miserable short life? If only Shadow could melt back in with the others and forget all this humanity nonsense, existing would have been much easier.
“Come in,” Gray said from the bedroom. He didn’t sound as scornful as before, which lit up the tiniest flicker of hope in Shadow. He covered his shoulders and upper back with the damp towel, to protect himself from the cool air, but his teeth still clattered when he entered the main room.
Gray watched him from above a white box and called him over with a gesture. “Let’s take care of that wound. I don’t want you bleeding that goo all over my floor.”
Shadow didn’t dare object, and approached Gray, making sure to not cross the couple of inches of space between their bodies, no matter how much he craved the warm touch. Did humans deny themselves everything pleasant, or was it just Gray?
Avoiding his gaze, Gray dried Shadow’s wound with a paper towel and then applied something to the open flesh, keeping skin-on-skin contact to a bare minimum. It stung a bit, but the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the pain Shadow had experienced earlier, so he carefully listened when Gray explained what he should avoid until the skin healed.
He would do his best to follow Gray’s rules from now on, because alternatives inevitably ended with horrible suffering. So he nodded, and licked his aching lips, afraid to make a sound even when the treatment hurt him.
Gray seemed to appreciate his silence, and his handsome mouth stopped showering Shadow with mean words, which would have been a step in a good direction if it wasn’t for the fact that without talking they barely connected. Shadow couldn’t read Gray’s thoughts, and with the ban on talking, Shadow wasn’t able to communicate the depth of his feelings. Silence was a wall Shadow resented already.
During Shadow’s time alone in the bathroom, Gray had prepared a nest of sorts for him, and even though it was far away from Gray’s bed, Shadow’s spirits were lifted when he realized he’d lie next to a radiator.
The comforter offered to him was soft and warmed up quickly when Gray handed Shadow a hot rubber container wrapped in fabric. Had there been a different start to this gesture, he would have seen it as caring, but that wasn’t the case, because Gray didn’t want to know how much Shadow was hurting, how there was a lump on his head, or how his hair was wetting the pillow.
Shadow couldn’t help but feel even more rejected when Gray chained him to the radiator with a pair of cuffs, but he no longer had much hope for the miserable two months awaiting him here. He couldn’t wait to be back with the others, on the Other Side, away from the pain of being unwanted.
Without paying Shadow any attention, Gray was getting ready for bed himself, and when he disappeared in the bathroom, Shadow couldn’t help a whimper. Despite everything Gray had put him through, Shadow hated to think about Gray’s lovely warm skin being subjected to the icicle bath.
When Gray walked out, he was wearing different clothes—a disappointment, since Shadow had hoped for a glimpse of skin at least, but maybe it was for the better.
The light died and Gray slid under the covers without another word.
Shadow lay in his nest of comforters, sulking and restless, with only the hot water bottle to keep him company. He hugged it tight, imagining it was Gray resting so pliantly in his arms.
Chapter 6
Gray hadn’t gotten much sleep. His mind overflowed with thoughts of what could have happened had Shadow not gotten distracted, and his racing brain was on the constant lookout for threats. Curled up under the comforter, he’d gotten sweaty, but he refused to kick off the covers, comforted by the illusion that they were protecting him somehow. In the fragile state between reality and dream, the folds almost felt like Mike’s arms. Still, any sound, screech, rustle, was a warning sign that had his muscles tensing and his ears turning into overly sensitive receivers.
The urn containing Mike’s ashes was what helped him through the insomniac hallucinations. Made out of the peanut tank of Mike’s own motorcycle, it was as extravagant as he used to be—polished and decorated with blue flames airbrushed over a black base. And when it rested in Gray’s bed and absorbed the heat, it let him imagine Mike was there.
Shadows shifted on the wall as night moved on, and every time Gray shut his eyes, he feared he would see the large shape looming above his bed, about to pour down and choke him. So he refused to open his eyes, as if not seeing Shadow’s silhouette could somehow keep him safe. But he wouldn’t uncover his cards. Showing your opponent weakness was what put you six feet under. And Gray wasn’t ready to die yet. His biker family still needed his help.
Last night had been a bitter dish that he had to consume whole and even lick the plate. It didn’t matter how tough of a training regimen he followed, or how religiously he exercised at the hospital. Without one arm, he was in a vulnerable position, even more so when pitted against someone physically stronger and larger than him. The advantage of being prepared meant nothing when he’d lost one of his tools of trade, and it would take only days for his brothers to notice that he was no longer the capable man they could rely on when a job needed stealth and precision. Some would try to be kind, others less so, but ultimately they would all see that Gray was no longer an ace in the hand of cards that represented all the members. They would see he was a liability, at best a joker, a filler to be left on the side when the game got heated.
As his heart counted the seconds, night slowly transformed into day, and by the time light turned from purple to yellow, Gray’s eyelids finally became heavy.
A whimper woke him up after what felt like only a couple of minutes, but when Gray glanced at the clock, it showed that he’d slept until eleven. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what the sound was, but then he heard it again and looked its way. A grunt escaped his lips at the sight of the man—creature sitting by the radiator in a pile of comforters, covering his head with a blanket and staring at Gray in that needy way a dog might. While the whinging was a nuisance, at least it seemed that Gray managed to discourage Shadow from speaking.
Shadow whined again, pulling more of the blanket over his head. In the light of day, obviously in discomfort, he appeared pathetic rather than intimidating, but Gray wouldn’t underestimate his potential to do damage. All night, Gray had feared that the immaterial arms hiding somewhere inside Shadow’s body would sneak into his bed. They were there for Shadow to call upon and would remain an invisible threat.
But as much fear as they caused deep in Gray’s heart, he needed to address whatever was happening, so he sat up in bed and glared at the beast, even though seeing him first thing in the morning was the last thing Gray wanted.
“Stop whinging.”
Shadow hid his whole face under the blanket so that only some of his long black hair remained visible. Instead of shutting up though, he pointed a blanket-covered hand to the window and made a needy complaint with a high pitched noise.
So even when not talking, he’d still be a nuisance. And he looked ridiculous. Like Mike when he’d dressed up as a ghost one Halloween.
“What? You want to go outside?” Gray asked and reached for the glass of water he’d left on his bedside table. He drank all of it, just like he did every morning. Rituals were what often kept his life from falling apart, an element of stability in a world without the balance of the other half of his soul.
