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  Gray’s Shadow

  Kings of Hell MC #4

  K.A. Merikan

  Acerbi & Villani Ltd.

  Gray’s Shadow

  K.A. Merikan

  —- There can be no shadow without the man to cast it. —-

  Gray. Lost his twin. Will never be complete. Works alone.

  Shadow. Monster? Human? Exists to be Gray’s one true companion.

  After losing his twin brother, Gray has devoted his life to the Kings of Hell MC. He will do anything to protect his family and that means anything.

  Even sell his own shadow to the devil.

  Following a fire that left him without one arm, Gray feels pushed to the sidelines. In order to prove to his club that he is still capable of completing dangerous tasks, he will have to team up with the strange creature from the Other Side. Tall, inhumanly strong, and menacing despite the handsome exterior, Shadow is just the tool Gray needs.

  The moment Shadow lays his eyes on Gray, he wants to crawl under Gray’s skin and make the human his.

  Gray on the other hand isn’t willing to get attached to a monster destined to do the devil’s bidding and disappear once his time is up. Rejected, Shadow has to do everything in his power to convince his human that they belong together.

  But as the clock ticks away precious minutes of Shadow’s existence, Gray will have to choose between his loyalty to the Kings of Hell MC and responsibility for the creature he brought into this world.

  *

  “Do you feel me running through your veins?”

  Gray nodded.

  *

  POSSIBLE SPOILERS:

  Themes: motorcycle club, alternative lifestyles, demons, monster, tattoos, secrets, crime, gothic, grief, mourning, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fish out of water, opposites attract, demisexuality, gentle giant

  Genre: Dark, paranormal M/M romance

  Erotic content: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes

  Length: ~150,000 words (Book 4 in the series)

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of violence, offensive language, and morally ambiguous characters.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

  Text copyright © 2018 K.A. Merikan

  All Rights Reserved

  http://kamerikan.com

  Editing by No Stone Unturned

  https://www.facebook.com/NoStoneUnturnedEditingServices/

  Cover design by

  Natasha Snow

  http://natashasnow.com/

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  PATREON

  About the author

  Other books by K.A. Merikan

  Post-Credits Scene

  Chapter 1

  An insistent, high-pitched voice called for Gray over and over, but he refused to answer, his flesh and bones so heavy he could barely lift a finger. His mind was a swamp that kept dragging him beneath the surface, away from the monotone voice and the world where he’d have to pry his eyes open. His lids and mouth weighed tons, so he stayed under, floating in and out of awareness until the call became so loud he could no longer stand it.

  When he first opened his eyes, the world appeared in a green-gray blur, but he kept blinking until the mist cleared. He spotted something round, with several legs extending from it in a circle. It stayed still, like a huge white spider about to jump down onto his face. He wasn’t exactly afraid, just confused by the constant sound coming from so close. He couldn’t move at first, as if there were harpoons lodged in his muscles, but as moments passed, he finally forced his head to roll over the pillow, and faced the machine that called out for Gray in the rhythm of his own heartbeat.

  Everything fell into place, and the objects he couldn’t quite recognize before gained meaning and purpose. The fan above his bed was still, as it wasn’t too hot yet.

  How long had he been here?

  Memories flooded him in waves, always drifting away before he could make sense of them. He looked to his side only to be struck by what he already knew was his reality.

  He’d lost an arm.

  A part of the sigil that had been burned into his skin was visible from under the bandage as if to remind him that he’d made a pact with the demon who resided in their clubhouse. But what had the creature wanted in return for Jake’s life?

  One thing he was sure of—it involved the next new moon. He was to do something then, just like Knight had since making a pact of his own.

  But what was it that Baal wanted from Gray? He’d been delirious with pain when the demon appeared before him, spilling out of a small mirror on the wall of the ambulance like animated tar. His shape had filled the whole space, surrounding Gray with opaque blackness. He could still hear the screech of the monster’s horns against metal, but what had he agreed to that night? He couldn’t remember.

  The heart rate monitor beeped faster, and its panicked pitch finally pushed Gray into action. Dragging his upper body off the bed, he grabbed the side rail and reached out for the button, but instead of his other arm, a bandaged stump came into view, and he recoiled, breathing faster when the heart monitor changed its tune accordingly, as if in warning. Nausea grabbed at Gray’s throat, but he leaned out of the bed as far as he could and tapped the red button, switching off the sound. Only then did he roll back and let himself rest in the dark room lit only by the greenish glow of the monitor and a distant streetlamp outside his window.

  At least his body did, because the beacons in his mind flared up with anxiety. Mr. Magpie had suggested Gray was the only one to be trusted with the important job of stealing the Pigeon Heart, a ruby that supposedly held the key to the safety of their world. Instead, Gray had entered an agreement with the very being the world needed saving from. What had he done?

  Gray had been picked because of his agility, stealth, and ability to work under pressure, but how was he to deal with the difficulties of a heist so high-profile if he was newly missing an important tool of the trade—his left arm? Had Magpie given up on him and offered the job to someone else? If one of his biker brothers was asked, was he fine?

  Frantic, Gray looked around to find his phone, but it was nowhere to be seen, and his anxiety was growing by the second.

  He couldn’t wait until morning to find out. What if the new moon was tonight, and he only had hours left to complete his task?

  Gray dragged himself up again, but had to take a few seconds to fight the dizziness rolling through his skull like water stirred in a pot. At least he was alive. At least he’d managed to save Jake. But how much worth would he
have to the club now, when he’d always been the man going where no one else dared and dealing with threats that required peak physical fitness?

  Gray stared at his knees, breathing hard to gather his thoughts, but the place where he should have an arm loomed in the corner of his eye. He repeatedly glanced its way hoping it was only a trick of light, but the limb was stubbornly missing.

  With an unpleasant sensation in his chest, Gray slowly disconnected the machine from his torso, then proceeded to get rid of the IV, and all the other things that had kept his body in working order throughout… God knew how long. The catheter was the worst bit, and he ended up unsuccessful, silently cursing all the gods he didn’t believe in. He sat through the intense pain in his dick and lower stomach, but once it receded, it was time to move. With the goddamn thing still in if necessary.

  Once free, Gray found the lock of the side rail and slid it back, carefully shifting his legs off the mattress until the tips of his toes brushed the floor.

  He stood on trembly legs, shocked by how weak he felt, but his first steps still took him to the window, and he was relieved to see that it was not the night of the new moon. Breathless, he let himself lean against the cold glass that relieved the feverish haze, and watched a lone car move down the street.

  The hospital was on the outskirts of Brecon, and when he looked toward town, spotting very few lit windows, it became clear that it was past midnight. This, at least, explained the deathly silence.

  Gray made his way toward the door until his shadow climbed up the wall—elongated, and so dark something about its almost physical presence triggered a bleep in his mind.

  But when he stopped moving, the shadow did as well. There was nothing unusual about it. Maybe his brain was still not at its best after the shock his body went through following the fire.

  He opened the door and left the small room, standing still in the dark, empty corridor. There were lamps lit on either end of it, but the distance seemed impossibly far, like a mirage in the desert that a man could follow for hours without ever getting closer to the lifesaving water. Gray rested some of his weight on the wall and moved. With his head down, he watched the resin tiles under his bare feet, counting distance. Inch after inch, he neared the bright lamp, his one reason to drag his lead-brick feet along.

  A whisper of music beckoned him beyond the glow above his head, and the closer he was, the more clearly he recognized the sound of an overrated pop number that he detested. There was no doubt about it—he was still in the human world.

  For the briefest moment, his confused brain told him someone whispered from behind his back, but when he flinched and glanced over his shoulder, no one was hiding in the shadows.

  By the time he reached the room where two nurses listened to music over a late-night dinner of sandwiches, he was panting and sweaty as if he’d ran five miles. His heart raced, dizziness made him lean against the doorframe, but he had to know what was going on with the Kings of Hell. Had someone else been hurt in the fire?

  For a moment, he wasn’t sure why the two women looked so spooked when they finally spotted him, but he calmed down and let one of them lead him back to his room once they promised to call his father.

  A doctor came over to see him next, and once she had gone, one of the nurses switched on the television to entertain Gray, but the rerun of some dumb family-friendly sitcom didn’t make the passing of time any easier.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched his own shadow stir every time the brightness of the television screen changed ever-so slightly. The thing had been following him all his life, yet for once he found its presence unsettling, as if it could listen to Gray’s thoughts and watch him like a hidden camera. Was it… darker than it should have been, or was it the sigil carved into Gray’s skin that made everything appear a bit strange and alien?

  The wait felt like hours, even though he’d only managed to get to episode two of the show when the stomping in the corridor outside told him his father was coming.

  Rev was a hulking presence in the doorway, his bald head reflecting the light overhead, wide chest heaving as he caught his breath after rushing down the corridor. There was a spot of white paint where his black T-shirt stretched over a rounded belly, but he seemed put-together enough that he couldn’t have been sleeping when he got the call.

  Gray tried to wave, but the hand he felt rise and move wasn’t there. He tried to ignore the twist in his gut and spoke. “How long was I out?”

  Rev smiled widely and walked up to him with arms stretched out as if he wanted to give Gray a hug, but then took a glance at the side where the stump was and instead pulled up a chair and patted Gray’s leg with unusual gentleness.

  “It’s been two weeks. You don’t remember? You’ve opened your eyes before. I was told you just needed rest. Are you in pain?”

  Gray glanced at the bandaged stump and the sigil burned into the skin above. He didn’t know what to say. “It’s… no, not really. Feels like I could just curl my other hand into a fist,” he said, but only one set of fingers followed his thought.

  “Do you need anything? I’ll get you books and DVDs and shit. There’s no point for you to come back when the clubhouse is such a mess. Your place was spared, but the whole lounge area and a few other rooms are fucked. Thank fuck that the structure itself is so solid. We had it reinforced while you were here.”

  Gray exhaled and rubbed his face, once again shocked when he felt the touch of just one palm. He could still feel his other hand. Why wasn’t it there? Why was there this weird ache mid-way down his left arm? He knew in theory, but a part of him didn’t want to accept this reality. “Is everyone all right?”

  “For the most part. A few people got burned, had bones broken, but no one died. They’re all back on their feet in one way or another. Your injuries were the worst. I…” Rev slouched. “I’m sorry. I did everything I could, but saving your arm was impossible. We’d have both burned to a crisp if it wasn’t for Jake.”

  Gray sucked in air, suddenly lightheaded. “Did the pact work? Could he turn back? Everything is so fucking blurry.”

  Rev nodded but he wouldn’t look at Gray. “It did. He’s in charge of the thing. Even managed to turn a few times since then to help with clearing the rubble. It’s… strange, but that’s what our life is now.”

  Gray swallowed hard, for a moment settling his gaze on the television set. “Did I… say something? I know I need to be home for the new moon. But what did he actually want from me?”

  Rev straightened up, but instead of focusing on Gray’s face, he focused on something over his shoulder. “You said you traded your shadow. But it’s still there. Maybe he can only take it on the new moon. Or maybe you weren’t yourself back then. Fuck knows.”

  It was as if all vitality drained out of Gray. With his heart sinking deeper into his chest, he peeked beyond the bed, at the dark shape on the wall that reflected his own position. He had many questions, but he knew his father couldn’t answer them, and there was no point in worrying him. He was likely scared shitless of losing his only remaining child and didn’t need any more anguish.

  “Oh, right. It’s not like I need it.”

  Rev smiled, but his wrinkled forehead was still marred with worry. “My thoughts exactly. If that was the price to pay, you’ve done very well. I… I’m proud of you, Gabriel. You saved Jake’s life.”

  Gray nodded, but the odd anticipation deep inside made him restless. “Yeah, well, there’s other things to be done, and I’m in no shape to deal with the kind of shit that happens when I’m on the job. What about that ruby Magpie wanted?”

  “The Pigeon Heart? We had an opportunity, but that window has closed, and now we’re back to square one. We have to be ready and on call for whenever Magpie gets intel. Don’t worry about it. You’ve done more than enough.”

  The coddling made Gray flare up with sudden anger. Rev had never been this easy on him. Was it the arm? The hospital setting? Would he now be treated as if he were ma
de of glass? If he’d survived the agony of finding out his twin brother was dead, he could survive losing an arm.

  But he said nothing.

  Chapter 2

  So many times Gray had thought to himself that he would have given an arm to get Mike back, that it would have hurt less than living without him. Nothing had changed about his convictions now that the pain of losing a limb had become reality.

  He couldn’t save his twin brother, but he did save a friend. What was an arm in comparison to the smile Jake showed him every time he visited Grayin the two weeks following his awakening?

  He didn’t want to stay in the hospital for so long, but his brothers practically forced him to, and while he understood they meant well, the sense of being a burden nagged at the back of Gray’s mind.

  Once he regained consciousness, Gray got stronger fast. Unwilling to lie still all day, he came up with an exercise regimen that he followed every few hours. When no one could see, hospital items and books became weights and props, and two weeks on, he was itching to finally return home. Rev had brought him his cut, and being able to touch the soft leather, the familiar patches made him feel more like himself. No one knew, but he and Mike had swapped their vests at some point, and while Gray had Mike’s, his own became one with Mike’s body during the cremation.

  Sometimes, Gray wondered if he shouldn’t have burned instead.

  The lost arm was only a memory that he intended to soon let go of, happy that despite the occasional discomfort in the stump, there wasn’t much pain to speak of, to the point where he still kept being surprised his arm was gone.

  He would get over it. He would.

  The worst thing wasn’t getting used to doing things without all ten fingers, but that he kept forgetting about not having half of them. Every now and then he’d try to open a door with the arm that wasn’t there or press the light switch with the long-gone hand, and then, for the briefest moment, he would mourn the loss.