On Your Knees Prospect Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Jake

  Chapter 2 - Vars

  Chapter 3 - Jake

  Chapter 4 - Vars

  Chapter 5 - Vars

  Chapter 6 - Vars

  Chapter 7 - Jake

  Chapter 8 - Vars

  Chapter 9 - Jake

  Chapter 10 - Vars

  Chapter 11 - Jake

  Chapter 12 - Vars

  Chapter 13 - Jake

  Chapter 14 - Vars

  Chapter 15 - Jake

  Chapter 16 - Jake

  Chapter 17 - Vars

  Chapter 18 - Vars

  Chapter 19 - Vars

  Chapter 20 - Jake

  Chapter 21 - Jake

  Chapter 22 - Vars

  Chapter 23 - Jake

  Chapter 24 - Vars

  Chapter 25 - Vars

  Chapter 26 - Vars

  Chapter 27 - Jake

  Chapter 28 - Jake

  Epilogue - Vars

  On Your Knees, Prospect

  Kings of Hell MC #3

  K.A. Merikan

  Acerbi & Villani Ltd.

  On Your Knees, Prospect

  K.A. Merikan

  — There is freedom in blacking boots for the right man.—

  Jake. Kings of Hell MC Prospect. Obedient. Desperate for approval.

  Vars. Dominant. Stern. Undead.

  Jake is itching to become a patched member of the Kings of Hell MC.

  For two years he's toiled as the only prospect. So when a new guy swans in and thinks he'll get a patch in no time just because he's got friends in high places, Jake is there to stand in his way.

  Only that the guy is older, more experienced, drives a Harley, and has the kind of boots Jake craves to lick.

  But he won't.

  Because he only fucks patches.

  Vars is ready to find a new home in the Kings of Hell MC after a messy relationship led him straight to hell. In comparison, the pretty, blue-eyed prospect could be just the pleasant rebound he needs.

  The boy is a brat, but that could be amended with a firm hand and a gag.

  If only Jake was ready to admit to his submissive needs, Vars would gladly take him under his wing.

  That is, until he finds out something inhuman resides inside of Jake.

  Vars didn’t cheat death only to call out to it again.

  But stuck together in one room, keeping each other’s secrets, they might just have to become allies, no matter how unwilling. Because if there is something Vars can’t resist, it’s a boy with pleading eyes.

  *

  “You are mine now, boy. This room is soundproof. No one will hear you scream.”

  “Yes, sir. My body is yours.”

  *

  POSSIBLE SPOILERS:

  Themes: motorcycle club, alternative lifestyles, demons, monster, tattoos, secrets, crime, self-discovery, gothic, fresh start, submission, stalking, PTSD, May/December, self-acceptance, enemies to lovers, Daddy/boy, body horror

  Genre: Dark, paranormal M/M romance

  Erotic content: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes, BDSM

  Length: ~130,000 words (Book 3 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 © 2017 K.A. Merikan

  All Rights Reserved

  http://kamerikan.com

  Cover design by

  Natasha Snow

  http://natashasnow.com/

  Table of contents

  Prologue- Jake

  Chapter 1 - Jake

  Chapter 2 - Vars

  Chapter 3 - Jake

  Chapter 4 - Vars

  Chapter 5 - Vars

  Chapter 6 - Vars

  Chapter 7 - Jake

  Chapter 8 - Vars

  Chapter 9 - Jake

  Chapter 10 - Vars

  Chapter 11 - Jake

  Chapter 12 - Vars

  Chapter 13 - Jake

  Chapter 14 - Vars

  Chapter 15 - Jake

  Chapter 16 - Jake

  Chapter 17 - Vars

  Chapter 18 - Vars

  Chapter 19 - Vars

  Chapter 20 - Jake

  Chapter 21 - Jake

  Chapter 22 - Vars

  Chapter 23 - Jake

  Chapter 24 - Vars

  Chapter 25 - Vars

  Chapter 26 - Vars

  Chapter 27 - Jake

  Chapter 28 - Jake

  Epilogue - Vars

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  About the author

  Other books by K.A. Merikan

  Bonus Scene - Laurent

  Prologue- Jake

  The secret passage to the cellar blew into Jake’s face with air that smelled like the innards of a dragon—stale yet with a hint of smokiness left behind by the roasted meat. For several seconds, he stared into the nothingness below before switching on the flashlight and revealing the staircase hidden behind the wooden panels.

  Jake couldn’t wait to find Elliot. Not because he cared much for the guy, but because it would please Knight so very much. Knight would recognize just how useful Jake was, how dedicated, and Jake would quickly be back to serving Knight in other ways than shoe shining or polishing Knight’s bike.

  Though familiar with the morbid history of their clubhouse—and the cellar in particular—he’d never felt it was his place to invade the rooms where so many innocent people had perished at the hands of that madman William Fane, one of the original owners of the property. To be perfectly honest, the idea of going down there still creeped him out, but he wasn’t a baby (he was of legal drinking age since March!), and for the sake of Knight and the club, he would prove that Elliot didn’t deserve their trust.

  The glow of the flashlight led him downstairs, licking the old stone and brick as it descended to the floor below.

  The early morning hours were usually quite peaceful here in the clubhouse once everyone got tired of partying. Away from town, in the woods, nothing could disturb the peace, but there was something creepy about the complete stillness in the cellar. The sounds of Jake’s footsteps and breathing were the only ones around, as if they existed in a vacuum so intense the silence transformed into a quiet ringing in his ears.

  If a drop of sweat dripped from his body to the floor, it would have probably made a noise loud enough to create an echo.

  And he was sweating quite heavily despite the cool dampness of the air.

  In which room had William Fane tortured his victims?

  Jake’s hand moved across the ancient-looking wooden entrance to his left, but when he tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge.

  That wasn’t where the weird smells were coming from though, and Jake directed his attention at the crumbled wall farther down the corridor. Reddish dust clung to the moist walls, and the crushed pieces of brick piled on either side of the entrance betrayed its origin. A hammer and chisel rested on the floor, a testament to their user’s conviction that no one would come down to this creepy place and disturb them at work. For a moment it angered Jake that it could have been Elliot who damaged club property, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what a ridiculous idea that was. Elliot could have hardly carried a hammer this big, much less used it.

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hid
ing in the labyrinth of rooms down here.

  Ignoring the unpleasant twist in his stomach, Jake rushed through the tear in the wall, because he wouldn’t let childish fears keep him away from things that needed to be done. Several doors stared at him with their uninviting rot, each surely hiding a darkness thicker than tar, secrets of the brutal man who’d murdered several dozen young men in those very corridors.

  Jake had come here to make the patches proud, to make them see he was worthy of becoming one of them. Still, his voice came out an octave higher than he’d have wished it to.

  “I know you’re in here”—he said even though he could as well have been talking to dust and old walls—”Come out. Let’s talk things through. You know, like civilized people.”

  In the black void around him, something scraped against stone. It was a brief, silent noise, like that of a shoe gently moving against a damp floor, but in the near-perfect silence it echoed louder than a scream.

  Jake’s heart picked up the pace of its march, and he dove into the room to his right, intent on finding the source of the sound. It could have been mice, but Jake wouldn’t take any chances.

  Stepping inside, he raised his flashlight to see the entire chamber and recoiled so rapidly he stumbled over the threshold. Three pairs of empty eye sockets stared back at him from naked skulls. Two of them—one perched atop a barrel and one part of an entire skeleton locked inside a dog cage—contrasted with the gentile decor and the way the third corpse calmly reclined in a chair clad in what was remaining of an old-fashioned gown.

  With blood rushing to his head, Jake stared at the scene in complete silence, half-expecting one of the dead bodies to raise their hand in greeting. But nothing happened.

  It took Jake minutes to unglue his back from the wall and breathe normally again. Goose bumps crawled all over his arms even under his hoodie. When he finally moved across the dust-filled room, the floor whined under him as if it didn’t welcome his presence.

  Well, tough shit, because he was sure that creeper Elliot was hiding somewhere in the spooky corridors, and Jake would be the one to catch him red-handed.

  The entrance to the old cellar was concealed behind a moving wooden panel on the wall, so maybe there were more passages none of the patched knew of? Jake rushed over to the wall in clouds of dust coming off the carpet, and he placed his hands against the textured wallpaper that peeled off the damp walls. He had the distinct sense of being watched, as if the seated corpse followed his every step with her empty eye sockets.

  He’d dealt with dead bodies before, but he was still not exactly used to them. Realizing that we were all sacks of meat moved by brains had never sat all that well with Jake, and yet after the first death he’d witnessed, a certain understanding settled in him. No one was invincible, no one was immortal. Even the strongest man could (and would) end up in the dirt one day. Even him.

  As Jake’s fingers traced the wallpaper, another creak from the floor made him pay more attention to movement in the dark. Could it have been a rat? A cockroach? Step by step, he illuminated each corner with the flashlight. Whenever he shifted, shadows lengthened in the yellow glow, creating the illusion of movement. If anything, the beam made the space creepier, exactly the kind of place a guy like Elliot would love. Why an amazing man like Knight gave that guy the time of day remained a mystery, because Elliot hadn’t earned someone so handsome and kind.

  No, Knight deserved to be cherished and doted on.

  Jake scowled when the thick fabric sank under his feet with a damp sound, as if he were stepping on moss, but a small irregularity under his foot made Jake stop. Ignoring the three skeletons watching him in silence, he moved his boot over whatever was underneath the carpet. The thing was hard to the touch and shaped like a long and narrow piece of metal or rock.

  Jake kicked it, but it didn’t budge.

  He already had an idea what it could be though, and pride swelled in his chest that others, including Knight, had missed what he’d found after just minutes down here. It could only be a hinge. A hinge meant a door, and a door meant a room where Elliot could be staying without permission.

  Jake sneered at the thought of anyone willingly living in a dark, damp cellar, right under a room with three corpses. But Elliot was a weirdo, and a fan of a serial killer, for fuck’s sake! It would surely not be beneath him to shiver with glee at what normal people would run away from screaming.

  Jake shoved away the armchair along with the long-dead lady, and peeled the carpet off the floor as if it were a layer of skin, attached to it with years of dust and mold.

  And there it was. A trapdoor.

  Despite the grim surroundings, Jake grinned. “You’re not hiding from me, you fucker.”

  The wooden door was large enough for two or even three men to easily pass through side-by-side, and Jake had to strain his back when pulling it up by the heavy iron handle, but he wouldn’t be defeated by rusty hinges.

  With a grunt of relief when the door finally budged, he opened it, leaning the heavy slab of wood and iron against the wall. A damp, vinegary stench blew into his face from below, but he grabbed the flashlight and shone into the hidden room. A dull grunt left his lips when the yellow beam hit a huge padlock that kept a metal grate in place just below the trapdoor. Not Elliot’s lair then.

  Jake flashed more light into the hidden chamber, just to be on the safe side, but what he found was a well-like space with stone walls, empty save for yet another skeleton lying naked on its side. A shudder went through Jake’s body. He’d found yet another of William Fane’s torture chambers, or a holding cell where a lone man died of hunger and thirst once his deviant captor had been killed. There was no point in wrecking the padlock.

  Jake was about to pull back and shut the trapdoor when movement drew his attention back to the walls that must have been part of a natural cave under the house when this cellar was first built. The glow from his flashlight drew a line along the edge of the room, but when he focused on the skeleton again, twin red spots reflected the illumination back at Jake. He startled so abruptly he had to grab the heavy trapdoor for stability as his windpipe narrowed in fright. It was a pair of eyes. Small like two beads, watching him from below, they hypnotized him to stare at the tiny creature hiding in the confines of the corpse’s rib cage.

  Jake raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Seriously, rat? There’s nothing left on those bones for you.”

  But the rodent crawled along the spine, all the way into the skull, eventually exiting through the skeleton’s open jaws. Its reddish gaze never looked away from Jake. It’s thin body, black as tar, seemed to pour out of the dead man’s mouth, and now that Jake saw all of the animal, he was coming to realize that it had wings. But how could a bat have gotten in there? How had it survived locked under the floor? Maybe it had followed him in and he hadn’t noticed it crawl into the hidden chamber?

  He rolled his eyes, because he didn’t have the heart to lock the poor thing in and let it starve. “Come on, I don’t have all day for this. Come out. Don’t make me go down there to get you.” Jake gestured with his hand, even though the bat couldn’t possibly understand him.

  Or so he thought, because once Jake put down his flashlight, the tiny thing spread its webbed wings and floated into the air. It clashed with the bars, making Jake lean back in surprise, its claws and the hooks at the tips of its wings clanking against metal in a desperate attempt to hold on.

  Jake hid his hand in the sleeve of the leather jacket he was wearing over the hoodie and extended it above the metal bars to help the little fellow. “Almost there…” he said when the bat grabbed his arm with its claws.

  Jake pulled his arm up once the creature passed through the bars, but the longer he stared at the animal, the less he understood its anatomy.

  Bats had wings attached to what was effectively their arms, and this thing looked more like a tiny, winged monkey than a rat. Once Jake stood up with it clinging to his arm, it made the ugliest hiss, showing off its
needle-like teeth.

  “Off! Go on, shoo!” Jake hissed back at it and tried to shake it off now that it was safely out of the cage.

  With the only source of light remaining on the floor, the animal was a shadow with burning red eyes. Should they be even glinting like this in the dark, with no light coming its way? The moment he made the effort to shake the thing off with all his strength, it made a dash at his face, maneuvering past Jake’s hand with a wild screech.

  Jake screamed, but the sound was cut short when his mouth suddenly filled with stone-cold flesh. The hooks on the creature’s wings dug under his jaw, causing pain so sharp his legs gave from under him, and he fell to the dusty rug. Hands grabbing at the animal, he pulled on it hard, but it was like peeling skin off his own head at this point. The thing pushed on, forcing Jake’s jaws open with its girth. He bit down hard, desperate to free his windpipe, but instead of crushing bones or drawing blood, an ache spread up his tooth, as if it were his own bone that cracked.

  He twisted on the floor, and he must have pushed at the flashlight with his foot, because the yellow glow was sent spiraling around him. The empty eyes of Fane’s victim watched him from the cage, huge, lipless grin in place.

  Desperate to free himself of the creature, Jake kept his jaws tight on the stone-like flesh, and soon enough the sharp claws released his skin, but when Jake got bold enough to breathe again through his nose, the thing crawled in deeper, poking its head at his throat as if the only place it could think of hiding in was Jake’s rib cage.

  Jake rolled to his back and grabbed the bat again, trying to squeeze and twist its flesh, only to hurt his palms on the rough hard scales.

  He could no longer breathe.

  Hot tears streaked down his face when the pressure inside made him gag, but then the skin of the creature gave, becoming soft as rotting flesh. Jake fought his disgust, biting down and desperate to kill the creature when the flaccid flesh exploded with liquid straight into his throat. Thick as tar, it flooded his windpipe and drizzled down his chin.