Page 13 of Demented

Lazarus couldn’t begin to guess who sent the message. All he knew was he couldn’t do this anymore. Lazarus couldn’t keep telling himself he had never really known Noir. He knew him. They knew each other. Lazarus had always recognized the crazy in Noir’s eyes. It had been like looking in a mirror. Likely, they were the only two people on the planet who understood them. Lazarus would be goddamned if some young buck swooped in and took his place. The more he thought about things, the more furious he became. Noir had a lot of fucking nerve. He had told Lazarus he loved him, yet he was out with someone else. Noir should damn well know Lazarus could never leave him. Lazarus was angry, but he would never completely walk away. He couldn’t. Noir was an addiction. He focused on the image again and let the rage build. The anger fed him. Noir looked broken. How dare he?

Lazarus shoved the phone back inside his pocket. He tore from the parking lot. Lazarus didn’t need to call around to find Noir. He had stolen Noir’s phone and shared the guy’s location with himself a long time ago. Lazarus would never let him get away. It took him less than ten minutes to tear into the parking lot of an exclusive bar. There wasn’t a car in the lot under a hundred thousand. He barely had his bike parked before he was headed for the door. The doormen exchanged a glance at Lazarus’ aggressive approach. It was obvious they had never dealt with anyone like him.

Lazarus ripped open the door.

“Sir, this is a members-only establishment.”

“And we have a dress code,” the second guy added—like it mattered since he didn’t have a membership.

All eyes turned his way as Lazarus stormed inside. The music didn’t exactly screech to a halt, but literally everyone froze at the sight of him. Even though Lazarus wore leather boots and pants along with a sleeveless shirt, he didn’t for one second think that was why he had stunned the crowd into silence. Lazarus felt murderous. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he looked. Yet the two pesky doormen still kept trying to shoo him out. There were some vague threats about the police. Lazarus didn’t truly hear a word. His full focus was on Noir. Like everyone, Noir’s gaze was locked on him. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t look afraid.

Lazarus pushed a doorman aside and ate up the distance between Noir and him. Noir didn’t flinch or run. Lazarus grabbed two handfuls of Noir’s shirt and hauled him forward. He went nose to nose with him, ensuring Noir saw the truth in his eyes.

“You’re mine.” His mouth slammed down on Noir’s so hard, he tasted blood. He devoured Noir, taking the kiss he was owed.

“Can he do that? Can someone just kiss a prince?”

The whispered words were the first to penetrate his rage.

Noir chuckled against his lips. His arms encircled Lazarus’ neck.

Lazarus pulled away and pressed his forehead against Noir’s, holding his stare. “I see you. None of these fucking people see you. I do. You are real to me. How dare you come here with someone else?”

Noir kissed him, killing the last of Lazarus’ rage.

“Sir, for the last time, we seriously have to ask you to leave.”

Noir pulled away and leveled a cold stare at the doorman. “Are you seriously accosting my guest right now?”

The guy floundered like a fish. His mouth opened and closed several times before finally finding his voice. “Of course not, Prince Noir. It’s just—”

At the man’s audacity to approach Noir, Noir’s guards closed ranks, blocking anyone’s access to get close enough to speak. They turned their backs on Lazarus and Noir, hiding them from sight and keeping them safe. Giving them privacy.

Noir stroked Lazarus’ face and chest. “I can’t believe you’re here. You shut me out. I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He stole a sweet kiss. “I’m so goddamn sorry, Lazarus.”

Lazarus covered Noir’s mouth with his, cutting off that nonsense. He held Noir’s face gently between his hands, treasuring him. “Stop. I love you. Please stop.”

Noir held his stare, looking shocked. “What?”

“You heard me. Let’s go. We have shit to talk about.” He didn’t wait for Noir to agree. Lazarus stooped, grabbed Noir, and tossed him over his shoulder.

“Did he just toss a prince over his shoulder? No way this is happening right now.”

Noir pressed his face against Lazarus’ back and laughed.

Lazarus couldn’t stop smiling on the way to the door. Like a well-oiled machine, Noir’s royal guard stayed tight knit around them, all the way out the door. Lazarus never looked to see what became of the boy trying to take his place. That guy didn’t matter. No one did. Noir belonged to Lazarus. It was time Noir understood it.

Chapter Eight

Heath watched Noir getcarried from the club while sipping his drink. He imagined another highly sought after bachelor would soon disappear from the elite’s most eligible. It was a pity. They seemed to drop like flies lately.

“Well, that was embarrassing.”

Heath glanced over at the dryly spoken statement. He blinked. The most beautiful man he had ever seen stood nearby. Still, Heath liked to think of himself as a romantic deep, deep down. “I don’t know. I think it was a little sweet.”

The guy’s mouth lifted in one corner. “I meant for you. Wasn’t that your date?”

Heath snorted. “I don’t care about anyone enough to let them humiliate me.”

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