Free The Four Horsemen 4 - Death by T.A. Chase

told Pierre this, but I figured you probably want to know as well. I couldn’t find anything that would have a lasting effect on Pierre from the bad stuff he got. The shaking in his hands and the weakness he’s feeling is more than likely from coming down from his last high.”
Death nodded, grinding his teeth together while Aldo helped Pierre get dressed. Why did he want to tear Aldo’s hands off? Was it because he touched Pierre? Death didn’t understand where the possessiveness came from. It wasn’t like he planned on seducing Pierre at some point.
He barely suppressed his shudder. No way did he want the skinny man in his bed, not with how he reeked. Even under the freshly showered scent, Death could smell the stench of sweat, fear, and death. Pierre was rotting from the inside as the drugs raced through his bloodstream. He didn’t think he could look past the lingering aura of self-loathing hanging around Pierre.
“Are you ready to take him back to Paris?”
Death blinked and came back to the room when he met Aldo’s gaze. He nodded and reached out to pick Pierre up in his arms.
“I can walk out to wherever you parked your horse,” Pierre quipped, obviously willing to overlook the way he couldn’t even hold his head up.
“I don’t park my horse anywhere. He comes and goes as he pleases,” Death mumbled, ignoring the inquisitive glances Aldo and Bart shared.
“Are we going back to Paris? To your place?” Pierre laid his hand on Death’s chest, and Death tried to forget how it felt to have someone touch him.
Oliver had done that when they lay in each other’s arms. He’d rested his hand over the exact same spot and commented on how much he loved feeling the beat of Death’s heart. Little had the poor boy known Death didn’t have a heart, and he would die cursing the man’s name.
I didn’t curse your name when I died. I did call for you, though.
“Thanks for adding to the guilt,” Death whispered under his breath when they walked out onto the veranda where Death’s horse waited for them.
Pierre rocked his head to the side, giving him a better angle to gaze up at Death. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one, just the voices in my head.”
Pierre nodded like he completely understood what Death was talking about. And maybe the man did. No one really knew what happened inside his own head during his trips.
“Sometimes they’re the most annoying voices you’ll hear all day,” Pierre commented. “I’m constantly yelling at mine to shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, really? Well, I’ll remember that.”
Aldo took Pierre from Death so he could mount, but the doctor stopped him.
“What are you going to do with him?”
“I’m taking him back to my place in Paris, then when the hunger gets so bad, he’s clawing at his skin to make the pain stop, I’m going to let him have some more. Not as much as his last hit, but not so little his body goes into shock.” Death stared at Pierre for a moment before glancing back at Aldo. “His body isn’t strong enough for him to quit cold turkey, Aldo. It’s not like I want to be his drug dealer or anything like that.”
Aldo frowned. “Where did you get the drugs? I assume heroin is his preferred poison.”
There was no way Death would mention Day bringing him the stuff. He didn’t want to be involved in the whole convoluted relationship between Day and Lam. He knew Aldo would pitch a fit if he found out Day had any kind of fingers in this problem.
“I know people,” he hedged and climbed astride his horse. He held out his arms for Pierre. “Let me have him. He’s going to need another hit when we get back. You’re positive there’s nothing permanently wrong with him that I should take him to a hospital to deal with?”
Aldo nodded and frowned as he stepped away. “I can’t be a hundred per cent sure since I don’t have any equipment here, but I’d say he should be fine once he’s off the drugs.”
“I’m going to do my best to get him sober,”