Too cheerfully. Kit narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to do if I go upstairs?”
Holden was cheerful now. He no longer wanted to murder Kit. Or at least, he wanted to murder Kit less than he wanted to not-murder Kit. But the night’s stress was clearly etched beneath Holden’s red-rimmed eyes. His smile wasn’t quite sane.
“I have no idea,” Holden answered, which wasn’t good enough.
Kit didn’t know what he wanted to do with Holden yet, but he wanted to do something. He just needed time to figure out what, without Holden doing something drastic.
“Lie down on the bed.” Kit stepped forward into Holden’s space, as Holden’s gaze heated. Touching the center of Holden’s chest, Kit said, “I’m going to tie you up.”
“Okay.” Holden bit his lip, then exhaled. His shoulders dropped, and he stepped back. “I prefer the other way around, but you can tie me up any time you want.”
Holden was nervous. That was okay—Kit didn’t need to reassure him. Holden had drugged and kidnapped him, which put him in slightly deeper shit than Kit’s other guys who had only kidnapped him, no drugging.
Fair was fair. Kit was okay with Holden being a little nervous.
“Move.” Kit poked Holden in the chest, and Holden obediently moved.
At Kit’s direction, Holden lay down on the mattress, hands by the headboard. Kit knelt on the edge of the bed, to Holden’s right, and fastened the first cuff around Holden’s right wrist. Holden’s bones were larger than Kit’s, and the cuff had to close on the widest hole.
Holden was strong enough to fight Kit off. It would be so easy. But he lay still, surrendering himself.
“Did you get these just for me?” Kit asked, tracing Holden’s skin right along the leather and steel.
“Yes.” Holden shifted on the mattress. He looked like he wanted to devour Kit, but he stayed put. “I wouldn’t give you anything I’d used on someone else.”
“Such a gentleman,” Kit muttered.
As Holden laughed, Kit looped the short connecting chain around the bars at the head of the bed. Then Kit straddled Holden’s chest to reach his other wrist, and the laughter cut off in a hitched breath. Holden remained utterly still between Kit’s thighs as Kit finished chaining him to the headboard.
Kit slid down enough to look Holden in the eyes. Braced one hand on Holden’s chest, and with his other hand traced the faint stubble along Holden’s jaw. The room darkened around them, and Holden was golden bright.
“I killed them,” Holden said, intent on Kit’s face. “Victor, Tim, and Marco. They were bad people, but I didn’t care about that. That’s not why I killed them.”
Kit’s fingertips wandered to Holden’s lips. Pressed in, until he felt the wet of Holden’s tongue. Then he withdrew. “You wanted Bishop’s attention. You picked shithead victims because you knew that was Bishop’s thing.”
Holden nodded.
Bishop was probably going to have some questions about how a murderous college student figured out his vigilante justice gig. But that was Bishop’s problem—Kit would leave it for him.
“You got Bishop’s attention. But you got my attention too.” Kit leaned in closer, his hair falling around his face. “God, Holden. You could have just asked me out.”
“Really?” Holden chuckled, warm breath against Kit’s lips. “To be fair, you dumped me fornotbeing a murderer.”
“Fuck you,” Kit murmured, and sealed their lips together.
Holden surged into the kiss, his entire body arching towards Kit. The chain and headboard rattled, and Kit poured in every ounce of fear and relief and need. Holden couldn’t touch him—but he didn’t need to. Kit felt Holden already imprinted inside him, one more indelible mark on his soul.
When Kit pulled away, Holden’s eyes were red, but his grin was bright. “Whatever you want to do with me, that’s fine.”
Touching his own lips, Kit slid from Holden’s body. Instead of answering, he said, “Straighten out your legs. I’m chaining your ankles up too.”
Kit knew what he wanted now. But he wasn’t on his own anymore. He had other people to account for too.
Other people he loved.
So under Holden’s constant gaze, Kit snagged the SCU hoodie and slid it on. Still warm from Holden’s body heat, soft over his mesh tank top. Then he grabbed the gun from the shelf, checked the rest of the basement for anything dangerous, and headed upstairs.
Arriving at the ground floor, Kit felt none of the nauseating familiarity he expected. Nothing looked the way he remembered. All the bodies had been cleaned up, and shreds of caution tape still fluttered from doorways.
