“I’m not hurt,” Kit said, voice unsteady. He seized James’s hands, holding him still. “I’m not hurt. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”
Kit drew James down, and James sank into a kiss that burned like drowning.
This was what Kit feared the first time James said he loved Kit. This need, this fear, that if Kit loved someone, they could be torn away. That if someone loved him in return, he could never simply vanish again.
This was exactly what Kit feared, but he didn’t fear it anymore.
Kit broke the kiss, and James swept him into an embrace. His face pressed against Kit’s throat, and his hands twisted in Holden’s sweatshirt.
Probably hadn’t realized it was Holden’s sweatshirt yet, and Kit wasn’t about to point it out.
“Cleared both floors,” Darius said from across the room. Which was when Kit realized Darius had arrived. “By myself, because someone couldn’t fucking wait.”
Kit twisted to face Darius and Bishop without extricating himself from James’s grasp. Darius looked Kit up and down, then nodded slightly. The cool, businesslike calm was a relief. Kit could only handle so many emotional breakdowns at once.
For once, James didn’t snark back at Darius. He just clutched Kit’s shoulders, holding him close.
“Where’s Holden?” Darius asked.
“Wait,” Kit said. “We need to talk first.”
Bishop cocked his gun and nodded towards the closed door. “There’s a basement.”
Cold air replaced James’s touch as James and Darius moved at once. Kit swore and darted in front of them—beating them to the door only because they jerked back, not wanting to hurt him.
“Wait,” Kit repeated, sharper. Hugging Holden’s sweatshirt over his mesh tank, he felt tiny and ridiculous and way too exhausted to say anything but what he wanted to say. “Please don’t kill him.”
“Sure,” James said easily. “We can torture him first.”
Kit glared. “James.”
James’s jaw tensed. “I’m not letting him go.”
“I know we can’t let him go.” Kit took a deep breath, trying to put his words into an order that didn’t sound insane. “I don’t know what exactly to do with Holden. But I don’t want to kill or hurt him.”
James stepped forward, his face soft with worry, his hand tight on his gun. “Babe, you’re exhausted. You’re not thinking straight. This guy fucking kidnapped you.”
Bishop put a hand on James’s shoulder. When James shook him off, Bishop just grabbed him again, and this time James stayed. But Bishop’s words were just as hard. “Holden killed the other SCU students, didn’t he? What did he intend to do with you?”
“Holden didn’t want to kill me.” Kit raised his hands, sighing at how stupid he sounded. “I’m not an idiot. Yes, he planned to kill me. But he didn’t want to.”
Behind the other two, Darius gave Kit a considering look. They’d had that same conversation before. “Move so your back isn’t to the door, Kit.”
Kit stayed put. “I know this sounds fucking crazy, but Holden isn’t going to hurt me. And I…” That tiny flame of normalcy in the storm. Deranged adoration unchanged by the darkness. “I need him.”
James groaned. “Babe, I love you, but this is some serious Stockholm syndrome bullshit.”
“That’s not how it works,” Darius muttered behind him.
Kit’s nerves were strung tight. He needed to make them understand. “I know I’m fucked in the head, but that’s notHolden’s fault. That’s not any of your faults, even though I’ve already been kidnapped by each of you.”
“I never kidnapped you,” James protested.
Kit flung his arms out. “You helped Bishop handcuff me in this very room!”
James’s mouth opened. Then closed. “Okay, that’s fair. But when did Darius kidnap you?”
Right. They’d never shared that whole ‘armed abduction to make a point about personal safety’ incident with the rest of the guys. Darius shuffled a step back, uncharacteristically nervous.
