Kit’s pulse spiked. “That’s super untrue. James put his house on the market.”
“It’s a new law,” James said cheerfully. “Come on—let’s break this house in.”
Flanked by two of his boyfriends, Kit paused in the doorway.
The foyer opened onto a living room, which opened onto a dining room. Fully furnished and unnaturally pristine, it somehow struck Kit as more lived-in than James’s previous mansion. Pale wood ceilings, reddish wood floors. The occasional deep teal accent wall. Some of the furniture was familiar. Kit had been fucked hard over that armchair.
He was going to live here. Darius and James and Holden would fill the space, just like they had begun filling the hollow inside Kit’s heart.
That homecoming feeling was what made him so nervous. Comfortable might turn into complacent might get him killed.
No. Kit wasn’t running anymore. Safety meant sticking together. Protecting each other as they mapped out the new threat of the Rat Kings.
Warm hands at each shoulder pushed Kit inside.
“Look at that sturdy staircase,” Darius said, locking the door behind them. “Perfect to cuff you to the railing, for old time’s sake.”
Kit’s mind immediately skipped back to that moment. He’d hated Bishop. Then he tried seducing him, trying to find shelter. Something like security.
Bishop had turned him away. Kit hadn’t realized at the time, but that was the right thing to do. Bishop had Kit’s best interests at heart, even when Kit didn’t.
The fucking bastard.
“Don’t talk about Bishop right now,” Kit complained, because complaining was his favorite coping mechanism. No, second favorite. Sex was first. “I’m still mad at him.”
“Why are you mad at Bishop, babe?” James asked.
Oops. Darius hadn’t actually mentioned Bishop.
“Because he’s annoying,” Kit said.
James laughed, steering Kit deeper into the house. “Well, I knew that.”
The firm, guiding touch was reassuring. James never pushed for confessions. He was the one who pulled Kit deeper into his relationships. All of them, even when he hated Holden. The one who acted the most reluctant to move in but bought the house in advance.
And Darius kept them grounded. The voice of reason—by default, sometimes, yeah. He still fake-kidnapped Kit to prove a point that one time.
Kit still wasn’t sure what they all saw in him, but he was past doubting that they wanted him. Especially now, with James’s hand on his shoulder and Mr. Voice of Reason watching with glorious anticipation.
The kitchen was very shiny. The refrigerator and oven gleamed like mirrors. Dazzled by the abundance of appliances, Kit’s attention could only zero in on one object, which stuck out like a sore thumb.
A lime green stepladder, tied with a massive red silk bow.
“What the fuck is that?” Kit asked, pointing.
“Surprise!” James waved jazz hands in front of Kit. “It’s your housewarming gift, so you can reach the cupboards!”
Kit stared up at him. “I can’t decide if you’re being considerate or negging me.”
“Both,” Darius said, plucking the red ribbon. It loosened and flowed between his fingers. “You know with James it’s usually both.”
“Not true,” James protested. He held Kit in place and kissed the top of his head. Brief, hot, disarming. “Negging is for Darius, consideration is for you.”
Tension eased inside Kit, like the ribbon coming undone. This was stupid. Ridiculous. Charming. Kit was a little more in love with James and Darius than the moment before, and suddenly he wasn’t afraid of moving in together.
Nothing would change for the worse. James and Darius bicker, and James would snipe at Holden as Holden smugly disregarded him. They would all team up to throw Kit off-balance, in the best possible way.
And Kit would be safer, nestled in with his three murderers, than anywhere else in the world.
