Page 56 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

“Fuck Benito,” Tatum growls. “Fuck his entire existence. He’sa goddessdamned sadist. The man doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“He loves me,” Benjamin says with a sniffle. “He said so.”

Tatum nods. “He used to say the same to me. Then, he forced me to sit in a chair and watch as he stole you from me, night after night. I hung on as long as I could stand it, but it broke something in me. I don’t want it to break you too.”

“Tate?” Bennet says, his voice shaky.

“But you said you liked it,” Benjamin says, and it sounds like he’s pleading for the words to be true. “The chair. You said you enjoyed watching him dominate us.”

Tatum nods. “I said what I had to say to keep both of you. He’s not a good man. He’s cruel for sport. Benito isn’t happy unless he has someone to torture.” He dabs tears from his eyes and sniffles. “I took as much torture as I could handle, but a heart can only take so much hurt. When I left, I thought you’d all be happy together. I promise, I didn’t think he’d set his sights on you.”

“You’re just jealous,” Benji insists, but he doesn’t sound as if he believes the words himself. “Stop trying to take him away from us. We already lost you and Austin. We ain’t got nothing left to lose.”

“Benjamin,” Bennet says, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “Tatum’s right.”

“He’s not right. He’s never been right. Tatum ran away and left us all alone.” He turns and glares at Tatum. “You said you loved us, and then you ran off without even saying goodbye.”

Tatum raises his hand to his heart and pat-pat-pats it against his chest. “I ran from him. Not from you.”

It’s the first time he’s admitted to running instead of holding on to claims of kidnapping. The admission sends my heart fluttering in my chest, but the happiness swelling inside shrinks when he says, “And now, it’s your turn. You and Bennet. You’re coming home with us.” He leans in and kisses Benjamin’s forehead, and all I can do is clench my fist. The commune is alreadyoverrun with murder-happy killers and terroristic twinks. There simply isn’t room.

“Yeah?” Benjamin asks hopefully. When Tatum nods his head in agreement, a rare smile settles on Benjamin’s fearful face. “Can we go back? To the way we were, I mean. Me, you, and Bennet.” He darts his eyes in my direction and stares as if he’s sizing me up. The corner of his lip curls up even higher. “Maybe that guy too. He’s cute—he just needs to cool it with the drugging.” Benji’s tearful eyes find mine. “It’s not nice, mister.”

Tatum chuckles, but inside, I’m panicking. I’ve never been one for monogamy. It’s not that I was ever opposed to it, I just couldn’t fathom the idea of only sleeping with one person—with one sex—for the rest of my life. Now, with Tatum, my soul craves it. Him and me. Me and him. No one else. I do not wish to share him.

“We can talk about that later. All I know is I’m not leaving you with Nito. That’s not happening. He had you in a cage,” he says to Benjamin, then turns to Bennet. “He put you in the attic and forbade you from leaving.”

“He’s only gone for a week. We were fine,” Benjamin replies, but at his side, Bennet’s hand sneaks closer until it’s resting on Benji’s knee. They lock eyes, and there’s a shared look between them, then with Tatum. It’s as if they’re trauma bonded, and there’s this thing they share I’ll never be a part of. I should not be jealous of these men, but I am. They’ve done nothing to me, but whatever they have with my little one almost feels sacred, and it’s driving me mad.

“You’re coming home with us whether you like it or not. I left you behind once. I’m not making the same mistake again.”

“Little one,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We have no open rooms at the Winawana Wagon House.”

He looks over his shoulder and glares at me. “They can share with us.” He smiles at Benjamin, lightly tickling the man’s stomach. “Would you like that, Benji? Our cuddle game is the stuff of legends. That’s what you used to tell me, remember?” Hisfingers twinkle up the twink’s chest, and he lightly tickles his neck.

My eyes widen at the admission. He cannot be serious. Our home—if one can even call it that—is roughly the size of the bedroom we’re standing in now. There’s no space for them. Not to mention my plan for asking Fiona to find a new dwelling once we return. For all intents and purposes, Tatum and I are married. Sure, he’s voiced his plans to have it annulled once we make it home—if he comes home—but we’ve made progress in our relationship since then. He’s admitted his feelings. He’s shown his love in so many ways this past week. Now, it’s as if he’s taking those unintended admissions and tossing them out his bedroom window to make room for his ex-boyfriends. It strikes up a rage in me, the likes of which I’ve never felt before.

“I missed you so much,” Benji whispers. “I love you, Tater Tot.” The moment Tatum’s hand caresses Benjamin’s cheek and Bennet leans in closer to be a part of their trio, something snaps inside me, and I jolt up from the bed, startling them. The Bens looks fearful ... and so does Tatum. It’s a sight that twists at my insides, but I don’t let the guilt hold me back.

All my life, it’s felt like I’ve been walking through a hellscape, endlessly searching for a way out, and Tatum was my safe passage. Now, these men—these tiny, insignificant, irrelevant men—are threatening to take that passage away from me.

“Nyet,” I snap, startling all of them. “Nyet to bringing them home. Nyet to bringing them into our bed. Nyet, nyet, nyet, Tatum!” Tatum says nothing. He simply stares at me, confused over my sudden bout of anger. “I would like to speak with you.” I turn my gaze to the Bens and glare. “Alone.”

Tatum fixes a smile on his face before looking back at his ex-boyfriends. “I’m going to be right back, babes.” He stares at the straps holding Benjamin to the bed and frowns. “If I untie you, you’re not going to run off, are you?”

“Nyet to that too! No untying,” I shout even louder than before. Tatum jerks his head in my direction. “I wish to speakwith you, Tatum. Right now.” I whirl around and march toward the door, slamming it open with my palm. Behind me, Tatum curses under his breath. Once I’m downstairs, Mr. St. James is staring at us from his seat on the sofa. When he notices the expression on my face, his eyes dart here, there, and everywhere except at me. The look on his face is like a gut-punch. He almost seems fearful. I don’t want them to see this side of me, but I’m unable to contain the anger swelling inside me. I’ve killed men for touching what belongs to me before. Part of me—the darkest part of me that Tatum doesn’t often see—wants to kill Benjamin and Bennet, if only to neutralize the threat. Instead, I mumble an apology to Mr. St. James and head toward the kitchen, wanting to make a quick exit into the backyard before making an even bigger fool of myself.

Unfortunately, fate is not on my side. In the kitchen, Mrs. St. James is getting lunch ready. She is on a video call with Fiona, muttering something about rosemary chicken as if the world hasn’t just been ripped off its axis, and we’re not all flailing into the universe with no recourse or any real destination. She waves at me and asks if I’d like to help her set the table, but it feels like someone has their hands wrapped around my throat, and I can barely breathe. I push past, my cheeks scorching with heat. There’s a set of French doors leading out to the back deck, and I try to steady my hands long enough to twist the knob.

On the deck, I take a seat on the steps leading to the yard, drinking in the scenery. Behind the neighborhood, there is a vast East Texas forest with tall pine trees that almost look as if they touch the sky. Part of me wishes I could climb one until I’ve got my head back in the clouds where it belongs.

I’ve loved Tatum, and now I’m going to lose him.

“Abi,” he whispers, placing his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even hear him approach. I can’t look at him, though I want to. God, I want to. I shrug him off and inch away from his touch. He sighs dramatically like the action is the most annoying thing he’s ever witnessed. “You’re acting like a toddler.” He walks downthe steps until he’s facing me. “Talk to me.” I shake my head, but it just earns me a scowl. “You have nothing to be jealous of.” He kneels on the steps in front of me and presses his hands against my chest. “I promise.”

I growl at him and slap his hands away. “Do not touch.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

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