Page 77 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

His hand touches the back of my head, probably wiping blood through my hair, but I don’t give a shit about that. He could shave every strand of hair from my scalp for all I care. As long as I still have him. His lips pucker like he wants a kiss, but I pull away.

“My mouth is probably bloody. I think I broke my nose,” I say.

His eyes flutter behind the lids, but he still isn’t looking at me. “It hurts?”

“It’s not too bad. You know me; I’m a glutton for punishment.”

He slowly nods. “Good. Don’t care if you’ve bathed in blood. Just care that you aren’t in pain.” His eyes flicker again, and I can tell he’s trying to open them, but they must be too heavy. “Tatum. I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Kiss you. Touch you. Worship you, little one. Hurts to move.”

“Should I come to you?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, just lifts his arm and holds it out.

I don’t want him to have to taste my blood, but I don’t have many options for cleaning my face. So, I lift the tail of my shirt and spit on the fabric, using it to wipe my mouth. Each time I accidentally touch my nose, it feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to it. Once I’ve gotten my face as clean as I can get it, I lean in, my palm pressed flush against his cheek.

“Hey, Abi,” I whisper, placing a closed-mouth kiss on his lips. “Missed you.”

His mouth parts, and he’s trying to come back to me, but every move he makes must be agony. Not wanting him to hurt any more than he has to, I make the rest of the journey for him, opening my mouth and touching his lips.

This kiss isn’t like the ones we share in bed. There are no dueling tongues or clashing teeth. Just two sets of lips that rise and fall. Two pairs of hands, softly roaming. Mumbled offerings of love and daddy and little one. Him and me. The kiss lasts ages, but it’s still not long enough. Once we’re apart, his eyes are finally open, and he’s staring intensely at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you in pain?”

He nods. “A bit.” When he looks around the room, it’s like he’s seeing it for the first time. “I do not like this room. Never have. I thought I heard your voice. When I woke up, I could hear you so clearly. I followed after you, but you were always just out of reach.”

“That’s how you ended up down here?”

He nods. “You weren’t here, though. I waited. Waited so long. Why did it take you so long to find me?” he asks, sounding drained. “Why must I always wait for you to catch up with me?”

“You don’t have to wait anymore,” I promise. “I’m yours from here on out, remember?” Leaning closer, I kiss the side of his face. “You never have to wait for me again. We’re in this together now, side by side.”

“Do you promise?” There’s so much hope in his expression, I can hardly stand it. Why does he always seem so surprised to find my feelings are just as big and beautiful as his? Can’t he see what he does to me? Doesn’t he know by now?

“I fucking swear it.” The phone he was holding before is now resting at his side, my feisty face displayed proudly. “I’m assuming this belongs to the woman with the needle in her neck?”

He snorts out a laugh, but winces like the action pains him. “I followed your voice to find you, but you weren’t here. Asked her to call you. Told her to find you, but she said no.” He lifts his hand and motions toward a dark patch of the room. I aim the flashlight where he’s pointing, illuminating a small desk. There are papers and file folders scattered like there’s been a scuffle, and when I look back at Abi, he’s staring down at the unconscious woman.

“She said nyet. No calling the little one. No telling you goodbye. She had the serum on her desk, and I did what I had to do to get to you. Took her phone. Tried to call but could not remember your number. So, I pulled up your profile. Your beautiful profile picture, Tatum.” He’s got his hand out in front of me and it’s shaking with nerves. There’s no hesitation on my part—I don’t think, just act, dropping the flashlight and grabbing his hand. “I just wanted to see you again before ...”

“You’re not dying,” I say, my voice firm. Wanting to put a smile on his dreary face, I add, “The Goddess is hellbent onmaking my life absolute torture, so I’m pretty sure I’m stuck with your big hairy ass for the rest of my life.”

And there it is. A smile. It’s not terribly big, and it isn’t all that bright, but it’s enough to make my heart race. “You will never get away from me,” he threatens through his weakened voice. “If you run, I will find you.”

“You always do, you possessive bastard,” I say playfully before giving him a quick kiss. Grabbing the flashlight from where it fell earlier, I aim at the stairs. “We need to get you back to your room. You just had surgery, baby. You need to rest.”

He gives me a nod, and before I can stop him, he’s got one hand on the floor, slowly and methodically pushing himself up. I want to demand he stop, because the last thing I need is him falling down and banging his head again. So, I rise with him, grabbing his arm and pulling it over my shoulder for support. He tries to shake me off, telling me he’s strong enough to do something as simple as standing up on his own, but then his legs wobble and he loses his footing. I catch him, thank Goddess, but it’s a close call. As I lift him, he’s muttering words like nyet and telling me I’m ruining his swoon-worthy moment, whatever the hell that means. Fuck, he’s heavy.

“Tatum,” he says, once we’re standing. He’s panting in my face, out of breath, but standing strong. “This was going to be the part where I picked you up and slid my finger where it belongs.” He stares down at his hospital gown and sighs. “Alas, I’ve failed you.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll make up for it later. Once we get to your room, you can finger me as long as you want. Days. Weeks. Doesn’t matter.” For emphasis, I take him by the hand and guide him to my ass, enjoying the firmness of his grip. “I meant what I said. I’m staying right by your side. If your silly little agency has a problem with it, they can get fucked.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll never leave you again.”

A set of feet are descending the stairs behind us, and I’m thankful Brody’s finally pushed past his irrational fear of inanimaterobotic body parts long enough to help me save his alleged best friend’s life.

“Tatum!” Abi barks, then something pierces my neck. It’s a feeling I know well, from the many times Fee and Abi drugged me during my first few months with them. Abi’s in front of me, his face going redder by the second. Looking over my shoulder, I expect to see Brody. Instead, Agent Meadows stands behind me, holding a syringe in his hand. The drug hits faster than it ever has, and when I turn my attention back to the man I love, the last thing I see as I drift into nothingness are his panic-stricken eyes.

CHAPTER 17

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