Steele ignored the small shake of her head, although he had to have seen it. He saw everything. “We’ve got a line on another little boy. He’s being auctioned on the Internet. We were bidding on him, trying to find the nest. Code traced him to Las Vegas but then the operation was shut down. As far as we can tell, there’s no family looking for him. If we can’t find his family, Blythe and Czar will take him in. She’s got good counselors for the children and the patience of a saint. I’ve never heard that woman ever raise her voice to those kids.”
Now that she thought about it, Steele had only raised his voice to her last night—for the first time. He’d always been gentle with the children from any of the Swords families. He hadn’t said much, but he’d been unfailingly patient with them. She could imagine he’d be that way with their son.
That brought her up short. Their son. It was the first time she’d ever thought of Zane that way. He’d always been her son. It was the two of them. Zane and Breezy. She would whisper that to him all the time. That she would always keep him safe. A fresh flood of tears welled up, burning behind her eyes, and she turned away from Steele before he could see.
“How old is he?” She whispered it, unable to find her voice. That could be Zane. Terrified. Alone. He could be sold off by his own grandfather. Bridges would do it too. She hadn’t wanted to think of him as capable of kidnapping children and selling them to the highest bidder, but she knew Steele was telling the truth. Now, Bridges had their son and she had to worry, not just about him hitting her boy, but selling him to some horrible pervert.
She staggered over to the bench and put her head down, dizziness welling up along with the tears. She had to pull herself together. She wasn’t going to be of any use to Zane this way and Steele would never agree to her going along to find him if she didn’t stop.
“He’s six, at least that’s what he was advertised as being.” Steele’s voice was grim.
She glanced up at him, unable to help herself at his tone. His face was a mask of anger. Every line was carved deep and shouted retribution. He really despised those who had that little boy and she could read his intentions to take the child back. That was her Steele. The one that made her heart flutter.
“That could be Zane,” she whispered. “Steele, that could be Zane.”
“It won’t be, Bree.” Resolve was there. Absolute resolve. “Even if something happened to me, every one of my brothers and sisters would keep after him, never stopping. It isn’t just me. I know you don’t like clubs, and you have every reason, but we’re not all the same.”
She took a deep breath and forced her head up. “Maybe. Clearly there are degrees of depravity. The Swords are disgusting, but I walked in after one of your parties, Steele. I saw the place and I saw all of you. You were buried under three women, and most of the rest of your brothers were draped over others. No one had a stitch on. I remember the parties, even after we were together.”
He frowned. “What was wrong with the parties after we were together, Bree? I took care of you. I made certain no one came near you. When it got insane, I took you to our room, away from everyone else.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Babe. We have to talk about the things you object to.”
“No, we don’t. We just need to get Zane back. After that we can talk all you want, but right now, it has to be about Zane.”
His eyes went even darker. He walked right up to her and held out his hand to help her up. She hated touching him. He made her weak. He made her want things she couldn’t have. She had to wrap herself in the hurt he’d caused. Real pain. Three years of it, going over every word, repeating it endlessly, looping the ugly things he’d said to her over and over until they were etched into her very bones. She had to cling to that agony in order to survive this.
His fingers closed around hers and he tugged. His hold on her was at odds with the way he pulled her to her feet. His hold was gentle, but he yanked her up aggressively. Her stomach bottomed out as her body fell against his. His other hand was there, cupping her chin, tilting her face up and then he took her mouth.
The moment his lips touched hers there was fire. Hot. Burning. Wild. Out of control. She tried to cling to the hurt and pain he’d caused, but the storm of flames burned right through those memories, consuming them until there was no way to think. Only feel.
Steele was rough. He was aggressive. Dominant. Totally taking control of her and wielding a fire that burned so hot there was no resisting. Her brain refused to function as every nerve ending in her body sprang to life after a very long hiatus. Blood thundered in her ears and pounded through her clit. Her sex clenched hard and her nipples felt like they would shatter if they continued to rub over his chest.
His body felt so hard, like coming up against a wall of pure steel. His arms were strong, his hold on her just exactly the way she needed—the way she wanted. She liked that he took control. She’d always needed that from him. Now, her body just melted into his, her tongue following his lead, dueling with his, a dark tango that had her clutching at his hair and sliding one hand under his jacket to try to feel his skin.
They had to breathe, and it was Steele who breathed for both of them, kissing her over and over, refusing to let her come up for air. Refusing to allow her to think of anything but what her body needed—and she needed him. She would have done anything for him right then. Given him whatever he wanted as long as he put out the fire building like a volcano inside of her. Need coiled tighter and tighter, winding until the pressure was unbearable and she needed release. All from his kisses.
He lifted his head just an inch and proceeded to kiss his way over her chin to her throat. One hand was there at her nape, controlling her so easily. Her mouth chased after his, but then she felt the sharp sting of his teeth. That echoed through her body, sizzling like a lightning strike, straight to her sex.
She remembered how he did that. Those nips with his teeth, the bite at her shoulder, her neck. The sting on her breasts that was like a lash of pure heat, an arrow of desire that pierced her skin and drove straight to her pounding clit. Blood thundered. Her breasts ached. She hadn’t felt truly alive in all the time without him. Not once. She hadn’t known her body was even capable of feeling pleasure, not like this.
His hands slid under his jacket and found her T-shirt. Those hands of his. Big. Strong. Stroking fingers knowing exactly how to arouse her. She heard herself moan and then, before she could come to her senses, his mouth was back on hers, devouring her. So hot. So perfect. So completely dominant, taking her over, taking her body over, demanding nothing less than a complete surrender from her. God help her, she gave it to him just like she always had.
Every touch of his hands, every stroke of his fingers, his mouth moving over hers, his tongue demanding things she didn’t know how to give, but impossibly did, all of it was pure Steele. He was addicting. His taste. His mouth. The way he kissed. The way he touched her. He didn’t seduce her gently. Had he tried, it would never have worked. For some reason, Breezy responded to his strength, his aggression. To that pure control he always exuded.
He was the one to step back, lifting his head, those dark eyes watching her, compelling. She could see the mixture of lust and something else she didn’t want to believe. She couldn’t believe. She’d never allow herself to believe again.
She pressed two trembling fingers to her swollen lips. There was a sting there where he’d nipped her bottom lip, and she licked at it, her heart pounding. “What was that for?”
“I can’t resist you. I never could, not even when I should have.” His gaze never left her face.
He was expecting her to get hysterical or run. Something. She just stood there, trying desperately to draw air into her lungs. Trying to wait for her body to return to her. He’d taken possession of it, just the way he always did, and she didn’t dare move until she was whole again. The problem was, she hadn’t been complete in three long years. She wasn’t now. She never would be again. Not without him.
She touched her tongue to her bottom lip one more time, forcing herself to remember those three naked women surrounding Steele when she’d first come to the clubhouse. She could imagine what they’d done to him, to his body, the body that she thought had belonged to her.