Unleashed (21 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Unleashed
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“Yes, but Sophie is all I have left of my mother. It's not her fault Stefan is her father.” She refused to meet his gaze. “My mother was beautiful and he wanted her. He made sure my father died in order to get her.”
“Deus.” The man had murdered to steal someone else's wife? For some reason, that reached a new level of bottom-feeding in Breck's estimation and made his stomach turn. “What did your mother think about that?”
“Denial was her dearest friend.” Tam snorted, resignation and sadness mixing in her expression. “We lived on the London docks. She wanted out, like everyone else, and Stefan offered her that. She didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.”
He shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around such an easy acquiesce. “Even though he killed her husband?”
“Denial.”
“What about him forcing her daughter into a life of crime?” He didn't buy the
mentoring
bullshit. Tam was too wary of Stefan to have been willing to be his protégé. Perhaps it had started that way—though he had his doubts—but she'd have been no freer to leave then than she was now. That she didn't deny it made it that much more obvious.
“Denial, Breck. Always denial.” She toasted him and then took a gulp of her wine. “She didn't see what was going on because she didn't
want
to see it.”
“How old were you when he married her?”
“Ten.”
So young. The same age as little Sophie was now. “And how old were you when he forced you to commit a crime?”
“Still ten,” she said, confirming his suspicion. She shrugged, the movement lithe and elegant. “I was a cheetah, so I was faster than anyone else on his payroll. That made me useful. Looking back, I think that was the only reason he didn't have me killed along with my father.”
If she had died then, Breck would never have known her. The thought made his heart stop. He couldn't even imagine a world without her now. “How did he convince you to do it?”
He didn't want to know. Deus, he didn't, but the shadows that lurked in her eyes told him he'd hit on a sore point, an ugly memory for his mate. His fists balled on his thighs. He ached to reach for her, but the rigid way she held herself made it clear she wouldn't accept comfort from him now.
“When I told him no, he had one of his men break my arm and then lock me in a room for a week. They fed me only bread and water. When I finally broke, he let me out and told me the next time I defied him it would be worse for me. He'd lock me in with Kessler—one of his men then. Dead now, thank Deus.” She shuddered, her fingers going white-knuckled on her glass. Her gaze was faraway, looking at a horror only she could see. “I knew what that meant. Kessler had had that look in his eyes when he stared at me. He'd have raped me and enjoyed every second of it. Hurting me would have been part of the fun.” She ran her fingertip along a thin old scar on her forearm. “Stefan gave me this as a reminder of the occasion. After that, I did whatever he wanted.”
Breck swallowed the bile that burned its way up the back of his throat. More than ever, he wanted to make sure that not only Tam and her sister came through this safely, but that Stefan got what was coming to him. “How did you get away from him?”
“There's always someone higher on every food chain.” Her smile was wry, her eyes dark and sad as she met his gaze. “There was a man name Alissander who liked my work, liked my face. He paid Stefan a substantial amount to give me to him. Once Alissander died, I was a free agent.”
The man had
sold
her, like she was nothing. A possession, a toy to be discarded after he was done playing with it. After he was done breaking it. Yes, Stefan would pay. Breck didn't know how or when, but the son of a bitch would pay. Rage curdled in his gut, and he struggled to unlock his jaw, to say something more intelligible than a string of curses. “I'm glad you escaped him.”
“For a while, anyway.” Her chin firmed. “Don't pity me, Breck.”
“I don't.” How could he? He felt rage for what Stefan had done, and respect for all she had survived and come out the woman he loved. She wasn't perfect, but she was his. Since she would never listen to him if he told her that simple truth, he changed the subject. “What about Sophie? How does she play into all of this? If he stole her, then she didn't live with her father after your mother died.”
“No, I put her in an isolated, secure Swiss boarding school.” She spread her hands. “My lifestyle is hardly conducive to child rearing, but what sane person would leave a little girl alone with a man like Stefan?” Her gaze went hard and flat. “Stefan doesn't give a damn about her. She's an inconvenience at best. She helped keep my mother tied to him, and that was all he cared about. When my mother died, I took Sophie away on vacation and just never brought her back. Stefan never even noticed, until now.”
“Until she was useful to him.” That seemed to be the only pattern with Stefan—people who were useful got to live. People who got in his way ended up dead. Probably far more of them than Gea had been able to find information on.
“Yes, he's using her to bring me back into the family fold and keep me in line.” She drew in a breath that raised her lush breasts, and Breck had to force his gaze away.
“Why leave her alone? Why not go legit so you could keep her with you?”
Her laugh was brittle, nothing like her usual husky tones. “Who in their right mind would hire me? I can put together a fake ident with the best of them, but the real me wouldn't stand up to a simple background check. And I didn't want to make Sophie live a lie, pretending to be someone she's not.” She shook her head. “Maybe I should have, but this is all I know how to do. Sad that the only job skills I have are from Stefan. I just . . . wanted better for Sophie.”
“What will he do to her if you don't do what he wants?”
“At worst? Give her to one of his many disreputable associates for a little playtime. And make me watch. At best?” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Hell, I don't know. Turn her into me?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “He'd let a man rape his own daughter just to get to you?”
“She's a means to an end, Breck. We
all
are in Stefan's eyes. Never forget that.” Her gaze was clear and calm. “No matter how nice he is to you, there's always an angle in it for him. He always has an agenda, an ulterior motive.”
“Even when it came to your mother?”
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “No, she was his only exception that I know of, but she would never have gainsaid him, so it didn't matter. As long as no one tried to use her against him, then he was immune to everyone and everything else.”
Snorting, Breck forced his fingers to relax. “So, he loved her, but not his daughter or his stepdaughter.”
“He was obsessed with her. I suppose that's as close to love as Stefan could get.” Pushing back from the table, Tam took her plate and glass into the kitchen.
He rose to follow suit, still trying to quell the rage boiling through him. He wasn't naïve—far from it. He knew there were monsters in the world, and only some of them were professional criminals. There were quite a few in his world of high-stakes business who got away with as much or more than Stefan had. But the people they'd hurt weren't Tam. She hid it well, but he could see the pain in her eyes, the way she'd suffered, the way she still suffered for what her stepfather had done to her and her family.
It made Breck forget he was a rational, reasonable man. Calculating, even. He always assessed before he acted. He liked taking risks, but he wanted to know the score first. Except when it came to his mate. He'd been flying blind most of the time he'd been with her. No matter how deep he tried to dig so he knew what to anticipate, she seemed to have a knack for jerking the rug out from under him.
He blew out a breath and turned to join her in the kitchen. He found her with her hands braced on the counter, her head down. She looked defeated, hopeless.
Setting his plate aside, he pulled her into his arms and tangled a hand in her long hair. “Keep your chin up, Tam.”
“You don't know what he's like, what he's capable of. Not really.” Her fingers balled in the back of his shirt, holding on tight.
A quiver ran through her slender body, and he dropped his forehead to hers, looking into her dark eyes. “No, but I know what you're like. You can take him. I've got your back, beloved. He won't win. He won't hurt your sister.
We
won't let him.”
“Breck—”
For a moment, he thought she might burst into tears. Her lips shook and her eyes brightened, but then she buried her hands in his hair and dragged his mouth down to hers. He went rigid for a moment. Deus, he'd pulled her close to offer her comfort, but there was no way his body wouldn't react to her. The animal within him craved her, demanded he touch and take. Claim her as his.
A groan spilled out of him, and she thrust her tongue between his lips, her fingers turning into claws that sliced through his shirt. Her flavor burst into his mouth, and the experience was visceral. He'd gone so long without tasting her, taking her. The agony of it had knifed into his soul every second of every day they'd been apart. The one time he'd had the night before hadn't been enough. Once was never enough with her.
His hands roamed her body, relearning her shape, her every soft curve.
Fire pulsed through his veins, flowing like lava. His cock went hard, and every little movement she made rubbed her against his swollen shaft. It was maddening, made him shudder. He cupped her ass, pulling her tight against him, pressing into the notch between her thighs. Exactly where he wanted to be. Her low whimper filled his mouth, drove him wild.
Trailing kisses down her throat, he bit the tendon that connected neck to shoulder lightly. She moaned, letting her head drop back. “Take me to bed, Breck. I want you on top of me, inside of me.”
He didn't think it was possible, but his cock grew even stiffer. The sound of his own heartbeat rushed in his ears, and he bent to scoop Tam off her feet. She looped her arms around his neck, holding tight. The sight of her lips swollen with his kisses, her dark eyes glazed with passion, her lush breasts rising and falling as she panted was enough to shove him over the edge into feral. He wanted to slide inside her tight pussy and feel how her inner muscles gripped his shaft. A shudder ran through him, and he thought his skull might explode.
Kicking the bedroom door open, he strode in to set her on her feet beside the bed. “I think we're both wearing far too many clothes. Strip.”
“Yes.” Her fingers were already busy unfastening her top, her gaze gleaming with amusement.
Jerking his shirt over his head, he tossed it across the room. He had his pants and boots unsealed in moments and pushed them down, kicking them aside. He watched her slip off the last of her clothing, loving her smooth curves bared for him. “So beautiful.”
He reached out and slid his fingertip across her collarbone and down to the valley of her cleavage. Her breath caught when he trailed his finger up the slope of one breast and circled her nipple. It went taut, beading tight and jutting toward him. He chuckled and dipped forward to suck the peak into his mouth.
Slim fingers speared into his hair, and he felt the drag of her claws against his scalp. Goose bumps broke down his limbs at the sensation, and he batted her nipple with his tongue, scraped her flesh with his teeth, and bit down ever so lightly. A cry broke from her and she fisted her hands in his hair. The slight pain served to sharpen his pleasure.
Deus, he didn't think he could wait much longer. He had to be inside her again. The eagle within him demanded he take his mate, link their bodies until there was no question that they could ever be parted again. The man knew how many obstacles lay in their path, but the beast didn't care. All it wanted was its mate. Always. Backing her toward the bed, he let her tumble onto the mattress while he came down on top of her. A rough sound burst from his throat at the feel of all her soft, silky skin against his. So good. So amazing.
Wrapping her legs around him, she arched into his body, rubbing against his straining cock. He slid his hands up her arms, capturing her wrists. She stilled, her breath going shallow. When she tugged at her bound wrists, he held fast, knowing how much she loved it when she couldn't escape during sex. Her whimper tangled with a purr as she writhed against him. “Please, Breck. Please.”
“If I had time, I'd tie you up and make you scream and beg while I went down on you.”
“Oh, Deus.” A shiver rippled through her body, and her legs tightened around his waist. “Please.”
There was no resisting her. He transferred her wrists to one hand and reached the other between them to grasp his dick, guiding it to her wet slit. He eased the head in, felt her inner muscles clamp around him.
“Breck!” Desperation laced that one word, and her fangs bared, the feline just below the surface.

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