It was being inside her, buried in the heated depths of her rear, his fingers stroking and caressing the snug tissue of her pu**y as the pad of his palm pressed into her swollen, hypersensitive clit.
It was feeling her explode as her breath caught and a brilliant wash of incredible, engulfing heat blazed through her senses and into his.
Her pleasure merged with his. It became a double-edged sword of such pleasure, such desperate ecstasy, that he wondered if he could possibly survive.
White hot, a surge of energy raced up his spine; as it hit his brain a storm of intense, brilliant sensation began to wash over his body. He had seconds. Another thrust, two . . .
A brutal snarl tore from his lips as he felt the barb extend, bringing his thrusts to an instant halt as the first ejaculation shot from the depths of his balls. Where the thinner, but no less intense ejaculation from the barb originated from, he wasn’t certain. What he was certain of was the pure, undiluted ecstasy of feeling his pleasure riding so close on the heels of hers, even as he felt her knowledge of it and the sensations of his pleasure engulfing her.
A brutal, never-ending circle of rapture.
He’d never heard of it existing with another couple before. To his knowledge, no others had attained this link with their mate.
A mating so deep, so never-ending, that as the final pulses of his release shuddered through his body and she relaxed beneath him, Rule felt his senses sink deeper inside hers.
And felt the wispy tendrils of knowledge as it crept from her subconscious, seeking the warmth of the animalistic senses that were now a part of her.
A vision formed in his mind. A fact, a history, a betrayal so deep, so resolute Rule knew that before the night ended, he would do what he’d ached to do nine years before. Tonight, he would shed the blood of a man, to defend a child whose brother had died to protect her.
The same man who had bought her brother’s death.
Frightened, uncertain, that hidden part of his mate touched his senses as he felt her drift into sleep. It reached out to him, and still locked to her, buried deep inside her, he felt the tears she still held inside, felt the pain, the rage, and the ragged uncertainties that filled that dark corner of her soul.
“Don’t cry. Be brave, Peanut,” Mark’s voice whispered through her mind, as it did each time she tried to sleep, tried to escape the guilt that had plagued her for so long.
He was trying to give her a message that had been unable to penetrate the shocked, terrified senses of a fifteen-year-old child.
He’d always told her that her tears healed all her wounds. He’d told her she didn’t have to be brave all the time, that was what big brothers were for. And he had hated the pet name, Peanut, that his best friend had given her.
It was the only clue he had to give her.
Jason had betrayed them.
“I have you, Gypsy,” Rule whispered against her ear then. “You can cry now, baby. You don’t have to be brave alone anymore. Never again, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.”
CHAPTER 28
Kandy wasn’t waiting on her as Gypsy assumed she would be the next morning as she was taken from the hotel to the secured base where her parents were being held until Gypsy’s forty-eight hours were up.
So far, neither Dane Vanderale nor Dog had come forward, but with a weary heart she knew it no longer mattered. Rule would take care of the situation before the time was up.
Inhaling slowly, deeply, she stepped into the surprisingly comfortable rooms they were waiting in. The sitting room was tastefully appointed with a private bathroom and small bedroom off the side.
Her mother sat alone on the sofa, while her father stood at the small window on the far left side of the room that looked out onto the desert.
There were no security cameras, no electronic security period in the building she had been taken to. Old-fashioned locks and radios were used, though the weapons the Breeds carried were anything but old-fashioned.
Her mother looked up as the doors closed, her tear-swollen face still appearing far younger than her years while her green eyes were dark with grief.
“Gypsy.” It was her father who moved quickly to her, stopping a second before touching her, his gaze suddenly frantic as he stared down at her. “Mr. Wyatt said we couldn’t touch you,” he said hoarsely, the hand that had dropped to his side lifting, then falling helplessly before he raked both hands through his hair. “I haven’t hugged you in so long, have I, baby girl?”
Baby girl. That was what Mark had called her. It was what her parents had called the tiny, delicate little bundle they’d named Kandy Sweet.
Gypsy felt her throat tighten, the tears she could feel building in the ragged depths of her soul threatening to spill at any moment.
She swallowed tightly as a hard, single shake of her head did nothing to dispel the emotions tearing her apart.
“Jonas will release you sometime tomorrow,” she stated, unable to answer the question. “There’s a gag order on the crime you’re being held for until you can be questioned regarding the reasons for trying to betray the Breeds—”