What the hell? Had submissiveness become a virus?
If that was the case, Brynn vowed to get the vaccine right away.
It wasn't like she was a puritan. Being kinky, even deeply so, didn't transform her friends or their husbands into different people. If it made them happy-and she understood at least the sexual dynamite part of that equation-then why fault them for their consensual choices? Dan Colton, the boyfriend she'd met in this very room, had actually revealed himself as a Dominant by the time they went on their third date. By that time, Brynn had been so nuts about him that she copped out with flirtation, declaring his revelation "bold" and "sexy" but secretly hoping it was his way of simply stating a need for intensity between the sheets.
For almost a year, that had been just the case. By day, Dan had been attentive and sweet, enduring the steps of recovering from the explosion that had disfigured half of his face. By night, he was everything she'd ever fantasized about in a lover: forceful and powerful, the only man who'd ever met the mighty needs of her libido and still had passion to spare. Through it all, he'd never brought out one satin blindfold or pair of fluffy handcuffs. His "I'm a Dominant" Tourette's had seemed just that-or maybe his accident had changed more than his flesh. Whatever the reason, she'd been damn grateful-and giddily on her way to falling in love.
Until Dan confessed he wanted to take her to a BDSM club.
"Beginning of the end" had never fit a night in her life more aptly.
He'd tried a hundred poetic phrasings. Told her they'd take it slow, that he would explain things as they went, that she'd discover new parts of her submissiveness that she'd never known before-
At which point, she'd rocketed off the couch and seethed her reply from across the room.
I'm not a submissive, Daniel. Nor will I ever be.
Why did Dan's answering stare still burn so brightly in her memory? His assessment, hard as steel but fathomless as morning sky, had been potent to the point of brutal-and over six months later, still confused the hell out of her.
Because you may have … liked … being stared at like that?
Because you may have truly knelt for the man, had he commanded it?
Never.
She was stronger than Enya. She could never be anything less. If she needed a reminder of the consequences otherwise, she could always take a quick drive to the Sandbells Psychiatric Facility … in hopes that her sister would say more than ten words in a row to her this time.
Nope. No kneeling in her future. Not for a man who commanded it, at least.
And wasn't that irony's ideal cue to come knocking?
She didn't care. As Shay slipped back down the wall and hunched back over his knees, she didn't think twice about dropping down next to him.
"Shay?" She squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, don't check out on us now, buddy. Come on. Stay strong."
Oh, sheez. Stay strong? She was really going with that?
But if she didn't, who would?
Garrett, Kellan, and Zeke were a dark, darker, and darkest row of uncertainty, shifting weirdly on their feet. Under other circumstances, Brynn would've chuckled. Ask these guys to lead hostages from a hot zone, extract an emissary from an embassy, or haul a buddy from a battle trench, and they were aces for the job-but Shay's torment was a jungle they didn't know how to handle. Never mind that all three of them had slogged similar bogs of despair within the last two years-but as best as Brynn recalled, they'd also been able to act right away on the crises with their women. Zoe had been snatched from that alley nearly eight hours ago, and Shay didn't have even a step one.
No wonder his friends looked like prisoners. They were staring down their worst fear-and were shackled by it.
Ironically, the guy who "didn't get it" was the only one who came near. He crouched next to Brynn, presence still huge as Blackbeard. "The woman has beaucoup brains as well as beauty, Bommer. Heed her, mon ami."
Shay raised his head, already glowering. Clearly, Rebel's unique mix of Creole 'tude and soldier drawl didn't impress him in the least. Maybe it was a guy thing, because all that musical French drawl was so sexy to Brynn, even her neck hairs tingled.
"Merde," Rebel spat. "Look. You're not doing Zoe a microsecond of good by giving up the ghost on your shit now." He bent over farther, meeting his buddy's glare, warrior-to-warrior. "I'm not going to insult you by coating this in weasel-speak. You know as well as I do that the condition we find Zoe in may not be pretty,"-he gripped Shay's forearm when the guy grimaced and grabbed at his hair-"and she's going to need you all in one piece." He shook his friend hard. "I-Man? Fuckhead? You hearing me?"
No response came from Shay except an angrier coil of his hand, twisting deeper into his thick chestnut hair. Brynn's throat throbbed with emotion, and she wondered how the man hadn't fully scalped himself yet. The only thing worse than a loved one in trouble was being helpless to do anything about it.
"Enya, please let me back in. Let me help you through this!"
"You can't, bibi. Nobody can help me through this except Peter, and he doesn't care anymore. He never will."
Of course he hadn't. And wouldn't. Someone newer, fresher, and shinier had entered the submissive program at Club Catacomb, captivating the bastard like an infant with a new shiny-the same way Enya had charmed him eight months prior to that.
No time for that bitterness now. She had to stay focused on keeping Shay sane.
"Why don't I make you something to eat?" She curled a little smile at the spark of interest in Shay's eyes. "I can't unscramble security video feeds but I can scramble eggs. Are there some in the kitchen?"
Shay's forehead crunched, giving his face a uniquely boyish light. Brynn half-expected him to rub the "sleep" from his eyes with a knuckle. "Yeah," he said softly. "I guess we do. I mean, we usually do. Zo goes to one of those farmer's markets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She likes to get tomatoes and carrots and onions … and apples." His face contorted again. "Yeah. Apples. She loves those. Don't touch the apples, okay? She'll want one when she gets home."
It was a line worth waiting for. When she gets home. If he believed Zoe would survive this, then Brynn would too. If things like psychic connection really existed, she was certain Shay and Zo shared such a bond. Their love was palpable when they were in the same room, infusing everyone around with its magic. Brynn didn't harbor the illusion of finding such a thing for herself one day; cosmic connection required an emotional bridge she just didn't have anymore-but she could sure as hell jump on Shay's train and use his bridge this once.
She made sure he got the point by tightening her fingers around his.
Damn.
Beneath her grip, his skin was icy-or maybe her impression was skewed by Rebel's nearness. The man was a walking furnace. No wonder his eyes were always intense as blue flames, and his nearness felt like a rush from the oven on a frosty morning.
And there she was, doing it again. Mooning over her personal fantasy pirate when there was a crisis to focus on-when the dearest friend she'd ever had was God-knew-where.
Zoe. Oh God, girlfriend. Hang on!
"Got it." She forced a small smile along with the reassurance to Shay. "No apples will be harmed in the making of Brynn's famous scrapple."
Shay laughed again-but this time, to her shock, seemed to mean it. "No, no, no. Zoe makes the best scrapple."
Brynn squeezed him one more time before rising with a tease of a glower. "We can settle it with a little friendly competition when she's back."
"Yeah." His laughter faded all too quickly. "When she's back."
Brynn swallowed down more rocks. They landed in the aching valley of her chest. Shay Bommer had been a warrior, a fighter, a secret operative, and a spec ops wonder, likely ordered to summon some crazy-ass courage for all those battles and missions-but none compared to the bravery demanded of him right now. Brynn had a sudden yearning to drop back down and hug him in encouragement.
Remarkably, Rebel beat her to the punch.
She looked on, wonderment growing, as Rebel embraced his friend with gruff ferocity. "You're going to get through this, Shay," he said. "You and Zoe. You hear me?"
Brynn giggled as Shay muttered, "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too."
She turned to head into the kitchen-
But was stopped short as Rhett and El bounded back into the room.
"Got 'em!" El pumped a fist into the air.