She could communicate love with just one caress of her fingers. This touch was natural to her and had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love.

She knew, more than any other reason, it was the way Steele touched her, the way his hands moved over her and the look on his face when he stared down into her eyes that kept her tied to him. He couldn't hide that.

He needed to know she wanted to be with him. He needed to know someone loved him. He didn't believe himself worthy of love, so he had a difficult time believing she really wanted to be with him.

She did something to his insides, twisted and melted them until he sometimes felt he couldn't think straight.

Breezy laughed and the sound went through him the way it often did, lighting his world. She sounded bright and happy and she shed that light on him. She took him right out of the violence, the blood and death and vile world he lived in to draw into the sunshine with her.

Love for her welled up so strong, so intense, the pressure in his chest made him feel as if he might be having a heart attack.

Ask any of my brothers, nothing stops me. No one stops me. I got the name Steele because I'm unbending.

It was the worst nightmare possible for a boy like Steele. He felt responsiblity, even when he was just very little. Something in him needed to help all of us.

She had a way of giving him comfort when nothing else could. The wailing of the dead. The accusations of their eyes because he couldn't save them. She drove those dead children away from him and brought him peace.