Taken by Midnight (21 page)

In her bones.

In the blood that seemed to rush like rivers of lava through her veins.

She brought her hand up under the fall of her hair, brushing her fingers over her nape, where the Ancient had made his incision and embedded his piece of hateful biotechnology inside her. It had healed up; she felt no trace of it on the surface of her skin as she had before. But she'd seen the X rays; she knew it was there, burrowing deeper into her nerves and spinal cord. Infiltrating her DNA.

Becoming part of her.

"Oh, God," she murmured, a wave of nausea rolling up on her.

How much more messed up could her life get? She had something this monumental to deal with, and yet she'd gone and gotten naked with Brock.

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Then again, maybe she'd needed to be with him precisely because of everything else she was dealing with lately. What she didn't need was to complicate an already overcomplicated situation.

She sure as hell didn't need to sit there and worry about what he might think of her now. She didn't need to go there at all, but telling herself that didn't keep the thoughts of him from entering her head.

And as she peeled the bandage from her healing thigh and turned on the shower, she told herself that she didn't need Brock or anyone else to help get her through whatever lay ahead. She'd been alone for a long time. She knew what it was to fight on her own, to pull herself through dark days.

But knowing that didn't keep her from leaning on the memory of Brock's strength--the soothing power of his tender words and his gifted hands. His gently murmured promises that she wasn't alone. That with him, she was safe.

"I don't need him," she whispered into the empty echo of the room. "I don't need anything from anyone."

There was a small quake in her voice, a wobbly note of fear that she despised hearing. She sucked in a sharp breath, blew it out on a curse.

Jenna stepped into the shower and under the warm spray, closing her eyes. She let the steam envelop her fully, let the steady rhythm of the falling water swallow up her soft, shaky sobs.

Brock should not have been surprised to run into one of the other warriors, since nightfall was approaching topside and most of the Order would be heading out soon on patrols of the city. But probably the dead last person he wanted to see as he came out of the shower room, where he'd spent a good hour under a frigid dousing, was Sterling Chase.

The former Enforcement Agent was cleaning his firearms on a table in the weapons room. He looked up from his work when Brock strode through, already dressed in black fatigues and combat boots, ready to get a jump on the night's missions.

"Looks like you and I are partners tonight," Chase drawled. "Lucan's sending Kade and Niko down to Rhode Island. Something about intel Reichen picked up on his recent work in Europe. They're heading out as soon as the sun sets."

Brock grunted. He and Chase, patrol partners? Talk about a bad day heading farther south. "Thanks for the update. I'll try not to accidentally kill you while we're looking for bad guys tonight."

Chase gave him a deadpan look. "Likewise."

"Shit," Brock hissed on a sharp exhale. "Which one of us pissed him off?"

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Chase's brows arched under his short-cut, blond crown of hair.

"Lucan," Brock said. "I don't know why the hell he'd team us up, unless he's trying to prove a point to one or both of us."

"Actually, the assignment was my suggestion."

The admission didn't exactly make things better. Brock stilled, suspicion rankling his brow. "You suggested that we partner for patrol."

Chase inclined his head. "That's right. Consider it an olive branch. I was out of line earlier with regard to you and the human. I shouldn't have said what I said."

Brock stared, incredulous. He bore down on him, more than ready to escalate things if he got even so much as a whiff of duplicity out of the arrogant male. "Let me tell you something, Harvard. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but you do not want to fuck with me."

"No game," Chase said, his piercing blue eyes steady. Clear. Honest, to Brock's amazement. "It was beneath me to act the way I did earlier, and I apologize."

Brock backed off, lifting his chin as he considered the surprising sincerity of Chase's words. "All right," he said slowly, cautious that he didn't get too comfortable too soon.

He'd been on enough missions with Sterling Chase. He'd seen him operate, and he knew the male could be a viper--both in armed combat and in wars of words. He was dangerous, and just because he was extending his hand in an apparent truce now didn't mean Brock should be too eager to turn his back to him.

"Okay," he murmured. "Apology accepted, man."

Chase nodded, then went back to cleaning his weapons. "By the way, that cut on your neck is bleeding."

Brock growled a curse as he reached up and ran his fingers over Jenna's little bite mark. There was only the faintest trace of blood there, but even a fraction of that would have been too much to escape the notice of one of the Breed. And under a truce or not, it was just like Chase not to let that notice slide by without comment.

"I'll be ready to roll at sundown," Brock said, his eyes trained on the bent blond head that didn't so much as twitch in response, Chase's attention remaining fixed on the work spread out on the table before him.

Brock pivoted and stalked out to the corridor. He hadn't needed the reminder about what had happened between Jenna and him. She'd been on his mind, occupying the bulk of his thoughts, since the moment he left her in his quarters.

Chase's apology made him realize that he owed one, as well.

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He didn't want to leave things the way he had with Jenna. Part of him wondered if he'd been fair in how he'd pursued her, following her after she'd run away from him, fighting back tears. He'd drawn away her grief with his touch, but had doing so also made her more pliable to his own demanding need for her?

It hadn't been his plan to manipulate her into his bed, no matter how badly he'd wanted her. And if he had seduced her, there was no mistaking Jenna's desire once they had gotten started. It didn't take much to relive the feel of her hands on his skin, soft yet demanding. Her mouth had been hot and wet on his, giving and taking, driving him wild. Her body had sheathed him like slick, warm satin, a memory that had him growing hard just to think of it.

And then, when he'd felt the blunt pressure of her human teeth at his throat ...

Holy hell.

He'd never known anything so hot.

He had never known a woman as hot as Jenna, and he hadn't exactly been living the life of a monk that he lacked the basis for comparison.

Human females had long been his preferred type--a pleasant diversion with no threat of attachment. He'd never even been tempted to think past a few nights when it came to his human lovers. Now he wondered if he hadn't been looking at Jenna Darrow in the same light. Deep down, he had to admit that he'd been hoping he could keep her in that neat little compartment.

As of now, he was determined to lock the lid down on his attraction to her and walk away while he had the chance.

But there was still the matter of how he'd left things with her.

Even if she was upset with him, which she had every right to be, he wanted her to know that he was sorry. Not sorry for the sex that had been so hot it was a wonder they hadn't combusted together, but sorry for taking off without manning up to his own weakness afterward. He wanted to set things straight so they could move on.

And what, be friends?

Hell, he wasn't even sure he knew how to do that. He could count his friends on one hand, and none of those friends were human. None of them were females who set him on fire just by being in the same room.

In spite of all that, he found himself standing outside his former quarters, his clenched fist poised to rap on the closed door. He dropped his knuckles against the panel in a light knock. There was no answer.

For a moment, he debated whether he should just turn around and let the whole thing lie. Chalk up the whole episode with Jenna as a lapse in 128

judgment that he was never going to repeat. But before he could decide which would be the bigger offense--walking in uninvited or walking away again--he had opened the door.

The place was dark, not a single light on. He smelled shampoo and dissipating steam emanating from the bathroom as he strode silently through the apartment. He made no sound as he walked into the bedroom, where Jenna lay in his bed sleeping, curled away from him on her side. He drifted over to her, watching for a moment, listening to the slow, quiet rush of her breathing.

The urge to slip in beside her was a strong one, but he held himself in check. Barely.

Her dark hair spread over the pillow in damp, glossy strands. He reached out, let his fingers stray into its softness, careful that his touch didn't disturb her. His apology would have to wait. Maybe she wouldn't even want to hear it.

Yeah, maybe it would be best for both of them if he just backed off from anything personal and kept their interactions on a purely professional level for however long she might remain at the compound. God knew, that sounded like the most reasonable plan. The safest plan for both of them, but especially for her. Getting too close to someone he was assigned to protect meant getting sloppy at what he was trained to do.

He'd been there before, and a vibrant young woman paid the price with her life. He wasn't about to put Jenna in that kind of jeopardy. Sure, she was tough and capable, not the naive innocent who had put her trust in Brock and died for the mistake. But so long as he was charged with Jenna's well-being--entrusted with her protection--he was going to have to keep her at arm's length. That was one promise he was determined to keep.

Not that she'd likely argue, after the way he'd bungled things between them in this room.

He let the damp, dark tendril fall back into place on the pillow.

Without a word, without a sound, he backed away from the bed. He left the apartment as stealthily as he'd entered ... unaware that in the stillness of the bedroom, Jenna's eyes had opened, her breathing stopped as she listened to him make his almost perfect escape for a second time that night.

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Earth to Jenna. Everything okay with you?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." Jenna glanced up at Alex, snapping herself out of the daze that had been hijacking her focus all night. Ever since Brock's unexpected B&E in her room a few hours ago. To say nothing of the incredible sex that had preceded it. "Just lost in my thoughts, I guess."

"That's exactly why I asked," Alex said. "You've been somewhere else since you sat down with me here tonight."

"I'm sorry. It's nothing to worry about. Everything is fine."

Jenna picked up her fork and chased a bite of salmon around her plate.

She wasn't hungry, but when Alex had fetched her for a quiet dinner together in her quarters, Jenna couldn't deny that she welcomed her best friend's company. She wanted to pretend, if only for a little while, that things were the same as they'd been in Alaska just a few weeks ago--before she'd known about her brother's corruption and death, before she'd learned about vampires and alien biotechnology and accelerated DNA mutations.

Before she'd compounded all of her problems by getting naked with Brock.

"Hello?" Across the table from her, Alex watched her over the rim of her beer glass. "FYI, in case you're wondering, you're doing it again, Jen.

What's going on with you?"

"I suppose you mean other than the obvious," Jenna replied, pushing aside her plate and leaning back in her chair.

She stared at her friend, the most sympathetic, supportive person she knew--the one person, aside from Brock, who'd given her the strength she needed to get through the worst of her life's ordeals. Jenna realized she owed Alex more than the usual don't-worry-about-me facade. Never mind the fact that Alex had the ability to see through any bullshit with her built-in lie detector, courtesy of her Breedmate genetics.

Jenna took a slow breath and let it out on a sigh. "Something happened earlier. Between Brock and me."

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"Something ... happened?" Alex looked at her in silence for a moment before her brow knit into a frown. "Are you saying ..."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying." Jenna got up from the table and began clearing her place setting. "I was in the war room alone, after everyone had gone to bed. Brock came in, and we started talking, then we started kissing. Things got really intense, really quickly. I don't think either one of us meant for it to happen."

Alex followed her into the kitchen. "You and Brock ... slept together?"

she asked. "You had sex in the war room?"

"God, no. We just kissed in there. On the conference table. The sex came later, in his quarters. Or, rather, my quarters." Jenna felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She wasn't used to discussing her intimate life--mainly because she hadn't had one in a very long time. And certainly never anything as out of control as what she and Brock had shared. "Oh, for crissake, don't make me spell out every detail. Say something, Alex."