Taken by Midnight (Midnight Breed 8)

Her thoughts growing progressively darker, Jenna drew her hand away from Tess's light grasp and settled back into her chair.

Tess didn't push her to talk, simply leaned over the table and breathed in some of the drifting steam from the biscuits.

"Mmm," she moaned, her slender arm cradling the swell of her large baby bump. "Is this Dylan's basil and cheddar recipe?"

"By popular request," Alex replied brightly. "There's more where this came from, including Savannah's incredible creme brulee French toast.

Speaking of which, I'd better go fetch some more of the feast."

As Alex pivoted around and disappeared back into the kitchen, Tess cast Jenna a sly look. "You haven't lived until you've had Dylan's biscuits and Savannah's French toast. Trust me, absolute heaven."

Jenna offered a polite smile. "Sounds good. I was never much of a cook. My biggest claim to fame in the kitchen was a smoked moose-meat omelet with Swiss cheese, spinach, and redskin potatoes."

"Moose meat?" Tess laughed. "Well, I can guarantee you none of us have ever had anything like that. Maybe you can make it for us sometime.">Not good, he chided himself. Bad fucking idea, letting himself get personally involved where his business was concerned.

Hadn't he learned that lesson the hard way back in Detroit?

Getting personally invested in any mission was the fast lane to failure.

Minutes must have passed as he contemplated the years that stood between that dark chapter of his life and the place he stood now. He was dimly aware of Tess operating in attentive silence, Renata standing by with the needed instruments and supplies as they were requested. It wasn't until the final suture was in place and Tess had walked to the sink to scrub up that Brock realized he was still touching Jenna, still caressing the line of her carotid with the pad of his thumb.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. When he spoke, his voice was a raw scrape of sound. "Are we finished here yet, Doc?"

Tess paused at the sink, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"What about your injury?"

"I'm good," he said. He had no intention of sticking around any longer than necessary, and besides, his Breed genetics would heal him in no time.

Tess gave him a faint shrug. "Then, we're finished."

On the table beside him, Jenna's gaze found his and held, steady and strong. Her lips, still pale and bluish from shock and cold, parted on an expelled little puff of air. Her throat worked as she swallowed and tried again. "Brock ... thank--"

"I'm out of here," he snarled, knowingly harsh. He took a step back from the table, then, with a self-directed curse, he pivoted on his heel and stalked out of the infirmary.

Chapter Seven

Brock swung the black Rover out of the Order's estate and headed into the night alone. Normally the warriors ran their patrols in teams, but, frankly, he was feeling like piss-poor company--even for himself.

His veins were throbbing with aggression, and the hunger that had sunk its claws into him in the infirmary with Jenna wasn't doing anything for his attitude, either. He needed to feel the pavement under his boots and a weapon in his hand. Hell, at the rate his night had been going thus far, he'd even welcome the nut-freezing chill of the early December wind that he normally despised.

Anything to distract him from the need that was raking him raw.

To help on that score, he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his fatigues and speed-dialed Kade.

"Sunshine Cleaning," the warrior answered wryly. "How are things back at the ranch?"

Brock could only growl.

Kade chuckled. "That good, huh? When's the last time someone brought a bleeding human into the compound? Or any human, for that matter."

"Things were a bit tense for a while," Brock admitted. "Fortunately, Tess stepped in and patched Jenna up. She's going to be okay."

"Glad to hear that. Alex would never forgive us if we let anything happen to her best friend."

Brock really didn't want to discuss Jenna, or the responsibility of keeping her safe. He scowled as he headed deeper into the city, his gaze scanning the streets and alleyways, on the lookout for thugs or assholes--any excuse to pull over and engage in a little hand-to-hand. Human or Breed, he could give a shit, so long as they put up a decent fight.

"What's the status of the location in Southie?" he asked Kade.