Taken by Midnight (Midnight Breed 8)

"No shit?" Some of the edge left Chase's hard blue gaze as he looked at her. "Not bad for a human. I'm impressed."

She shrugged off the compliment. "I should have known something wasn't right with the agent I met with. I did know, actually. I had a certain ...

sense, I guess you could say. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but all through the meeting I kept thinking something was odd about him."

"What do you mean?" Gideon asked.

She frowned, considering. "I don't know exactly. It was just something instinctual. His eyes made me uncomfortable, and I kept getting a weird feeling that he wasn't quite ... normal."

"You knew he wasn't quite human," Brock suggested, as surprised as the rest of the warriors to hear her admission. "You sensed he was a Minion?"

"I suppose I did." She nodded. "But I didn't know to call him that at the time. All I knew was he made my skin crawl the longer I was near him."

Brock didn't miss the silent glance that passed between Gideon and Lucan.

Neither did Jenna. "What is it? Tell me why you're so quiet all of a sudden."

"Human beings don't have the ability to detect Minions," Brock answered. " Homo sapiens senses aren't acute enough to pick up on the difference between a mortal and someone whose will belongs to a Breed master."

She arched her brows. "You think this is also related to the implant, don't you? The alien gift that keeps on giving." She huffed out a sharp laugh.>He shook his head, then brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the center of her hand. "What I feel is anger, at myself. I never should have let her out of my sight, not even for a second. When news reached me that a young woman's brutalized, burned body had been recovered from a city river not far from the clubs, I felt sick with dread. I didn't want to believe it was her. Not even when I saw the corpse with my own eyes ...

what remained of it, after what someone had done to her prior to the three months she'd been left in the water."

Jenna winced, knowing all too well how horrific death could look, particularly to those who cared for the victim. And most especially to a man who had held himself responsible for a crime he had no way of anticipating, let alone preventing.

"She was unrecognizable, except for bits of clothing and a necklace she still wore when she was pulled out of the river. Burning her and cutting off her hands hadn't been enough for whoever killed her. She was also weighted down, making sure she wasn't discovered for a long time after she vanished."

"My God," Jenna whispered. "That kind of brutality and forethought doesn't just happen. Whoever did it did it for a reason."

Brock shrugged. "What reason could there possibly be to kill a defenseless young woman? She was just a kid. A beautiful, wild child who was living every moment. There was something addictive about her energy and her spirit. Corinne didn't give a damn what anyone said or thought, she just chewed through life without apologies. Grabbed hold of every day as though it was all going to end tomorrow. Jesus, little did she know."

Jenna saw the depth of his regret in his carefully schooled expression.

"When did you realize you had fallen in love with her?"

His gaze was distant in the dark of the backseat. "I don't remember how it happened. I made an effort to keep my feelings to myself. I never acted on them, not even when she flirted and teased. It wouldn't have been right. Corinne was too young, for one thing. And her father trusted me to watch over her."

Jenna smiled as she reached out to him, smoothing her hand along his rigid cheek and jaw. "You're an honorable man, Brock. You were then, and you are now."

He shook his head slowly, reflecting for a moment. "I failed. What happened to Corinne--God, what her killers did to her body--was beyond comprehension. It never should have happened. I was supposed to keep her safe. It took me a long time to accept that she was gone--that the charred and desecrated remains had once been the vibrant young woman I'd known since she was a child. I wanted to deny she was dead. Hell, I denied it to myself for a long time, even searched for her across three states, convincing myself she was still out there, that I could save her. It never brought her back."

Jenna watched him, seeing the torment that still lived inside him. "Do you wish you could bring her back?"

"I had been hired to protect her. That was my job, the promise I made every time she stepped out of her father's Darkhaven. I would have traded my life for Corinne's without hesitation."

"And now?" Jenna asked quietly, realizing she was half afraid to hear that he might still love the beautiful ghost from his past.

But when Brock's gaze lifted, his eyes were steady and serious, centered completely on her. His touch was warm and lingering against her face, his mouth so very close to hers. "Wouldn't you rather know how I feel about you?" He stroked his thumb over her lips, the barest skate of contact, and yet she sizzled deep within. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and believe me, I've tried. Getting involved was never in my plans."

"I know," she said. "Allergic to relationships. I remember."

"I've been careful for a long time, Jenna." His voice was thick, a low rasp that vibrated into her bones. "I try very hard not to make mistakes.

Especially ones that can't be reversed."

She swallowed, suddenly concerned that his voice had gotten too serious. "You don't owe me anything, if that's what you think."

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "I do owe you something--an apology for what happened between us the other night."