Taken by Midnight (31 page)

183

After speaking again with Mathias Rowan of the Enforcement Agency, Chase had briefed them all on the troubling details of the abduction before the Archers had arrived. Three immense, heavily armed Breed males had apparently invaded the Darkhaven estate where Lazaro and Christophe Archer lived with their families. The elder Archers and their Breedmates had gone to a charity fund-raiser that evening, leaving teenage Kellan home alone.

By the sound of it, the kidnapping had been as stealthy as it was precise--all of it hinged on a very specific target. In a span of what could have only been mere minutes, the intruders entered the Darkhaven through a back window, killed two of Christophe's security personnel, then snatched the youth from his upstairs bedroom and drove away with him.

The sole witness to the abduction was a cousin, several years younger than Kellan, who'd hidden in a closet as the invasion took place.

Understandably afraid and upset, he could hardly describe the abductors, except to say that they'd been dressed from head to toe in black, with masked faces that obscured everything but their eyes. The boy had also noted that the three males each wore a strange, thick black collar around their necks.

While the Enforcement Agent hadn't fully understood the ramifications of that one crucial detail, every member of the Order did. They had suspected Dragos was at the heart of this, but hearing that a trio of his homegrown assassins--Gen Ones bred and trained to serve him, their loyalty ensured by the lethal UV collars each was forced to wear--had confirmed their suspicions were correct.

"I simply cannot comprehend this kind of madness," Christophe said, leaning his elbows on the table, his features stricken, eyes pleading. "I mean, why? Certainly our race is not so crude as the humans who would grapple and connive over money, so what could anyone possibly have to gain by stealing my only child?"

"No," Lucan replied, the word as grim as his expression. "We do not believe this has anything to do with a potential financial gain."

"Then what could they possibly want with Kellan? What can they gain by taking him away?"

Lucan glanced briefly at Lazaro Archer. "Leverage. The individual who ordered this abduction will, no doubt, issue a demand before too long."

"A demand for what?"

"For me," Lazaro said quietly. When his son's gaze slid to him in question, the Gen One looked at him in frank remorse. "Christophe is not aware of the conversation we had nearly a year ago, Lucan. I never told him 184

about the warning you gave me and the other few remaining Gen Ones that someone was seeking to erase us from existence. He doesn't know about the other killings among our generation."

Christophe Archer's face went a bit pale. "Father, what are you talking about? Who is seeking to harm you?"

"His name is Dragos," Lucan replied. "The Order has been waging a private war with him for some time now. But not before he had the chance to spend several decades--centuries, in fact--building his secret empire. He has already killed several other Gen Ones in the past year alone, and that, unfortunately, is only scratching the surface of his madness. All he knows is power, and the need to claim it. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants, and no life is sacred."

"Jesus Christ. You're telling me this sick bastard is the one who took Kellan?"

Lucan nodded. "I'm sorry."

Christophe vaulted to his feet and began pacing back and forth behind the table. "We have to get him back. Damn it, we have to bring my son home, no matter what it takes."

"We are all agreed on that," Lucan said, speaking for everyone gathered in solemn silence in the tech lab. "But you have to understand that no matter how this unfolds, there will be risks--"

"Damn the risks!" Christophe shouted. "We're talking about my son, my only child. My beloved, innocent boy. Don't tell me about risks, Lucan. I will gladly trade my own life for Kellan."

"As will I," Lazaro put in soberly. "Anything for my kin."

Brock watched the emotional exchange, knowing what it felt like to be helpless in the face of such a loss. But even more than he was moved by the Archers' pain, he was struck by how raw Jenna looked beside him.

Although she held her jaw still, tension bracketed her mouth. Her lips quivered slightly, and her hazel eyes were moist with unshed tears. Whether in sympathy for what the two Breed males were going through or remembrance of her own anguish at having a loved one yanked away so abruptly, he wasn't sure. But the tenderness he saw in her touched him deeply.

Beneath the table, her hand slid over to reach for his. He gathered her slender fingers in his grasp and she glanced to him, smiling faintly as their fingers twined together in silent reassurance. Something deeper passed between them in that moment--an unspoken acknowledgment of the growing bond they shared.

He knew she was strong. He knew she was a courageous, resilient 185

woman who had taken more than her fair share of hits in her lifetime and still came up swinging. But seeing her now, gripped in a moment of quiet vulnerability, made his heart crack just a little.

He loved that she wasn't some delicate flower that wilted under the smallest bit of heat. But he loved this glimpse of softness in her, too.

God, there was so much to love about her.

If not for the slight problem that she hadn't been born a Breedmate, Jenna Darrow was a woman he could easily envision at his side--a true partner, in life and in all things. But she was mortal, and falling for her would inevitably mean losing her. What happened in New York earlier today--seeing her in the hands of Dragos's Minions--had only driven that point home with sharper clarity.

Corinne's death had been a blow he hadn't been prepared for, but he'd managed to go on. Losing Jenna, whether to the age that would eventually take her or by any other means, had somehow become impossible even to imagine.

As he held her hand in his, he knew that he could no longer pretend that she was simply another mission, or that protecting her was merely his duty to the Order. He'd fallen too far and too fast to deny just how much she meant to him.

He was still turning that troubling realization over in his mind as Lucan rose from the table and went to stand near Christophe Archer. Lucan put his hand on the other male's shoulder, his dark brows knitted together in a solemn look. "We won't rest until we find your son and bring him home.

You have my word, and you have the word of my brethren here in this room."

At his pledge, Brock and the other warriors also rose from their seats around the table in a show of solidarity. Even Hunter, the Gen One who knew firsthand how ruthless Dragos and his assassins truly were, stood in support of their new mission.

Christophe turned a hard gaze on the Order's leader. "Thank you.

There is nothing more I can ask."

"And there is nothing I won't give," Lazaro said, joining his son and Lucan near the back of the room. "The Order has my faith and my full trust.

I cannot forgive myself for ignoring your advice a year ago, Lucan. Just look what it's costing me now." He shook his head sadly. "Perhaps I have lived too long, if an evil individual like Dragos can exist among us. Is this what is to become of the Breed? Making war on one another, letting greed and power corrupt us, just like humankind. Perhaps we're not so different from them, after all. For that matter, are we any different from the savage 186

otherworlders who spawned us?"

Lucan's steel gray gaze had never looked more resolute. "I'm counting on it."

Lazaro Archer nodded. "And I am counting on you," he said, sweeping a look over each warrior and the females who now stood with them. "I am counting on all of you."

187

Twenty-three

The Order continued the meeting for another couple of hours after Lazaro and Christophe Archer left. Sometime earlier, Jenna and the rest of the women had gone to have their dinner elsewhere in the compound, leaving the warriors to discuss their limited options and tactics for how they might go about searching for the abducted boy.

Although Brock listened and offered suggestions when he had them, his mind--and his heart--was distracted. A lot of his focus had walked out of the room when Jenna left, and since then, he'd been counting down the minutes until he could be with her again. As soon as the meeting in the tech lab broke up, he headed out to the corridor to find her.

Alex was coming out of his quarters, closing the door behind her as he approached. She smiled knowingly when she saw him.

"How is she doing?" he asked.

"A lot better than I would be after what she went through today. She's dead on her feet, but you know Jen. She would never say as much."

"Yeah," he said, returning Alex's smile. "I do know that."

"She's more concerned about you, I think. She told me what you did, Brock. How you came after her, driving into the full light of day."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "I had the proper gear.

My burns were minimal. They were healed by the time we got back to the compound."

"That's not the point." Alex's mouth curved warmly. Then she abruptly went up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for saving my friend."

When he stood there, unsure how to respond, Alex rolled her eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Go on in and see her for yourself."

He waited until Kade's mate had gone before he rapped his knuckles on the door. It took a few moments before Jenna opened it. She was barefoot, dressed in his white terry bathrobe, he was guessing, with little to nothing more beneath it.

188

"Hi," she said, giving him a welcoming smile that made his blood fire to life in his veins. "I was just about to get in the shower."

Oh, he definitely didn't need that tempting mental image to make his
body burn any hotter
.

"I wanted to come by and check on you," he murmured, a thick rasp in his voice as he recalled the feminine curves and long, luscious limbs that were hiding under the oversize robe. A robe fastened only by the loosely tied sash around her slender waist. He cleared his throat. "But if you're tired--"

"I'm not." She pivoted away from the door, leaving it open behind her in unspoken invitation.

Brock stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

He hadn't gone there with ideas about seducing her, but he had to admit it seemed like a really stellar idea now that he was close enough to touch her. Close enough to sense that she felt the same way.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out for her hand and brought her back toward him. She didn't resist. Her hazel eyes were wide and welcoming as he cupped his hand around the back of her head and drew her against him. He caught her mouth in a deep, hungered kiss. She sucked his lower lip hard between her teeth, and all of his good intentions, few though they were, went up in flames.

"God, Jenna," he rasped against her mouth. "I can't stay away from you."

Her answer was a throaty moan, the slow feminine purr vibrating through his body and straight into his cock. He was hard as steel, his skin tight and overheated, every nerve ending throbbing in time with the roar of his pulse.

He peeled the loose terry cloth off Jenna's luscious body, revealing her to his thirsting gaze inch by inch, curve by delectable curve. He smoothed his hands over her soft skin, reveling in the velvety feel of her under his rough fingertips. Her breasts filled his palms, a perfect swell of creamy flesh capped with small pink nipples that begged him to taste them.

He dipped his head down and lavished her with his tongue, suckling the tight little buds and growling with pleasure as she moaned and sighed above him.

The sweet scent of her arousal slammed into him, making his already emerged fangs punch out of his gums in primal, urgent response. He reached down between her legs, cleaving his fingers into the slick seam of her body.

"So soft," he murmured, teasing the petals of her body and reveling in the way she blossomed even fuller under his touch. "So hot and wet. You are so fucking sexy, Jenna."

"Oh, God," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he 189

slowly penetrated her with first one finger, then a second. "More," she whispered. "Don't stop."

With a growl, he rocked his palm against her and took her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, tongue and fingers delving deep, giving and taking until he felt her body quake with the first tremors of release. She let out a sharp, shuddery sigh but he didn't let up until she shattered against him, crying out his name in release.

She was still panting, still holding onto his shoulders as he slowly caressed her sex, and bent to kiss the tight little buds of her nipples.

"You're way overdressed," she murmured, her heavy-lidded eyes dark and demanding, though no more than the hands that were now drifting down his arms and heading on a direct course for the massive bulge below the waistband of his fatigues. She stroked him over the fabric, her unbashful handling of him making his cock surge tighter, fuller, straining to be freed.