Her blood work and DNA had begun to alter from the implant embedded inside her. What if that wasn't the only thing that was changing about her?
Dread sitting like a cold rock in her gut, she leapt out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom, flipping on all of the lights. Leaning over the marble counter, she peeled back her upper lip and stared into the large mirror.
No fangs.
Thank God.
Nothing staring back at her except her own familiar reflection, her own unremarkable, wholly human set of teeth. She'd never been so glad to see them since the day she first had her braces off at the awkward age of thirteen--a too-tall, too-tough tomboy who'd had to kick a lot of junior high school boys' asses for all the teasing she took about her metal mouth and training bra. A wry, half-hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. She could have saved herself a lot of effort and bruises if she'd been able to flash a pair of razor-sharp fangs at her schoolyard tormentors.
Jenna heaved a long sigh and sagged against the counter. She looked normal, which was a relief, but inside, she was different. She knew that, and she didn't need Gideon's latest test results to tell her that something very peculiar was going on under her skin.
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.
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?"
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."