Jenna resisted the pull of comfort that Tess's words had on her. She didn't want to feel relaxed in this place, among Alex and these seemingly kind strangers.
Nor with Brock.
Least of all with him.
Her mind was still reeling from his unexpected rescue of her in the city. It had been a mistake to take off as she had, ill-prepared and emotionally unhinged. She hadn't been so long resigned from police work that she didn't remember the surest way to get one's ass caught in a sling was to run off half cocked into unfamiliar territory. All she'd known in that split second before she'd bolted from the compound was a desperation to escape her dark new reality.
She'd made a classic rookie error in judgment, fueled by pure emotion, and ended up needing backup to drag her ass to safety. That her backup had come in the form of a formidable, scary-as-hell vampire was something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to wrap her brain around.
Deep down, she knew Brock had saved her life last night. Part of her wished he hadn't done it. She didn't want to owe him anything. She didn't like being indebted to anyone, and most certainly not to a man who couldn't even be classified as human.
God, what a messed-up turn her life had taken.
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."
"Maybe," Jenna said noncommittally, lifting her shoulder in a slight shrug.
If not for the disturbing bit of foreign material embedded in her upper spine, and, now, the gunshot wound that had grounded her for God only knew how long, she'd be gone from this place already. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be made to stay, but as soon as she was able to walk out of there again, she'd be history. Never mind what the Order thought they needed from her; she had no interest in sticking around to be their guinea pig.
It was still beyond strange to think she was actually sitting there--in a secret, military-grade headquarters populated by a team of vampire warriors and the seemingly sane, perfectly likable women who appeared to be happy and comfortably at home among them.
The surrealism of the whole thing got even stronger when Alex and the rest of the Order's females--five youthful, stunningly beautiful women and the blond little girl named Mira--filed out of the kitchen with the rest of breakfast. They chatted companionably, as relaxed among one another as if they'd been together all their lives.
They were a family--Alex included, even though she'd just arrived a week ago, along with Jenna.
An easy rhythm settled over the dining room as gold-rimmed plates were passed around and heaped with all manner of delicious things. Crystal juice glasses were filled to their sparkling brims, and delicate, bone china cups soon steamed with fragrant dark roast coffee.
Jenna watched in studious silence as the meal got under way. Warm maple syrup and soft pads of butter made the rounds of the table, stopping for the longest time with little Mira, who soaked her French toast in sticky sweetness and globbed butter onto her biscuit as though it were frosting.
Mira wolfed down the biscuit in two big bites, then attacked the rest of her meal with the same unbridled gusto.
Jenna smiled in spite of herself at the child's ravenous appetite, feeling a pang of melancholy, if not guilt, when she thought about her own daughter. Libby had been such a cautious little girl, self-disciplined and serious, even as a toddler.
God, what she wouldn't give now to be able to watch Libby enjoying something as simple as breakfast across the table from her.
With sugar-coated fingers, Mira reached for her glass of orange juice and took a big gulp. She sighed contentedly as she set the glass back down with a soft thump. "May I have some whipped cream for my peaches?" she asked, pinning Jenna with her uncanny violet eyes.
For a moment, Jenna felt trapped in that gaze. She shook off the sensation and reached for the china bowl that sat halfway between her own plate and Mira's across the table.
"May I please have some whipped cream," Renata corrected from her seat to the right of the little girl. The tough-looking brunette gave Mira a decidedly maternal, affectionate wink as she reached out to intercept the bowl that Jenna passed her.
"May I please," Mira amended, looking anything but chided.
Jenna sliced into the decadent French toast and popped a bite into her mouth. It was just as Tess had promised--heavenly. She could hardly keep from moaning out loud as she savored the creamy, vanilla taste of it.
"You like?" asked Savannah, who was seated at one end of the long dining room table.
"It's delicious," Jenna murmured, her taste buds still vibrating with bliss. She sent a brief, encompassing glance around to everyone gathered there. "Thank you for letting me share all of this with you. I've never seen so much food in my life."