His expression still pained from what he'd done for her a few moments ago, he shook his head and blew out a low curse. "For a woman who doesn't want anyone's help, you sure seem to need it a lot."
She barely resisted the temptation to tell him where he could shove that sentiment. "I can take care of myself."
"Like you did last night in the city?" he challenged. "Like you did just a few minutes ago in the tech lab, right before my arms were the only thing that came between your stubborn ass and the floor?"
Humiliation stung her cheeks like a slap. "You know what? Save us both some grief, and don't do me any more favors."
She spun away from him and started walking toward the door that was still open onto the corridor outside. Each miraculously painless step she took only heightened her anger at Brock. Made her all the more determined to put as much distance between them as possible.
Before she got within a yard of the threshold, he was standing in front of her. Blocking her path, even though she hadn't seen or heard him move.
She stopped short. Gaped at him, astonished by the preternatural speed he evidently had at his control.
"Get out of my way," she said, and tried to move past him.
He sidestepped her, putting his immense body directly in front of her.
The intensity of his gaze told her he wanted to say something more, but Jenna didn't want to hear it. She needed to be alone.
Needed space to think about everything that had happened to her ...
everything that was still happening, growing more terrifying all the time.
"Move aside," she said, hating the small hitch that crept into her voice.
Brock slowly lifted his hand and swept a tousled hank of hair off her brow. It was a tender gesture, kindness she craved so badly but was too afraid to accept. "You're in our world now, Jenna. And whether you want to admit it or not, you're in way over your head."
She watched his mouth as he spoke, wishing she didn't find herself so riveted to the movements of his full, sensual lips. He was still weathering her pain; she could tell by the slight flare of his nostrils as he drew in his breath and blew it out on a controlled exhale. The tension in his handsome face and strong neck hadn't abated, either.
Seeing him carrying a burden that belonged to her made her feel small and powerless.
All her life, she'd struggled to prove herself worthy--first to her father and her brother, Zach, both of whom let her know in no uncertain terms they doubted she'd had what it took to make it in law enforcement. Later on, she'd striven to be the perfect wife and mother. Her entire life had been structured on a foundation of strength, discipline, and capability.
Incredibly, as she stood there in front of Brock now, it wasn't the fact that he was something other than human--something dangerous and otherworldly--that made her want the floor to open up and swallow her whole. It was the dread that he could see through the hard shell of the anger she wore like body armor and that he might know her for the scared, lonely failure she truly was.
Brock gave another faint shake of his head in the long silence that hung between them. His eyes took her in slowly, drifting all over her face before coming back up to meet her gaze. "There are worse things than needing to lean on someone once in a while, Jenna."
"Damn it, I said get out of my way!" She shoved at him, her palms connecting with his broad chest as she pushed with all the anger and fear she had inside her.
Brock flew backward several paces, nearly crashing into the far wall of the corridor.
Jenna sucked in her breath, stunned and amazed at what she'd just done.
Horrified by it.
Brock was a towering force, six and a half feet tall and likely 250-plus pounds of muscle and strength. Something far more powerful than her.
Something far more powerful than anything she'd ever known.
And she had just physically shoved him a couple of feet across the floor.
His brows lifted over his surprised gaze. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, more wonder in his voice than anger.
Jenna brought her hands out before her and stared at them as though they belonged to someone else. "Oh, my God. How did I ... What just happened?"
"It's all right," he said, walking back toward her with that maddeningly calm ease of his.
"Brock, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to--"
"I know," he said, nodding soberly. "No worries. You didn't hurt me."
A bubble of hysteria climbed up the back of her throat. First, the shocking news that the implant was somehow altering her DNA, and now this--a strength that couldn't possibly belong to her, yet somehow did. She thought back on her escape from the estate grounds and the bizarre language abilities that she'd seemed to have picked up since the Ancient had left a piece of himself embedded in her spinal cord.
"What the hell is happening to me, Brock? When will all of this finally stop?"
He took her trembling hands between his palms and held them steady.
"Whatever is going on, you don't have to go through it alone. You need to understand that."
She didn't know if he was speaking for everyone in the compound or himself. She had no voice to ask him for clarification. She told herself it didn't matter what he meant, yet it didn't keep her heart from racing as she stared up at him. Under the heat of his fathomless brown eyes, she felt the worst of her fears melt away.
She felt warm and protected, things she wanted to deny but couldn't so long as Brock was holding her in his hands and in his gaze.
He frowned after a long moment and slowly released her hands, letting his palms skate down the length of her arms. It was a sensual caress, lingering too long to be mistaken for anything less than intimate. Jenna knew it, and she could see that he knew it, too.