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."
Brock stared, incredulous. He bore down on him, more than ready to escalate things if he got even so much as a whiff of duplicity out of the arrogant male. "Let me tell you something, Harvard. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but you do not want to f**k with me."
"No game," Chase said, his piercing blue eyes steady. Clear. Honest, to Brock's amazement. "It was beneath me to act the way I did earlier, and I apologize."
Brock backed off, lifting his chin as he considered the surprising sincerity of Chase's words. "All right," he said slowly, cautious that he didn't get too comfortable too soon.
He'd been on enough missions with Sterling Chase. He'd seen him operate, and he knew the male could be a viper--both in armed combat and in wars of words. He was dangerous, and just because he was extending his hand in an apparent truce now didn't mean Brock should be too eager to turn his back to him.
"Okay," he murmured. "Apology accepted, man."
Chase nodded, then went back to cleaning his weapons. "By the way, that cut on your neck is bleeding."
Brock growled a curse as he reached up and ran his fingers over Jenna's little bite mark. There was only the faintest trace of blood there, but even a fraction of that would have been too much to escape the notice of one of the Breed. And under a truce or not, it was just like Chase not to let that notice slide by without comment.
"I'll be ready to roll at sundown," Brock said, his eyes trained on the bent blond head that didn't so much as twitch in response, Chase's attention remaining fixed on the work spread out on the table before him.
Brock pivoted and stalked out to the corridor. He hadn't needed the reminder about what had happened between Jenna and him. She'd been on his mind, occupying the bulk of his thoughts, since the moment he left her in his quarters.
Chase's apology made him realize that he owed one, as well.
He didn't want to leave things the way he had with Jenna. Part of him wondered if he'd been fair in how he'd pursued her, following her after she'd run away from him, fighting back tears. He'd drawn away her grief with his touch, but had doing so also made her more pliable to his own demanding need for her?
It hadn't been his plan to manipulate her into his bed, no matter how badly he'd wanted her. And if he had seduced her, there was no mistaking Jenna's desire once they had gotten started. It didn't take much to relive the feel of her hands on his skin, soft yet demanding. Her mouth had been hot and wet on his, giving and taking, driving him wild. Her body had sheathed him like slick, warm satin, a memory that had him growing hard just to think of it.
And then, when he'd felt the blunt pressure of her human teeth at his throat ...
Holy hell.
He'd never known anything so hot.
He had never known a woman as hot as Jenna, and he hadn't exactly been living the life of a monk that he lacked the basis for comparison.
Human females had long been his preferred type--a pleasant persion with no threat of attachment. He'd never even been tempted to think past a few nights when it came to his human lovers. Now he wondered if he hadn't been looking at Jenna Darrow in the same light. Deep down, he had to admit that he'd been hoping he could keep her in that neat little compartment.
As of now, he was determined to lock the lid down on his attraction to her and walk away while he had the chance.
But there was still the matter of how he'd left things with her.
Even if she was upset with him, which she had every right to be, he wanted her to know that he was sorry. Not sorry for the sex that had been so hot it was a wonder they hadn't combusted together, but sorry for taking off without manning up to his own weakness afterward. He wanted to set things straight so they could move on.
And what, be friends?
Hell, he wasn't even sure he knew how to do that. He could count his friends on one hand, and none of those friends were human. None of them were females who set him on fire just by being in the same room.