thudding in counterpoint to the soft, wet patter of blood that dripped to the floor from Jenna's wound.
As they rounded a curve in the corridor that would take them to the infirmary, Lucan met them in the passageway. He stopped dead in his tracks, feet braced apart, hands fisting at his sides. Brock could just make out the subtle flaring of the Gen One's nostrils as the scent of fresh blood traveled the corridor.
Lucan's eyes zeroed in on the bleeding human, their gray color flashing with sparks of light, pupils narrowing swiftly to catlike slivers.
"Holy hell."
"Yeah," Brock drawled. "Gunshot wound to the right thigh, .45-caliber round with no sign of exit. We tied it off, but she's lost a damned lot of blood between here and the place in Southie where I found her."
"No shit," Lucan said, his fangs clearly visible now, twin points gleaming as he spoke. He grated out a harsh curse. "Go on, then. They're waiting for her in the infirmary."
Brock gave the Order's leader a grim nod as he continued past him. In the infirmary, Gideon and Tess had prepared an operating table for Jenna.
Gideon's face went a bit pale at the sight of her, and when he clamped his jaws together, a muscle jerked in his lean cheek.
"Set her down right here," Tess said from beside the surgery table, jumping in when Gideon, the otherwise calm and collected Breed male who'd stitched up his fair share of combat wounds for the other warriors, seemed at a loss now that the patient in question was human and leaking red cells like a faucet.
"Fuck me," Gideon said after a long moment, his British accent coming on stronger than normal. "That's a lot of blood. Tess, can you--"
"Yes," she put in quickly. "I can handle it on my own."
"Okay," he said, visibly affected. "I'll, ah ... I think I'm gonna wait outside."
As Gideon made his exit, Brock placed Jenna on the stainless steel 57
table. When he didn't move away, Tess glanced up at him in question.
"You're injured, too?"
He shrugged his good shoulder. "It's nothing."
She pursed her lips, not entirely convinced. "Maybe Gideon ought to make sure of that."
"It is nothing," Brock repeated, impatient. He took off his shades and hooked them into the collar of his black shirt. "What about Jenna? How bad is she?"
Tess glanced down at her and gave a faint wince. "Let me have a look.
It's a shame my talent is suppressed because of the baby, or I could heal her in a few seconds, instead of the hour or more it's likely going to take to get the worst of the bleeding under control."
Tess had been a skilled and caring veterinarian before she moved in to the Order's compound and became Dante's mate. She'd since taken on a vital role as Gideon's right hand in the infirmary, tending to much larger--and, no doubt, more disagreeable--clientele than she'd dealt with in her former clinic in the city.
As a Breedmate, she also possessed an extraordinary talent--one that was unique to her and which would be passed down to the son she would bear, as Brock's mother had passed her own down to him. Tess had a healing touch, as well, only her ability went even further than his. Where Brock's talent gave him the power to absorb human pain, the effect was only temporary. Tess could actually restore health, even restore life, in any living creature.
Or, rather, she had been able to, before pregnancy had stifled her power.
But she was still a damned good physician, and Jenna could not be in more capable hands. Still, Brock found it difficult to step back from the operating table, in spite of the bloodthirst that was twisting his gut and wringing him out from the inside.
He stood there, stock-still, as Tess scrubbed her hands, removed the makeshift tourniquet, then did a cursory visual examination of the wound.
She asked Renata to stay nearby and assist her, then spoke reassuringly to Jenna, explaining what she had to do to extract the bullet and tend the wound.
"The good news is, there's no bone damage and, from what I can