"A thrilling addition to the extraordinary Midnight Breed series!"
Reviewed by Becky Pena
Posted September 24, 2010
Paranormal Romance
TAKEN BY MIDNIGHT dives right into the previous Midnight
Breed novel, and continues on with the thrilling story. Jenna, introduced in Shades of Midnight, by
misfortune ends up in the hands of an Ancient, an
unrelenting and savage alien, recently freed from captivity,
set on restoring his mental and physical health through her
blood. The Ancient, an alien with a history of using force
as his primary way to the top of the food chain, is
dangerous company; showing compassion or restraint is
unheard of. So how did Jenna leave their confrontation alive? TAKEN BY MIDNIGHT answers all of our previous Jenna
questions. What actually happened in her house that night
the Ancient kept her captive? As it turns out, the Ancient
decided, after extensive feeding, to make Jenna choose her
fate. Coming out of her coma, Jenna wakes up to friendly
faces in the underground base of the Order and remembers
choosing life; a surprising choice, given the past guilt
associated with the death of her husband and daughter four
years ago. Her smooth recovery can be attributed to Brock, a
mysterious Order member with pain lessening talents and an
eye set on her desire. As the novel continues, Jenna faces unique changes in her
body. Her DNA is mutating and anomalies, like superhuman
powers, have started to reveal themselves. The Ancient,
in giving Jenna life, also gave her an implant on the back
of her neck, bio-technology meant to change her. Jenna must
choose whether to use her new found skills to help out the
Order and their mates against Dragos, or to stay in the
background. Brock must come to terms with his attraction to
Jenna, a human with no breedmate mark, and consider her a
possible future mate. Their pasts conflict, and
challenge the outcome of their future together. TAKEN BY MIDNIGHT was a great extension to the Midnight
Breed Series. It was sensual, filled with passion and yet
still gave readers pages full of thrilling suspense. The
balance between Jenna and Brock's relationship and the
overall battle against Dragos was perfect. My curiosity was
filled and satisfied, and I can't wait to see just where the
vampires of the Order will go now. Dragos is down on his
game, can we finally defeat him?
SUMMARY
AT THE CROSSROADS OF DEATH AND DESIRE, A WOMAN TASTES A
PLEASURE NO MORTAL IS MEANT TO SURVIVE. In the frozen Alaskan wilderness, former state trooper Jenna
Darrow survives an unspeakable breach of body and soul. But
with her narrow escape comes an even greater challenge. For
strange changes are taking place within her, as she
struggles to understand—and control—a new hunger. To do so,
she will seek shelter in the Boston compound of the Order,
an ancient race of vampire warriors whose very existence is
shrouded in mystery. Perhaps the most mysterious of them all
is Brock, a brooding, dark-eyed alpha male whose hands hold
the power to comfort, heal . . . and arouse. As she recovers under Brock’s care, Jenna finds herself
drawn to the Order’s mission: to stop a ruthless enemy and
its army of assassins from subjecting Earth to a reign of
terror. Yet in spite of their resolve, a purely physical
relationship without strings soon binds Brock and Jenna
together with a desire fiercer than life and stronger than
death itself—until a secret from Brock’s past and Jenna’s
own mortality challenges their forbidden love to the
ultimate trial by fire.
ExcerptExcerpted from Taken by Midnight
by Lara Adrian
Published by: Dell Books (October 2010)
© 2009 by Lara Adrian LLC. All rights reserved.
(Note: excerpt may contain explicit language, sexual
situations, and/or minor spoilers)Brock didn't make excuses for what he was doing or where he
was taking her. Merely strode out of the tech lab and
carried her back up the corridor she'd come from with Alex a
few minutes before. "Let go of me," Jenna demanded, her senses still muddled,
ringing with each long stride of Brock's legs. She shifted
in his arms, trying to ignore how even that small bit of
movement made her head spin and her stomach twist. Her head
fell back over his muscled forearm, a pained groan leaking
out of her. "I said, put me down, dammit." He grunted, but kept walking. "I heard you the first time." She closed her eyes, only because it was too hard to keep
them open and watch the ceiling of the corridor contort and
swirl above her as Brock carried her deeper into the
compound. He slowed after a moment, then turned sharply, and
Jenna glanced up to see that he had brought her back to the
apartment suite that was now her private quarters. "Please, put me down," she murmured, her tongue thick,
throat gone bone dry. The pounding behind her eyes had
become a jackhammer throb, the ringing in her ears a
deafening high-frequency whine that seemed to want to split
her skull wide open. "Oh, God," she gasped, unable to hide
her agony. "It hurts so much . . . " "Okay," Brock said quietly. "Everything's gonna be okay now." "No, it won't." She whimpered, humiliated by the sound of
her own weakness, and the fact that Brock was seeing her
like this. "What's happening to me? What did he do to me?" "It doesn't matter right now," Brock whispered, his deep
voice held too tight. Too carefully level to be believed.
"Let's just get you through this first." He crossed the room with her and knelt down to place her on
the sofa. Jenna lay back and let him gently straighten her
legs, not so far gone with discomfort and worry that she
didn't recognize the tenderness of the strong hands that
could probably crush the life from someone with little more
than a twitch of this man's will. "Relax," he said, and those strong, tender hands came up
near her face. He leaned over her and lightly stroked her
cheek, his dark eyes compelling her to hold his gaze. "Just
relax, and breathe now, Jenna. Can you do that for me?" She'd calmed a bit already, easing into the sound of her
name on his lips, the feathery warmth of his fingers as they
skated slowly from her cheek to her jaw, then down, along
the side of her neck. The short bursts of breath that sawed
in and out of her lungs began to slow, to ease, as Brock
cupped her nape in one hand, and glided his other palm in an
unrushed, soothing back and forth motion across the top of
her chest. "That's it," he murmured, his gaze still locked on hers,
intense and yet so impossibly tender at the same time. "Let
go of all the pain, and relax. You're safe, Jenna. You can
trust me." She didn't know why those words should affect her as much as
they did. Maybe it was the pain that had weakened her. Maybe
it was the fear of the unknown, the gaping abyss of
uncertainty that had suddenly become her reality since that
frigid, horrific night in Alaska. And maybe it was just the simple fact that it had been a
long time--four lonely years--since she'd felt the firm,
warm caress of a man's touch, even if offered only in comfort. Four empty years since she'd convinced herself she didn't
need tender contact or intimacy. Four endless years since
she'd remembered what it was to feel like a flesh-and-blood
woman, like she was desired. Like she might one day be able
to open her heart to something more. Jenna closed her eyes as the prick of tears began to sting.
She pushed aside the swell of emotion that rose up on her
unexpectedly and focused instead on the soothing warmth of
Brock's fingertips on her skin. She let his voice wash over
her, feeling his words and his touch work in tandem to coax
her through the anguish of the strange trauma that had
seemed to be shredding her from the inside out. "That's good, Jenna. Just breathe now." She felt the vise of pain in her skull loosen as he spoke to
her. Brock caressed her temples with his thumbs, his fingers
splayed deeply into her hair, holding her head in a
comforting grasp. The piercing ring in her ears began to
fade away, until, at last, it was gone. "You're doing great," Brock murmured, his voice darker than
before, just above a growl. "Let it go, Jenna. Give the rest
of it to me." She exhaled a long, purging sigh, unable to keep it inside
her as long as Brock was stroking her face and neck. She
moaned, welcoming the pleasure that was slowing devouring
her agony. "Feels nice," she whispered, helpless to resist
the urge to nuzzle farther into his touch. "The pain isn't
so bad now." "That's good, Jenna." He drew in a breath that sounded more
like a sharp gasp, then exhaled a low groan. "Let it all go
now." Jenna felt a tremor vibrate through his fingertips as he
spoke. Her eyelids snapped open and she gaped up at him,
stricken by what she saw. The tendons in his neck were strung tight, his jaw clamped
down so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter. A
muscle ticked wildly in his lean cheek. Beads of
perspiration lined his forehead and upper lip. He was in pain. Staggering pain--just as she had been, not a few minutes
before his touch had seemed to ease her agony away. Realization dawned on her then. He wasn't just calming her with his hands. He was somehow
pulling her pain out of her. He was siphoning it, willingly
drawing her pain into himself. Offended by the idea, but even more embarrassed that she had
let herself lie there and imagine that his touch was
something more than pity, Jenna flinched out of his reach
and scuttled into a seated position on the sofa. She
breathed hard with outrage as she stared into his dark eyes,
which flashed with specks of amber light. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she gasped,
leaping to her feet. The muscle that had been ticking in his jaw gave a tight
twitch as he stood up to face her. "Helping you." Images crowded into her mind in an instant--a sudden vivid
recollection of the aftermath of her captivity with the
creature who'd invaded her cabin in Alaska. She'd been in pain then, too. She'd been terrified and in
shock, awash in so much confusion and horror, she thought
she might die from it. And she remembered the warm, caring hands that comforted
her. The face of a grimly handsome stranger who'd come into
her life like a dark angel and kept her safe, kept her
sheltered and calm, when everything in her world had been
thrown into chaos. "You were there," she murmured, stunned to realize it only
just now. "In Alaska, after the Ancient was gone. You stayed
with me. You took away my pain then, too. And later, after I
was brought here to the compound. My God . . . did you stay
at my side all of the time I was in the infirmary?" His eyes remained fixed on her, dark and unreadable. "I was
the only one who could help you." "Who asked you to?" she demanded, knowingly harsh, but
desperate to purge the heat that was still traveling through
her, unbidden and unwanted. Bad enough he'd thought it necessary to coddle her like some
kind of child through her prolonged ordeal. All the worse,
when he seemed to think it was necessary to do so now as
well. She'd be damned before she let him think for one
second that she had actually welcomed his touch. 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 stook 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 side-stepped 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 or not you want to admit it,
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." "Dammit, 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 two-hundred-fifty-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.
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