Stroke of Midnight: A Midnight Breed Novella (The Midnight Breed Series) Page 12
“You
should
call
your
brother,” she murmured. Marcel had
left two messages on her phone in
the past couple of hours, asking
them to contact him as soon as
possible. “We should let him know
we’ve returned, at least so he can
stop worrying that we’re going to
break the pact.”
Jehan’s chest rumbled with a
sound of disregard. “I should call
the Order too, and tell them what
I’ll be bringing back to Rome with
me in a few nights. But my brother
and everyone else can wait. The
only thing I’m concerned about right
now is you.”
He pulled back and looked at
her, a dark storm brewing in the
pale blue of his eyes. When he
lifted her chin and took her mouth in
a slow, savoring kiss, it was easy to
imagine that what she saw in his
gaze—what she felt in his embrace
and in his tender kiss—was
something deeper than concern or
simple affection.
It was easy to imagine it might
be love.
“You’re
trembling,
Seraphina.” He reached out to
caress her face and shoulder. “And
you’re cold too. Come on. Let me
take care of you.”
Maybe Leila had been right—
that there was some brand of magic
at work when it came to the pact
between their families. Sera could
almost believe it now because with
Jehan leading her through the villa,
his fingers laced with hers, it was
far too easy to imagine that
everything
they
shared
since
entering the handfast was somehow
paving a path toward a future
together. A future that might just last
an eternity.
She
hadn’t
missed
his
reference to the life waiting for him
at the end of the handfast. She
couldn’t pretend that her own life
wasn’t waiting for her too.
But for the next few nights, she
wasn’t going to let reality intrude.
Jehan brought her into the
cavernous bathing room with its
towering marble columns and
steaming, spring-fed bath the size of
a swimming pool. He sat her down
on the edge, then crouched down in
front of her to remove her shoes.
The soft leather flats were caked
with sand and spattered with
Karsten’s dried blood. Jehan hissed
a low curse as he set them aside.
When he lifted his head to
meet her gaze, there was doubt in
his eyes. “Can you forgive me,
Sera?”
“For
saving
me
from
Karsten?” She shook her head.
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“No.” His mouth flattened into
a grim line. “I mean, for saving
myself. For giving him the chance to
get a hold of you in the first place.”
Oh, God. Is that what he
thought? Is that what weighed on his
conscience now?
Sera leaned forward to take
his tormented, handsome face in her
palms. His anguish was palpable.
She could feel the dull pain of it
through her empathic gift. “Jehan,
when I saw that flash of light as
Karsten let the grenade go, I knew it
would be lethal to you. I thought I
was about to watch you die. If you
hadn’t protected yourself, we both
would’ve been dead today. You
saved me.”
He studied her for a long
moment, as if he wanted to say
something more. Then he turned his
face into her hand and placed a kiss
in its center before drawing out of
her loose grasp. “Let’s get these
clothes off and get you warm.”
He stood up, taking her with
him. With careful hands, he
undressed her, peeling off the
rumpled linen tunic and her bra.
Then he drew down the loose-
fitting pants and her lacy panties
beneath. His gaze drank her in
slowly, his eyes crackling with
amber sparks.
When he finally spoke, his
voice was dark and gravelly, rough
with desire. “Earlier tonight, when I
saw you naked like this for the first
time, I said you were beautiful.”
She licked her lips. “I
remember.”
She
would
never
forget
anything he said in her tent a few
hours ago, nor anything he’d done.
Arousal spiraled through her, as
much at the reminder as under the
intensity of his gaze now.
“I said you were beautiful,
Seraphina...but I was wrong.” He
cupped her cheek in his palm, then
slowly let his fingers drift down her
shoulder, his thumb pausing to
caress the Breedmate mark on her
upper arm. “You are exquisite. The
loveliest female I have ever, and
will ever, lay my unworthy eyes
on.”
She started to shake her head
in protest of his self-deprecation,
but his kiss caught her lips before
she could speak.
All of her desire for him—all
of her tangled emotions—rose up to
engulf her. She wanted him.
Loved him so powerfully it
staggered her.
Only fear held her confession
back.
Fear, and need.
She
pulled
back,
breath
heaving. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned
his shirt and pushed it off his strong
arms. Each swirl and flourish of the
dermaglyphs that tracked over his
powerful
chest
and
muscled
abdomen was a temptation to her
fingers and her mouth.
She touched and kissed and
licked her way down his immense
body, finally lowering herself to her
knees before him. His lungs rasped
with the ragged tempo of his
breathing as she unzipped his jeans
and slid them down his hard thighs.
His cock bobbed heavily in
front of her, the thick shaft and
blunt, glistening plum at the crown
making her mouth water for a taste.
He groaned as she grasped his
length in her hands, his muscles
tensing, breath hitching, as she
stroked him from root to head and
back again.
When she leaned forward and
wrapped her lips around him, his
spine arched and he let out a tight
hiss and guttural snarl. She’d never
held so much force and power in
her
hands before, nor in her mouth.
She couldn’t get enough. And as his
body’s response quickened, it only
made her hungry for more. For all
of him.
She glanced up as she sucked
him and found his fiery eyes locked
on her. His pupils were thin and
wild, utterly Breed. His broad
mouth was pulled into a grimace,
baring his teeth and the enormous
length of his fangs.
She moaned, overwhelmed by
the preternatural beauty of the male
staring down at her. His large palm
cupped the back of her head, his
long fingers speared into her hair as
she took the full depth of him into
her mouth at a relentless tempo.
“Seraphina,”
he
uttered
hoarsely. “Ah, fuck...”
On a sharp groan, he withdrew
from between her lips and scooped
her up into his arms as if she
weighed nothing at all. He carried
her down into the steaming bath,
fastening his mouth on hers in an
urgent, fevered kiss as he sank to
his shoulders in the warm water
with her held aloft in his arms.
He tore his mouth away from
hers,
scowling
fiercely.
“I’m
supposed to be the one taking care
of you, if you recall.”
She lifted a brow in challenge.
“Is that your charming side talking
or your wicked one?”
Sparks flared in his hot gaze.
“Which do you prefer?”
“I
haven’t
decided
yet.”
Pivoting under the surface of the
water, she faced him on his lap and
wrapped her legs around his waist.
The thick jut of his cock rose tall
between them, the crisp hair at its
root tickling her sex. She looped
her arms over his shoulders and
drifted close for a teasing kiss.
“Fortunately, we’ve got all day to
figure it out.”
His hands gripped her ass and
he smirked against her mouth. “All
day, and another five nights after
that.”
“You think it’s long enough?”
she murmured, her lips still
brushing his.
His answering chuckle was
purely male and totally wicked. As
was the meaningful shift of his hips
that positioned his erection at the
hot and ready entrance of her body.
“Why don’t you tell me if it’s long
enough?”
He lifted her onto him, and her
laugh melted into a pleasured sigh
as he sheathed every last inch.
CHAPTER 14
When he’d first arrived at the
villa, Jehan had imagined what
Seraphina might look like unclothed
and wreathed in the steam of the
bathing room as he made love to
her. Now he knew. And none of his
fantasies were any match for the
true thing.
She met his rhythm stroke for
stroke. Arousal arced through him
with each rotation of her hips,
making his vision bleed red as fire
filled his gaze. This woman had
ruined him for any other. She
destroyed him with a smile, with
every moan and gasp, and he hadn’t
even begun to show her what true
pleasure was.
He rocked inside her, balanced
on the edge of madness for how
incredible they felt together.
Eight nights wasn’t enough.
The part of him that was more
beast than man snapped at that
tether. Eight nights was nothing.
And they had already lost three of
them.
The part of him that was nearly
immortal demanded much more than
that. It wanted forever.
Something he couldn’t give
Seraphina.
Not when forever meant one of
them would have to give up the life
that waited for them on the other
side of the handfast.
Real life—the one that she had
devoted herself to, and the opposite
one he was equally committed to.
Real life, where her selflessness
had nearly gotten her killed a few
hours ago, and where he was the
Order
warrior
whose
work
revolved around violence and
death. Where cowardly men like
Karsten
Hemmings
served
diabolical
groups
like
Opus
Nostrum.
He couldn’t turn his back on
the things that mattered to him any
more than he could ask Seraphina to
turn her back on hers.
But it was damned tempting to
think about forever when they were
enveloped within the fantasy of the
handfast.
With his arms around her and
her legs circling his waist as they
moved together, joined beneath the
fragrant, steaming water, forever
was the only thing on his mind.
Eternity with Seraphina at his
side.
As his Breedmate.
Bonded by blood.
The thought sent his gaze to the
smooth column of her throat. Her
pulse fluttered, beating with a
rhythm he could feel echoing in his
own veins. His fangs, already
elongated
from
passion,
now
throbbed with an equally primal
need.
A dangerous, selfish need.
One bite and there would be
no other woman for him as long as
he lived. All it would take was a
single taste. Everything Breed in
him pounded with the urge to sink
his fangs into her flesh and take that
binding sip.
Equally strong was his need to
bind Seraphina to him by blood as
well. If she drank from him, she
would belong to no other male. His
forever.
He couldn’t do that to her.
He wouldn’t.
Instead he guided her toward a
fevered climax, driving into her
body with all the hunger that rode
him in his blood. He gave her
pleasure, moving relentlessly until
she broke apart in his arms on a
scream.
Then he pivoted her around
and moved in behind her to follow
her over the edge.
As he came inside her on a
shout, he couldn’t dismiss the cold
knowledge that the clock on their
time together was ticking—so fast
he could feel it in his bones.
Eight nights with Seraphina
wasn’t enough.
But somehow, at the end of it,
he was going to have to find the
strength to let her go.
CHAPTER 15
Sera wo
ke from a long sleep
later that morning feeling drowsy
and sated. Sore in all the right
places. She couldn’t curb the smile
that crept over her face as she
recalled the hours she’d spent in the
bathing room making love with
Jehan.
Their
sex
had
been
exhausting and incredible—which,
she was beginning to realize, was
the norm where he was concerned.
He was a tireless, wickedly
creative lover. When she’d lost
count of her orgasms and was sure
she
couldn’t
take
any
more
pleasure, he had lifted her from the
steaming pool and carried her to
one of several nests of plump
cushions and silk pillows on the
floor for another bone-melting
round.
If she’d thought watching their
bodies move together in the
darkness of her camp tent had been
erotic,
it
had
been
nothing
compared to seeing every carnal
nuance of their passion in the
candlelit reflection in the bathing
room mirrors.
Just the thought of their tangled
limbs and questing mouths had her
pulse thrumming all over again as
she wandered into the villa’s
kitchen for a light breakfast. Jehan
was awake too—if he’d slept at all.
His deep voice carried in a low,
indistinct murmur from the main
living area in the heart of the
retreat. He was on her phone
apparently. She hoped he had gotten
back to Marcel after his brother’s
repeated messages for them to
report in.
Sera made some tea and
grabbed a peach from a bowl of
fruit on the counter. Her long curls
poured loose around her shoulders
and over her bare breasts as she
padded quietly out of the kitchen in
just her panties to join him.
Biting into the ripe peach as
she walked, she considered how
much sweeter the juice would be if
she were licking it off Jehan’s
muscled body. Or sucking it off the
hard length of his cock.
Oh God...she had it bad for
this male.
He made her feel more alive
than anything in her life ever had.
Yes, she lived for her work. It had
fulfilled her for a long time, given
her purpose. But Jehan gave her
pleasure. He gave her yearning and
contentment, excitement and peace.
He had opened a part of her she
hadn’t even realized had been
closed before.
Most unsettling of all, he made
her long for the one thing she’d
never imagined she might need. A
mate by blood. A bond that could