Stroke of Midnight: A Midnight Breed Novella (The Midnight Breed Series) Page 14
leave the handfast without knowing
you were mine.” He caressed her
cheek,
eyes
smoldering
with
affection and desire. “My life is
with the Order, Sera. I can’t give
that up.”
“I would never ask that of you,
Jehan. I understand that you’re
doing
something
important,
something that you’re devoted to.
After what we found at the camp, I
realize your mission with the Order
has probably never been more
crucial.”
“No, it hasn’t,” he said. “I
can’t leave my duty, but I know you
can’t give up yours either. I’m not
going to ask you to leave your life
behind to be with me in Rome.”
She frowned, grateful that he
understood what her work meant to
her, yet unsure how their two
worlds could mesh as a mated
couple.
“That’s why I’ve decided to
pull a new team together here in
Morocco. After last night, it’s
obvious that Opus has a strong
presence here, so I’ve been tasked
with pursuing those leads here on
African soil. I’ll work out the
details with Commander Archer
when I return to Rome at the end of
the week.”
She couldn’t believe what she
was hearing. She couldn’t believe
what he was doing for her. For them
both. For the new bond he meant for
them to share.
“Jehan, I don’t know what to
say.”
He lifted her chin on the edge
of his fingers. “You can start by
saying you love me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Then
she said it again with all the elation
in her soaring heart. “I love you.”
He drew her close and kissed
her, his lips brushing hers with such
tenderness she wanted to weep. The
next thing she knew, he had her
spread beneath him on the bed. As
he undressed her, then hurriedly
stripped off his own clothing, his
dermaglyphs pulsed with all the
deep colors of his desire. His cock
stood erect and enticing, awakening
a powerful hunger in her—for his
body, and for his blood.
Jehan clearly knew what she
was feeling. His own hungers
blazed in his transformed eyes and
in every formidable inch of his
naked flesh.
His fiery gaze scorched her
face as he looked at her in utter
devotion.
And need.
So much need, it rocked her.
He lowered himself between
her legs and entered her slowly, as
he bent to lick a searing path along
her jawline, then her neck. “You’re
mine, Sera.”
“Yes,” she gasped, arching
into his abrading kiss as his fangs
tested the tender flesh of her throat.
“For the next four nights, I’m yours
however you want me, Jehan.”
He glanced up at her, baring
those beautiful, sharp tips with his
hungry, definitely wicked smile. He
gave a slow shake of his head.
“Four more nights is only the
beginning. Starting now, you’re
mine forever.”
She nodded, too swept up in
love and desire to form words.
Emotion overwhelmed her as
she watched him bite into his wrist
to open his veins for her. “Drink
from me,” he rasped thickly,
bringing the punctures to her parted
lips.
Sera fastened her mouth to the
wounds and stroked her tongue
across the strong tendons of his
wrist. His blood called to her, more
deeply than she could ever have
imagined. She moaned as the first
swallow roared through her senses,
into her cells. She drank more,
reveling in the power of the bond as
Jehan’s essence—his life—became
part of hers.
And all the while she drank, he
rocked within her, creating a
pleasure so immense she could
hardly bear it.
“You’re mine, Seraphina.” He
stared down at her as she fed, as
she came on a shattered scream.
“Starting tonight, you’re only mine.”
“Yes.”
On a rumble of satisfaction, he
drew his wrist to his mouth and
sealed the punctures closed with a
swipe of his tongue. His blazing
eyes were locked on her throat.
Sera brought her arms up
around him as he lowered his head
to her carotid and licked the
fluttering pulse point that beat only
for him.
And when her handsome
Breed warrior—her eternal love—
sank his fangs into her vein and took
his first sip, Seraphina smiled.
Because whether she believed
in magic or not, tonight she was
holding the prince, the fairy tale,
and the happily ever after in her
arms.
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Titanium spikes slashed the
fighter’s face, spraying blood
across the floor of the steel cage
and thrilling the crowd of cheering
spectators inside the underground
fighting arena. Gritty industrial
music pounded from the dance club
upstairs, bringing the din to a
deafening pitch as the long match
between the pair of Breed males
built toward its finish.
Carys Chase stood near the
front, among the throng of avid
spectators as Rune’s fist connected
with his opponent’s face again.
More shouts and applause erupted
for the undefeated champion of
Boston’s most brutal arena.
The fights were technically
illegal, but highly lucrative. And
since the outing of the Breed to their
terrified human neighbors twenty
years ago, there were few sporting
events more popular than the
outlawed gladiator-style matches
pitting a pair of six-and-a-half foot,
three-hundred
pound
vampires
against each other in a closed, steel
mesh cage.
Blood was essential to Carys
and her race, but sometimes it
seemed mankind was even more
thirsty for it. Especially when the
spillage was restricted to members
of the Breed.
Although even Carys had to
admit that watching a vampire like
Rune fight was a thing of beauty. He
was dangerous grace and lethal
savagery.
And he was hers.
For the past seven weeks—
since the night she’d stepped into
La Notte with a small group of
friends and first saw Rune battling
inside the cage—they had been
practically inseparable. She had
fallen fast and hard and deep, and
hadn’t looked back for a second.
Much to her parents’ dismay.
They and her twin brother, Aric,
had all but forbade her to see Rune,
basing their judgment on his
profession and reputation alone.
They didn’t know him. They didn’t
want to know him either, and that
hurt. It pissed her off.
Which is why, with a full head
of steam and a stubborn streak
inherited from both of her parents,
Carys had recently moved out of the
Chase family Darkhaven and in
with her best friend, Jordana Gates.
Leaving home to get her own
place hadn’t gone over well,
particularly with her father, Sterling
Chase. As the commander of the
Order’s presence in Boston, he,
along with the Order’s founder,
Lucan Thorne, and the other district
commanders, were the de facto
keepers of the peace between the
Breed and mankind. No easy task in
good times, let alone the precarious
ones they lived in now.
Carys understood her father’s
concern
for
her
safety
and
wellbeing. She only wished he
could understand that she was a
grown woman with her own life to
lead.
Even if that life included a
Breed male who chose to make his
living in the arena.
All around her now, the
spectators chanted their champion’s
name. “Rune! Rune! Rune!”
Carys joined in, awed by his
domination of the fighting ring even
as the woman in her cringed every
time fists smashed on flesh and
bone, regardless of who was on the
receiving end. And she could admit,
at least to herself, that being in love
with him had made her hope for the
day he might decide to climb out of
the cage for good.
No one had ever beaten Rune
—and more than a few had died
trying.
He prowled the cage with
fluid motion, naked except for the
arena uniform of brown leather
breeches and fingerless gloves
bristling with titanium spikes. The
sharp metal ensured every blow
was a spectacle of shredding flesh
and breaking bone for the pleasure
of the crowd.
Also crafted primarily for the
entertainment of the sport’s patrons
was the U-shaped steel torc around
the fighters’ necks. Each combatant
had the option of hitting a mercy
bu
tton inside the cage, which would
deliver a debilitating jolt of
electricity to his opponent’s collar,
halting the match to afford the
weaker fighter a chance to recover
before resuming the bout.
Although Rune had been the
recipient of countless juicings when
he climbed into the ring, he had
never stooped to using the mercy
button.
Neither did his opponent
tonight. Jagger was one of La
Notte’s crowd favorites too, a black
Breed male whose own record of
wins was almost as impressive as
Rune’s. The two fighters were
friendly outside the arena, but no
one would know it to see them now.
Being Breed, Jagger healed
from his injuries in seconds. He
wheeled on Rune with a deafening
roar, plowing forward like a bull on
the charge. The contact drove Rune
back against the cage. Steel bars
groaned, straining under the sudden
impact of so much muscle and
might. The spectators directly
below shrieked and shrank away,
but the fight had already moved on.
Now it was Rune on the
offense, tossing Jagger’s massive
body across the cage.
Game or not, the clash of fists
and fangs brought out the savage in
just about any Breed male. Jagger
got to his feet, his lips peeled back
from his sharp teeth on a furious
sneer. His dermaglyphs pulsed with
violent colors on his dark skin. He
rounded on Rune, amber fire
blazing from his eyes as he
crouched low and prepared to make
another bruising charge.
Opposite him in the cage, Rune
stood tall, his massive arms at his
sides,
his
stance
deceptively
relaxed as he and Jagger circled
each other.
Rune’s Breed skin markings
churned with raging colors too. His
midnight-blue eyes crackled with
hot sparks as he studied his
opponent.
Rune’s
fangs
were
enormous,
razor-sharp
tips
gleaming in the dim lights of the
arena. But beneath the sweat-
dampened fall of his dark brown
hair, his rugged, granite-hewn face
was an utter, deadly calm.
This was Rune at his most
dangerous.
Carys’s breath stilled as
Jagger
leapt,
catapulting
and
cartwheeling in a blur of furious
motion across the ring. One foot
came up at Rune’s face like
powerful hammer, so fast, Carys
could hardly track its motion.
But Rune had. He grabbed
Jagger’s
ankle
and