Stroke of Midnight: A Midnight Breed Novella (The Midnight Breed Series) Read online

  disintegration

  happen.

  As

  he

  continued his dash across the

  rooftops, he spotted Trygg gaining

  ground on one of the remaining

  Rogues. The big warrior took the

  escaping vampire down in a flash

  of movement. The Rogue howled,

  then abruptly fell silent when Trygg

  severed its head with a slice of his

  blade.

  Two down. Two to go.

  Make that one left to go.

  Jehan’s acute hearing picked up

  sounds of a brief struggle as Savage

  caught up to his quarry on a

  different stretch of cobblestones

  and delivered a killing strike of

  titanium.

  Jehan leapt to another roof,

  racing deeper into the ancient

  district of the city. His battle

  instincts heightened as he homed in

  on the last of the fleeing Rogues.

  The vampire made a crucial

  mistake, turning into an alleyway

  with no exit. A literal dead end.

  Jehan sailed off the edge of the

  rooftop and dropped to the cobbled

  street behind the Rogue, cutting off

  any hope of his escape. An instant

  later, Savage emerged from out of

  the shadows, just as the feral

  vampire spun around and realized

  he had nowhere left to run.

  The big male faced the two

  Order warriors. His fangs dripped

  with blood and sticky saliva. His

  transformed eyes glowed bright

  amber, the pupils fixed and

  narrowed to thin vertical slits in the

  center of all that fiery light. His jaw

  hung open as he roared, insane with

  Bloodlust and ready to attack.

  Jehan didn’t allow him the

  chance.

  He threw his dagger without

  mercy or warning. The titanium

  blade glinted in the moonlight as the

  weapon sliced through the distance

  and struck its mark, burying to the

  hilt in the center of the Rogue’s

  chest.

  The vampire roared in agony,

  then collapsed in a heap on the

  cobbles as the poisonous metal

  began to devour him.

  When the process had finished,

  Jehan strode over to retrieve his

  weapon from the ashes.

  Savage blew out a low curse

  behind him. “Four Breed males

  gone Rogue in the same city on the

  same night? No one’s seen those

  kind of numbers in the past twenty

  years.”

  Jehan nodded. He’d been a

  youth at that time, but more than old

  enough to remember firsthand.

  “Let’s

  hope

  we

  never

  see

  bloodshed again like we did back

  then, Sav.”

  And all the more reason to

  take Opus Nostrum out at the root.

  For Jehan, a Breed male who’d

  spent a lot of his privileged life in

  pursuit of one pleasure or another,

  he couldn’t think of any higher

  calling than his place among the

  Order.

  He cleaned his dagger and

  sheathed it on the weapons belt of

  his black patrol fatigues. “Come

  on,” he said to Savage. “I saw

  Trygg ash one of these four a few

  blocks back. Let’s go find him and

  make sure we don’t have any

  witnesses in need of a mind-scrub

  before

  we

  report

  back

  to

  Commander

  Archer

  at

  headquarters.”

  They pivoted to leave the alley

  together—only to find they were no

  longer alone there.

  Another Breed male stood at

  the mouth of the narrow passage.

  Dark-eyed, with a trimmed black

  beard around the grim line of his

  mouth, the vampire was dressed in

  a black silk tunic over loose black

  pants tucked into gleaming black

  leather boots that rose nearly to his

  knees.

  The only color he wore was a

  striped sash of vibrant, saffron-and-

  cerulean silk tied loosely around

  his waist. Family colors. Formal

  colors, reserved for the solemnest

  of old traditions.

  Jehan couldn’t bite back his

  low, uttered curse.

  Beside him in the alleyway,

  Savage moved his fingers toward

  his array of weapons.

  “It’s all right.” Jehan stayed

  his comrade’s hand with a pointed

  shake of his head. “Naveen is my

  father’s emissary.”

  In response, the dark-haired

  male inclined his head. “Greetings,

  Prince Jehan, noble eldest son of

  Rahim, the just and honorable king

  of the Mafakhir tribe.”

  The courtly bow that followed

  set Jehan’s teeth and fangs on edge

  almost as much as his official

  address. From within the folds of

  his tunic, Naveen withdrew a

  sealed piece of parchment. The

  royal messenger held it out to Jehan

  in sober, expectant silence.

  A stamped, red wax seal rode

  the

  back

  of

  the

  official

  missive...just like the one Jehan had

  received in this same manner a year

  ago.

  A year and a day ago, he

  mentally amended.

  For a moment, Jehan just stood

  there, unmoving.

  But he knew Naveen had been

  sent with specific orders to deliver

  the sealed message, and it would

  dishonor the male deeply if he

  failed in that mission.

  Jehan stepped forward and

  took the stiff, folded parchment

  from Naveen’s outstretched hand.

  As soon as it was in Jehan’s

  possession, the royal messenger

  pivoted and strode back into the

  darkness without another word.

  In the silence that followed,

  Savage gaped. “What the fuck was

  that all about?”

  “Family business. It’s not

  important.”

  Jehan

  slipped

  the

  document into the waistband of his

  pants without opening it.

  “It sure as hell looked

  important to that guy.” When Jehan

  started walking out of the alley, Sav

  matched his clipped pace. “What is

  it? Some kind of royal subpoena?”

  Jehan grunted. “Something like

  that.”

  “Aren’t you going to read it?”

  Jehan shrugged. “There’s no

  need. I know what it says.”

  Sav arched a blond brow.

  “Yeah, but I don’t.”

  To

  satisfy

  his

  friend’s

  curiosity, Jehan retrieved the sealed

  message and passed it over to him.

  “Go ahead.”


  Sav broke the seal and

  unfolded the parchment, reading as

  he and Jehan turned down another

  narrow street. “It says someone

  died. A mated couple, killed

  together in a plane crash a year

  ago.”

  Jehan nodded grimly, already

  well aware of the couple’s tragic

  demise. News of their deaths had

  been the reason for the first official

  notice he’d received from his

  father.

  Savage read on. “This says the

  couple—a Breed male from the

  Mafakhir tribe and a Breedmate

  from another tribe, the Sanhaja, had

  been blood-bonded as part of a

  peace pact between the families.”

  Jehan

  grunted

  in

  acknowledgment. The pact had been

  in place for centuries, the result of

  an unfortunate chain of events that

  had spawned a bloody conflict

  between his family and their closest

  neighbors, the Sanhajas. After

  enough blood had been spilled on

  both sides, a truce was finally

  declared. A truce that was cemented

  with blood spilled by another

  means.

  An

  eternal

  bond,

  shared

  between a male from Jehan’s line

  and a Breedmate from the rival

  tribe.

  So long as the two families

  were bound together by blood, there

  had been peace. The pact had never

  been broken. The couple who

  perished in the plane crash had

  been the sole link between the

  families in the modern age. With

  their deaths, the pact was in limbo

  until a new couple came together to

  revive the bond.

  Savage had apparently just

  gotten to the part of the message

  Jehan had been dreading for the

  past twelve months. “It says here

  that in accordance with the terms of

  that pact, if the blood bond is

  severed and no other couple elects

  to carry it forward within the term

  of a year and a day, then the eldest

  unmated son of the eldest Breed

  male of the Mafakhir tribe and the

  unmated Breedmate nearest the age

  of thirty from the Sanhaja tribe

  shall...”

  Sav’s long stride began to

  slow, then it stopped altogether. He

  swiveled his head in Jehan’s

  direction. “Holy shit. Are you

  kidding me? You’re being drafted to

  go home to Morocco and take a

  mate?”

  A scowl furrowed deep into

  his brow at the very thought.

  “According to ritual, I am.”

  His comrade let out a bark of a

  laugh. “Well, shit. Congratulations,

  Your Highness. This is one lottery

  I’m happy as hell I won’t be

  winning.”

  Jehan grumbled a curse in

  reply. Although he didn’t find much

  humor in the situation, his friend

  seemed annoyingly amused.

  Sav was still chuckling as they

  resumed

  their

  march

  up

  the

  alleyway. “When is this joyous

  occasion supposed to take place?”

  “Tomorrow,” Jehan muttered.

  There was a period of

  handfasting with the female in

  question, but the details of the

  whole process were murky. In truth,

  he’d never paid much attention to

  the fine print of the pact because he

  hadn’t imagined there would be a

  need to know.

  He didn’t really expect he

  needed to understand it now either,

  as

  he

  had

  no

  intention

  of

  participating in the antiquated

  exercise. But like it or not, he

  respected his father too much to

  disgrace him or the family by

  refusing

  to

  respond

  to

  their

  summons.

  So it seemed he had little

  choice but to return to the family

  Darkhaven in Morocco and deliver

  his regrets in person.

  He could only hope his father

  might respect his prodigal eldest

  son enough to free him from this

  ridiculous

  obligation

  and

  the

  unwanted shackle that awaited him

  at the end of it.

  CHAPTER 2

  Eighteen hours later and fresh

  off his flight to Casablanca, Jehan

  sat in the passenger seat of his

  younger brother’s glossy black

  Lamborghini as it sped toward the

  Mafakhir family Darkhaven about

  an hour outside the city.

  “Father didn’t think you’d

  come.” Marcel glanced at Jehan

  briefly, his forearm slung casually

  over the steering wheel as the sleek

  Aventador ate up the moonlit stretch

  of highway, prowling past other

  vehicles as if they were standing

  still. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure

  you’d actually show up either. Only

  Mother seemed confident you

  wouldn’t just tear up the message

  and send it back home with Naveen

  as confetti.”

  “I didn’t realize that was an

  option.”

  “Very funny,” Marcel replied

  with another sidelong look.

  Jehan turned his attention to

  the darkened desert landscape

  outside the window. He’d been

  questioning his sanity in answering

  the family summons even before

  he’d left Rome.

  His Order team commander,

  Lazaro

  Archer,

  hadn’t

  been

  enthused

  to

  hear

  about

  the

  obligation either, especially when

  things were heating up against Opus

  Nostrum and a hundred other

  pressing

  concerns.

  Jehan

  had

  assured Lazaro that the unplanned

  leave was merely a formality and

  that he’d be back on patrol as

  quickly as possible—without the

  burden of an unwanted Breedmate

  in tow.

  Marcel maneuvered around a

  small convoy of humanitarian

  supply trucks, no doubt on their way

  to one of the many remote villages

  or refugee camps that had existed in

  this part of the world for centuries.

  Once the road opened up, he buried

  the gas pedal again.

  If only they were heading

  away from the family compound at

  breakneck speed, rather than toward

  it.

  “Mother’s had the entire

  Darkhaven buzzing with plans and

  arrangements ever since you called

  last night.” Marcel spoke over the

  deep snarl of the
engine. “I can’t

  remember the last time I’ve seen

  her so excited.”

  Jehan groaned. “I’m here, but

  that doesn’t mean I intend to go

  through with any of this.”

  “What?” Jehan looked over

  and found his only sibling’s face

  slack with incredulity. His light

  blue eyes, so like Jehan’s own—a

  color inherited from their French

  beauty of a mother—were wide

  under Marcel’s tousled crown of

  brown waves. “You have to go

  through with it. There’s no blood

  bond between the Mafakhirs and the

  Sanhajas anymore. Not since our

  cousin and his Breedmate died a

  year ago.”

  When

  Jehan

  didn’t

  immediately

  acknowledge

  the

  severity of the problem, his brother

  frowned. “If a year and a day

  should pass without a natural

  mating occurring between the

  families, the terms of the pact

  specifically state—”

  “I know what they state. I also

  know those terms were written up

  during a very different time. We

  don’t live in the Middle Ages

  anymore.” And thank fuck for that,

  he mentally amended. “The pact is a

  relic that needs to be retired.

  Hopefully it won’t take too much

  convincing to make our father

  understand that.”

  Marcel went quiet as they

  veered off the highway and set a

  course for the rambling stretch of

  desert acreage that comprised their

  family’s Darkhaven property. In a

  few short minutes, they turned onto

  the private road.

  The family lands were lush

  and expansive. Thick clusters of

  palm trees spiked black against the

  night sky, small oases amid the vast

  spread of dark, silken sand. Up

  ahead was the iron gate and tall

  brick perimeter wall that secured

  the massive compound where Jehan

  had grown up.

  Even before they approached

  the luxurious Darkhaven, his feet

  twitched inside his boots with the

  urge to run.

  While they paused outside the

  gate and waited to be admitted

  inside, Marcel pivoted in his seat

  toward Jehan. His youthful, twenty-

  four-year-old face was solemn.

  “The pact has never been broken.

  You know that, right? Not once in

  all of the six-and-a-half centuries

  it’s been in place. It’s not a relic.

  It’s tradition. That kind of thing may

  not be sacred to you, but it is to our

  parents. It’s sacred to the Sanhajas

  too.”

  His brother was so earnest,

  maybe there was another way to

  dodge this bullet. “If you feel that

  strongly about it, why don’t you

  pick up the torch instead? Take my

  place and I can turn around right