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

  gone in an instant.

  “Hold on to my shoulder.”

  Her fingers came to rest on

  him, generating a swift, unexpected

  electricity in his veins. Jehan tried

  to ignore the feel of her touch as he

  reached down and lifted her left

  foot into his hands. He unfastened

  the pretty, but impractical, shoe and

  slipped it off.

  Her satisfied sigh as he freed

  her bare foot went through him even

  more powerfully than her touch.

  Gritting his teeth to discourage his

  fangs from punching out of his gums

  in heated response, Jehan made

  quick work of her other shoe, then

  stepped away from her.

  “Better?”

  His

  voice

  had

  thickened. Along with another part

  of his anatomy.

  “Much

  better.”

  She

  was

  looking at him cautiously as she

  took the pair of sandals from where

  they dangled off his fingertips.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” And it was.

  More than he might have wanted to

  admit. He cocked his head at her.

  “How old are you, Seraphina?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He immediately felt rude for

  asking, but there was a part of him that wanted to know. Needed to

  know. “We’re supposed to be

  getting to know each other, aren’t

  we?”

  The reminder seemed to calm

  some of her indignation. “I’m

  twenty-seven. Why do you want to

  know?”

  “I just wonder why you aren’t

  already mated and blood-bonded.

  You were raised in a Darkhaven, so

  you must know many Breed males.

  If any of the ones I know ever saw

  you, there’d be at least a hundred of

  them beating a path to your door.”

  She stared at him for a moment

  in uncertain silence, then shrugged.

  “Maybe I prefer human men.”

  Shit.

  He

  hadn’t

  even

  considered that. “Do you?”

  “To be honest, I haven’t given

  the idea of a blood bond a lot of

  thought. My life is full and I keep

  busy enough with other things.”

  She started walking away from

  him, her bare feet moving softly,

  fluidly, along the bricked path. And

  he couldn’t help noticing she hadn’t

  really answered his question.

  He strode up next to her.

  “What kind of things have kept you

  so busy that you’re still unmated

  and nearing the ripe old age of

  thirty?”

  She scoffed, but there was

  humor in her tone. “Important

  things.”

  “Such as?”

  “I volunteer at some of the

  border camps, taking care of people

  who’ve been displaced by wars and

  other disasters. I guess you could

  say it’s been something of a calling

  for me.”

  Well, he hadn’t been expecting

  that. Granted, she didn’t seem the

  type to flutter around in fancy

  dresses and high-heeled sandals all

  day, but he also wouldn’t have

  imagined a stunning woman like her

  spending her time covered in dust

  and sweat. Or putting herself in

  harm’s way in those turbulent areas

  that had never known peace, even

  before the wars between the humans

  and the Breed.

  “What about you, Jehan?”

  “What about me?”

  “For starters, how old are

  you?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  She glanced at him. “Younger

  than I expected. But then it’s

  impossible to guess a Breed male’s

  age. It’s always seemed unfair to

  me that your kind never looks older

  than thirty, even the Gen Ones

  who’ve been around for centuries.”

  Jehan lifted his shoulder. “A

  small consolation for the fact that

  we can never put our faces in the

  sunlight. Unlike your kind.”

  “Hm. I guess that’s true.” She

  tilted her head at him. “What

  exactly do you do in Rome?”

  “I’m part of the Order. Captain

  of my unit,” he added, not sure why

  he felt the need to impress her with

  his elevated rank.

  She stopped dead in her tracks

  again, and something told him it

  didn’t have anything to do with sore

  feet. A chill rolled off her as Jehan

  pivoted to look at her. She barked

  out a brittle laugh and shook her

  head. “No wonder they didn’t tell

  me anything about you.”

  “Who?”

  “My

  parents.”

  Her

  arms

  crossed rigidly over her chest. “If

  they’d mentioned you were part of

  that brutal organization, there’s no

  way in hell I would’ve agreed to

  any of this. No matter what leverage

  they used to try to convince me.”

  Jehan’s suspicions rankled

  along with his pride. “You have a

  problem with the Order?”

  “I have a problem with cold-

  blooded killers.”

  Was she serious? “My brethren

  and I are not—”

  She didn’t let him finish. “I’ve

  devoted myself—everything I am—

  to saving lives. You’re in the

  business of taking them.” When he

  exhaled a tight curse and shook his

  head, she gave him a sharp look.

  “How many people have you

  killed?”

  “Me personally, or—”

  “I think that answers my

  question.” She moved past him and

  started walking away at a swift

  clip.

  He caught up in a handful of

  strides. “There’s nothing cold-

  blooded about what the Order does.

  Are we brutal sometimes? Only

  when there’s no other choice. But

  we call it justice. We’re protectors,

  not killers.”

  “Semantics.”

  “No, it’s reality, Seraphina.”

  When she didn’t slow her pace, he

  reached out and caught her arm. She

  flinched

  at

  the

  contact.

  He

  wondered if it was purely out of

  indignation or the fact that even

  though a chill had expanded

  between them, the heat of attraction

  still sparked to life the instant they

  touched. Her pulse fluttered at the

  base of her elegant throat, her heart

  pounding so hard and fast he could

  feel it through his fingertips.

  His entire body responded to

  that frantic drumming, his veins

  heating, his fangs prickling as they

  elongated behind his closed lips.

  His cock responded just a
s hungrily,

  pressing in demand against the

  zipper of his trousers.

  She pulled out of his grasp. “I

  can’t do this. You need to know that

  I have no interest in any kind of

  handfast, and I’m not looking for a

  blood bond. Especially with you.”

  Jehan drew back. “You don’t

  want to be part of this because you

  just found out I belong to the

  Order?”

  Her lush lips compressed into

  a flat line. “I never wanted to be

  part of it.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “What?” She gaped at him.

  He shook his head. “I only

  agreed out of obligation. Because I

  feel I owe it to my family to uphold

  their traditions, even if they don’t

  mesh with mine.”

  Her breath rushed out of her.

  “Oh, thank God!”

  She didn’t hold back her

  relief. She sounded like a death row

  inmate suddenly granted a full

  pardon, and his pride took another

  ding to hear the depth of her

  alleviation. “So, what do we do

  now, Seraphina? Go back inside

  and tell them we’re calling the

  whole thing off?”

  “You mean, break the pact? We

  can’t do that.” She glanced down at

  the bricks at her feet. “I can’t do

  that.”

  “Maybe it’s time someone

  did.”

  He studied her under the thin

  light of the moon and stars

  overhead. Everything Breed in him

  was urging him to touch her—to lift

  her chin and sweep the loose

  tendrils of her curly brown hair

  away from her eyes, if only so he

  could see their unusual shade again.

  But he kept his hands to himself,

  fisting them at his sides when the

  desire to reach out nearly overrode

  his good sense.

  “You strike me as a forward-

  thinking, intelligent woman. You

  don’t actually believe the pact

  holds any kind of sway over the

  peace

  between

  our

  families

  anymore, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. But it’s important

  to my parents, and that makes it

  important to me. But...” Finally, she

  lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  “There’s another reason I agreed to

  the handfasting. I have a trust fund.

  A sizable one. It’s not due to

  release to me until my thirtieth

  birthday, but my father’s promised

  it to me early. At the end of the

  handfast.”

  “Ah.” Jehan lifted his chin. He

  hadn’t taken her for the type to be

  motivated by money, but he

  supposed there were worse things.

  “So, you’re here on bribery, and

  I’m here out of some pointless

  obligation to prove to my father that

  I’m

  not

  his

  greatest

  disappointment.”

  “That’s why you’re here?”

  Her voice was quiet, almost

  sympathetic. The soft look in her

  eyes threatened to unravel his thin

  control.

  He gave a dismissive wave of

  his hand. “It doesn’t matter why

  either of us are here. Apparently,

  we both just need to get through the

  next eight nights so we can get on

  with our real lives.”

  She nodded. “How are we

  going to do that?”

  Looking at her standing so

  close to him in the cool night air,

  her beautiful face and tempting

  curves making his mouth water and

  his blood streak hot through his

  veins, Jehan wasn’t sure how the

  hell he was going to survive a week

  of seclusion with her. Not without

  putting his hands or fangs—or any

  other part of his anatomy—within

  arm’s reach of her.

  One thing was certain. They

  would have to set some clear

  boundaries. Rigid boundaries that

  couldn’t be crossed.

  And rules.

  Jehan let his gaze travel the

  length of her, desire hammering

  through every cell in his body.

  Oh, yeah. To survive the next

  week alone with this female, he

  was going to need a lot of

  boundaries and rules.

  CHAPTER 5

  She should have said no.

  She should have trusted her

  good sense and left Jehan standing

  in the middle of the midnight garden

  alone last night, not helped him set

  down terms of their own for the

  ritual neither of them wanted to be

  part of.

  Instead, that next evening, she

  found herself seated beside him at

  the head of a long banquet room in

  her parents’ Darkhaven in front of a

  combined hundred members of their

  two families who had assembled to

  celebrate their send-off and the start

  of the handfast’s first night.

  In less than an hour, she and

  Jehan would be delivered to the

  private oasis retreat and left to fend

  for themselves until officials from

  both tribes came to retrieve them at

  the end of the eight nights. Until

  then, she would be trapped with

  him in close quarters. Intimate

  quarters.

  Oh, God. She must be out of

  her damn mind.

  Sera reached for her wine

  glass and drained it in one gulp.

  “Pace

  yourself,”

  Jehan

  drawled from beside her. “If you

  get too tipsy, I’d hate to have to

  carry you out of here tonight.”

  “Like hell you will.” She

  smiled and spoke under her breath,

  doing her best to pretend he wasn’t

  the last male she’d ever choose to

  spend time with. “And we have a

  deal,

  remember?

  One

  that

  specifically states no touching. I

  expect you to honor that.”

  A chuckle emanated from him,

  so deep it was almost a growl.

  “Don’t worry, I have no intention of

  touching you.”

  She placed her empty glass

  back on the table. “Good. Then

  don’t even joke about it.”

  “Trust me, Seraphina, you’ll

  know when I’m joking.”

  She made the mistake of

  looking at him and found him

  smirking as he leaned back in his

  chair. But there wasn’t any humor in

  his light blue eyes. Only a dark

  promise that made her pulse skitter

  through her veins.

  According to tradition, he was

  dressed in a white linen tunic and

  loose pants. A long, striped sash

  bearing his blue-and-gold family

  colors was tied around his trim

  waist. He looked decadent and

&nbs
p; confident, sprawled against the

  back of his seat. As arrogant as a

  prince accustomed to having the

  world bend to his whim, even if his

  title was as musty as the pact that

  bound her to him tonight.

  As for Sera, she had been

  clothed according to tradition too.

  Wrapped and knotted into yards of

  diaphanous red silk that somehow

  formed a body-skimming gown, she

  was also dripping in beads and

  bangles. Painted henna patterns

  swirled in delicate flourishes and

  arcs over the backs of her hands

  and up her limbs.

  The dress constricted her

  breathing and the decorations on her

  skin made her feel like an offering

  headed for the altar.

  Jehan’s searing gaze beside

  her wasn’t helping.

  Even though they’d agreed to

  avoid each other as much as

  possible for the next week, Sera

  couldn’t forget the heat that had

  ignited between them in the garden.

  Or in the moment they’d first made

  eye contact in the Darkhaven’s

  salon.

  He was attractive; she couldn’t

  begin to deny that. With his

  luxurious

  chestnut

  hair

  and

  impossibly blue eyes, he was heart-

  stoppingly gorgeous. The fact that

  his massive, muscular body and

  powerful presence seemed to suck

  all the air out of the room only

  made the handsome Breed male

  even more magnetic.

  The V-neck of his linen tunic

  was cut several inches down his

  powerful chest, baring a lot of

  tawny skin and smooth muscle, and

  the

  edges

  of

  his

  Breed

  dermaglyphs. The color-infused

  skin

  markings

  indicated

  the

  vampire’s mood, and right now, the

  neutral hues of Jehan’s glyphs told

  her that he’d recently fed.

  Not

  surprising.

  It

  was

  customary for a Breed male about

  to enter the handfast to slake his

  blood thirst on a willing human

  Host before the week began. This to

  ensure that he didn’t drink from his

  Breedmate companion and bond to

  her out of physical need instead of

  love.

  A vision of Jehan drinking

  from the throat of another woman

  sprang into Sera’s mind uninvited.

  His dark head nestled into the curve

  of a tender neck. His sensual mouth

  fastened to smooth, pale skin as his

  sharp fangs penetrated a pounding

  vein and he began to drink his fill.

  Would he gentle a woman with

  coaxing

  words

  and

  soothing

  caresses when he took her carotid