by Lara Adrian
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