Stroke of Midnight - Lara Adrian Page 0,11
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 as 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