Stroke of Midnight - Lara Adrian Page 0,12
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 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 between