Stroke of Midnight - Lara Adrian Page 0,16

go, but everything female in her yearned for him to stay. She was no trembling virgin, no stranger to sex. But never with a Breed male. And the electricity that crackled to life between Jehan and her was something she’d never felt before.

It was arresting.

Consuming.

Terrifying in its intensity.

Yet it wasn’t fear of him she felt when she held his piercing light blue eyes. It was fear of herself and of the way he made her feel. Fear of the things he made her want.

“Jehan, I...” She shook her head, unsure what she meant to say to him.

Leave?

Stay?

Forget the fact that neither one of them had come to this place willingly, nor intended to walk away from the archaic tradition with a blood-bonded mate?

But that’s not what this moment was about.

What she saw in Jehan’s amber-swamped gaze right now didn’t have anything to do with their romantic surroundings or the expectation and hopes of their families. The things she was feeling had nothing to do with any of that either.

It was desire, pure and simple.

Immediate and intense.

Her body throbbed with it, longing pounding furiously in her breast and stirring a molten heat in the center of her. She drew a shallow breath—then held it tight as Jehan reached out to caress her cheek. His warm fingers felt hard and strong against her face, but he stroked her with such tenderness, she couldn’t hold back the soft moan that spilled past her lips.

She stood rooted in place while her thoughts and emotions spiraled with rising anticipation.

The cool air of the room made her exposed skin feel even tighter. Her nipples ached behind the gauzy ribbons of silk that barely covered them. Goose bumps rose on her naked shoulders and arms with each second she endured under Jehan’s hot, unwavering stare.

His fingers drifted away from her face slowly, then skated in a scorching trail down the side of her neck and onto the line of her left shoulder. She felt him trace the small red birthmark that rode her bicep—her Breedmate mark. His fingertips caressed the teardrop-and-crescent-moon symbol that signified she was something other than simply human.

That mark also meant that if she drank his blood, she would be bound to him and only him, for as long as either of them lived.

As if in answer to his touch, her veins vibrated with a primal quickening, pulse points throbbing in response to each tender stroke.

“You are...so incredibly beautiful.” His deep voice was a growl of sound, tangling through his teeth and fangs. “But we made a deal, Seraphina.”

She knew they had a deal. No looking. No touching. No physical contact of any kind. They had set clear boundaries and established separate corners where they could cohabitate for the week without having to spend any awkward time together. When the handfast was over, they would simply say their good-byes and return to their normal lives.

So why was she wishing so desperately that Jehan would pull her into his arms?

Why was she longing to feel the press of his muscled, hard body against her?

Why was the coil of smoldering need within her winding tighter, all of her nerve endings on fire and eager for more of his touch?

Eager for his kiss and everything that was certain to follow...

But he didn’t kiss her.

A snarl curled up from the back of his throat. An animal sound. An otherworldly sound.

One of denial.

He shook his head, sending the thick waves of his dark hair swaying where they brushed his broad shoulders. His hand dropped away, down to his side. On a slow exhale, he stepped back, creating a cold vacuum of space between them.

He stooped to pick up the pool of red silk from the floor. He was retreating, yet when his gaze lifted to hers, his eyes still blazed with fiery desire, so hot it seared her. His fangs still glittered razor-sharp and hungered behind his lips.

He wanted her. It was written in his fierce expression and in the arousal that made itself obvious when she glanced down at the sizable bulge tenting his loose linen pants.

And he knew that she wanted him just as badly.

She could see that knowledge gleaming in his arrogant, knowing stare.

Damn him. He knew very well, and he was enjoying her torment!

He placed the mound of silk into her hands, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Seraphina.”

He pivoted back toward the door. Then he strode out of the room without so much as a backward glance, leaving her to