Stroke of Midnight - Lara Adrian Page 0,20
few thousand.”
After haggling the checkpoint supervisor down as far as she could manage, she’d arranged to have the money wired to the corrupt official’s personal account. It simply was the way business was done in her line of work sometimes, but all of the “few thousands” had added up over the years. Her account was nearly tapped dry now—at least until she completed the handfast and her father released her trust.
A group of children ran past and shouted for Yasmin to join them in a game of tag. The promise of treats in the mess tent quickly forgotten, the little girl ran off to join her friends.
“Stay close to camp, all of you!” Karsten called after them, watching them go. Then he cocked his head at Sera. “It’s good to see you. When I heard you’d left to go to your family without telling anyone what it was about, I was afraid something was wrong.” He glanced down, finally taking in her appearance. “What the hell happened to your clothes?”
Seeing how Leila had outfitted her for a week of lounging and potential romance, before Sera left the villa, she’d raided Jehan’s wardrobe for something practical to wear out in the field.
She couldn’t show up wearing any of the dresses or peasant skirts her sister had selected, so Sera had appropriated Jehan’s white linen tunic from the night of the banquet and a loose-fitting pair of linen pants. With the pant legs rolled up several times, the waist held around her by a makeshift red silk belt, and a pair of her own kid leather flats, her clothing wasn’t fashionable, but it was functional.
It also had the added benefit that it carried Jehan’s deliciously spicy scent, which had been teasing her senses ever since she slipped the tunic over her head.
She wasn’t sure how to explain what she was wearing, but then Karsten no longer seemed interested. His gaze flicked past Sera now, to where Jehan had just unloaded the last of the crates and supplies.
His brow rankled in confusion. “Who’s that?”
“A friend,” she said, unsure why she should feel awkward calling him that.
“He’s Breed.” Karsten’s eyes came back to her now, wariness flattening his lips as he lowered his voice. “You brought one of them into the camp?”
Even though it had been twenty years and counting since the Breed were outed to mankind, prejudices still lingered. Even in her affable coworker, apparently.
“It’s okay. Jehan is, ah...an old friend of my family.” She waved her hand in dismissal of his concerns. “Besides, we won’t be staying long. We have to get back to the villa tonight.”
“The villa?”
Shit. She really didn’t want to explain the whole awkward family pact and handfasting scenario to him. For one thing, it was none of Karsten’s business—even if she did consider him a friend after they had dated briefly once upon a time. And maybe it was none of his business precisely because of the fact they had once dated.
Whatever the reason, she felt strangely protective of the time she’d spent with Jehan. It belonged to them—no one else.
“Once we get everything settled here in the camp, Jehan and I need to return. We’re expected to be back as soon as possible.” Which was about as close to the truth as she was going to get on that subject.
Karsten shook his head. “Well, you won’t be leaving tonight. There’s a big dust storm rolling in off the Sahara. It’s moving fast, due here in the next hour or less. No way you’ll be able to outrun it.”
“Oh, no.” A knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. “That’s awful news.”
“What’s awful news?”
Jehan’s deep voice awakened her nerve endings as sensually as a caress. He’d closed up the Rover and strode up behind her before she even realized it. When she pivoted to face him, she found his arresting blue eyes locked on Karsten.
“You must be Jehan.” Instead of extending his hand in greeting, Karsten’s fists balled on his hips. “I’m Karsten Hemmings, Sera’s partner.”
“Coworker.” Jehan subtly corrected him. And as far as introductions went, his didn’t exactly project friendliness either. His palm came down soft and warm—possessively—on her shoulder. “What’s awful news?”
She tried to act as though his lingering touch was no big deal, as if it wasn’t waking up every cell in her body and flooding her with heat. “There’s a dust storm coming. Karsten says we may have to wait it out here at the camp. I know we need to get back soon, though.