Stroke of Midnight - Lara Adrian Page 0,4
the families, the terms of the pact specifically state—”
“I know what they state. I also know those terms were written up during a very different time. We don’t live in the Middle Ages anymore.” And thank fuck for that, he mentally amended. “The pact is a relic that needs to be retired. Hopefully it won’t take too much convincing to make our father understand that.”
Marcel went quiet as they veered off the highway and set a course for the rambling stretch of desert acreage that comprised their family’s Darkhaven property. In a few short minutes, they turned onto the private road.
The family lands were lush and expansive. Thick clusters of palm trees spiked black against the night sky, small oases amid the vast spread of dark, silken sand. Up ahead was the iron gate and tall brick perimeter wall that secured the massive compound where Jehan had grown up.
Even before they approached the luxurious Darkhaven, his feet twitched inside his boots with the urge to run.
While they paused outside the gate and waited to be admitted inside, Marcel pivoted in his seat toward Jehan. His youthful, twenty-four-year-old face was solemn. “The pact has never been broken. You know that, right? Not once in all of the six-and-a-half centuries it’s been in place. It’s not a relic. It’s tradition. That kind of thing may not be sacred to you, but it is to our parents. It’s sacred to the Sanhajas too.”
His brother was so earnest, maybe there was another way to dodge this bullet. “If you feel that strongly about it, why don’t you pick up the torch instead? Take my place and I can turn around right now and go back to my work with the Order.”
“Ohh, no.” He vigorously shook his head. “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—without another mated couple occurring naturally between our families, the pact calls for the eldest son of the eldest male of our line. That means you. Besides, there are worse fates. Seraphina Sanhaja is a gorgeous woman.”
Seraphina. It was the first time he’d heard the name of his intended. A silken, exotic name. Just the sound of it made Jehan’s blood course a bit hotter in his veins. He dismissed the sensation with a sharp sigh as he stared at his brother. He couldn’t deny that a part of him was intrigued to know more. “You’ve seen her?”
Marcel nodded. “She and her sister, Leila, are both stunning.”
Not surprising, considering they were Breedmates. Although they didn’t have the vampiric traits of Jehan’s kind, the half-human, half-Atlantean females called Breedmates were flawless beauties without exception. His Paris-born mother was testament to that. As was Lazaro Archer’s flame-haired Breedmate back in Rome, Melena.
“So, what’s wrong with her, then?” Jehan murmured. “Let me guess. She’s a miserable, bickering shrew? Or is it worse, a meek little mouse who’s afraid of her own shadow?”
“She’s neither.” Marcel grinned as he eased the Lamborghini through the opened gates. “She’s lovely, Jehan. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“Not if I have anything to say about that.” Crossing his arms, he sat back in the buttery soft leather seat. “I have a return flight to Rome tomorrow. I figure that gives me plenty of time to convey my regrets to our parents and get the hell out of here.”
“You can’t do that. Everything is already in motion. I told you, arrangements were made right after you called.”
Jehan cursed under his breath. “If I’d realized our parents would charge forward without asking me, I could’ve saved everyone the effort. I should’ve told them over the phone that I wasn’t interested in any of this and stayed put in Rome. Unfortunately, it’s too late for that now. Whatever arrangements have been made will need to be canceled.”
“I don’t think you understand, brother.” Marcel slowed the car as they rolled onto the half-moon drive of the Darkhaven’s impressive arched entrance. “The handfast begins tomorrow. Which means the families assemble for the official meet-and-greet tonight. There will be formal introductions, followed by the traditional garden walk at midnight, and the turning of the hourglass to mark the celebratory commencement and the start of the handfast period.”
Jehan’s unfamiliarity with the process must have been as apparent as his disinterest. Marcel frowned at him. “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you? For fuck’s sake, the pact’s been in place for centuries, but you never took the time to study the terms?”
“I’ve been busy.”
Marcel’s lips quirked at the droll reply, but it was