by Lara Adrian
up on her staggering awareness of
him as a man. As a dangerously
seductive Breed male who could
have her carotid caught in his teeth
just as swiftly as he could have her
legs parted beneath the driving
pound of his muscular body.
Sera swallowed hard, her
breath and heart racing as she
slowed to a stop before him.
She glanced down, to where
she was tethered to his strong hands
by the unraveled length of red silk.
Although she was covered
where it counted, there wasn’t much
of her dress left. Most of it lay on
the floor at her feet; yards of scarlet
pooled in the scant space between
her body and Jehan’s.
She licked her lips as she
struggled for words. She should tell
him to 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
stare
after
him,
half-dressed,
fuming, and determined to avoid the
infuriating ass for the duration of
her confinement with him.
CHAPTER 8
For the next two days, he
hardly saw Se
raphina.
She spent her evenings behind
the closed door of the massive
bedroom suite, pointedly ignoring
his existence. During the daytime,
she slipped outside to the villa’s
sunbaked patio for hours on end,
safely out of his reach and about as
far away from his company as she
could get.
She was pissed off, punishing
him with frosty silence and
deliberate avoidance.
Exactly as he’d intended when
he’d left her high and dry—and as
sexually frustrated as he was—that
first night.
Better to earn her contempt
than test his control under the
desire-drenched heat of her gaze
again. Her absence was a reprieve
he welcomed. Better that than trying
to withstand the temptation of her
enticing curves and infinitely soft
skin, now that he knew the pleasure
of both.
Fuck. He’d only touched her
for a few moments and the feel of
her was branded into his fingertips.
Her warmth and cinnamon-sugar
scent was seared into his senses.
Even though she was out of
sight now—rummaging quietly in
the kitchen, by the sound of it—all
he had to do was close his eyes and
there she was in his mind. Standing
in front of him in nothing but a few
scraps of scarlet silk, her parted
lips and heavy-lidded eyes inviting
him to touch her. To take her.
No, pleading for him to do so.
But he’d shown her, right?
Pretending he was the one in
control, denying both of them the
pleasure they both wanted because
he’d been too swamped with need
to trust he could control himself.
Now she was going to great lengths
to ignore him, no doubt cursing him
as a cold bastard. Meanwhile, he
was walking around the villa like a
caged animal with a semipermanent
case of blue balls.
Damn.
He wasn’t only a bastard. He
was an idiot.
On a curse, he raked a hand
through his hair and got up from the
large floor cushion where he’d been
unsuccessfully attempting to doze. It
was just about sundown and he was
twitchy with the need to be moving,
to be doing something useful. Hell,
he’d settle for doing anything at all.
He’d never been good at
inactivity and the boredom of his
exile was driving him insane.
More than once, he’d thought
about slipping out in the middle of
the night to run off some of his
tension. Or say fuck the handfast
and hoof it all the way to
Casablanca and take the earliest
flight to Rome.
With his Breed genetics, he
could make it to the city in about as
many hours as it would take to
drive it. Maybe sooner.
Tempting.
But
he
couldn’t
leave
Seraphina by herself out here. And
as much as he wanted to get back to
work going after Opus with his
teammates at the Order, he wasn’t
about to abandon his honor or his
family’s by violating the terms of
the pact.
If she could endure the week
together
and
adhere
to
the
ridiculous restrictions imposed on
them by the ancient agreement—in
addition to their own set of rules—
then so could he.
And he supposed he really
owed her an apology for the way he
acted the other night.
Padding silently on his bare
feet, Jehan strode toward the
kitchen where he’d heard her a
minute ago. She had her back to
him, seated on an overstuffed sofa
in the adjacent dining nook.
With her knees drawn up and
her head bent down to study
whatever she held in her hands, she
didn’t even notice him stealing up
behind her from the kitchen. At first,
he thought she’d taken one of the
many books from the villa’s library.
But then he realized the small
object was something else.
A phone.
In direct violation of the “no
communication with the outside
world” terms of the handfast.
The sneaky little rebel.
He opened his mouth to call
her out on the breach, but then his
acute sight caught the last few lines
of a text message thread filling the
display. Some guy named Karsten
was asking her where she was and
why she’d left him without saying
where she’d gone. He was worried,
he said. He needed her. Said he
wasn’t any good without her.
For reasons he didn’t want to
examine, the idea that Seraphina
had another man waiting for her
somewhere—that
she
wouldn’t
even mention that fact to him at any
point when they talked—sent a
streak of anger through Jehan’s
veins.
That she would look at him so
wantonly the other night when this
other male—what the fuck kind of
name was Karsten, anyway?—
obviously cared about her, needed
her, made Jehan wonder if he’d
read her wrong from the start.
Of course, she’d already
confessed to him that she only
agreed to participate in the handfast
to collect a handsome payout at the
end. So, why should it surprise him
to realize she was already spoken
for?
“You’re breaking the rules.”
His voice was low and even,
betraying none of the heat that was
running through his veins.
She startled so sharply, the
phone practically leapt out of her
fingers. She scrambled to keep it
and whirled around on the sofa to
gape at him in horror.
“Jehan! I didn’t hear you come
in the room.”
“You don’t say.” He gestured
to the phone now clutched tight to
her breast. “How’d you get that in
here?”
She had the decency to look at
least a little contrite. “I made Leila
smuggle it in with the clothing she
packed for me. She didn’t want to,
but I insisted. How was I supposed
to go an entire week completely cut
off from everything?”
“And
everyone?”
Jehan
prompted. “Who’s Karsten?”
Her face blanched. No need
for her to ask him if he saw her
texts. Her guilty look said it all.
“He’s my partner.”
“
Partner?”
He
practically
snarled the word.
“My
coworker.
Karsten
volunteers with me at the border
camps.”
Some of Jehan’s irritation
cooled at the explanation. “For a
coworker, he sounds very eager to
have you back. He’s no good
without you?”
Her expression relaxed into
one of mild dismissal. “Karsten
is...a bit dramatic. Right now, he’s
concerned about a food and medical
supply shipment that’s being held up
at a checkpoint near Marrakesh.
Normally I make sure things clear
without delays, but unfortunately
this shipment didn’t come in until
after my parents called me home.”
“What happens if the shipment
doesn’t get cleared?”
She crossed her arms over her
breasts. “The food will rot and the
medicine will spoil. It happens all
too often.”
“And this Karsten is unable to
retrieve the supplies without you?”
Jehan couldn’t mask his judgment of
the other man. If necessary food and
medicine were sitting somewhere
waiting to be delivered, he’d make
damn sure it got where it needed to
go.
Seraphina slipped off the sofa
and walked to the marble-topped
island where Jehan stood. “A lot of
times, when things are delayed like
this, my father’s name helps loosen
them up. Sometimes, it’s a matter of
finding the right palm to grease.”
Jehan nodded. Corruption in
local governments was nothing new.
That Seraphina seemed comfortable
navigating those tangled webs was
impressive. She kept impressing
him, and he wasn’t sure he should
like it as much as he did. “What do
you think will free up this shipment
of supplies?”
She shrugged faintly. “Does it
matter? Karsten hasn’t been able to
get them on his own so far, and by
the time our week is out here, it’ll
be too late. Food and medicine
doesn’t last long in the desert.”
No, he supposed it didn’t.
But maybe there was some
way to fix the situation.
“You say you know the
checkpoint where the supplies are
being held up?”
“It’s on the outskirts of
Marrakesh. A lot of our materials
pass through that same one.”
Jehan considered. “That’s only
a few hours away from here by
car.”
“What are you saying?” She
frowned. “Jehan, what are you
thinking?”
“Let me borrow your phone.”
She handed it over, still staring
at him in question. Jehan entered his
brother’s number and waited for
