Stroke of Midnight: A Midnight Breed Novella (The Midnight Breed Series)
Page 8
him to pick up. It took several rings,
then Marcel’s confused voice came
over the line in greeting. “Hello?”
Jehan got right to the point. “I
have a favor to ask of you.”
“Jehan? What the hell are you
doing calling me? And where did
you get the phone? You know
there’s
supposed
to
be
no
technology
or
outside
communication—”
“I
know,”
he
bit
off
impatiently. “Where are you right
now?”
“Ah...I’m home, but I’m getting
ready to head out for a while.
What’s going on? Is everything all
right with Seraphina?”
“She’s fine. We’re fine,” Jehan
assured him. “I need a vehicle. As
soon as possible.”
Marcel gasped. “What?”
Seraphina’s eyes went about
as wide as he imagined his
brother’s had just now.
“It’s important, Marcel. You
know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”
“But you can’t leave the villa.
If you leave Seraphina alone out
there, you’ll be breaking the pact.
Hell, you already are just by making
this call to me.”
“No one will know I called
except you.” Jehan glanced at
Seraphina and shook his head. “As
for breaking the pact by leaving her
at the villa without me, not
happening. She’s coming with me,
and we won’t be gone long. No one
will be the wiser.”
“Except, once again, me.”
Marcel groaned. “I probably don’t
want to know what any of this is
about, do I?”
“Probably not.” Jehan smiled.
Marcel
exhaled
a
curse.
“Please tell me you don’t want my
Lambo.”
“Actually, I was hoping for
one of the Rovers from the
Darkhaven fleet. With a full tank of
fuel, if you would.”
Marcel’s deep sigh gusted
over the line. “Does Seraphina
realize yet what a demanding pain
in the ass you can be?”
Jehan met her gaze and
grinned. “I imagine she’s figuring
that out.”
Marcel chuckled. “I’ll drop it
off at sundown.”
CHAPTER 9
“Careful
with
that
crate,
Aleph. Those glass vials of
vaccines are fragile.”
Walking across the moonlit
sand with her arm around one of the
children from the refugee camp and
a box of bandages held in her other
hand, Sera directed another of the
volunteers to the open back of the
supply-laden
Range
Rover.
“Massoud, take the large sack of
rice to Fatima in the mess tent and
ask her where she’d like us to store
the rest of the raw grains. Let her know we have some crates of
canned meats and boxes of fruit
here too.”
Behind her at the vehicle,
Jehan was busy unloading the crates
and boxes and sacks they’d just
arrived with from the checkpoint
near Marrakesh. Sera couldn’t help
pausing to watch him work.
Dressed in jeans and a loose linen
shirt with the sleeves rolled up past
his glyph-covered forearms, he
pitched in like the best of her other
workers. Even better, in fact, since
he was Breed. His strength and
stamina outpaced half a dozen
humans put together.
She still couldn’t believe what
he’d done for her tonight. For a
village of displaced people he’d
never met and didn’t have to care
about. All of the indignation and
anger she’d felt toward him since
their first night at the villa
evaporated under her admiration for
what he was doing now.
And it wasn’t only admiration
she felt when she looked at him.
There was attraction, to be
sure. White-hot and magnetic.
But something stronger had
begun to kindle inside her today. As
unsettling as her desire for him was,
this new emotion was even more
terrifying. She liked him.
Jehan had intrigued her from
their first introduction, even after
she’d learned he made his living as
a warrior. Their kiss at the banquet
had ignited a need in her that she
still hadn’t been able to dismiss.
And then, when he’d helped her out
of her dress that initial night at the
villa, she’d wanted him with an
intensity that nearly overwhelmed
her.
After he’d left her humiliated
and awash in frustration, she’d
almost been able to convince
herself that he was simply an
arrogant bastard and an aggravation
she would just have to avoid or
endure for the rest of their week
together.
Now he had to go and do
something kind for her like this.
Something surprising and selfless.
Frowning, she turned away
from him on a groan. “Come on,
Yasmin. Let’s go see if Fatima has
anything good waiting in her kitchen
tonight.”
As they walked into the center
of the camp, a Jeep was arriving
from the other end of the makeshift
village
of
tents
and
meager
outbuildings. Yellow headlights
bounced in the darkness as the
vehicle jostled over the ruts in the
dirt road into camp. The Jeep came
to a halt several yards up and
Karsten Hemmings hopped out of
the driver’s seat.
“Sera?” He jogged to meet her,
a welcoming grin on his ruggedly
handsome face. “I was down at the
southern camp when I got word the
supplies had been released.” He
gave her a quick kiss on the cheek
as he took the box out of her hands.
Then he reached down to pat the
child’s head with a smile. “What’s
going on? I thought you said you
were going to be delayed with your
parents for a few more days?”
She shrugged at the reminder
of the small lie she’d told him. “I
found an opportunity to get away for
a little while, so I thought I’d run to
Marrakesh and see what I could do
about the supplies.”
Karsten made a wry sound in
his throat as he tossed the box of
bandages to a passing camp
volunteer. “How much did it cost
“A 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. Your
brother’s waiting for us to return the
Rover tonight—”
“Sera, if your friend has
somewhere he needs to be,”
Karsten piped in helpfully, “then
why don’t you wait out the storm
here at camp and I can bring you
back
to
your
parents’
place
tomorrow, after it passes?”
“Not happening.” Jehan’s curt
reply allowed no argument. “If
Seraphina stays for any reason, so
do I.”
Although he didn’t say it
outright,
the
message
was
broadcasted loud and clear. He
wasn’t about to leave her alone
with Karsten, storm or no storm.
And if the protective, alpha
tone of his voice hadn’t sent her
heart into a free fall in her breast,
she might have found the good sense
to be offended by his unprovoked,
aggressive reaction to the only other
male in her current orbit.
Karsten smiled mildly and
lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself,
then. I’m going to start boarding
things up ahead of the storm. If you
need me, Sera, you know where I
am.”
She nodd
ed and watched him
walk away. Then she wheeled
around to face Jehan. “You were
very rude to my friend.”
“Friend?” He snorted under
his breath. “That human thinks he’s
more than a friend to you.” Jehan’s
sharp blue eyes narrowed. “He was
more than that at one time, wasn’t
he?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“We went on a few dates, nothing
more. I wasn’t interested in him.”
“But he was interested in you.
Still is.”
“You sound jealous.”
He exhaled harshly through
flared nostrils. “Call it observant.”
“I called it jealous.” She
stepped closer to him in the
moonlight, weathering the heat that
rolled off his big body and flashed
from the depths of his smoldering
gaze. His jaw was clamped hard,
and the dark-stubbled skin that
covered it seemed stretched too
tightly
across
his
handsome,
perturbed face. “Why the hell
should it bother you if Karsten is a
friend of mine or something more?
It’s not like you have any claim on
me. I could go after him right now
and there’s really nothing you can
say about it.”
A low sound rumbled from
deep inside of him. “I would hope
you don’t intend to try me.”
“Why? Because of some stupid
pact?” Her voice climbed with her
frustration. “You don’t even believe
in it, but yet you want to pretend we
have to live by its terms.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the
damned pact, Seraphina.”
“That didn’t stop you from
using it as an excuse to make me
feel like an idiot.”
Sparks
ignited
in
the
shadowed pools of his eyes. “If you
really think my walking away from
you that night had anything to do
with the pact, then you are an
idiot.”
She sucked in a breath, ready
to hurl a curse at him, but he didn’t
give her the chance.
In less than a pace, he closed
the distance between them. One
strong hand slid into her loose hair
and around her nape. The other
splayed against her lower spine as
he drew her to him and took her
mouth in a blazing hot, hungry kiss.
Seraphina moaned as pleasure
and need swamped her. Her breasts
crushed against the firm, muscled
slabs of his chest. Against her belly,
his cock was a thick, solid ridge of
heat and power and carnal demand.
Hunger tore through her, quicksilver
and molten. It burned away her
anger, obliterated her outrage and
frustration. As he deepened their