Stroke of Midnight (Midnight Breed 13.5)

“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 clear that he took the pact seriously. Apparently everyone did, aside from Jehan.

For an instant, he felt a pang of loss for his absence all these years. It had been his choice to leave, his choice to make his own way in the world instead of being satisfied with the privileged, if stifling, one he’d been handed at birth. He’d yearned more for adventure than tradition, and supposed he always would.

“So, this handfast entails what, exactly?”

“A period of eight nights, spent together in seclusion. No visitors, no communication with the outside world in any form. Just the two of you, alone at the oasis retreat on the border of our lands and the Sanhajas’.”

“In other words, imprisonment for a week and a day with a female who may or may not be a willing party to this whole forced seduction ritual. Followed by what—a public blood bond encouraged at sword point?”

“Forced seduction? Public blood bond?” Marcel gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind. “The handfast is all about consent, Jehan. Touch Seraphina against her wishes and her family has the right to take your head. Drink her blood without her permission and no one would balk if the Sanhajas took out their revenge on the entire Mafakhir tribe. This is serious shit.”

Not to mention, archaic. Even though he had no plans to touch Seraphina Sanhaja or any other female who wasn’t of his own choosing, Jehan’s curiosity was piqued. “I thought the whole point of the pact was to seal the peace between our two families with a blood bond.”

“It is,” Marcel said. “But only if the handfast is successful.”

“Meaning?”

“There has to be a mutual agreement. There has to be love. If there’s no desire to bond as a mated couple at the end of the handfast, the couple is free to go their separate ways and the pact then moves on to the next pair in line.”

“So, there’s an out clause?” Jehan’s brows rose in surprise. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

His brother released a frustrated-sounding breath. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain any of this to you. The terms will be spelled out in detail at the ceremony tomorrow night.”

The ceremony Jehan had no intention of attending.

Marcel parked in front of the opulent estate and killed the engine. The Aventador’s scissor doors lifted upward and the two Breed males climbed out.

As they began to ascend the wide, polished stone steps leading to the Darkhaven’s entrance, Jehan asked, “Who’s the next pair in line after Seraphina and me?”

“That would be the Breedmate next nearest the age of thirty in the Sanhaja family, and the unmated eldest son of the second-eldest Breed male in our line. You remember our cousin, Fariq.”

Jehan mentally recoiled. “Fariq, who prided himself on his collection of dead insects and snakes as a boy?”

Marcel chuckled. “He’s not nicknamed Renfield for nothing.”