Home > Stroke of Midnight (Midnight Breed #13.5)(6)

Stroke of Midnight (Midnight Breed #13.5)(6)
Author: Lara Adrian

“Romantic?” Sera scoffed. “What’s romantic about a truce struck after years of bloodshed resulting from the kidnap of a virgin Breedmate from our tribe by a barbarian Breed male from theirs six-hundred years ago?”

Leila let out a sigh. “Things were different back then. And it’s romantic because they fell in love.”

Sera arched her brows in challenge. “Tragic, because despite their blood bond, they both died in the end and set off a long, violent war.”

Sera knew the whole, tragic story as well as her sister did. It was practically legend in the Sanhaja family. And if she was being honest, there was a part of her that ached for that long-dead couple and their doomed love.

But it didn’t change the fact that centuries later, here she was, standing in a locked bathroom in a borrowed dress and high-heeled sandals, while just down the hall, a Breed male she’d never even met before was expecting her to go away with him for eight long nights—all in their parents’ shared hopes that they might come back madly in love and bound by blood for eternity.

Ridiculous.

Sera shook her head. “It might’ve been true centuries ago that the best way to guarantee peace was to turn an enemy into family,” she conceded. “But that was then and this is now. There hasn’t been conflict between the Mafakhirs and our family for decades.”

Leila tilted her head. “And how do you know that’s not because the pact was in place all that time? Since it first began, there’s never been a time when there wasn’t at least one mated pair between our families. Until now. What if the pact really is the only thing keeping the peace? It’s never been broken or tested, Sera. Do you really want to be the first one to try?”

For a moment, hearing her sister’s emphatic reply, Seraphina almost bought into the whole myth. At twenty-seven, she was a practical, independent woman who knew her own mind as well as her own worth, but there was a small part of her—maybe a part of every woman—who still wanted to believe in fairy tales and romance stories.

She wanted to believe in eternal love and happy endings, but that’s not what awaited her on the other side of the powder room door.

“The pact isn’t magic. And the handfast isn’t romantic. It’s all a bunch of silly, outdated nonsense.”

“Well, call it what you will,” Leila murmured. “I think it’s charming.”

“I doubt you’d be so enthusiastic if you were the one being yanked out of your world and all the things that matter to you, only to be dropped into some strange male’s lap as his captive plaything.” Sera considered her dreamy-eyed younger sister. “Or maybe you would.”

Leila laughed and shook her head. “The handfast is only for a week. And you won’t be dropped into anyone’s lap or held against your will. You’re meant to get to know each other away from the distractions of the outside world. That’s all. Handfasting at the oasis retreat is symbolic more than anything else. Besides, I can think of worse things than spending a week in beautiful surroundings, getting to know a handsome Breed male. One who also happens to be a prince.”

Sera scoffed. “A prince in name only. The old tribes of this region aren’t any more royal than you or me.” Which they weren’t. Adopted by Omar and Amina Sanhaja as infants from orphanages for the indigent, there was no chance of that. Sera cocked a curious look on her sister. “How do you know Jehan’s handsome? I thought you’ve never met him.”

“I haven’t. But being Breed, he’s sure to have his mother’s chestnut brown hair and incredible blue eyes. The same as his brother, Marcel.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t care what he looks like and I don’t care about his pedigree either. I’m not looking for a mate, and if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be going about it this way.”

Yet despite all of that—despite her unwillingness to be part of some antiquated agreement that had long outlived its expiration date as far as she was concerned—she knew she couldn’t walk away from her obligation to her family.

Honoring the pact was important to her parents, which made it important to her as well.

And there was another, more selfish reason she had finally conceded to come.

Several hundred thousand reasons. The amount of her trust fund, which her father had agreed to release to her early. She would have it all at the end of the week—after her handfast with Jehan Mafakhir was over.

Sera needed that money.

As much as her father loved her, he knew she wouldn’t be able to turn away from what he had offered. Not when there was so much she could do with that kind of gift.

That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Nor did it mean she had to like Jehan Mafakhir.

In fact, she was determined to avoid him as much as possible for the duration of their confinement together. If she was lucky, maybe they wouldn’t even need to speak to each other.

Miserable with the whole idea, she exhaled a slow, defeated sigh. “It’s only for eight nights, right?”

Leila nodded, then her eyes went wide at the sound of measured footsteps and deep voices in the hallway. Putting a finger to her lips, she cracked open the door and peered out. She reported to Sera in a hushed whisper. “Jehan just walked into the salon with his father and Marcel. You can’t leave him waiting. We have to get out of here right now!”

The bubble of anxiety Sera had been fighting suddenly spiked into hot panic. “So soon? I thought I’d have a few more minutes before—”

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