Stroke of Midnight (Midnight Breed 13.5) - Page 49

And if she should regret that fact, she never would.

Not when Jehan was looking at her the way he was now, with fever in his eyes and desire riding the furious arcs and swirls of his multicolored dermaglyphs. And not when his amazing cock was making her yearn to be taken all over again.

“On your knees this time,” he commanded her, his deep voice husky and raw.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she eagerly scrambled out from under him to obey. He loomed behind her, the heat of his presence scalding her backside. His fingers waded through their combined juices, wringing a desperate mewl from her throat as the wet sounds of his caresses joined the dry howl of the sandstorm still raging outside the tent.

She felt the thick length of his cock between her swollen folds. Then he grasped her hips in his hands and slowly impaled her on him, inch by glorious inch.

They set a less frantic pace now, somehow finding the will to savor the pleasure, making it last as long as they could hold out. After they had both climaxed again, they dropped into a lazy sprawl on her blanket-strewn pallet.

For a long while, there were no words between them. They lay together in the dark, listening to the hiss of swirling sand as the storm continued to sweep through the camp.

Sera was stretched alongside him, one arm resting on his chest. She traced the pattern of glyphs that spread over his smooth skin, memorizing the Breed skin markings that were unique to him alone. They were beautiful. And so was he.

“I need to thank you for tonight, Jehan.”

He grunted. “No need, trust me.” His strong arm tightened around her, bringing her closer against him. “I should be the one thanking you.”

She rose up to look at his face. “No, I mean for what you did tonight. For helping me bring the supplies here. For going out into the storm to find Yasmin and make sure she got the care she needed for her injured leg.”

He shrugged mildly. “Again, there’s no need for thanks. I did what anyone would do.”

“Not anyone,” she said. “And I never would’ve expected it from you. I misjudged you when we met, and for that, I also owe you an apology.”

He cupped her nape and brought her down to him for a tender kiss. “Maybe we both were too quick to judge. When you told me you only agreed to the handfast to collect the trust from your father, I assumed you were willing to take his bribe because you wanted the money for yourself. And not that it should matter why you wanted it, but it did. Tonight at the checkpoint, I know what you did. I realized what you’ve been doing all along—using your personal funds to buy clearance for camp supplies.”

She frowned. “It’s only money. How can I keep it when those supplies mean life or death to the people who depend on me?”

“Your work obviously means a lot to you.” There was a soberness in his eyes as he studied her in the darkened tent. “You told me that night we walked in the garden that your work is a calling.”

“I did say that, yes.” It surprised her that he remembered the offhand remark.

“What did you mean, Seraphina?”

She glanced down at her hand where it rested on his chest. “When I was eighteen, I volunteered one winter at an orphanage about an hour away from our Darkhaven. My parents encouraged it, since I was orphaned as an infant too.”

Jehan made an acknowledging sound. “A lot of Breedmates find their way into Breed households as abandoned and orphaned babies or young girls.”

She nodded. She and her sister were both adopted by the Sanhajas in such a way. “I was lucky. Someone saw my birthmark and recognized that I was different. There was a place for me because of that. But there were no Breedmates in the orphanage I went to that year. Only human children. Many of them were refugees whose parents had been killed in wars or died of famine and disease.” She curled her fingers into a tight ball. “There was so much pain in that place. I felt it every time I held a crying baby or embraced one of those sweet, terrified kids.”

“You felt it,” Jehan murmured, understanding fully now. He reached up to take her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “You felt their emotional pain, because, like me, you’re an empath.”

Every Breedmate, like every Breed male, was born with a unique extrasensory ability. Some were blessings, others were less of a gift. Where Jehan could register physical injuries, hers was the ability to feel emotional pain with a touch.

“I thought I could handle it,” she said. “But everything I felt stayed with me. Until my time working at the orphanage that winter, I didn’t know how to help. Now I do what I can.”

He’d gone quiet as she spoke, and Sera knew he understood. Given his own ability, Jehan probably understood her better than anyone else could.

“You’re an incredible woman, Seraphina.” He shook his head, his thumb stroking idly over her jawline. “I think I recognized that the minute we met, but I was too busy looking for reasons to dislike you. I wanted to find hidden flaws, since it was obvious I wasn’t going to find any on the outside.”

His praise warmed her. “I haven’t been able to find much fault in you either. And believe me, I tried. I called you a killer when I found out you were a warrior with the Order. That wasn’t fair. I know that now. I also thought your biggest personal flaw might be an overblown opinion of your own charms. I think you’ve proven the point tonight, though. I suppose I have to give credit where it’s due.”

He chuckled. “If what I just did with you was charming, then just wait until you see my wicked side.”

She grinned down at him. “When can I look forward to that?”

“If you’re not careful, sooner than you think.”

Tags: Lara Adrian Midnight Breed Paranormal
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