He held up his hands. “I do not want to hurt you, Delilah. I was only coming to check on you. If you think you are up for it, I’d like to show you around.”
Leaving the house? “Show me around where?”
“The farm. The Schrock portion of land at least. The Order’s land is enormous, but being that there is only my mother and I on the Schrock land—and now you, of course—we have a very open spread.”
She could run away. If he took her out she’d only need a distraction—
“If you run, I will catch you, pintura. I am much older than you. While you may be discovering some new strength in yourself, know that my age puts me at an advantage. I am faster, stronger, and hold more disciplines.”
Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you…Arrogant much? And what was with him always knowing what she was thinking? She didn’t think she was that transparent. Could vampires read minds?
She stared at his forehead and concentrated. Nothing. She tried a different tactic.
Christian Schrock is a fock who always gets what he wants,
From lips to clits to pierced painted tits, he even gets their cunts.
He grunted as if something hit him in the gut. Bingo.
Her lips twisted in evil satisfaction. This could be fun. Her inner monologue turned taunting. Fuuuuuuuuck you, you Amish, sheep fucking vampire.
He growled and his eyes flashed silver.
Aww, poor baby. Is your mate not the obedient little woman you hoped for? Better chastise her and show her her place!
He was breathing hard, fists clenched at his side.
She was breathing hard too. He probably was stronger, but she was no weakling now. Her newfound strength was pumping through her veins like heroin. Might as well use that shit. Besides, she was really hankering for a fight and the douche bag was the perfect target.
“What’s wrong, Christian? You seem upset,” she cooed, her voice thick with sarcastic sympathy. Bet you think yer new mate sure is purdy compared to those barn animals you been doin on all those lonely nights…
Like a crack of thunder, a growl snapped from his throat, and he sprang. Delilah raked her claws down his front as he knocked her to the ground. She snapped her teeth at him like a rabid dog. The sound of his clothing tearing rent the air. Other than pinning her to the ground he hadn’t touched her. She wrestled with him, trying to throw his unyielding weight off.
He caught hold of her wrists and forced her arms over her head. She thrashed and growled, arching up to bite him, but he held all the control.
They panted, neither blinked as they stared hard at each other. Her chemise was twisted around her hips. A strange scent met her nose. Arousal. Hers. He straddled her and his cock pressed into her belly. She was not the only one aroused. A deep, purring growl came from his chest.
Her mouth opened and she rapidly breathed through her fangs like a cat in heat. It was all very Sigourney Weaver I am the gatekeeper are you the key master?
Fuck. She didn’t want him to have this effect. He pressed his hips into her, announcing his desire. It must have been all that sheep talk.
He growled and jerked her knees wide, stretching them around his thighs as the bulge between his hips was pressing into her sex. There was a soft purring sound coming from her throat as well.
“You should know better than to challenge my virility, pintura. I believe your nipples are hard.”
Were Amish people allowed to say nipples? She liked it, but tried to keep that thought hidden. Her body shifted, trying to get out from under him, but his grip tightened.
“Get off.”
“Is that what you truly wish? I can read your body like an open book, pintura.”
Her breath caught. He wouldn’t force her. Yet, part of her wanted him to, because there was something seriously wrong with someone in her situation desiring her crazy captor.
His hips ground into her center. She moaned before she could stop herself. “What if I say no?”
“Say it,” he dared.
She didn’t. He shifted her wrists into one strong palm and reached with his free hand for the neck of her chemise. The fabric tore as he yanked the collar down. His hot palm cupped her breast and she arched into his hold. A soft sigh escaped her throat. Her body was such a traitor!
“Why do you want to fight me, Delilah?” he whispered as he fondled her, her insides tightening, heart beating in the bud of her sex. “Things can be so nice between us if you just…tried to accept your fate.”
He tweaked her nipple and she moaned. “Never,” she breathed unconvincingly. His mouth lowered and gently captured one pierced nipple. She moaned. “I hate you.”
He lifted his mouth and moved to the other nipple. “No, you don’t.” He licked. “Hate is such a strong word.”
“You changed me without asking. You took my life from me.” The truth of her words crashed over her, extinguishing all forms of lust in the face of reality. It hurt to admit that one foolish night with the sexiest man she’d ever seen had led her to this point.
It suddenly wasn’t fun anymore. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his expression solemn. “I have lived almost three hundred years, Delilah, and thus far, I already count taking your mortality without waiting for your consent my biggest mistake. I was wrong. But what else was I supposed to do? I know it was wrong, but my salvation was at risk. You will save me. I want to do the same for you. I hate that my actions hurt you, but I cannot regret my course.”
Sadness enveloped her as she—again—accepted that her situation would not go away tomorrow or the next. “So, you’re sorry, but you don’t regret doing it. How is that supposed to make things better?”
He lowered his forehead to her chest. When he looked at her again, he said, “I don’t know.”
Quietly, he slid off of her and helped her right her clothes as best she could. They were a mess. They sat on the floor, neither looking at the other. “I don’t want to be some old fashioned wife or mate or whatever. I don’t want to be just another girl dressed in black.”
“This is my home, Delilah. This is all I know.”
“Why can’t you go somewhere else?”
“Because it is safer to stay here. The Amish are not bothered with society’s laws and such. We keep to ourselves and other than some minor intrusions over the years, the English let us be. There are others—like you—young girls who have been recently called. I could introduce you. I know that one male allows his mate music. She has a device that plays it. And Dane, my half-brother, he is part mortal.”
“The guy from the other day?”
“Yes.”
“I knew there was something different about him.” Even the humans around here are twisted. Thanks for the help, asshole.
Christian clamped his mouth closed and she remembered he could hear her thoughts. After several breaths he said, “You are lucky it was he who found you. I am a possessive male, Delilah. I would not deal well with other males of The Order seeing you in your underthings.”
“Then why don’t you let me borrow a shirt and pants?”
“Because you are female.”
“See, there you go again with all that chauvinistic garbage. I have two legs just like you. Why should I have to wear dresses?”
“You had a dress on when we met.”
“That was different. That was sexy.”
He chuckled. “I find it difficult to believe you wouldn’t look sexy in a proper gown. You are very beautiful, pintura.”
Heat bloomed up her neck and on her cheeks. “What is pintura?”
“It is Portuguese. It means painting. That is what I thought when I first saw you, that you were as pretty as a picture, painted like a masterpiece.”
Well didn’t that fill her with the warm and fuzzies? She looked down and fidgeted. She really needed to pick a side of the fence and stay there. All this back and forth, liking and hating him, was making her as crazy as the rest of them.
Str
etching out her leg, she poked him in the foot with her toe. “Thanks.”
He reached out and ran a hand over the top of her foot. “You’re welcome.”
Her emotions were all over the place. She took a deep breath and pulled her foot back. “So, can I do any tricks like fly or turn into stuff?”
He laughed. “I’m afraid not. I told you most of that nonsense was legend.”
“Well, what good is being a vampire then?”
“The proper term is vampyre,” he said, putting an accent on the R. “There are many advantages to our race, although I cannot tell you what your gifts will be. We all have different disciplines.”
“Disciplines?”
“Gifts.”
“Like...?”
“Telepathy, telekinesis, telepathic touch, scent memory, tracking, fear inducement, projecting hallucinations, controlling the weather, the ability to drain another’s energy or provoke paralysis, gravitation, cognitive bonds. They’re the average ones. Depending on age and genetics they vary.”
“Oh, is that it?” she asked sarcastically. “What can you do?”
He buttoned up.
“Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me?”
“It is not wise to share your abilities.”
“Even with your mate?”
He turned and a cautious smile took shape on his face. In a hoarse whisper he said, “No, with your mate you share everything.” They were silent for a pregnant moment, which neither of them seemed to know what to say. He finally asked, “Are you my mate, Delilah?”
She lifted a shoulder and shrugged. Looking down, she plucked at her finger, pulling a piece of skin back until it bled. The flesh sewed back together right before her eyes. Freaky.
“No one will ever love you as much as your mate, pintura. I would spend eawichkeit doing my best to make sure you had everything you needed.”
“Don’t say things like that, Christian. You don’t know me enough to love me. We barely know each other enough to be in like. Love is a long, long, long way off. I’m still pissed. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for taking away my life. All of my friends…” Her vision blurred. “My apartment…” Her voice broke. “My shop.”
A tear slipped past her lashes and he pulled her into his arms. He whispered soft words into her hair and kissed her gently. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t because she was some mutated genetic thing that she didn’t understand. She was going to have to drink blood. Her stomach tightened and she sobbed into his shirt.
“I’ll make this right, Delilah. Somehow I will make this right for you.”
She sniffled and nodded, but could think of no reconciliation in their future. He stole from her. He stole everything. There was no fixing such a crime, especially because, while he may regret the consequences, he didn’t regret his actual actions.
He kissed the top of her head. “I think we—” His words cut off abruptly and he tensed.
She looked up at him. “Christian, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my—”
There was a loud pounding coming from downstairs. “Christian! Open this door right now or I’m coming in however I see fit!”
“—Mother.”
She jolted upright. “Your mother’s here?”
The banging continued and they stood. “Yes. I’m sorry. I need to go let her in before she breaks my house. There are clean shifts in the drawer.”
She nodded and he quickly left the room.
* * * *
Christian yanked open his front door and his mother burst in like a fast moving storm cloud. She flung off her bonnet and tossed it on the table in the hall.
“Four days! Four days you’ve had your mate here and you didn’t tell me? I had to find out from Eleazar! What kind of son doesn’t tell his mother he’s been Called?”
“Mother, I—”
“All of you men are the same, thinking only of yourself. Did it ever occur to you that I might want to meet this woman who will be my daughter? That I may have been waiting for her for the past three hundred years as well? There are only the two of us and I find it incredibly selfish that you would hide her away all for yourself!”
“Are you finished?”
“I don’t even know her name! You never even mentioned you were dreaming! When did you become so secretive?”
“Mother—”
“I raised you better than that. We are family and as such—”
“Hi.”
His mother stilled and turned toward the stairs. Delilah stood at the top wearing a chemise and his baggy black shirt tied at the waist.
“Hello, dear. I’m Adriel, Christian’s mother.”
“I’m Delilah.”
His mother softened measurably. “I am very pleased to meet you, Delilah. Won’t you come down and sit with us for a spell?”
Delilah offered a gentle smile, glancing in his direction askance, and his breath caught. Even partial grins were an improvement, but the fact that she looked to him for guidance… that was absolute progress. He nodded and she carefully walked down the stairs. “Sorry about the way I’m dressed—”
“Nonsense, you’re at home. You should be able to wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
Delilah smiled. It was perhaps the most beautiful smile in the entire world.
They headed into the den and sat. Typically it would be Delilah’s job to bring refreshments, but that would all come in time. Still, he did not offer because he was reluctant to leave his mother alone with his mate.
“Christian, I’m thirsty,” his mother said pointedly.
“Mother—”
She raised an eyebrow. Right.
He stood. “Delilah, would you like something to drink?”
“Water please.”
Where did this well-mannered, soft-spoken church mouse come from? He pressed into her mind and sensed…insecurity. Leaning down he kissed the top of her head. “I will be right back.”
She nodded. He left the den and went to the kitchen. After quickly filling a pitcher of water at the pump he grabbed two glasses. He listened for a moment.
“How do you like the farm so far, child?”
“I haven’t really been out much,” Delilah answered softly.
“But it’s been four days. Surely Christian has shown you around the land by now.”
“Today was the first day he permitted me to leave.”
“Permitted?”
Cursing under his breath he quickly lifted the pitcher and rushed back into the den. His feminist mother looked irate.
“Christian, why has Delilah not been able to leave?”
Flustered, he filled a glass of water and handed it to his mate. He filled another and shoved it in his mother’s direction, nearly splashing it over the rim. “Your water, Mother.”
She took it and tapped her foot impatiently. Her fiery red hair was pulled so tight it retained the menacing set to her eyes, which was now accentuated with her anger. Adriel was a female to consider carefully. No male wanted to be on her bad side, because once they were, they regretted it. She was obviously upset with him.
Still, he wasn’t going to start his marriage under her regime. He was a grown male, three centuries old and this was his mate.
“Remember yourself, Mother.”
“Remember myself?” She scoffed. “You must be confused, son. I remember myself quite well. Now tell me why your mate has yet to find proper attire and has not yet left the house.”
His jaw popped. “I will remind you this is my home and I am an elder of this Order—”
“Pish!” She waved a hand. “Do not sit here and feed me that line of manure. I am your mother and I asked you a question.”
“And my answer was that it is not of your concern.”
Her glare turned hard. He didn’t blink. “Christian,” she said in less a warning tone and more of a pleading one. “Don’t be like him.”
“I’m nothing like him. But you will respect my position in this family a
ll the same. Do not come into my home and try to step on my authority. I am not Eleazar and this is not Council Hall. This is my home and my family, which I hold the right to set the law for without question.”
Her posture stiffened and her expression blanked. If not for the slight quiver of her thin lips, he would have suspected his words had no effect.
“I see,” she whispered.
“Christian,” Delilah interrupted the tense moment. “I think your mother—”
“My mother needs to remember her place and that I am not a boy. I am the head of this family.”
His mother scoffed. “And what am I, Christian?”
The woman had too much pride for her own good. He glanced at Delilah. She was upset. He should not have snapped at her, but his mother needed to understand that—from the beginning—this was how he intended to run his family. It was not his mother’s place to interfere. It would send Delilah the wrong message.
“You are a guest in my home,” he said succinctly, ending all further debate.
Adriel bristled. Such a terse dressing down would hurt a typical female, but his mother was no typical female. She lacked the soft emotions of most females.
“Well, I believe my visit has come to an end. Delilah, it was a pleasure meeting you. I will stop by again some time when we can have a longer—private—visit to get to know one another.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Schrock.”
“Please, call me Adriel…or…Mother.”
“Thank you, Adriel.”
He followed his mother out. When she reached the front porch she turned on him and said, “I am no longer under your roof, so I will say my piece. Any fool can claim a mate, Christian. But it takes a male of honor to claim someone’s heart. Do not make the same mistakes your father made or you will find yourself just as alone. Try to think what this is like for her. Everything you do has a direct effect on her. You will always be bigger, stronger, older, and more powerful. If that is not assurance enough for your ego, that is your problem, not hers. Be sure to keep that in mind when you’re looking for someone to blame for the loneliness you’ll find if you do not learn to bend. Having a mate is about partnership, not ownership.”
Call Her Mine Page 7
