“I do not want you involving yourself—”
She held up a hand. “No need to explain. You were perfectly clear in your dressing down of me. You have it all figured out and need no advice. I wish you luck, Christian. We have but one mate in this life and I hope your experience is better than mine.”
She turned and walked away.
Christian watched her disappear over the slope of land in their property. Did she think he did not understand how important this moment was in his life? He was trying so hard to do things right so that he did not lose his mate like his father did.
As far as repeating his sire’s mistakes, it was a bit difficult when one did not know what, specifically, those mistakes had been. Adriel was always there to observe and judge, but kept her own shameful past tightly hidden from other’s view.
He entered the house as Delilah was slinking up the stairs. “Where are you going?”
She tensed.
“Delilah?”
When she faced him her expression was calm, but full of hidden emotion. “Christian, I don’t have parents. My grandmother raised me and she passed away when I was seventeen. So many times in my life I have wished I had just one parent to go to when I was confused or scared. I don’t know what just happened here, but from what I can gather you just told your mother—in Amish terms—to fuck off.” She shook her head. “It can’t be just us if you expect to make this work. I’m a social person. You want me to live here? Acknowledge that this is going to be my house too? Then don’t make me feel like an intruder when I have something to say. And as far as how you just treated your mother…I was taught that the way a man treats his mother is the best indicator a woman has of the how he will treat his wife. Now, I’m not sure if that applies to vampyres, but I’m pretty sure it does and you just treated your mom like shit.”
She turned before he could come up with a reply and marched up the stairs. The door slammed. Why were all the women in his life irrational?
* * * *
Adriel paced in front of the bishop’s grand fireplace, letting go of all her fury. “You didn’t hear him, Eleazar. He reminded me so much of his father, so absolute and arrogant.”
“Adriel, you should not have interfered. You know that. Family law is—”
“Oh, you males and your family law! I am so tired of hearing that used as an excuse. I cannot believe you would even try justifying situations with such rubbish after learning what Silus did to your wife.”
The bishop’s eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a hard line across his face. “Christian is not Cerberus or Silus. I know what my wife has been through and I’d ask that you not bring it up again in my house. It is not the same,” he practically growled the warning.
Adriel’s shoulders drooped as she stopped pacing. She whispered her greatest fear. “What if he’s more like his father than we realized, Eleazar?”
“Christian is a good male. He is honorable and has never done anything to make me believe otherwise. Right now he is simply finding his way. It is difficult to be more than a couple centuries old and suddenly have to share your life with someone. He is adjusting.”
“He has not let her leave.”
“Because she will run.”
“And why do you think that is?” she challenged.
“Adriel, you’re crossing a line again. I understand you are only trying to help and you care for the girl’s wellbeing, but do you honestly believe your son would harm his mate?”
“Being someone’s mate does not guarantee they shall treat you kindly.”
Her mind went back to one night many, many years ago. They had been in Europe. Adriel had thought Eleazar’s warning to Cer, her mate, had sunk in. It had been days since he had hurt her again.
Such a cruel bastard Cerberus was. It did not matter how he touched her, the palm of his hand coming down hard against her face, the rough press of his manhood into her tender places, the grip of his hand in her hair, or even the brush of his finger over hers as she handed him his cup. It was all punishment.
Cer was old. She didn’t know how old, but he was at least two centuries older than Eleazar, her one trusted friend in the world. Things such as mating were not organized in the olden days. There were no ledgers of record, no ceremonies of commitment. Males received their calls and took what was rightfully theirs without question.
Adriel had dreamed of him. She had seen his beautiful wavy hair and those piercing amber eyes and she had known he was coming. She could still recall being such a young immortal, prior to her calling, the dazed state she’d fluttered around her village in, woolgathering, waiting for her true mate to arrive.
“Adriel, come down from there and help me with your brothers.”
She turned to see her lovely mother, a babe on each hip squalling like chimpanzees. Adriel lowered herself from the crossbeam of the thatched roof, where she’d been knotting straw gable, her feet landing on the ground with barely a sound. She’d been mending the roof since the dreams began, hoping to one day catch sight of her mate riding in on his horse, hair wild in the wind, as he came to claim her.
She looked once more toward the open horizon, sighed, then turned back to her mother’s voice. “Coming, Mommá.”
He didn’t arrive for some time. Two winters passed and the dreams continued. She wondered what kind of cruel trick this was for God to make her wait. She had waited over a century already. That was before she truly understood the meaning of cruel.
He arrived late one night, jerking her from sleep in her crude cot stuffed with horsehair. “Get up, girl.”
She recognized him immediately and her heart fluttered before she could grasp what he’d said.
“Tis you,” she breathed, sitting up and sweeping her mass of red curls from her face.
“Aye. Let us be going. Now.”
“Shall you not stay here? Meet my family?”
“I am your family now. I have journeyed long and I have dealings I must return to. Dress and let us be gone.”
She looked to the clay wall where her parents slept on the other side. Her two brothers slept beside her, peacefully, and her five sisters lay scattered about the floor on makeshift beds. “But I must say goodbye—”
“Are ye daft? I said move. I have no time to spare.”
His tone was hard and concise, leaving no room for argument. Adriel was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. On shaky legs she stood. She dressed deliberately, yet tried to make it seem as though she was rushing. Surely he did not mean for her to leave her family without even a goodbye?
As she tied her shift and slipped her feet into her leather saclike shoes, he roughly grabbed her arm. “That be enough, girl. No need for trappings and such.”
She had yet to even braid her hair. A horrible weight settled in her stomach as he led her from the cottage. She wanted to scream for her family to wake, but also did not want to anger him. She had not even learned his name.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. Adriel was not the kind of girl to give into such nonsense. Perhaps after their business was finished they would return to the cliffs and have a celebration for their union.
The night was dark. Pinpricks of stars only dull flickers in the inky blanket of sky. Clouds crossed the moon and it seemed a storm was coming. He led her to his steed, a great big beast with fur down its legs. “Get on,” he said, nudging her toward the animal.
Adriel looked up at the beast and back to her mate. Surely he would assist her. “I cannot reach.”
“I will not have a helpless mate. Get on the beast now.”
She of course could land on the horse, but it was not proper, and she knew it. She was in a shift and—
The blow took her so off guard her feet went out from under her as her body twisted from the force of his palm across her face. She fell to the ground, sandy soil dry under her fingertips. Gasping with shock, she spit blood.
“I said I do not have time. Are you a sloth, girl? I said get on the blood
y horse.”
Without assisting her to stand he went to check for something in one of the saddlebags. Adriel slowly stood, her legs shaky, heart erratically pounding in her chest. Who was this monster that resembled the hero from her dreams?
Once she seated herself he jumped up behind her. He was large. His thighs swallowed her. She could never forget the sight of his enormous hands gripping the reins in front of her.
His palms were the size of her face. Although there were men in the village, Adriel only ever spent time with her brothers and father. Her reference for males and male behavior was quite lacking.
Her father had always seemed so powerful and magnificent. But now, seeing her mate’s great size, she realized her father was actually a small male. For some reason that awareness broke something inside of her, as though an illusion of shelter had dissolved in order to make room for the cruel giant stealing her away.
The horse began to move, its hooves pounding out an unmistakable cadence in the night. It was as though each gallop sung the words so long, so long, so long.
They traveled for such a grueling length of time she’d fallen asleep. She awoke as he yanked her from the horse.
He took his rights that evening in the center of a field with no shelter and barely a word to acknowledge that she was a living-breathing thing. He held her close afterward and she cried. There was no affection in his hold, only possessiveness. In the morning he roughly grabbed her face, remarking about the bruise he left there, as if she had been careless to allow it to happen.
They traveled for so many days that Adriel slowly accepted with an incredible ache in her belly, that she would never see her loved ones again. She only hoped that they realized, had she had the choice, she would have stayed to say she loved them one last time.
They arrived in a small village and stayed for a while. Each night and sometimes throughout the day he would claim her. He never spoke to her and when they stopped to eat, he tossed scraps to her like a dog. It must have been a fortnight since they’d left. She still did not know his name.
When he needed to feed, he sometimes took from her as he satisfied his other needs, and sometimes from whores he brought back to their shelter.
She hated him. She hated that he did not talk to her. She hated that he never looked on her kindly. She hated that an ache had formed between her thighs from his rough handling that never had time to heal. And she hated that she was jealous of the whores he used, because when they lay together he sometimes heard a gruff sound escape his throat that she assumed was laughter. Why could he be pleasant to strangers when cruelty was all he ever showed her?
They eventually moved on. They settled in one village than another, until Adriel lost all sense of time and place. She no longer cared where they were or where they were going. Sometimes she tried to remember the soft, clean scent of her baby brother’s hair, but as more time passed, the more surreal those memories became.
He only called her girl and after several years she found it difficult to recall her name. All of the business he’d spoke of never came, or if it did Adriel did not see it commence.
They settled only to move on again. Settle and move on—over and over. She cooked, laundered his clothing, and stitched the holes that needed stitching. Some days, if she talked, her voice was so neglected she had trouble forming words. She lived in her thoughts, which had ceased being healthy long ago.
When they reached the Kingdom of Leon they settled and to her surprise, he declared it home. It wasn’t until the first cycle of the moon that she saw a change in him. It was as if he had grown tired and finally, after so many years, decided to relax.
One evening she had served him dinner and he was quiet. “Sit with me, girl.”
Surprised by the invitation, she hesitantly lowered herself to the bench. He ate and stared at her. His introspective mood unnerved her more than she already was in his presence. He said not a word, but ate and ate, chewing and watching her as if waiting for her to do or say something. Adriel had nothing to say. No one had talked to her in years.
“Your hair is the color of the devil,” he stated after a long sip of ale.
She supposed she would be punished for that as well. Her body tensed in preparation for whatever was to come.
“Why do you not speak, girl?”
She looked at him, afraid to answer and afraid not to. “I do not know what you want me to say.”
“Say your name.”
She had to think in order to recollect the word her family called her. “Adriel.”
“Adriel what?”
“Adriel…” She had to think. “Schrock.”
His eyes narrowed and her spine tucked instinctively, protecting her body, preparing to pull into a ball if he struck.
“No,” he said dangerously low. “That is not your name. You belong to me and therefore have my name.”
“I do not know your name,” she whispered.
His brow twitched as if he had not realized this. “It is Cerberus Maddox. You may call me Cer.” He had said Cer, but she was never sure how he intended it.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take off your frock.”
* * * *
They remained in Portugal. Adriel liked watching the mortals during the day. She sometimes, from her window, caught sight of other immortals. Seeing those of her kind brought about an incredible ache of homesickness.
Once, she saw a male immortal with black hair and black eyes. He looked back to her and she knew he saw her too, knew what she was. She waited for days to see him again, but he never came. She convinced herself she had imagined the black haired immortal.
One afternoon Cer had left on business and she spent the day at the window again. She could only go to the window when he was not there.
Cer did not like her watching the people go by. That was when she saw the dark haired immortal male again. Her mouth opened and he stared at her from across the thoroughfare. He was a beautiful male.
Eleazar. The word intruded in her mind as though purposely sent there. Was that his title?
The sound of a strange male’s voice in her head caused her to gasp. That had never happened before. She sat back and stared at him. Had he done that?
What is your name, girl?
She recoiled at the title girl, but there was something so different in the way he used the term from the way Cer used it.
She did not know how to project her thoughts. She simply thought her name. Adriel.
Good afternoon, Adriel.
Her chest swelled at the sound of her name in someone else’s voice. She wished he would say it again only so her ears could hear it.
“What did I tell you about sitting by that window?”
Adriel jerked and turned around only to find Cer standing behind her, a menacing expression on his face. “Learn a new trick today, girl?”
The shutters slammed, although he did not move a muscle. The candles flickered to light in the dark cottage and she gasped. “Need I tell you what I think of you allowing another male into your head?”
She shook with fear. Where had he come from? How had he known? Her clothes were suddenly ripped from her body, only he still had not moved.
“Look at yourself. Everything you see belongs to me.”
Pain engulfed her from an unseen hand clamping down on her sex. She screamed only to have her voice strangled into silence.
Gasping, she choked, and stared at her laughing mate through teary eyes. Never had she imagined such viciousness as the day he showed her how powerful he truly was and she assumed that was the worst he could possibly do. She was wrong.
She had been beaten so many times she had lost the will to live. Time passed in increments of aching moments of consciousness. She was certain she would have died a hundred deaths at Cer’s hand had she not been immortal. She wished just once he would strike her hard enough to decapitate her and end her miserable existence.
One evening, as she lay on the dirt floor in a puddle of h
er own bodily fluids, Cer abruptly stood. She flinched and whimpered. He walked to the door and yanked it open. Her heart painfully stuttered in her chest when she saw Eleazar standing in the doorway.
“No,” she whimpered. She was in so much pain and this male’s presence would only anger Cer more.
Eleazar spotted her on the floor and tried to go to her, but Cer held him back, a look of death in his eyes. Eleazar stilled and said something to Cer, but she could no longer make out their words. Her ear had been boxed and sound seemed worlds away from her swollen head.
Finally, she passed out. When she awoke she was shocked to find herself in a bed. There was no security in waking in such a place, only fear and distrust.
Cer did not look at her for days. He did not speak and slowly her body began to heal as it always did. The more time that passed, the more she became on edge. She dare not allow herself to grow comfortable in his presence. He was a monster and she would never see him as anything but.
It took many nights for him to hit her again. Once he’d started, it seemed he had much lost time to make up for. He’d raped her, hit her, humiliated her, sodomized her, and bit her, feeding against her will, but she never once shed a tear. He was not worth her tears. Her tears were for the ones she loved.
As she lay battered on the floor, naked, and splotched with imprints of his hand, the door burst open. She did not flinch. She did not care. She only wanted to die.
Cerberus roared and flung into motion, attacking whoever intruded in his home, but there were too many of them. Immortals, all immortals, came into the small shelter and held Cer down, dealing blow after blow. Girl did not care. She wanted to die.
Masculine arms gently picked her up. Girl moaned as a voice called her a name she did not recognize. The night air was cool over her naked skin as he carried her away. She could vaguely hear Cer’s screams in the distance before she lost consciousness.
When she awoke, the strange dark haired male was beside her bed, a look of concern on his face. He called her that name again, but Girl did not know what he spoke of.
Call Her Mine Page 8
