Call Her Mine

by Lydia Michaels

  “Seen me what?”

  They each turned to find Christian at the edge of the porch frowning as he watched his goat nibbling hedges.

  “Uh, we were just talking about how much of a pain in the butt you are.”

  Adriel gasped and Christian frowned. Ah, serious time. Right.

  “Thank you for driving Delilah home, Mother. If you don’t mind…my mate is tired and I must see to her needs.”

  Adriel nodded and stood. Delilah frowned. She was enjoying sitting out front on the rockers talking with the other woman. True, she could barely hold her head up, but it was nice chit chatting. “Christian—”

  “Silence, Delilah.”

  Her spine stiffened. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with a St. Bernard. Did you just give me an order?”

  His face turned slowly to her after he kissed his mother and she left. “Let us go to the inside of the house.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that? Are you going to put me in a crate?”

  He pressed his lips together. “We need to discuss your actions today and you appear about to fall out of that chair. You are tired. Come.”

  “Come?” She practically choked on the word.

  He let out a tight breath. “Do not fight with me, pintura. You broke a rule and we must discuss the consequences. I am not in the mood for any more challenges today. Come.”

  He turned to walk into the house.

  “Well, maybe you should tempt me with some rawhide first!” she yelled after him. But she was tired. Exhausted really. She groaned as she stood on shaky legs and staggered in behind him. Why was she so wiped out?

  His gaze followed her as she stepped inside and shut the door. She didn’t have the energy to argue. Sighing, Christian came to her. Scooping her into his arms without a word, he carried her to their room.

  It seemed like ten years between the front door and the bed. She must have drifted off, because she was disoriented when the soft mattress pressed into her back.

  Delilah opened her eyes as Christian examining the corner of the apron where Cletus the goat had nibbled.

  “You will stay in the house for a while, Delilah,” he said quietly, not looking at her.

  She frowned. Was he grounding her? “Why?” She had so much more to ask and say and object to, but she could only manage the one little word.

  “Because I said so.”

  Well, that wasn’t really going to work for her. “Christian—”

  “You will not argue with me on this! What you did today was unacceptable. You must learn the boundaries of being Amish and how fragile our privacy is.”

  She groaned. Her eyes were too heavy to open, but could argue blind. “Is this about being Amish or being a vampyre?”

  “This is about being my mate.”

  Her mind was sluggish. “It was just a baby, Christian. He was going to die. I saved him. I don’t regret it.”

  When he was silent for several beats she peeked through her lashes at him. He was beside her, but looking away, out the window at some distant place.

  “Would you have rather I let an innocent child die?” she whispered.

  His head bowed. “I would have rather you not seen any of that. It is not what our people do. We do not mingle with the English mortals. They would turn on us. They are greedy, Delilah. Yes, you saved that child. We could save them all. But the moment they realized that, they would come upon us and tear us from our homes, stripping us of the freedoms we enjoy, and move us like rats to medical labs in order to exploit our gifts. They would ignore our needs. They would not be sympathetic to our species’ purpose. We would be separated from loved ones and denied our mates. That is not a healthy situation for an immortal and could become very, very dangerous for the human race as well as our kind.”

  She understood all that. It was common knowledge retold in every vampyre tale ever read. She wasn’t surprise that it applied to real life as well as legend. “But we’re stronger, Christian. We could—”

  “We do not fight, Delilah. We surrender and trust the Lord to guide us peacefully on the path He has chosen.”

  “I get it. You’re Amish. But you guys are vampyres first. You can’t ignore your nature. If you were threatened, I have to believe eventually instinct would kick in and overrule how you were nurtured to live as pacifists.”

  “Yes, Delilah, but to what result? We would be driven to kill if torn from our mates. People would die. It would be ugly and tragic to see such a waste of life. That is why we are proactive and remain separate.

  “And while we are stronger, we are less. There are immortals hiding on every continent. They are not all like us. Some are without conscience. They would feed from a mortal and snap their neck to cover their trail without a second thought. They are not all as gentle as we. There is no code, outside of this farm, that says we stand together. We are animals. Some of us are more domesticated than others, but, at heart, we are animals who stand at the top of the food chain and are capable of very dangerous things. By staying here, you are protecting yourself from exposure to a greedy mortal race and any immoral rogues. Because have no doubt, an immortal male would identify you as their own in a heartbeat.”

  “How? Do I smell?”

  “In a matter of speaking, yes. You are a fresh transition. New. Beautiful. Your skills are not fully honed. There is plenty a male immortal could covet.”

  She sat up, weakly. He reached out to steady her when she swayed. His lips pressed together disapprovingly. She was beginning to suspect it was the healing thing that made her so weak.

  “Okay, Christian, you’ve made your point. I get the whole privacy thing, but why do I have to be sentenced to the house? He was a baby. He isn’t going to remember. I mean, come on, the kid’s greatest weapon is drool. Let’s be serious.”

  “This is serious, Delilah,” he said sharply.

  She stilled and looked at him.

  “There were three witnesses there for your little act of humanity. The men in the other car saw what you did.”

  “I was inside the van.”

  “Yes, but they saw your strength and speed. We are simple and plain dressed, but to the ostentatious English, we immediately draw their attention because we are so different from them. They saw and they had telephones with cameras.”

  She gasped. “Well, did you get their phones?”

  “Yes, but who is to say if they sent their recordings out already? It is a world of technology that I do not understand.”

  “Well, give me the phones. I’ll check.”

  “I destroyed them.”

  She tipped her head back and groaned. “Well, now we’ll never know. What about the woman?”

  “I erased all of their memories. The accident should explain away enough of that. For all they know we were never there. But the English enjoy their forensics and I imagine the child’s position and superior health will confuse them. I only hope it does not confuse them enough that one goes poking around. Your blood will show up in his system for quite some time, Delilah. And, you must know, had the child died, had he taken his last breath before you gave him your blood, you would have destroyed all traces of innocence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We are coming to find out that only a true mate can transition a mortal without…repercussions. The mind cannot withstand immortal blood of an immortal that is not their mate. If they are resurrected and it is not of Gods will, they go insane. It is what happened to Cybil Foster, my half-sister. A male who was not her mate transitioned her and now she will never be the same. Would you sentence an innocent babe to an eternity of madness?”

  Fear, for what could have happened due to her carelessness, filled her with shame. “I didn’t know that.”

  “There is much you do not yet know. That is why you must remain here for a while and I must teach you our ways. I do not know if someone will come looking for us. I do not know if the men telephoned their video.”

  “Oh my God, if that went viral
…” She got it. She understood how much she had just fucked up. “Christian, I didn’t mean…”

  “It is done.”

  She recoiled slowly at his tone. He was disappointed. It oddly stung. She wanted him to forgive her and tell her it was all right. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” That wasn’t the forgiveness she was looking for. Before she could say more, he said, “Much of this is my fault. It is my duty to educate you on such things. I have been reluctant because I feared telling you too much would make your new predicament all too jarring and you would run again. It is my own fear that has left you ignorant of our society’s rules and I am sorry for that. We will work through this, but take the hard earned lesson as well.”

  His finger traced down her cheek and before she could reply, he said, “You have to feed now.”

  Her mouth opened and a rude sound escaped. He silenced her with a stern look.

  “Delilah,” he said resolutely. “I am exhausted with this day and I have nothing left in me to argue with you. You need to feed and you will. I will give you a choice. I can compel you or you can do so voluntarily.”

  He wasn’t being very nice, but he also wasn’t being nasty. Just stern and she didn’t quite know how to take that. “I don’t want to,” she said meekly.

  “I know.” He acknowledged her feelings, but didn’t pretend they changed anything.

  She was shocked to feel a tear slip past her lashes. Her body was tired and hungry, but not for food. Her needs were becoming more obvious and her mind was growing more apt in identifying them.

  “Why are you being so cold with me?” she asked sadly.

  “I am upset.”

  His words, although stated softly and matter of fact, stabbed through her. Something in her chest crumbled. “With me?”

  “No, pintura. With myself.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “You need to practice self-control in many matters, Delilah. I understand this is new and you are still adapting, but today I…disappointed myself. I am an elder. I should know better. My clouded judgment has allowed this to happen and I placed you in danger by not doing what I should have.”

  Blinking back tears she whispered, “I said I was sorry.” His disappointment hurt. He was heaping a great deal of the blame on himself, but she was the one who did something stupid.

  “I believe you, but as I said, I should have anticipated obstacles and educated you more on our rules and customs. Now, would you be more comfortable with compulsion?”

  She looked at him. It was strange not being angry with him at the moment. She wanted to crawl onto his lap and make him hold her, comfort her, forgive her. But he didn’t seem to blame her even though she was the one who caused the problem.

  She disliked seeing him be so hard on himself. People made mistakes. They dodged a bullet. There was no point in feeling guilty now that it was over.

  He was right beside her, but seemed so distant. She hated this firm, resolute side to him. Quietly, she hung her head and sobbed, wanting nothing more than to touch him, wrap her hand in his, but it felt very unwelcome at the moment.

  Why wouldn’t he touch her? Comfort her? His disapproval turned into a physical pain. Perhaps he was upset with her. Her sobs choked over the lump forming in her chest and pride made her tears more painful as she tried to hide her upset by silencing her cries. He waited for her to answer.

  She didn’t want him to be upset with her or himself. She wanted him to be proud of her. His expression was unreadable. There was no merry glint in his eye, none of the veiled humor she had become accustomed to seeing in the corner of his smile.

  “How do I do it?” she whispered and he tensed.

  “You do not want compulsion?”

  She shook her head. Her cheeks were cold and wet.

  When his fingers tucked an errant hair behind her ear she couldn’t help but press her damp cheek into his palm. He held her face for a minute and then his touch fell away. More pain.

  “Come here, Delilah,” he said softly.

  She looked at him, not quite sure where he wanted her. Standing, her skirts whispered over her legs and tickled her ankles. She stared at his knees. Would he undress her? Would they make love? This was the first time she had voluntarily done this.

  His hands curved around her hips as he maneuvered her to the right side of his knees. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to sit sidesaddle on his lap. His palm gently rested on the middle of her back, just over her spine, but he did not make any attempts to soothe her.

  She stared at her lap as he reached up and undid his collar. It was strange. She was nervous about feeding, but no longer did she suffer the repulsion she had originally. Her body needed blood and she wanted to end her fatigue. Nor did she want the nagging hunger in her belly to continue.

  Confused, she just wanted to take away the last few hours. It wasn’t her intention to break any rules. She only wanted to save the baby. She still couldn’t find it in her to regret that.

  He pulled her to his shoulder and shifted her limbs, bringing her head to his chest. He smelled good, like sunshine and fresh air and Christian. His fingers swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “Take what you need from me.”

  Her face tightened. He wasn’t calling her pintura. He was being so clinical about the whole thing. Didn’t he know this was scary for her and she needed his softness right now? That was when it struck her. This was his punishment for not doing what he saw as his duty. However, it was also punishing her. She didn’t know if that was intentional. She’d broken a rule and maybe this was part of the consequence.

  She turned her face and breathed in a stuttering breath. Her body reacted to his nearness. Her teeth punched through her gums with little ache. Her eyes zeroed in on his rapidly fluttering pulse. His throat was manly. The dark shadow of his jaw showed and his flesh was beautifully tanned, weathered in a way a woman’s skin couldn’t be.

  She gave his throat a soft Eskimo kiss and he grunted. Was she affecting him? Was he fighting it in order to teach a lesson?

  “Don’t close yourself off from me more than you already are, Christian.”

  His head lowered. “You make me feel too much, Delilah. I must be rigid in certain things or you shall never learn and we will never find our way.”

  Why though? Why couldn’t he just talk to her, explain things patiently? “Christian, be my partner, not my dictator.”

  She opened her mouth and placed a gentle open mouth kiss over his pulse and his chest rose as he breathed deep. “Drink, Delilah.”

  His coarse tone caused her throat to lock down on yet another sob. Hurt, she thrust her fangs into his throat and broke his flesh. Hissing, his arms tightened around her.

  Warm, rich liquid coated her tongue. Her body hummed at the first swallow. He tasted…delicious. His hand left her back and fisted at his side. He was forbidding himself to touch her. She shut her lashes, hating the distance between them during such an intimate act. Tears pressed through her tight lashes and gathered at the corners of her eyes, running down the curves of her cheeks and lips.

  His heart pumped faster and his blood flowed freely into her mouth, but he wouldn’t touch her. She hated it.

  Her fist gathered in his shirt while her other hand kneaded his shoulder like a kitten’s paw kneads its mother’s belly. His body was still, unyielding, and she scented something coming off of him in waves. He was aroused. Why wouldn’t he touch her? Hold her?

  When she assumed she’d taken enough, she was no longer tired, but dazed. Her mind hummed and had difficulty focusing as though she were punch drunk. She kissed her mark and licked over the wound. It closed and she drew her hands up to wipe her eyes. Looking down at his shoulder, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said in a hoarse voice that broke over the last word. He cleared his throat. “I need to walk the animals back to the barn.”

  Was that a dismissal? She hated how low she felt in that moment,
resented how badly he was making her feel because he was angry with himself.

  Delilah eased off of his lap, noticing the erection pressing hard against his pants, and stood. “What should I do?”

  “You may wait for me here or perhaps start on our supper.”

  Asshole. The accusation was a sob in her mind. Discarded like a broken horse. Not nice, Christian. She nodded and walked out of the room before he could walk out on her.

  When she reached the bedroom, she peeked through the curtains and stilled. Christian stood, shoulders trembling slightly, with his forehead pressed to a mare’s. His hand brushed over the long mane. He seemed…sad.

  It surprised her, the gentle way he handled the animals. He spoke to them and smiled and petted them affectionately. He even stopped at one point to cradle a barn cat in his arms and rub its belly.

  Her head tilted at the curious, telling behavior. Perhaps Christian Schrock was not all bark and bite. Perhaps there was actually a sensitive man hiding in there somewhere.

  Chapter Ten

  Christian slammed the front door and marched past the menagerie that was in his front yard. Once inside the barn, he shut the heavy door, bathing the straw scented hangar in darkness and fisted his hands in his hair, growling. He paced and then threw up his palm, sending the crossbeam down over the door with a bang, locking the rest of the world out.

  His body throbbed and his mind was wild. She’d fed from him and he had not touched her. He should have held her, made love to her, made her understand how much her voluntarily taking his blood meant to him, but he’d done none of that. He was a cruel bastard. But there had to be a consequence for their actions. She needed to understand the severity of what she’d done. She broke a law and it was his fault because he had been too much of a coward to talk to her.

  He didn’t deserve her compassion in that moment because he’d done the one thing all immortals were taught to never do. He’d placed his mate in the path of danger.

  His cock pulsed, demanding attention, but Christian refused to satisfy his own needs when his mate was so upset. Splaying his fingers, he threw his hands into the air. The shutters in the loft burst open and sunlight cut through the darkness. He breathed out a hard breath.