Call Her Mine

by Lydia Michaels

  The woman’s eyes skipped about with panic. “I must leave this place. I must go now before he returns for me. Eleazar…where is Eleazar?”

  “The bishop?”

  “Yes,” she answered with alarm.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must find him, Delilah. You must stop Cer from killing him.”

  Her breath came quick. “I’m not that strong. He hurt Christian. I’m afraid.”

  The woman’s eyes bore into hers as she gripped her hand. “Do not let them convince you we are less because we are female. You are strong, Delilah. You have gifts like I have never seen. Block him and he won’t be able to hurt you. There is a light in you that pain cannot touch. Eleazar needs you. Go!”

  She didn’t think the woman was thinking clearly, but she felt the mental push to do as she was told. Standing, glass crunched under her bare feet. “Where will you go?”

  “Away from here,” the woman said sadly. “Take care of my son, Delilah. He needs you more than he realizes.”

  “I will.”

  Adriel took her hand and squeezed. “When all this is over, you must go to the bishop. He has a book, The Book of Confessions. It is a journal. On those pages, you will find my story. It is a painful memory I do not speak of, but Eleazar made sure my trials were put into the records. Ask him for that book and take it to my son. I believe I made a mistake, never speaking to him about his father. I did not even share his name with Christian, because speaking it was too painful. But he must see. Show him The Book of Confessions and tell him, having him as my son, made everything worthwhile. He is my proudest accomplishment in this life and I want him to be everything his father was not.”

  Delilah nodded and with that Adriel was gone, her silhouette racing into the dawn before Delilah could beg her to stay.

  Her head turned and she scanned the area, listening for any telltale sign of where Cerberus had taken the bishop. In the distance there was the sound of something scraping, followed by a sprinkling of sorts. She dropped to her haunches and pressed her fingertips to the cool grass.

  The slightest reverberation met her palms. Shutting her eyes, she drew in a breath and focused. She could do this. She just needed to focus and find her inner vampyre Jedi. The scrape sounded again and she sniffed the dewy air.

  There it was. The scent of Cerberus Maddox. Her mind retreated to her parlor and their meetings. His scent had evolved since then, grown more distinct. And most of all, what she picked up on now, was the scent of her mate’s blood on the other man’s flesh.

  She growled, her lip curling reflexively as her vision changed and she lifted to the balls of her feet. She may be vampyre, but she wasn’t quite Amish and she had no problem opening up a can of whoop ass on this mo-fo. She was going samurai-ninja-you don’t fuck with my man-crazy bitch on this bloodsuckers ass.

  She sprung into a dead run, following the curious scraping sound. Her feet traveled several miles and she never once faltered as she raced over the dewy fields. When she found him, he was holding a shovel and patting down a patch of freshly turned ground.

  Her body whipped to a halt and she narrowed her eyes, her fangs pressing into her lips as she growled out a snarl so threatening and deep. He tossed the shovel to the ground with a clank.

  “Ah, Ms. Starling, we meet again.”

  “You hurt my mate.”

  His shoulder lifted and she was pleased to see evidence of his own blood. “I warned the boy not to interrupt. These Amish…” he said, picking a fleck of dirt from his nails. “They don’t know how to fight.”

  “Lucky for you I’m not Amish.”

  He gazed at her chemise and made an unimpressed roll of his eyes. “Lucky for you I have no issues where you’re concerned. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “I’d love to, but you hurt Christian and now I’m afraid I’m going to have to fuck you up.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be foolish. You underestimate my strength. Provoke me and I’ll take your head and leave your body where you stand.”

  She really hoped that wasn’t true. She liked her head attached to her body. Her bravado faltered, but she continued to talk smack. She really wanted a piece of this guy. “Try it.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” There was a shuffle from behind and Cerberus glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “What the…”

  She quickly glanced over her shoulder and her eyes went wide. An enormous bull, several horses, and some angry looking chickens were lined up like the frontline at the Battle of Falkirk. This is my army?

  Taking a deep breath she faced Cerberus. “You’re outnumbered.”

  He laughed. “Hardly.”

  The bull stepped forward and scraped its hoof in the dirt. Steam billowed from its dripping, flaring nostrils. More animals arrived and she wondered how they were all getting out of their pens. If he hurt single one of them she was really going to go bat shit on his ass.

  He stopped laughing. “What is this?”

  She shrugged. “They like me. But they don’t seem too fond of you. Do you know pigs can swallow a man, chewing up everything down to the teeth?” A tusked bore scuffled over and grunted at his feet. He looked repulsed as he stepped away from the grunting beast.

  The sky turned pink as the sun crested the horizon. Birds of prey circled overhead and Cerberus glanced to the sky.

  “We want you to leave,” she said, sensing his fear.

  His eyes glowed as he returned his glare to her. “I will, once I have what is mine.”

  “You’re too late. She’s gone. You lost your chance.”

  He growled. “You lie.”

  “Nope. I watched her leave, helped her even.”

  She didn’t have time to prepare for the blow as he lunged at her, crushing her into the ground. His body covered hers and as he drew back, mouth gaping wide, his fangs caught the light just before he ripped into the exposed flesh at her shoulder.

  She screamed. The ground vibrated and flesh tore as he was suddenly thrown from her with the force of tornado. Body quaking, she opened her eyes, and found the bull standing over her, blood tipping the sharp edge of its horns.

  With a frantic twist she turned and found Cerberus’s mangled body several feet away. Her body trembled as she tried to find the will to stand, but the pain was too much. Her back collapsed on the ground and she breathed through the burning agony.

  The wind picked up and black clouds rolled overhead faster than anything she’d ever witnessed. The earth pulsed beneath her spine. Something was coming. Turning her head, her hair tangled with the grass sticky from her blood, and there at the null of the valley stood several figures walking in a band that seemed to stretch as long as the horizon.

  This was her posse!

  Dark figures spanned the distance, marching steadily toward her. As they came into view, dressed in simple shades of black and white, the first she recognized was Cain. With him seemed to come a typhoon of energy, whipping her hair over her cheeks.

  Beside him was his wife, Destiny, her eyes set in a way that would make any man shiver. Then came Adam, Gracie, Annalise, and Larissa. There were several others she didn’t know.

  Each one held something, their weapons ranging from machetes to pitchforks to wooden spoons. It was almost comical, their choices of artilleries, but these were her peeps and there were enough of them to do some serious damage.

  Then she saw Christian, his expression dark with murderous intent. In his arms he held a sort of Grim Reaper blade on a stick. Yeah, that could do some damage.

  The group approached and stilled, the silence of their steps deafening. Christian marched right past her, his brow drawn, and eyes fierce and glowing silver.

  His arm shot out and the blade of his sickle sliced through the air audibly, stopping only a hair from his father’s throat.

  “You come here and threaten our peace, attack our bishop, injure the one female it is your duty to protect, and then you dare to put your hands on my mate!” he roared. “I should kill you
now.”

  “You do not have the balls,” his father sneered.

  “It is not for me to determine your fate. God shall hold you accountable for every act of evil you have ever fixed. It would be a mercy to mankind if I ended you now, but you are not worth the water it takes to clean this blade. Leave now, or I shall end you.”

  Delilah quietly panted as she watched him. He was more threatening than she’d ever imagined him capable of. It was totally hot. Yet, she knew Christian was not a male capable of murder. She could not let him do this, especially to his father, no matter how horrible the man.

  Rolling painfully to her side, earth pressing into her weak palms, she staggered to her feet and sluggishly hobbled to her mate. Her hand rested gently on his sleeve and his gaze, so intent on his father, jerked to her. “Christian.”

  Her gaze pressed into his. It is enough. I’m fine. He did no real damage. Take me home, to our home.

  His shoulders lowered and she sensed his relief. He’d said he’d never let anyone hurt her, that he was vampyre before all else and she was his mate. But he was also a pacifist and never before had she admired his Amish nature so much.

  Cerberus deserved more than death for trespassing on this peaceful place, attacking the bishop, and hurting Adriel, but he would not die at the hands of his son. She would not allow such a thing on his conscience.

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered and he withdrew the sickle from his father’s throat and nodded.

  “Do not come back,” he warned before taking her hand and turning away. The others seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, lowering their weapons.

  She took a step and gasped as Cerberus’s hand snapped out and wrapped around her ankle. He began to say something but his words broke into a roar of agony as the sickle, still in Christian’s hand, came down with a flash of silver and sliced through his father’s wrist.

  Delilah screamed and jumped away. Cerberus’s hand lay like a slab of meat on the ground as he cradled his bloody stump to his chest and bellowed.

  “I warned you once. Next time it will be your head,” Christian growled. “Nobody lays a hand on my mate, especially not you.”

  Cerberus rolled to his side and eased himself to his feet. He looked like regurgitated shit. When he looked at Delilah she lifted her chin and he sneered. It was all very Darth Vader and Luke in her head and she really wanted to blow this taco stand and get back to their place so she could tend to Christian. He was still in pain and it beat at her, more so than her injuries.

  Cerberus shook his head and like the defeated dog he was, he turned and hobbled toward the road. He was outnumbered, but Delilah figured this was far from over. They needed to find Adriel and make sure she was safe.

  Once Cerberus disappeared in the distance Larissa ran forward in a fit of tears and crashed to her knees. Her fingers clawed at the loose dirt covering the ground and soon her siblings were beside her digging. The men hoisted out a wooden crate and the lid lifted with a splintering moan, sifting dirt everywhere.

  Larissa cried out and the bishop gasped as he wrapped her in his arms. Holy shit! He buried him alive!

  “Come, pintura. Let us go home,” Christian said, taking her hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christian took a deep breath and entered the den. Delilah was on the second floor with all of the Hartzler females preparing for the moment she would say her vows and promise her eternity to him, binding their souls for eawichkeit.

  The room was filled with pews, all ordinary furniture removed and hidden. Bishop King grinned as Christian approached. He nodded and took his place at the front.

  “This shall be interesting, Brother Christian.”

  His mate compromised on the Amish ceremony, but demanded an English reception. It would be the first on the farm. While he’d convinced her the Amish wedding feast was a must, they’d worked with the other females to coordinate enough meatless dishes for his bride. There would be two roasts, one traditional, made of stuffing and roughly three hundred pounds of chicken, the other filled with breads, herbs, celery, and something called a ground veggie burger.

  The others waited, anticipating the unknown. The absence of family, his mother and even young Dane, spoke volumes to Christian. He was truly blessed to finally have a partner in this long, lonely journey. There were no words to describe the worry he felt for his dear mother. He prayed daily that she was safe and would return home soon.

  A throat cleared and he turned to find young Destiny Hartzler at his back. Christian smiled. This was one of Delilah’s friends. “Hello, Sister Destiny. Are we ready to begin?”

  The small woman fidgeted. “Um…Vito’s having an issue with the beverage station.”

  What now? Delilah had insisted on numerous English extravagances he did not quite understand. He was grateful for the other English females on the farm. They seemed to comprehend this strange culture his wife hailed from and sympathize with all the pomp and fanfare Delilah claimed every bride should have.

  “What is the issue?”

  Destiny bit her plump lower lip. “It’s melting.”

  “Melting?” He was aware there was some ice-sculpted fountain, but simply could not imagine what such a thing looked like or why it was necessary.

  “Yeah. Vito thinks it’ll be fine for a few hours, but he’s worried about the length of the ceremony.”

  “Tell him to put it in the shade.”

  “He needs help moving it.”

  Sighing, Christian scanned the room. “Where is your husband?”

  The girl blushed. “He was testing the vodka luge and is no longer any help.”

  His brow shot up. “Cain is drunk?”

  “’Fraid so. The good news is he’s in such a great mood the weather’s turned lovely.”

  Cain had an amazing gift to control the elements. “Can he lower the temperature?”

  Destiny grinned. “That’s a great idea! I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll go tell him.”

  She left and he turned back to the bishop who was hiding his mouth and chuckling. “Should have had the wedding in November.”

  “Patience has never been my strong suit,” Christian mumbled.

  Next came young Grace Hartzler. “Pardon me, Brother Christian.”

  He turned. “Yes?”

  “Delilah wants to know where you put her shoes.”

  Ah, those dainty red shoes she’d requested. He thought for a moment. Last time he saw them they were resting on his shoulders right after he had his mate model them for him. Things turned a bit out of hand after that. “I believe they are under the bed. Or perhaps in the kitchen.” He liked those shoes and looked forward to Delilah wearing them again.

  Gracie disappeared and the bishop arched a brow. Christian rolled his eyes. I heard all about your penchant for women’s lingerie.

  Eleazar scowled. On. My. Wife.

  That is not the rumor going around.

  Annalise appeared. “Eleazar, where are the batteries?”

  The bishop sighed and mumbled, “Must everything English be so complicated? I gave them to Larissa.”

  Annalise shrugged. “Every wedding needs good music.”

  Once she left, he and the bishop sighed. Christian turned and mumbled, “I believe my mate is right. We are old, Eleazar.”

  “You are a child compared to my years,” the bishop muttered. “Do not fret, Christian. She will keep you young just as my Larissa does for me.”

  Christian smiled. He’d hoped she would. In his three centuries on this earth, never had he laughed as often or as fitfully as he had learned to laugh with Delilah. She made living no longer a chore, but a gift.

  There was a sharp interruption to the quiet whispers and the bishop stiffened as the quick plucking rattle of guitar strings rent the air followed by the canned sound of a female’s scratchy voice. Christian smirked as the bishop scowled.

  “What is that racket?” Eleazar hissed.

  Annalise stepped away from her little musical devise
as the song played on. Christian leaned close to his friend. “I believe it is the vocals of an English female by the name of Joyce Paul and something called The Skyrockets.”

  “It’s hideous.”

  Christian drew in a long breath and his cheeks pulled as his smile widened. “Quite.” The lyrics spoke of kissing lips and loving forever.

  His breath caught as Delilah stepped forward. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, her lips pursed in a tight smile as her cheeks darkened like a beautiful sunset. The moment had finally come.

  Her dress was not the one he’d given her. It was, but it had been altered, completely transformed in a way that had his eyes widening and the rest of the order gasping. The blue material was stitched with tiny red cherries to match the red pearls hanging from her neck and the red netting covering her uniquely styled hair.

  “I thought you said she agreed to an Amish ceremony,” the bishop grumbled.

  Christian could not take his gaze from the vision before him. “She did. So long as I agreed to marry her—precisely as she is.”

  As she walked the terrible music played on. The dress was incredible. Nipped at her waist and puffed with some sort of crinoline petticoat. She did not pause until she stepped to his side and took his hand.

  You take my breath away, pintura.

  Her dainty fingers squeezed his. Let’s wrap this up and get to the party, you sexy beast.

  Bishop King began the sermon, speaking only in High German. Delilah fidgeted and her thoughts were erratic, making him stifle several chuckles. Unfortunately, she had yet to learn to block her musings and he was not the only one struggling to quell his laughter.

  The bishop’s frustration grew until he resigned the attempts to maintain his ever-present gravity. Rolling his eyes, he switched to English. “Christian Schrock, do you promise to love Delilah with forbearance, patience, and never part as you are two souls God has chosen to be one?”

  “I do.”

  “And Delilah Starling, do you promise to love Christian with forbearance, patience, and never part as you are two souls God has chosen to be one?”