by Dalia Wright
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I don’t think that concerns you,” she retorted, angered by the tone of his voice and the accusations flashing in his eyes. “But I have never been a whore.”
He eyed her with skepticism. “Or so you claim.” He ignored the look of outrage on her face and continued, “I mean I can hardly be blamed, can I? Who knows what you’ve been up to by yourself in these last few months? You wanted freedom, you wanted to get away from the community, from their beliefs, from us. I can’t and don’t trust anything about you,” he added flatly. It felt good to unleash his anger on her after holding back his feelings for so long. She had hurt him badly and he had wanted nothing more than to strike back at her. Why, then, were her tear-stained face and forlorn eyes causing him so much pain? He had to harden his heart against her emotions and stand firm.
“I have nothing left to give you, Isabelle.”
“I’m not asking you for anything,” she replied after a brief silence in which she digested his cruel words. She knew she had hurt him and as much as his attitude angered her, she felt on some level he may be justified. But what upset her was his immediate assumption that she wanted something from him and that prompted her own anger.
“I am perfectly able to take care of myself and my child,” she stated coolly. “It’s unfortunate we had to run into each other like this because it’s led to you having these thoughts. But I had no intention of ever coming to you or claiming anything from you because as you said… we don’t know whose child it is, do we?”
With a final cold look his way, she turned around and walked away, trying to hold back the tears rapidly filling her eyes, hating that her waddling body had prevented her from making a more dramatic departure. It was only after she heard the venom and anger in David’s voice did she realize how much she had wanted to believe in a different ending with him. But, contrarily, she hadn’t lied either; she truly didn’t expect anything from him. After so many months and given how things had ended between them, she didn’t think it was fair to suddenly drop into his life and demand he have a part in raising their child. Whether he wanted to be involved or not, and how much, depended solely on him. Not that he would want anything to do with them now given she had basically implied the child wasn’t even his.
Isabelle sighed heavily as she wearily made her way up the handful of steps and into her home. Nothing in her life was going the way it should have. At that precise moment, she felt a firm little kick in her belly as if the baby was reminding her of its presence. The kick made her smile; life may be less than perfect right now, an unwed mother in an Amish community, no husband, no father, relying solely on her parents for the moment. It was hardly the ideal situation but she wouldn’t trade it for anything else. She rubbed her belly lovingly and the baby kicked again.
“I love you, sweetheart,” Isabelle whispered. “No matter what happens, we’ll get through it all together.”
Her words provided some much-needed comfort and as she got closer to her delivery date she felt no fear or apprehensions at the idea of embarking on parenthood by herself and only thought about David a handful of times as opposed to almost constantly, and tried very hard to not think about David and Daphne’s blissful married life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She didn’t hear from or see David over the following weeks. She heard from someone that he had gone to the city on some business and wouldn’t be back in awhile. Isabelle secretly hoped he would be gone long enough for her to have the baby and make the arrangements to leave town herself. This way she would never have to see him again.
So when he suddenly burst into her parents’ home a week before she was due to give birth, he was the last person she expected to see. She struggled to her feet, a hundred different things on the tip of her tongue, all of them angry and mad.
But the accusations died in her throat when she saw the look in his eyes. There was no mistaking the love in them. But was it for her?
“Isabelle.” His voice was soft and loving and filled with contrition. “I’m so sorry, Isabelle.”
Isabelle could have made him sweat it out, or told him off, or told him how much he had hurt her. But just seeing him standing in front of her, feeling the baby - his baby - moving and kicking inside of her, anxious to come out, melted all her anger away. Besides, hadn’t she also hurt him? She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him it was okay and that she was happy for him and Daphne, but a surprised cry came out instead as she felt water squirting between her legs followed quickly by a contraction.
David was at her side in an instant.
“Isabelle! What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
She reached out towards him and gripped his hand tightly as she braced herself for another wave of pain. “I think I’m in labor, David.”
“Oh my God! Oh my… ” With enormous effort, he cut off the rest of the words and swallowed the panic rising within him. This is not the time to fall apart, he told himself. I have to be strong for Isabelle.
“Okay,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “where’s the doctor’s number? I’ll call him right away. Are your parents home? Is there anyone else you want me to call?”
“It’s a midwife, not a doctor. Her name is Tess.” She grunted through gritted teeth between her contractions and waved towards the fridge. “My parents went to town for the day. The baby wasn’t supposed to come for another two weeks.”
A piece of paper with a list of numbers was stuck on the fridge door. David found the midwife’s number and called, then turned to Isabelle anxiously.
“She said she’ll be here in ten minutes. Can you hang on for that long?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
Looping an arm around her waist, David said, “Let me help you to your bedroom.”
But Isabelle shifted away and shook her head. Regardless of the pain she was in, she had to make some things clear.
“David, I can handle this on my own; you don’t have to be here…. especially since there’s the question of the baby’s paternity and with Daphne... ”
“Daphne?” David eyed her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I know that you’re married to her and you’re having a baby with her. You don’t need to be here.”
The confusion ebbed away and was replaced with a hoot of laughter.
“Married to Daphne? Are you crazy?!”
“But I saw her and she…”
“She married Tom! Not me!”
“But then what about at the hotel? You spent the night with her, after our fight.”
“No, I didn’t, Isabelle. I never spent the night with her. She was upset about something and wanted to talk it over, but that was all. I sent her back to her room.”
“You did? You truly didn’t have sex with her? And you’re not married?”
Another bout of pain made her clench her stomach and she doubled over, breathing heavily.
“But I meant what I said, David,” she continued once she got her breath back. “I’m not expecting anything from you.”
David grabbed her by her arms and looked her straight in the eyes. His voice was forceful, passionate, and sweet all at once.
“Now you listen to me and you listen hard, Isabelle. I don’t give a damn whose baby you’re carrying, I don’t give a fuck what you want or don’t want from me. What I do know is I love you and I know you do, too. So we’re doing this together. Understood?”
“How do you know I love you?”
“Because you came home and because I can see it in your eyes and because we’ve always loved each other.”
“There’s nobody else?”
“How could there be? Nobody can hold a candle to you,” he replied. His lips brushed against hers and before Isabelle could argue any further, he kissed her long and hard.
Their passionate kiss was interrupted by the arrival of the matronly-looking midwife who quickly broke them apart and hustled Isabelle into her bedroom with strict instructions to relax and
practice her breathing techniques.
“There was never anybody else, David,” she huffed. “Only you.”
He patted her hand. “Shhh… now’s not the time. And I don’t care.”
“No, it’s important you know… before baby comes… it’s your… baby…” Her voice trailed off and gave way to an earth-shattering scream as she began to push with all her might. Twenty minutes later, the baby came out, screaming, squalling, and crying its little lungs out. Tess beamed at the parents.
“It’s a girl. A beautiful little girl,” she said, placing her in Isabelle’s arms.
David watched the red-faced, angry little being in wonder and pride. Love for her, for them, swelled in his chest. Even if Isabelle hadn’t eased his doubts, he knew in his heart the baby was his.
Isabelle’s eyes drooped with tiredness. She was falling asleep. The baby laying on her chest was fast asleep already. David leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss first on Isabelle’s forehead and then on the little baby girl’s.
“I love you so much, Isabelle. I love you both so much and we’re going to be together forever.”
“Are you… you sure?” she murmured.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he vowed.
“I’m glad… I love you so much, too,” she whispered back. A smile played on her lips as she fell asleep, feeling blessed and secure in the knowledge she had everything she could have ever wanted.
THE END
Tia’s Mate
Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline
Book 1
By: Dalia Wright
Prologue:
Blood. Blood, everywhere. Hands swimming in it, the floor saturated with the iron tang of rusting death. It clings to his pants and shoelaces, finding all the impossible places, making him feel as if he would never be clean again. The boy wants to be anywhere but here. The mocking eyes of his father watch him as he backs into the corner, away from the male corpse splayed out on the floor, head turned toward the boy with eyes like clouded green glass.
“Come on, boy,” his father urges, mouth twisted like a grinning demon. “How are you gonna learn to like the taste if you’re too scared to take the first step?”
The boy shakes his head, shivering. That man with the empty green eyes, he had been alive only moments before. “He was alive. I spoke to him. He was scared.”
“And now he’s dead. Useless whelp,” his father snarls, yellow eyes gleaming as his son turns away. He strides up in a swoop of malice, and seizes the trembling boy by the cuff of his neck, shoving his face into the pooling blood of the freshly killed human. “Eat!” A manic expression enters his father’s face. His fingernails lengthen, his canines become that little bit longer. Passion is leaking, the emotions manifesting in physical form.
The boy trembles and cries, as he is forced to bring his mouth to the dead man, and tear into his skin, resisting the urge to retch the whole time.
Chapter One
Tia locked gazes with a man across the bar. He was sprawled out on a black leather stool in a white shirt and blue jeans, not dressed to kill, but as if he had rolled out of work and walked straight in. In the orange light, under tufted, messy iron gray hair, protruded amber eyes, which made Tia blink, and investigate the odd combination of color. She contemplated whether he was faking the whole appearance, with contacts rammed over his irises and hair dyed in the rebel manner of teenagers acting out against their bonds. She estimated his age to hover around the thirty mark, noted the casual button shirt, still trying to figure out if she found him handsome or pretentious.
Certainly, there was something there, brooding under the fathomless features. Despite the much hotter women to his left, baring a scandalous amount of flesh, he focused only on Tia Winters.
The lights in the bar deepened to a violent red, and heavy rock music blared out the overhead speakers. Those already on the dance floor spasm faster to the beat of the music, and others pushed past Tia and Anna in a scream of noise and laughter, all deciding at once to grind their sweating, heat trapped bodies on the floor. One man spilt his foaming yellow drink on someone who had no right to the amount of muscle on his broad-shouldered frame. It made Tia think of the image of a gorilla in a suit, and the image brought a smirk to her face. The larger, bald man proceeded to beat the absolute shit out of the drink-spiller, which drew her attention away from the stranger with the unusual colorings, and a face smeared crimson by splotched lighting.
Anna watched as well, and tapped Tia’s drink closer to the edge of the table, prompting her to pick it up. “Hey, Tia. Totally saw you checking out the fake hair dude over there,” she stated, slurping her drink in a manner that would make Tia’s father turn in his alcohol soaked grave. “You could do worse. Gonna try for him?”
Tia shrugged casual dismissal, and ran a hand through her thick dark hair. “I probably won’t.”
“Why not?” Anna asked, genuinely curious. Of course, they both had come here for one thing and one thing only – the chance to get lucky. Anna had recently broken up with her boyfriend and had been practically clawing at Tia to be the honorary wing-woman – though she didn’t have anyone trapped in her sights. Any man would do, as long as they were reasonably good looking and could hold sentences longer than three syllables.
Tia preferred keeping it simple. She was quite the fan of an uncomplicated life, though Anna argued it was because Tia hadn’t met the right man, or she tended to scare people away with dead baby jokes. Tia conceded she was probably right on that score, but still thought anything could be funny in the right context. In the seedy haze of the nightclub, Tia examined her blonde-haired friend, who hid a depressed mind under mascara and a wide smile. Although she insisted she was here to get Tia out of the house, in truth, Tia was here for Anna, to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, or hook up with the wrong sort of guy. She considered it friendly and saintly duties.
“Well,” Anna said, once more slurping at her drink, “he’s coming over. If you don’t go for it, I will.”
“Fine,” Tia said, rolling her eyes, but feeling a thrill of excitement course inside. “Since I did the soul-searching eye exchange, I’ll deal with him.” What Tia had to look forward to back home was a cold apartment, where she was stuck within the crumbling walls of a place for which she barely made the rent every month from hour based retail work. She had the independence, but it went hand in hand with a smash of loneliness. Prices had to be paid.
The gray haired man weaved through the thong of people fishing for new drinks from the bar and up to Tia and Anna. Paying little regard to Anna, he examined Tia with those peculiar amber eyes. He smiled wolfishly, pulling Tia’s attention in further, finding the expression mesmerizing on a level. Anna, of course, flicked back her blonde hair and puffed out her substantial chest, but he continued to ignore her.
Eventually, Tia cleared her throat. “Are you going to introduce yourself or stand there awkwardly?” She plumped some sass in there, with a healthy dose of eyebrow raising.
His lips curled at the corners, revealing jagged canines. “Danny. And you?” He slid into a spare seat by the women. Anna glowered, a little put out, though true to her nature, she gave Tia a wink, before scouring the crowd for any other potential men to hook up with.
“Tia.” When he reached out a hand to shake, Tia took it. She noticed that his nostrils were flared, every now and then making sharp inhales, as if absorbing the scent of everything around. Several questions sprang to mind. “Is that hair for real or are you just a fan of the color?” she said, not sure if she would believe him, even if he said yes.
“Real. So are the eyes,” he confirmed, before politely enquiring for Anna’s name as well. Tia liked the sound of his voice, a musical baritone with a hint of gruffness to it. She liked the way he looked at her, attention flickering from top to bottom, the fascination shown in his leaning forward body language, though she couldn’t exactly tell why. There were plenty other choices, and far more
attractive women willing to give everything in a night. Maybe he appreciated the way Tia wasn’t trying to thrust her breasts into his face, like Anna preferred in her man-snaring methods. Or perhaps, it was because of Tia’s charming personality. Of course, sometimes Tia could do with some extra lessons, and with less inappropriately timed jokes, but she wasn’t about to turn the guy away at a whim. Shivers rippled through her spine at the presence of him, and the strong, pine needle scent emanating from his skin. She detected a kind of field around him, something that naturally attracted and repelled at the same time. It was hard to describe how it worked or felt, only that Tia knew that there was something about him scratching at her subconscious. The eyes, though they crinkled at the corners just right, seemed cold and apathetic, even as he flirted and smiled.
Danger, Tia thought. The primal instincts of her brain stirred. This man reeks of danger.
“I can’t place your accent,” Tia continued, shortly after the man had seized drinks from the bar to share with her. Anna, at this point, with a hug and a whisper in her ear to stay safe and enjoy the romp, had advanced onto the dancefloor, under the neon lights, joining the grinding mass. “But, then again, what would I know about accents? I’ve never even made it out of the state of Virginia.”
“Really?” Danny acted surprised. The drink of choice was something Tia had never tried before, and it sported a strong, cherry aftertaste.
“Never.”
“You’re missing out, then! There’s an entire planet with amazing things and people. Some people, not so much. Is normal, though. Depends on the places you pick.” He drank a long draught of his drink. “This is Belgian beer. Cherry flavored. Belgium is quite famous for it. I went to Bruges, once. Magnificent city. If you ever travel, I recommend you go there. I can show you pictures on my phone…” He started thumbing through his cellphone, making Tia smile as he gestured for her to peer over his shoulder at the glitter of buildings and lights. Most of the designs made her think of the gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel, as they held that same, edible look. Despite the initial reservations she had about him and the cold glint of his eyes, she liked how emphatically he talked about the places he had seen, insisting she shouldn’t limit herself. He put his phone away, not wanting to be attached to it rather than miss out talking to her. He eventually admitted that he came from Bulgaria – a place Tia had only ever thought about when it was mentioned as a Quidditch team in Harry Potter.
