Authors: Lydia Michaels
Delilah hid a laugh.
He’d remembered the name she gave the horse. Christian smiled. “Yes. My dear
mate here, Delilah, has given all of my animals names. Do you not approve,
Nathanial?”
The boy frowned at her
as though she were nuts. Who had pets and didn’t name them?”
“Tis God’s job.”
Delilah snapped her lips
shut. She wasn’t touching that.
They walked toward the
old colonial, following a dawdling line of women and men all dressed in similar
drab clothing. Her stomach tightened as her nervousness doubled.
The room was stuffy and
only lit with the light seeping in through the windows. There were tons of
them. The entire right side of the room was filled with white bonneted heads.
All females. They sat on backless wooden benches and Delilah had a flashback to
being a little girl and squirming on the backed wooden pews at her church.
Hopefully this wouldn’t last long or she’d end up with a numb ass for days.
Men sat in the section
to the left. Did they not mingle during service? She looked for someone she
recognized, but they all looked so incredibly alike in that moment. Christian
nudged her toward an open seat only wide enough for her. Panic gripped her.
“Aren’t you sitting with
me?” she whispered, barely moving her lips.
He hesitated and then
leaned close. “Delilah, I should have explained this. I am an elder. I must
meet in the back with the bishop and the other elders to decide who will be
preaching today.”
She gripped his arm
through his sleeve. “I don’t want to be here all alone.”
“They won’t bite,
Delilah.”
“Not funny, Christian.”
He caressed her cheek.
“I am sorry, love. I must go. It is my duty. I will return as soon as
possible.”
“But what if they expect
me to do something?”
“No one expects you to
know what is happening. The service will be said in mostly High German. Just do
what those next to you are doing and you will be fine.”
He stepped to leave and
she squeezed his arm. She drew in a breath, but said nothing. He gave her a
pleading glance and she released him. As he turned she sat down beside a young
girl who had a springy blond curl peeking from her bonnet.
“Hi. I’m Maggie. You
must be Delilah. Dane told me about you.”
Delilah turned. The
girl’s smile was friendly enough. “Hi. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
The girl giggled. “Just
follow along and you’ll be fine. I try to pass the time by thinking of places
I’d rather be.”
Delilah nodded. She
normally would’ve made some sort of joke, but she was too uncomfortable at the
moment.
Suddenly, everyone began
to sing. It wasn’t any song close to anything she’d heard before. She tightened
her lips, facing straight ahead, but watched the others with sidelong glances.
After the singing a man
came out to stand in the front. He spoke in what Delilah supposed was High
German. There was much emotion behind his words and she caught some of the
females dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.
Christian appeared and
her chest lifted as she drew in a deep breath. He opened a book of scripture
and read. His voice was strong and deep. She didn’t understand what he was saying,
but she loved listening to him talk. When he finished there was a traveling
creak of wood throughout the room. She got excited, thinking it was over, but
rather, everyone moved to kneel.
They kneeled right on
the floor. There were no cushioned kneelers like in her childhood church. No
one said a word. They just kneeled and kneeled and kneeled in absolute silence.
She shifted her weight
from side to side and imagined things like Vietnam and King Henry’s reign. She
decided she wouldn’t last long in any sort of torture situation. Her knees were
screaming for a break and her back wanted nothing more than to curl and relax.
Dear God, just tell me
what information you want and it’s yours! I need to sit!
Several heads turned
toward her.
Fuck. They can hear me.
Delilah looked down and
tried to blank her mind.
There once was a man
from Nantucket, Whose…No!
Who’s on first, What’s
on second, I Don’t Know’s on third. That’s what I want to find out. I said,
Who’s on first, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third. Well, who’s on
first? Yes. I mean the fellow’s name. Who. The guy on first. Who. The first
baseman. The guy playing. Who is on first!
Wide eyes turned on her.
Luckily, everyone returned to his or her seats. Delilah practically cried with
relief and rubbed her knees through her gown. Looking to the front she saw
Christian, pressing his lips tight as if trying not to laugh at her. She stuck
out her tongue at him and he bowed his head and smiled.
Another man spoke, then
another read. There was more silence, followed by more singing, then more
reading, and more talking. Every word was spoken in German. Children often
moved about the room from mother to father unnoticed. One little girl was
nibbling on what looked like Cheerios. Delilah would have liked some cereal.
She sighed and finally it was all over.
The parishioners stood
and smiled and greeted one another. It was the longest church service she’d
ever been through in her entire life. She didn’t have a watch, but she’d bet it
had been almost three hours since they arrived.
“Did you manage all
right,
pintura?”
She turned and faced a
smirking Christian. “You guys do this every week?”
“No, only every other.”
She let out a breath.
“It must be nice up there on the chairs.”
He laughed quietly.
“Come, let us break our fast and join the others outside.”
In the yard there were
several tables set that she hadn’t noticed before. Maybe she could get a spot
on the breakfast committee next time. Women carried covered dishes and people
sat to eat and talk. She spotted Anna and Adam and waved. Christian stilled.
“Can we sit with them?”
He followed her gaze and
hesitantly nodded. They sat across from the couple. Little Cain was playing in
the grass and Lucy was shoveling some sort of noodle dish into her mouth by the
fistful.
“Where’s Destiny?”
“She and Cain do not
usually attend service,” Adam said. Delilah didn’t comment.
A shadow fell over her
and she turned. Christian’s mother stood to her left.
“Hello, Delilah. I am
glad to see you are still with us.”
“Hi, Adriel. Would you
like to sit down?”
The woman looked at
Christian. “I would not want to overstay my welcome.”
Christian rolled his
eyes. “Mother, do sit down. You are a terrible martyr.”
She lifted her chin,
sniffed, and lowered herself into the seat beside Christian. Dane came to sit
with them and Gracie, who’d just arrived, avoided all eye contact with him.
Adriel chatted over how big Anna and Adam’s children were getting.
“Mind if I join you?”
Delilah turned at the
soft voice and found Maggie, the young girl she sat next to in service standing
with a plate. “Not at all,” Delilah said, scooting to her right.
“Hi, Dane,” Maggie said
as she took a seat.
“Hi, Maggie.”
“How are you,
Magdalene?” Adriel asked.
Gracie suddenly stood
and lifted her plate.
“Where are you going,
Grace?” Adam asked.
“I’m sorry. I lost my
appetite,” she muttered and walked away from the others.
Awkward…
Dane’s cheeks turned a
shade darker and Maggie lowered her gaze to her plate. Adriel waved a hand and
said, “We can either take what we want or cry over what we do not have, but we
cannot have it both ways.”
Maggie smiled.
Dane scowled. “Excuse
me,” he grumbled, standing from the table and walking away.
* * * *
Dane followed Gracie
away from the others and toward the Hartzler house. She was moving faster than
he was capable and it pissed him off.
Friggen vampyres.
“Gracie!”
She ignored him and took
off. In a huff, he jogged after her. When he reached the house no one was
around. Everyone was still at service and would likely not be back for hours.
Without knocking he
opened the front door. The kitchen was empty. “Gracie?”
No answer.
He marched up the steps
and ripped open her bedroom door. She gasped and turned, fire burning behind
her ice blue eyes as she scowled at him. Tears tracked down her cheeks and
caused his gut to clench. Damn her.
“Get out!” she shouted
and huffed.
Rather than leave, he
took another step in the room and grabbed her by the upper arms. “No. I want to
talk to you.”
She shoved him off with
little effort and ample strength. “Well, I
do not
want to speak to you!”
Rage boiled in his
veins. She kept doing this, acting like a viper and then crying. No matter what
he did she was either pissed or upset with him.
Without thinking, he
grabbed her and used all his force to turn her so she faced him. His feet
shuffled across the floor and her back came up against the wall. She gasped and
he kept moving until his front pressed into hers.
“We need to talk,” he
gritted.
“No,” she said, the
fierceness of her voice gone and replaced with something much more vulnerable.
He drew back and looked
at her. She shut her eyes as if trying to hide from him. Sadness overwhelmed
him. She hated him.
I don’t hate you.
Her voice rung in his
head.
Her eyes remained
closed. He wanted her to look at him. Her tears dried, leaving tiny tracks
along her cheeks. Her little mouth pressed tight as if she were in pain. He
hated seeing such tension in her face.
Leaning in, he brushed
his lips over hers. Her breath hitched and she drew back, her lashes fluttering
as she gazed into his eyes once more.
“No,” she whispered.
Ignoring her quiet plea,
he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers once more. His body hardened as her
lips slightly parted.
“Dane—” she said softly,
begging, likely for him to stop.
He
should
stop.
“Just…just wait…” His feet shuffled closer and he kissed her.
She drew in a long
breath through her nose, but did not touch him. Her arms remained at her sides,
impassive. His fingers tightened at her shoulders as he pressed his lips firmly
to hers. His mouth opened and he drew his tongue over the seam of her lips.
He tasted her and his
cock lengthened. Her teeth were clenched, smooth beneath his tongue. “Kiss me,
Gracie.”
Dane tilted his head and
slid his palm over her shoulder and up the back of her neck, knocking her
bonnet askew. He pulled her to him. A sound of distress vibrated from her
throat, but she opened the slightest degree.
That was all he needed.
His mouth slanted and he pressed his lips over hers, forcing her to let him in.
She whimpered and then the press of her dainty fingers wrapped around his
elbows.
“That’s it, Gracie,” he
whispered into her mouth as he deepened the kiss.
Sharp pain shot up his
arm and he hissed, jerking away. He looked down at where she’d gripped his arm.
Her nails lengthened into claws and four stains of crimson swelled in the press
of each finger. Returning his gaze to hers, he scowled.
Her lips were parted,
but her teeth were clenched. Twin fangs showed where they were usually hidden.
Panting quietly through clenched teeth, her eyes dilated. She was pissed.
He stepped back and she
released his arms, which only made the little stabs hurt more.
“Get out of here,” she
whispered so quietly he almost missed it. “Do you hear me?” she said with a bit
more venom. “I want you to leave. This is my bedroom and you have no right
being here. I am not one of your whores.”
He winced. “Gracie—”
“I said go!”
He jerked. He’d never
heard her raise her voice.
“Get out! I want you to
go! Do you hear me, Dane Foster? I do not want you here! You are not my friend
anymore.”
His nostrils flared. Her
words hurt. He loved her and she hated him. He suddenly wanted to hurt her.
“Yeah, well maybe it isn’t your friendship I’m after.”
She gasped. Anger
distorted her face and then the sadness he noted earlier returned. He regretted
his words immediately.
“You are a dog. You will
lay with anything that will have you,” she whispered cruelly. “But you will
never
lay with me.”
She shoved him so hard
he grunted as the opposite wall slammed into his back. She was gone.
Fuck.