Authors: Lydia Michaels
“Yeah, you don’t have to
convince me. I’ve seen him—”
“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.