Authors: Lydia Michaels
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?”
“You bet your ass I do,
Bishop.”
Eleazar did not appear
amused, but Delilah smiled in the face of his disapproval. “May God shed his
blessing richly upon you. I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Christian was yanked
down as Delilah sealed her lips to his. He blinked, not recalling such displays
at prior ceremonies, but unable to resist her kiss.
The witnesses cheered
and as his wife pulled away, she grinned and said, “Let’s party.”
More dreadful English
music played and they exited the house only to pause at the front porch where
the absolute unexpected awaited them. Over the tent in his yard, decorated with
flowers and adorned with long tables, there was a white cloud sprinkling…snow?
He frowned as he spotted
Cain sprawled out on a chair beside the ice sculpture, an arrogant grin on his
sodden face. Dumbfounded, he said, “It is snowing in June.”
Delilah gaped beside
him. “Bad. Ass.”
She tugged him off the
porch, her anxious excitement rippling from her in happy waves. There was a
quiet rumble of pattering, like whispered thunder, and he halted her steps,
unsure what was happening. Unexpectedly, the ground seemed to twitch and ripple
as a thousand butterflies took flight from the grass. The crowd gasped as his
bride laughed with pure joy. He had no doubt she had done this. She had powers
unlike any he had ever seen.
The celebration was a
success. While the elders scowled his wife beamed. The English mates danced to
unfamiliar melodies and showed many of the younger generations how to make
sense of such wretched music. Every time he looked at his wife she smiled and
he knew she was happy and that made him the happiest male on earth.
They did not retire
until long after the sun had set. Guests continued their stay, truly enjoying
the English touches his bride had provided.
As he carried his mate
through the door of their bedroom she turned quiet and shy. He laid her on the
bed and kissed her softly. “I love you,
pintura.
Thank you for an
unforgettable wedding day.”
Her fingers brushed over
his jaw as she smiled softly at him, her eyes tender and full of affection. “I
love you too, Christian. Thank you for stealing my life and giving me a better
one.”
They made love long past
dawn and several times in the days that followed, their eternity leisurely
unraveling with euphoric pleasures he had never imagined. She was his, but more
so, he belonged to her and never felt more at peace with his life. She was
truly the other half of his soul.
* * * *
In the weeks that
followed Delilah learned many things. She learned what it was to be a wife to a
man that loved her beyond measure, a man who would go against his nature to
protect her. She learned that Christian truly loved his mother, as he
restlessly searched for her whenever he had a moment to spare.
She learned that Amish
life was nothing like English living with all the frivolous flare and glitz,
but she was no longer English. She was Delilah—vampyre warrior and supernatural
healer extraordinaire. Well, that’s what she liked to call herself. The others
basically stuck to calling her by her name.
She’d taken up painting
as one of her favorite pastimes. The Hartzler family seemed to be breeding like
rabbits and it felt like every day she had a new request to paint a nursery.
She loved hanging out with the females of that clan. They were like her, normal
women who happened to be called to extraordinary men.
The bishop had recovered
without issue and no one saw any signs of Cerberus after he left that night.
Christian informed her the man’s hand would eventually regenerate, but it would
serve as a reminder for a long time, that his son was not one to be tampered
with.
She’d gone to the bishop
and taken her husband
The Book of Confessions.
As they sat in the den
reading over Adriel’s words, Christian had dropped his ever-present veneer of
strength and wept. She’d wept as well. From that night on, he was never overly
stern with her again. He proclaimed she was the gift God had sent him and he
wanted her just as she was.
Her tattoos had all
faded but one. It was the one she’d given herself the day Vito delivered her
tools to the farm. She’d be retouching it for all of eternity, but that was
okay. Being a vampyre her skin healed rapidly and the slight pain was
irrelevant. It was two simple words, scrolled on the inside of her wrist in the
form of infinity.
Christian & Delilah.
Yeah, he was hers.
Forever. It was pretty awesome.
Although they appeared
to live the ordinary, mundane Amish life, there was nothing ordinary about it.
Christian indulged her more than she ever dreamed.
Destiny’s brother, Vito,
was totally awesome and came by regularly to bring her all kinds of booty like
comic books and beer. Although she had pieces of her past on the farm, he life
before was slowly being unwritten. Skin Deep was now being rented by a nail
tech and there was a bit of sadness that came with that news. Christian had all
of her belongings brought to their home and she was gradually making the house
into their own little love nest.
Life on the farm was
never dull. Delilah had never known what it was to have so many friends. For
the first time in a long time, she recalled what it was to have a family. Even
Christian had loosened up around those he was once uptight around.
She had plenty to do and
she and the girls started taking turns hosting game night. On Delilah’s night
they played Dirty Pictionary, which sort of backfired, because after the few
pornographic sketches, the males carried off their mates to the nearest bed.
She wasn’t Amish, but
she acted the part. Well, not really. She still cursed like a sailor and didn’t
follow her husband’s orders for shit, but Christian would merely laugh and
tease her about being the most disobedient wife on the farm.