Page 137 of Immortal Bastard

“I’m three centuries old, Delilah. I do not play.”

“Well, go discuss plows or whatever interests you guys. Be a good guest. Us girls are talking.” Then she sent a mental poke. And you just embarrassed me.

Shunned, he backed out of the kitchen and came face to face with Dane. The boy scowled at him and pushed past him into the kitchen, intentionally knocking his shoulder into Christian’s.

He spun, prepared to snatch the boy up by the scruff of his neck, only to hesitate when his gaze collided with Delilah’s.

Don’t you dare.

Christian scowled. He shoved me.

Get over it.

Grumbling under his breath, he returned to the den.

It never occurred to him how shy he was until God had paired him with an exuberant extrovert. By the end of the night, he would be exhausted from tedious conversations and abiding social niceties he did not see as necessary.

It occurred to him, save the bishop, he really didn’t have many friends. And in all honesty, Eleazar was his mother’s friend before his. Until meeting Delilah, his life was a lonesome rotation of work, prayer, and quiet reading. On occasion, he’d play a game, but even then, it was usually solitaire, save the occasions Sister Abigail visited .

Delilah’s laughter cut through the house, and he felt the strongest compulsion to go to her. He needed the evening to end. He wanted the tedious mingling to stop, desperately longing to return to his quiet home. He desired his mate in his arms without the competition of others stealing her attention from him.

Her stare lifted and found his, her smile suspended until her brow pinched with concern. Christian, are you all right?

He smiled, in awe of her beauty and taking great relief from her concern. He decided he could tolerate her friends a few more hours. Perfect, pintura. Everything is perfect.

The soft curve of her mouth set something afire in him. He would stay as long as she wanted, but when they returned home, he needed to have her.

Worry for her increasing lethargy returned. Maybe he was approaching this incorrectly. She seemed most tempted to feed when they were intimate, so perhaps intercourse was the key.

When the females carried out the dessert, a rich Portuguese cake, Delilah’s strawberries and cream, and Sister Grace’s crustless pie, servings were dished out to each of the males.

“Oh, I forgot coffee,” Sister Destiny turned back to the kitchen. “Cain, can you give me a hand?”

The male jumped to his feet to do his wife’s bidding. Nothing about their dynamic struck Christian as traditional. As soon as the couple disappeared into the kitchen, they fell into an intimate embrace, overestimating their privacy and making no attempt for discretion.

“You’re drunk,” Brother Cain growled, his observation lacking any disapproval.

His wife giggled. “Perks of being a half-breed.”

This was becoming a sort of infestation, Christian thought, turning his glare back on Dane who was scowling at Sister Grace who happily talked with Brother Adam and his wife. He had no interest in their conversation.

Like the moon pulls the tide, his attention returned to Delilah. She watched the kitchen door, observing more than Christian could see from his vantage. A look of deep longing filled her eyes. He gently pressed into her mind to identify what made her appear so forlorn. Through her thoughts, he could see what she saw and feel the emotions the vision stirred.

The married couple in the kitchen shared a personal moment as they waited for the coffee to brew. Cain hoisted his wife onto the counter and fit himself between her knees. The female’s arms wreathed his neck as he kissed her. Delilah’s heart filled with wistful envy at the sight of such affection, and Christian wondered if he had shown her enough tenderness.

He silently vowed to be more affectionate with his mate, as she seemed to value and long for such things. He’d been so determined to show her domesticity, intimacy, and the sensual joys of feeding that he’d overlooked the simple pleasures of touch and praise.

He closed his hand around hers where it rested on her lap, and she turned and blushed, realizing he saw her watching the other couple. A shy smile curved her lips when his hand tightened around hers and a pleasant warmth spread in his chest.

He wanted to whisper something to her the way Brother Cain whispered to his wife, but he didn’t know what to say.

Leaning into his side, she gazed back at the kitchen and whispered, “They’re so in love.”

Love, that’s what it was. The couple was not mated, but they shared a bond so strong they often moved as one. Each anticipated the other’s next move and happily offered to help. It was a partnership, very fitting to his mate’s definition of one. Their rhythm, cooperation, and verve moved in perfect harmony.

“It’s beautiful,” he agreed, not knowing what it was to share such a connection as theirs.

She looked back to the kitchen and continued to watch, her mind acknowledging his presence in her thoughts and welcoming him to observe with her. When Brother Cain’s fangs flashed before he bit into his wife’s throat, Delilah stiffened and gasped.

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