Page 15 of Immortal Bastard

He wondered at Abraham’s strictness. If the man was controlling enough to involve himself with the daily count of rolls, he definitely needed a hobby. Eventually, Abigail was bound to get married. Then what would her father do?

Dane accepted the warm, wrapped bread. “I appreciate it.” The soft inside smelled of grain and honey while the crusty outside still held the smoky scent of the brick oven. He plucked a piece off and popped it in his mouth, savoring the delicious way the flavors burst over his tongue.

“I love the bread here.”

She cocked her head. “Did they not have bread where you’re from?”

“They do,” he said, stuffing his mouth with a larger piece and covering his gaping hole with his hands when the hot dough burnt his tongue. “But nothing like this. It’s already sliced and wrapped in plastic.”

“Homemade is always best. If you come back this way later, I’ll leave another loaf for you with a jar of honey we just harvested.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to get her in trouble.

She nodded. “Father will work late tonight, on account of the meeting today, so it shouldn’t be an issue. He’s there now.”

“That’s where I’m headed.”

“But you’re not…allowed”

He laughed at her surprise. “Don’t worry. They won’t let me in, but I like to sit outside.”

She smiled. “You and Sister Adriel. I don’t know how she manages that. The elders discourage loitering and forbid females from eavesdropping on male business.”

Because the more sheltered and repressed the females were, the more ignorant they remained of their human rights. It was a battle Dane didn’t have the strength to champion and one that would quickly get him exiled from the farm.

“Sister Adriel gets away with lingering around the hall because she’s the bishop’s closest friend.”

“How scandalous.” Abigail smirked. Looking over her shoulder to assure no one approached, she whispered, “She’s mated, you know.”

Gossip, no matter how prohibited, would never be extinct.

Abigail did not know that his bloodline connected directly to the Schrock line, which was why Sister Adriel had taken him under her wing. His mother’s journals mentioned Adriel Schrock’s mate, a Cerberus Maddox, and Dane’s blood tests had linked him to Adriel’s son, Christian Schrock. According to the bishop, he and Christian were half-brothers, but they shared no affection as such.

The elder was a miserable bastard who kept to himself. When Cybil’s life was on trial, Christian had been one of the first to suggest she be executed. He said it was the most merciful option, but Dane disagreed. The Order had limited knowledge about situations like Cybil’s. Her transition was not sanctioned by God and therefore left her deranged.

But there was something left of her in that cell. He sensed it most while she slept. She was his sister. His only true family no matter what the blood tests said. For all they knew, Cybil might also be Christian’s sibling, but due to her condition, the results of her bloodwork were muddled by some unidentified pathogen that clouded the labs.

Christian Schrock was a cold, heartless bastard Dane would never view as any sort of family. In all reality, his mother, Adriel, should be the one sitting on The Elder’s Council representing the Schrock line, but she was a female and such things were prohibited.

While most men disdained Adriel’s fierce disregard for man-made laws, Dane admired her and felt a sense of loyalty to the ancient female.

“You shouldn’t speak of such things,” he said to Abigail.

She appeared instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean…” Regret and worry flashed in her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was cruel of me.”

He frowned at her overreaction, recognizing her fear of any sort of backlash. “I won’t tell anyone. I just meant that Adriel is a good person, and I don’t like when others talk about her.”

“Of course. She’s your friend. I don’t know why I’d presume you wouldn’t know of such things. I wasn’t judging, you know? I was only passing along information.”

Something Abigail had done since the beginning with him. “I know. I’ll never betray your trust, Abby.” He appreciated all the secrets she shared in the past.

As an outsider, he wasn’t someone the others felt pressed to inform. And because of Abigail, words like half-breed, boy, mortal, English, misfit, and orphan no longer affected him.

Her worry abated and a gentle smile curved her lips. “I trust you too,” she whispered, stepping closer.

He matched her smile but mirrored her step with a step back. Unlike the other unmarried and unmated immortals on the farm, Abigail was not permitted to socialize after service on Sundays. She’d attend the three-hour sermon like the rest, but after the meal, she always returned home with her father.

Bishop King had warned Dane to keep his distance, as Abraham would not want his daughter risking her virtue on a male who was not her true called mate and, therefore, would disapprove of Abigail associating with someone of mortal blood.

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