Page 170 of Immortal Bastard

“What’s left of her.” He glanced to the end of the hall where Dane made no secret of watching them. Christian took pity on the boy and wondered what measures he could take to help the situation, within reason. “The Order is studying the genetic abnormalities that occur when a mortal is unjustly transitioned. Isaiah has conjured quite the fall out.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was missing for decades. In that time, he unjustly transitioned many mortal women. They’re still out there.”

“Transitions like her.” He followed her stare to Cybil’s cell, and Isaiah snarled.

“Yes. They’re beyond hope. Violent and soulless. The Order is hunting what remains of the others.”

Delilah looked into Isaiah’s cell, and Cybil screeched, commanding their attention. His mate frowned and blindly took his hand. “Can we go now?”

He hesitated, alarmed by how territorial the possessed immortal was of the neighboring space. He recalled what Dane had said. “Give me a moment.”

Taking a step toward the female’s cell, Christian tested his theory. Isaiah went ballistic, snarling and clamoring about the dark cell, roaring with unmistakable fury. It seemed Isaiah had formed an alpha attachment to the child.

The territorial scent of a possessive male seeped into the dank corridor with pungent warning. Christian had assumed Isaiah would be worked up over Delilah’s presence, but the immortal seemed more distressed at the sight of him, mostly when he encroached on Cybil’s space.

“Christian,” Delilah snapped. “I want to go.”

He stepped back and nodded, a cacophony of shrieking erupting as they left the two wild abominations to their own devices. They walked the long corridor in silence, Delilah’s grip tightening on his hand with each screeching howl that followed.

Dane scowled as they passed. “What did you do?”

Ignoring his half-brother, he held tight to Delilah’s hand and led her through the door. They had more important issues to address than Dane’s preoccupation with what rotted in those cells.

As soon as they made it outside, she asked, “Why didn’t you answer Dane?”

The bitter memory of his half-brother’s threats still burned. “I have nothing to say to him.”

He helped Delilah into the carriage, and they rode home in silence. The rain continued to fall, the slick roads requiring his full attention.

When they reached the house, he dropped her off at the door. “I have to tend to the horses. I’ll be back shortly.”

She went directly into the house.

The rain had finally stopped when he left the stables, but the ground was saturated. He toed off his boots and sensed Delilah upstairs. Taking the steps slowly, he braced for a fight. But when he entered the bedroom, all was calm.

The furniture was tidy, and she lay curled on her side, her soft whimper drawing his immediate concern. “Delilah?”

She sniffed.

He stripped out of his wet clothes. “You’re upset.”

Another sniffle.

He sat on the edge of the bed, but when he reached for her, she recoiled. “Delilah,” he said more firmly. “It’s been a long day. Say what’s on your mind and let’s be done with it.”

Her shoulders shook as she released a jagged breath. He pressed into her mind, only to find her blocked to him. His head cocked in surprise, unsure when she learned to do that.

“We can’t fix anything if we don’t communicate. Those are your words, are they not?”

“Some things can’t be fixed, Christian.”

Losing patience, he reached for her and pried her away from the edge of the mattress, forcing her to roll on her back and look at him. “What has you so upset?”

“Everything!” She gasped, choking on a sob. “They’re going to whip you. There’s a little girl in a cell. And a witch! Is that even a thing? And you didn’t let me speak when we were in front of the bishop, knowing I had something to say.”

“Because I knew what you planned to say. You will not put yourself on the line like that. Not for me. It’s my duty to protect you. Leave well enough alone.”

---