Page 179 of Immortal Bastard

“The other day depleted you.”

She shook her head. “You’ve fed me three times since then, but you’ve yet to touch me. I feel fine. But still, you hold me at arm’s length. Is it my blood? Is it too weak?”

“Your blood is fine, pintura.”

“Then why won’t you take it?”

Her sorrow gutted him. Taking her in his arms, he pulled her close. “It’s me. When we’re intimate, our mental link is at its strongest. I don’t want my pain to hurt you.”

She stood stiffly and shoved him. “You are what’s hurting me. I thought we were a team.”

“We are. This is just a ripple in time. As soon as things iron out and get back to normal—Where are you going?”

She gathered her clothes and marched up the stairs, bare chested and furious. Her middle finger shot into the air. “I’m packing. You obviously don’t need me around as you recuperate.”

He was on the second floor blocking her path before she could take another step. “Packing for what?”

“It’s been more than two weeks, Christian. I have to go home. I need to deal with things at my shop, and I can’t do that from here.”

This was her home. “What things?”

She flung out her arms and slapped them down at her side. “I have clients, people who paid me for services. I need to either conduct said service or refund their money.”

He reeled in his panic. She wasn’t talking about permanently leaving. She only wanted to conclude her open-ended business. He would need more blood if he planned to accompany her. “We can leave tonight. You should rest.”

Her mouth opened, and he sensed her surprise. “That’s…that’s it?”

“I made you a promise, and I keep my word. We can leave at nightfall.”

Delilah had very little to pack beside a few snacks. When she learned they would be journeying by foot, she decided to rest. That gave Christian time to clean a rifle and visit his mother again. He drank as much as he could stomach of her ancient blood and left her armed but weak.

When he returned to the house, Delilah was waiting on the steps, petting several animals that had come to greet her. “There’s something I want to show you before we go,” she said, rising from the porch steps and leading him back inside. “Take off your shirt.”

He hesitated. “If you want to make decent time, we should—”

“Do it, Christian.” She knew he fed after rejecting her vein, and she was now more upset with him than before.

He sighed and lowered his suspenders, watching her as he opened his collar. “It’s my mother’s blood,” he confessed, stripping off his shirt.

“I know. I recognize her smell.” She drew in a deep breath as if centering herself. “Turn around.”

“Delilah—”

“I’m not asking, Christian.”

He hesitated then slowly turned to face the wall. Her breath caught, and he used their link to see what she saw. Maimed flesh had healed over with thick grooves. The scars would eventually fade and his skin would regenerate like new, but for now the damage was evident.

She lifted her hand slowly and pressed down with a feather-light touch. He flinched at such tenderness, but he didn’t sense her pity.

Frowning, he tried to identify the feelings she held in that moment. There was extreme concentration paired with her unbreakable will.

His muscles jerked as a strange sensation traveled over his mangled skin and soothed the nerve damage with a cooling wave. He sucked in a sharp breath when the sore spots started to tingle. “Abwehre.” He took a step but she caught his arm.

“Stay still.”

“What are you doing?”

She returned her focus to his back. “I’m healing you.”

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