Page 32 of Immortal Bastard

The pinch of her brow deepened but she didn’t answer. He would give her time.

She was a tempting female, one who awoke his carnal desires like no other, but she was also so much more than that. She was his.

While she slept, he examined the markings on her body. The Amish did not waste time on such distractions, but distracted he was. Every detail, every unique accent, he wanted to touch and study. He desired to learn every inch of her and every thought behind each adorned decoration she’d chosen for her skin.

He grinned, thinking how misleadingly calm she appeared in sleep. When awake, she was a tornado of pride, stirring with explosive emotions too large for such a delicate frame. Courageous and strong yet also fragile and vulnerable.

Already, he was coming to understand her. His feisty mate did not like showing her softer sides, but he sensed her hidden vulnerabilities all the same. As her mate, it was his duty to know all of her weaknesses so that he may serve and protect her. He would be her strength just as she would be his.

Her confidence would develop once she understood the gifts of immortality. These brief moments of uncertainty would grow further and further apart as she realized the gift they’d been given.

Stroking her porcelain cheek, he tried to convey how much he cared for her and how deeply he ached to love and protect her. She, again, recoiled from his touch, her face pinching and her pulse quickening.

“Do not hate me, little—”

“Fuck off.” She rolled to her side, tucking her face into the pillows and hiding behind her dark hair.

Her mouth was indeed a problem. Foul language would not be tolerated among their people. She would acclimate in time. He could be patient, but he feared her anger might lead to public humiliation. His own insecurities roused at the thought.

Growing up in torment, named the bastard Schrock by his peers due to his father’s absence and his mother’s hard-headed manner, had been a long and torturous experience. He'd combatted others’ cruelty with an air of indifference, but the scars were there.

His position as an elder allowed him a measure of ambivalence that served him well over the centuries. But finding his mate had opened a gate of emotions and a dam had been broken, flooding his heart with not only hope and joy but fears and worry. Having Delilah meant he now had something to lose, and he’d yet to figure out the best way to manage such vulnerability.

The sooner she conformed to their simple lifestyle, the sooner his concerns would be laid to rest. He believed in traditional Amish values and expected his mate to uphold such time-honored convictions.

She certainly was a brazen female. But with time and discipline, she would learn to control her impulsivity and tongue. Deep down, he believed her a docile kitten, one who hid razor-sharp fangs and claws.

A soft sniff caught his ear, and he sensed her emotional turmoil. “We should discuss what’s happened, Delilah.”

She muttered a response that made no sense to his ears. Either her slang went beyond his translation skills or she was still in shock.

He studied her with a perplexed frown. He did not expect her to reject him so completely. She had been very agreeable at first meeting, but that connection crumbled the moment he started the bonding.

Her disappointment was understandable, but she needed to hear him out. Had he not done what he’d done, he would have died. Others could have died. And she would have gone on living a life that was not her destiny.

“I know you feel betrayed, but I would never intentionally harm you.”

His words fell into the deafening quiet with hardly a ripple of response. She’d been lying in silence for so long he was coming to miss her fury.

From what he understood, feeding after transitioning was a natural occurrence. Mates naturally took to the vein directly after waking from transition. Why would the natural act of taking his blood overwhelm her to this degree?

“Do you find me so repulsive you cannot look at me?”

He touched the back of his fingers to her bare, tattooed shoulder and she jerked away. He shoved down his anger, reminding himself that she was also angry, rightfully so. In time she would understand that his actions were the only course. God had decided their fate long ago.

“This despair will pass, little one. There should be no hostility between called mates. I understand you’re upset about your current circumstances, but it’s best that we focus on the future. The past cannot be undone.”

Her fingers tightened on the pillow pulled over her head until her fists cracked. “You don’t know shit about how I feel.”

He sighed. At least she was speaking.

Drawing the curtains to block out the afternoon sun, he removed his shirt. This was not the homecoming he anticipated. Exhausted after weeks of hunting her, he needed rest.

When he eased onto the bed beside her, she stiffened. “You’ll learn to accept my presence over time.”

Pretending space could exist between them was a waste of energy. Mates needed each other, not just to feed, but to thrive. He pulled her stiff body to his and rested his head on the pillows.

Several minutes later, his mind started to drift, as did his sneaky mate. First, she slipped her toes out from beneath the covers, angling only her lower leg toward the floor. Christian kept his body relaxed and eyes closed, curious to see how far she would go.

---