Page 43 of Immortal Bastard

Her molars locked. “Let. Go.”

“I’ve waited an eternity for you, Delilah. I’ll never let you go. On that, I would stake my life, my existence, and my faith. Do not take my graciousness for granted. I may be Amish, but there are greater powers that control my instincts, forces that you would be wise to respect.”

It was in his eyes, something unnamable and terrifying. Something that told her he could snap her like a twig. Something that promised, when push came to shove, he would always have his way.

Hopeless emotion welled up inside of her with the dizzying effect of a funhouse. There was no way out. The bite of tears had her lashes flickering and her throat constricting. “Christian, please, you have to let me go.”

His jaw twitched and his nostrils flared. “I would give you almost anything. I’d lay my life down for yours. But I can’t give you that.”

A tear tripped down her cheek. “Why?” She’d likely ask that until the day he killed her.

“I cannot kill you, pintura. My nature forbids it.”

Startled that he’d guessed her thoughts, her breath hitched. Or had she been so upset she’d spoken the thought out loud?

“You need to trust me.”

“Trust is earned.”

“Then give me the chance to earn it.”

She hated him.

“You may hate me now, but in time—”

“How are you doing that?” Was she still high? Talking out loud without realizing it? Or was she just that transparent?

“Sometimes we communicate without words.”

This was more than body language. He’d read her specific thoughts more than once. She frowned at him. Can you hear me? Brown. Thirteen. Shovel. Ostrich.

He sighed and loosened his hold on her wrist. “Brown. Thirteen. Shovel. Ostrich.”

She stumbled back. “What the fuck?”

“Language, Delilah.”

“You’re reading my mind. That’s fucking nuts.”

“It’s not as unusual as you might think. You’re broadcasting. It’s common when emotions run high.” He glanced at the bed. “I can tell you how I do it, maybe even teach you to do it as well if you’ll sit and listen to what I have to say.”

She rubbed her arms and paced. “Fine, but you stay over there.” She pointed to the chair.

Once they were both seated, he only stared at her. She had finally agreed to listen, and he had nothing to say.

She held out her arms. “Well?"

“I arrived in America in 1737.”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Her wide eyes blinked at him. Great. More lies.

“I only speak the truth. We arrived on a ship called The Charming Nancy. My name’s on the records if you need proof. I, along with several others in The Order, were passengers.”

Realizing he was serious, she eyed him with caution. This was not a stable man. “That’s impossible.”

“Your society knows only what we allow them to know. Your understanding of mortality is a limiting belief, ignorant of our kind.”

She looked at his young features and strong build. “You traveled through time?”

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