Page 31 of Immortal Bastard

Shock took over and she shivered, her panic drifting to the back corner of her mind as a sort of numbness took hold. He carried her back to the bed and laid her down. She blinked at the plain walls and ceiling, salvaging whatever was left of her sanity. Her brain moved under a fog of subconsciousness.

He wiped her mouth with a damp cloth. She watched him as if in a trance and said nothing.

When her face was clean, he tucked her under the covers. “You must rest, little one. Sleep will do you well.”

She was going to die here. Inexplicable confusion convinced her that some memories had been moved or implanted because her actions were not her own, and the timeline she had to work with didn’t make sense. Was she some sort of government experiment, in some strange incubation period where they stripped away her past habits and conditioned her for a new life?

She tried to scream, but there was a disconnect between her brain and vocal cords. She couldn’t push through the weighted calm, even when her brain knew she should be panicking. She never felt so out of control of her own autonomy, so frightened, so certain she was not herself, but trapped in her body—or a body that felt almost like her own.

His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he looked down at her, concern weighing heavily in his eyes. “Rest, little one.”

Giving in to his command, her mind shut down. She surrendered to the oblivion of sleep with the lingering hope that this was all a terrible dream and when she awoke, the nightmare would be over.

CHAPTER 4

Consumed by concern, Christian paced, worried for his mate’s well-being. The female was nothing like he expected. Since the start of his symptoms, he accepted his inevitable fate and set out to conquer the challenges ahead with absolute determination. But claiming his mate had been an absolute disaster.

He didn’t regret keeping his calling to himself. He was an elder. He knew how such things worked. The outcome was inescapable and the risks were great, so he moved with haste and did what was necessary.

“You mustn’t fight God’s will, little one,” he’d whispered softly, wiping away the last of his blood from her lips as she stared up at him, her mind in some sort of shock that kept even her most unguarded thoughts quiet and at bay.

Whenever he sensed her conscience waking, she would mentally push her attention to objects in the room, mentally listing each one. Chair. Pitcher. Curtain. Hat. He suspected it was some sort of coping mechanism.

She was terrified, of him, but also of things he’d yet to discover in her memories. Someone had hurt her and he wanted to know who.

He winced, considering his actions. He’d hurt her. Having never shared any sort of emotional attachment to another, he wasn’t expecting this deep-rooted self-doubt or irrational need to please her. No. He would not go down that road of regrets and possibilities. He’d made his decision and the messy deed was done. It was for her own good, end of story. If he’d waited and tried to reason with her, they might have run out of time and run into real problems.

Her even heartbeat assured she was calm. He quietly observed her, finally able to let this new reality settle in.

Her beauty—when she wasn’t screaming like a banshee or swearing like a heathen—was unmatched. Her soft, lily-white flesh against her long, dark lashes gave her the look of an antique doll. The marks on her body were unexpected, as he hadn’t noticed such markings in his dreams, but he was coming to like them.

She had a vibrancy about her that was all her own. It was sinful to enjoy such showiness, but in private, between only the two of them, there could be no sin.

The trauma of her transition would pass, and soon she would see the gift they’d been given. Never one to hem and haw with nonsense, he could not regret attaining her so quickly. She was his mate and that was the end of it. She would come to love him in time.

It had been a long three weeks and he was glad to see the hunt come to an end. After suffering the first dream and recovering from such a dizzying experience, he found his equilibrium and prepared for a long and draining chase. He would not rest until he found her, and he hadn’t rested. Not once.

His mind had been focused and his intent unbending. When he finally laid eyes on her, he was consumed. The undeniable rightness of her existence fit into him like a missing piece. Feeding from her, mating, completing the bond, it had been an unmatched experience he only wished she could have appreciated as much as he.

The dreams were vivid but disorienting. Often, he would indulge in copious amounts of alcohol and tonics to help him sleep longer. She came to him like a jigsaw, piece by piece, until he was able to form a true picture of her in his mind.

Three weeks later, and here they were.

Her lashes finally lowered and her breathing tapered off to a slow ebb and flow. Occasionally, her brow pinched and she’d whimper. He tried to soothe her with his touch, but even in slumber, she recoiled from his affection.

A restless moan escaped, drawing his concern. He’d never been so in tune with another creature, or so consumed by the aching need to see to her comfort. It was a bit of an inconvenience he hoped to adapt to over time, but something told him his feelings for her would only grow. How would he ever bear such unrelenting worry, especially when she refused to accept his guidance?

She trembled viciously. Humans were delicate and prone to shock. She was no longer human, but some habits might take time to overcome. The transition could be a lot for a female to process if not properly prepared. Perhaps he could have done more to ready her.

No. Had he warned her in any way, he would have invited complications. They couldn’t afford delays. Mating was a life-or-death situation and, as an elder, he’d witnessed too many catastrophes come from equivocating the inevitable. It was best to see the deed through with haste and move forward once the danger was over at a calmer pace.

He knew that, so why did he feel so guilty?

Again she shivered. The soft, mews of distress coming from her alarmed him. He didn’t understand why her nervous system would respond so temperamentally hours after the transition.

He supposed a good deal of her response was mental. Was she dreaming? He’d thought the dreams would end after the bond, but perhaps they continued for mates. There was no guidebook for this sort of thing. He’d also presumed she’d recognize him at first sight, but she did not.

His fingers brushed over her pulse. Perhaps she feigned sleep. “Do you not recognize me, little one?”

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