Page 56 of Immortal Bastard

“The old guys?” He chuckled, “We old guys possess many honed disciplines, but there are also young immortals who have impressive gifts as well.”

“Like?”

His hand lowered and rested on the floor, his palm turning up and his fingers opening. He waited for her to take the offering. Only when she set her hand in his did he continue. “There’s telekinesis, telepathic touch, scent memory, tracking, fear inducement, projecting hallucinations, the ability to drain another’s energy or provoke paralysis, gravitation, and a few others.”

“Holy shit.”

He glanced at her, and she felt a mental stroke, sort of like a featherlight touch across her mind, and she knew he was reprimanding her for her language.

“Is that how you do that?”

“What we share, that internal communication, is a result of our bond. Disciplines are slightly different.”

“What can you do?”

He buttoned up.

“Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me?”

“I only hesitate out of habit. It’s not wise to share your abilities.”

“Even with your mate?”

His eyes darkened and in a hoarse whisper, he said, “No, with your mate you share everything.”

She waited, but he divulged nothing. “Well?”

“Are you my mate, Delilah?”

She withdrew her hand from his. “You set me up for that.”

“My intent wasn’t malicious. I only want to know how you think of me.”

She lifted a shoulder and shrugged. Breaking the intense eye contact, she plucked at her finger, pulling a piece of skin back until it bled. The flesh sewed back together right before her eyes. Freaky.

“No one could ever love you as much as your mate, pintura.”

“Don’t say things like that. You don’t know me well enough to love me or to even decide if I’m lovable. I’m still pissed at you. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive you for taking away my life. All of my friends…” Her vision blurred. “My apartment…” Her voice broke. “My shop.”

A tear slipped past her lashes, and this time when he pulled her close to comfort her, she allowed it. Despite him being the cause of her heartache, he also seemed the greatest comfort. For reasons she couldn’t comprehend, hugging Christian felt better than hugging anyone else—and that royally pissed her off.

“You’re allowed to be angry with me, little one. I’m angry with myself.”

There was no easy solution, no escaping her new reality. No going back to the way things were.

She was some mutated genetic thing that she didn’t understand. And she was going to have to drink blood. Her stomach lurched and she sobbed into his shoulder, using his shirt as a rag for her snot and tears. He at least owed her that much.

“I’ll make this right, Delilah. Somehow, I will make this bearable for you.”

She sniffled and nodded but could think of no solution after everything he’d explained. He stole from her. He stole everything. Nothing could reverse his crime, especially because while he may regret the consequences, he didn’t regret his actual actions.

He kissed the top of her head. “I think we—” His words cut off abruptly and he tensed.

She looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my—” A thunderous pounding rattled the front door. “—mother.”

She jolted upright. “Your mother’s here?”

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