Page 58 of Immortal Bastard

“Christian, I’m thirsty,” his mother said pointedly.

“Mother—”

She raised a sharp red eyebrow, barring any further argument. Right.

He stood. “Delilah, would you like to give me a hand?”

“We’re visiting. I’m sure you can manage on your own.”

His mother could be an unflinching and intimidating female. Concerned for Delilah, he pressed into her mind and sensed insecurity. Leaning down he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

He quickly went to the kitchen and gathered glasses and a pitcher.

“How do you like the farm so far, child?”

“I haven’t really been out much.”

Christian hurried to clean his face with a damp cloth.

“It’s been four days. Surely Christian’s shown you around the land by now.”

“I haven’t been permitted to leave.”

“Permitted?”

Cursing under his breath he quickly lifted the tray and rushed back into the den. His feminist mother looked irate.

“Christian, why has Delilah not been permitted to leave the house?”

Flustered, he filled a glass of water and handed it to his mate. Then shoved another in his mother’s direction, nearly splashing it over the rim. “Your water, Mother.”

“Perhaps if you offered her proper attire, she wouldn’t feel so restricted to the house.”

“We’ve hardly had time—”

“Pish! Don’t feed me that pile of manure. We can build a barn in a day. I’m certain we can clothe one tiny female in less.”

“My concern was completing the bond and getting her here safely.”

“Yes, yes, you males must always claim what’s yours lest someone else come along and steal it.” She shook her head and tsked. “Don’t be like your father.” She lifted the pitcher and filled a glass.

His patience stretched thin, and he lowered his voice, “I’m nothing like him.”

He filled another glass and handed it to Delilah. “You’re thirsty, pintura. Drink.” He gave a slight nudge of compulsion to avoid any argument in front of his mother. His mate still couldn’t perceive such subtle influences and she was near dehydration. The water was necessary.

His mother raised a brow, studying them, as she sipped from a glass. “It seems to me—”

“Remember yourself, Mother. I’m not Eleazar, and this is not Council Hall. This is my home. My family.”

She drew back. “Am I not a part of this family?”

Tension sizzled between them. She knew family law prohibited her from meddling in their affairs, yet she did so anyway, spoiled by Eleazar’s endless indulgence of her progressive views.

“Christian,” Delilah set down her empty glass, interrupting the tense moment. “I think your mother—”

“My mother needs to remember her place and that I am not a boy. I’m the head of this family and an elder of The Order.”

Adriel scoffed. “And what am I, Christian?”

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