Call Her Mine (8 page)

“What’s wrong,
Christian? You seem upset,” she cooed, her voice thick with sarcastic sympathy.
Bet you think yer new mate sure is purdy compared to those barn animals you
been doin on all those lonely nights…

Like a crack of thunder,
a growl snapped from his throat, and he sprang. Delilah raked her claws down
his front as he knocked her to the ground. She snapped her teeth at him like a
rabid dog. The sound of his clothing tearing rent the air. Other than pinning
her to the ground he hadn’t touched her. She wrestled with him, trying to throw
his unyielding weight off.

He caught hold of her
wrists and forced her arms over her head. She thrashed and growled, arching up
to bite him, but he held all the control.

They panted, neither
blinked as they stared hard at each other. Her chemise was twisted around her
hips. A strange scent met her nose. Arousal. Hers. He straddled her and his
cock pressed into her belly. She was not the only one aroused. A deep, purring
growl came from his chest.

Her mouth opened and she
rapidly breathed through her fangs like a cat in heat. It was all very
Sigourney Weaver
I am the gatekeeper are you the key master?

 
Fuck. She didn’t want him to have this effect.
He pressed his hips into her, announcing his desire.
It must have been
all that sheep talk.

He growled and jerked
her knees wide, stretching them around his thighs as the bulge between his hips
was pressing into her sex. There was a soft purring sound coming from her
throat as well.

“You should know better
than to challenge my virility,
pintura.
I believe your nipples are
hard.”

Were Amish people
allowed to say nipples? She liked it, but tried to keep that thought hidden.
Her body shifted, trying to get out from under him, but his grip tightened.

“Get off.”

“Is that what you truly
wish? I can read your body like an open book,
pintura
.”

Her breath caught. He
wouldn’t force her. Yet, part of her wanted him to, because there was something
seriously wrong with someone in her situation desiring her crazy captor.

His hips ground into her
center. She moaned before she could stop herself. “What if I say no?”

“Say it,” he dared.

She didn’t. He shifted
her wrists into one strong palm and reached with his free hand for the neck of
her chemise. The fabric tore as he yanked the collar down. His hot palm cupped
her breast and she arched into his hold. A soft sigh escaped her throat. Her
body was such a traitor!

“Why do you want to
fight me, Delilah?” he whispered as he fondled her, her insides tightening,
heart beating in the bud of her sex. “Things can be so nice between us if you
just…tried to accept your fate.”

He tweaked her nipple
and she moaned. “Never,” she breathed unconvincingly. His mouth lowered and
gently captured one pierced nipple. She moaned. “I hate you.”

He lifted his mouth and
moved to the other nipple. “No, you don’t.” He licked. “Hate is such a strong
word.”

“You changed me without
asking. You took my life from me.” The truth of her words crashed over her,
extinguishing all forms of lust in the face of reality. It hurt to admit that
one foolish night with the sexiest man she’d ever seen had led her to this
point.

It suddenly wasn’t fun
anymore. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his expression solemn. “I
have lived almost three hundred years, Delilah, and thus far, I already count
taking your mortality without waiting for your consent my biggest mistake. I
was wrong. But what else was I supposed to do? I know it was wrong, but my
salvation was at risk. You will save me. I want to do the same for you. I hate
that my actions hurt you, but I cannot regret my course.”

Sadness enveloped her as
she—again—accepted that her situation would not go away tomorrow or the next.
“So, you’re sorry, but you don’t regret doing it. How is that supposed to make
things better?”

He lowered his forehead
to her chest. When he looked at her again, he said, “I don’t know.”

Quietly, he slid off of
her and helped her right her clothes as best she could. They were a mess. They
sat on the floor, neither looking at the other. “I don’t want to be some old
fashioned wife or mate or whatever. I don’t want to be just another girl
dressed in black.”

“This is my home,
Delilah. This is all I know.”

“Why can’t you go
somewhere else?”

“Because it is safer to
stay here. The Amish are not bothered with society’s laws and such. We keep to
ourselves and other than some minor intrusions over the years, the English let
us be. There are others—like you—young girls who have been recently called. I
could introduce you. I know that one male allows his mate music. She has a
device that plays it. And Dane, my half-brother, he is part mortal.”

“The guy from the other
day?”

“Yes.”

“I knew there was
something different about him.”
Even the humans around here are twisted.
Thanks for the help, asshole.

Christian clamped his mouth
closed and she remembered he could hear her thoughts. After several breaths he
said, “You are lucky it was he who found you. I am a possessive male, Delilah.
I would not deal well with other males of The Order seeing you in your
underthings.”

“Then why don’t you let
me borrow a shirt and pants?”

“Because you are
female.”

“See, there you go again
with all that chauvinistic garbage. I have two legs just like you. Why should I
have to wear dresses?”

“You had a dress on when
we met.”

“That was different. That
was sexy.”

He chuckled. “I find it
difficult to believe you wouldn’t look sexy in a proper gown. You are very
beautiful,
pintura.
”

Heat bloomed up her neck
and on her cheeks. “What is
pintura
?”

“It is Portuguese. It
means painting. That is what I thought when I first saw you, that you were as
pretty as a picture, painted like a masterpiece.”

Well didn’t that fill
her with the warm and fuzzies?
She looked down and fidgeted. She really needed
to pick a side of the fence and stay there. All this back and forth, liking and
hating him, was making her as crazy as the rest of them.

Stretching out her leg,
she poked him in the foot with her toe. “Thanks.”

He reached out and ran a
hand over the top of her foot. “You’re welcome.”

Her emotions were all
over the place. She took a deep breath and pulled her foot back. “So, can I do
any tricks like fly or turn into stuff?”

He laughed. “I’m afraid
not. I told you most of that nonsense was legend.”

“Well, what good is
being a vampire then?”

“The proper term is
vampyre,” he said, putting an accent on the R. “There are many advantages to
our race, although I cannot tell you what your gifts will be. We all have
different disciplines.”

“Disciplines?”

“Gifts.”

“Like...?”

“Telepathy, telekinesis,
telepathic touch, scent memory, tracking, fear inducement, projecting
hallucinations, controlling the weather, the ability to drain another’s energy
or provoke paralysis, gravitation, cognitive bonds. They’re the average ones.
Depending on age and genetics they vary.”

“Oh, is that it?” she
asked sarcastically. “What can you do?”

He buttoned up.

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

“It is not wise to share
your abilities.”

“Even with your mate?”

He turned and a cautious
smile took shape on his face. In a hoarse whisper he said, “No, with your mate
you share everything.” They were silent for a pregnant moment, which neither of
them seemed to know what to say. He finally asked, “Are you my mate, Delilah?”

She lifted a shoulder
and shrugged. Looking down, 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 will ever love
you as much as your mate,
pintura.
I would spend
eawichkeit
doing
my best to make sure you had everything you needed.”

“Don’t say things like
that, Christian. You don’t know me enough to love me. We barely know each other
enough to be in
like.
Love is a long, long,
long
way off. I’m
still pissed. I don’t know if I’ll ever 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 he pulled her into his arms. He whispered soft words into her hair
and kissed her gently. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t because she was
some mutated genetic thing that she didn’t understand. She was going to have to
drink blood. Her stomach tightened and she sobbed into his shirt.

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

She sniffled and nodded,
but could think of no reconciliation in their future. He stole from her. He
stole everything. There was no fixing such a 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.
“Christian, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my—”

There was a loud
pounding coming from downstairs.
“Christian! Open this door right now or I’m
coming in however I see fit!”

“—Mother.”

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

The banging continued
and they stood. “Yes. I’m sorry. I need to go let her in before she breaks my
house. There are clean shifts in the drawer.”

She nodded and he
quickly left the room.

* * * *

Christian yanked open
his front door and his mother burst in like a fast moving storm cloud. She
flung off her bonnet and tossed it on the table in the hall.

“Four days! Four days
you’ve had your mate here and you didn’t tell me? I had to find out from
Eleazar! What kind of son doesn’t tell his mother he’s been
Called
?”

“Mother, I—”

“All of you men are the
same, thinking only of yourself. Did it ever occur to you that I might
want
to
meet this woman who will be my daughter? That I may have been waiting for her
for the past three hundred years as well? There are only the two of us and I
find it incredibly selfish that you would hide her away all for yourself!”

“Are you finished?”

“I don’t even know her
name! You never even mentioned you were dreaming! When did you become so
secretive?”

“Mother—”

“I raised you better
than that. We are family and as such—”

“Hi.”

His mother stilled and
turned toward the stairs. Delilah stood at the top wearing a chemise and his
baggy black shirt tied at the waist.

“Hello, dear. I’m
Adriel, Christian’s mother.”

“I’m Delilah.”

His mother softened
measurably. “I am very pleased to meet you, Delilah. Won’t you come down and
sit with us for a spell?”

Delilah offered a gentle
smile, glancing in his direction askance, and his breath caught. Even partial
grins were an improvement, but the fact that she looked to him for guidance…
that was absolute progress. He nodded and she carefully walked down the stairs.
“Sorry about the way I’m dressed—”

“Nonsense, you’re at
home. You should be able to wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

Delilah smiled. It was
perhaps the most beautiful smile in the entire world.

They headed into the den
and sat. Typically it would be Delilah’s job to bring refreshments, but that
would all come in time. Still, he did not offer because he was reluctant to
leave his mother alone with his mate.

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

“Mother—”

She raised an eyebrow.
Right.

He stood. “Delilah,
would you like something to drink?”

“Water please.”

Where did this
well-mannered, soft-spoken church mouse come from? He pressed into her mind and
sensed…insecurity. Leaning down he kissed the top of her head. “I will be right
back.”

She nodded. He left the
den and went to the kitchen. After quickly filling a pitcher of water at the
pump he grabbed two glasses. He listened for a moment.

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

“I haven’t really been
out much,” Delilah answered softly.

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

“Today was the first day
he permitted me to leave.”