Page 115 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

Her stubbornness was so infuriating he had to turn off his empathy on occasion. He wasn’t used to such willful opposition.

She crushed him when she so blithely admitted she would have never agreed to willingly go with him. He should have appreciated her honesty because that’s all that was, but he didn’t want to hear such a painful truth. He wanted her to change her mind and accept that this was where she belonged.

He’d been willing to give her everything he had to offer and she still rejected him. He was beginning to wonder if her acceptance would ever come. How many dinners would he have to sit through only to have her reject him again and again?

It had been some time since they lay together, several hours since his body experienced the explosive euphoria that accompanied their intimacy, and his logic no longer struck him as sound.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

She shifted the dish of whipped sweet cream she carried. “Because we’re having date night.”

“Date night,” he grumbled under his breath. “A courtship is between two individuals. There should be no need to involve others.”

“It’s normal, Christian. I need normal.”

“We’re standing at a door holding berries and whipped cream. Nothing about this feels normal to me.”

She growled then leaned forward and knocked. “We’re making friends.”

“I don’t see how this will strengthen our bond—”

The door opened. “You made it!” Sister Destiny squealed and pulled Delilah into a hug. “What’s this?”

“Just something for dessert. Nothing fancy.”

“It looks delicious. Come in, come in!”

Delilah was dragged into the house, and he was left standing in the moonlit shadows of the porch holding a bowl full of fruit. More shrill squeals peeled from inside. Nothing about this decision felt normal. But he liked when Delilah referred to them as a couple. That was progress.

The dwelling had a smell—not an unpleasant odor, but a scent he didn’t recognize. Cinnamon, coriander, nutmeg, and the scent of young, territorial immortal males teased his nose the moment he crossed the threshold.

It was common for newly mated males to mark their mates with their scent. The females of the house all reeked like their partners. He supposed his scent clung to Delilah strongest of all, a thought that thrilled him and had his gaze seeking his mate and his body hardening. One glance in her direction and he wanted her every which way he could have her.

“Christian, welcome to our home.” Cain approached, far too at ease in his composure for Christian’s liking. Even if they were in the male’s private home, one should address guests with more composure and formalities. “What do you have here?” He lifted the glass lid from the dish. “Strawberries. Perfect. You can set them on the side table.”

He walked away before telling Christian which side table. Christian scanned the room, finding their furniture overly crowded with useless items. He didn’t see the sense in so much clutter, nor did he see a space for the strawberries.

“Christian.” Delilah reappeared while voices chattered from the other room.

She was a vision. Rushing to his side like the ocean dutifully returns to the shore. His tension lowered with each step. His beautiful mate was an oasis in the heat of a brutal desert.

Lowering her voice, she took the bowl of berries from him and whispered, “You’re just standing there. You promised not to be weird.”

“I’m not—”

“Everyone’s in the dining room.” She set the strawberries on a long sideboard and pulled him toward the chatter.

A female laugh cut through the noise, uncontained and riotous, speaking of subjects that weren’t appropriate for mixed company. Perhaps these females weren’t the best influences for his mate.

The Elder’s Council encouraged refined, docile behavior from the females of The Order. Delilah should be influenced by tradition. While these females might be devoted to their partners, their adherence to Amish life looked blatantly different than his interpretation.

“Good evening, Brother Christian.” Adam Hartzler greeted him the moment Delilah dragged him to the long table.

Christian preferred this male’s calm and conventional attitude over his twin’s unorthodox nonchalance. “Good to see you, Brother Adam.”

He frowned, distracted by the females lazing around the table, cackling and gossiping rather than preparing the meal. Was this not a dinner party?

“They’ve had some wine.”

Christian’s attention jerked back to Adam. “You’ve given them alcohol?”

He lifted his brows and laughed. “More like they took it. Destiny’s brother, Vito, visited this afternoon and dropped some off. It’s harmless. It takes nearly a case for them to feel tipsy.”

Vito Santos was a mortal half-breed who lived off the farm. He was not a part of The Order, and therefore, Christian didn’t trust the outsider. But the bishop had bartered a deal with him.

Vito provided frequent shipments of outside goods to the farm. His immortal bloodlines were weak and diluted by time, so the male was unaware of their species or the fact that he was not a pure-blooded mortal. Secrecy was an unbreakable condition for the man to come and go. It was the only way The Council would grant Destiny such an opportunity to remain connected to her brother. Christian had voted against granting an outsider such access, and still strongly believed the treaty put them in precarious danger.