Page 30 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

Growing up in torment, named the bastard Schrock by his peers due to his father’s absence and his mother’s hard-headed manner, had been a long and torturous experience. He'd combatted others’ cruelty with an air of indifference, but the scars were there.

His position as an elder allowed him a measure of ambivalence that served him well over the centuries. But finding his mate had opened a gate of emotions and a dam had been broken, flooding his heart with not only hope and joy but fears and worry. Having Delilah meant he now had something to lose, and he’d yet to figure out the best way to manage such vulnerability.

The sooner she conformed to their simple lifestyle, the sooner his concerns would be laid to rest. He believed in traditional Amish values and expected his mate to uphold such time-honored convictions.

She certainly was a brazen female. But with time and discipline, she would learn to control her impulsivity and tongue. Deep down, he believed her a docile kitten, one who hid razor-sharp fangs and claws.

A soft sniff caught his ear, and he sensed her emotional turmoil. “We should discuss what’s happened, Delilah.”

She muttered a response that made no sense to his ears. Either her slang went beyond his translation skills or she was still in shock.

He studied her with a perplexed frown. He did not expect her to reject him so completely. She had been very agreeable at first meeting, but that connection crumbled the moment he started the bonding.

Her disappointment was understandable, but she needed to hear him out. Had he not done what he’d done, he would have died. Others could have died. And she would have gone on living a life that was not her destiny.

“I know you feel betrayed, but I would never intentionally harm you.”

His words fell into the deafening quiet with hardly a ripple of response. She’d been lying in silence for so long he was coming to miss her fury.

From what he understood, feeding after transitioning was a natural occurrence. Mates naturally took to the vein directly after waking from transition. Why would the natural act of taking his blood overwhelm her to this degree?

“Do you find me so repulsive you cannot look at me?”

He touched the back of his fingers to her bare, tattooed shoulder and she jerked away. He shoved down his anger, reminding himself that she was also angry, rightfully so. In time she would understand that his actions were the only course. God had decided their fate long ago.

“This despair will pass, little one. There should be no hostility between called mates. I understand you’re upset about your current circumstances, but it’s best that we focus on the future. The past cannot be undone.”

Her fingers tightened on the pillow pulled over her head until her fists cracked. “You don’t know shit about how I feel.”

He sighed. At least she was speaking.

Drawing the curtains to block out the afternoon sun, he removed his shirt. This was not the homecoming he anticipated. Exhausted after weeks of hunting her, he needed rest.

When he eased onto the bed beside her, she stiffened. “You’ll learn to accept my presence over time.”

Pretending space could exist between them was a waste of energy. Mates needed each other, not just to feed, but to thrive. He pulled her stiff body to his and rested his head on the pillows.

Several minutes later, his mind started to drift, as did his sneaky mate. First, she slipped her toes out from beneath the covers, angling only her lower leg toward the floor. Christian kept his body relaxed and eyes closed, curious to see how far she would go.

She carefully lifted his arm off of her torso and curled it around a pillow, as if the synthetic sack of fluff felt remotely similar to her warm body. His mate obviously decided he was a fool with the intellect of a tree stump.

She slithered lower, bending and sliding out from under the covers until she crouched on the floor. Stealthily, she tiptoed toward the door, her hand reaching for the metal handle. He watched her from under his lashes, amused and curious. The latch gave way and the hinge creaked.

Her back pressed to the wall, her breathing silent. Slipping through the narrowest crack, she slunk into the hall. He rolled his eyes.

His ears traced her steps down the staircase and to the front door. He would have no issue tracking her, but it was daylight, so others would likely spot her and that would result in arduous questions and unwanted attention.

After decades of publicly suffering the abandonment of his father, he could not stomach the thought of a mate on the run. The taunts would be too familiar for him to tolerate.

The knob of the front door clicked and her soft footfalls sprinted down the porch. The erratic tremor of her racing heart called to him. It always would now that they were bound. If only the foolish female understood he was the absolute last male she needed to fear, she’d see she had no cause to run.