Page 73 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

They walked toward a more communal part of the farm. “That’s the bishop’s house.” Christian pointed to a large white colonial with a long, stone addition stretching off the side. “He’s the patriarch of The Order, so to speak.”

Her shoulders tensed at the cult-like language.

“We are not a cult. I’ll request some texts to help correct your interpretation of our beliefs.”

“Great. I love forced indoctrination.”

He sent her an unimpressed glare. “You’re free to have your own opinions, Delilah. I only mean to educate you on a culture and history you have no prior knowledge of. Once you grasp the basic tenets of our faith, you’ll see our rules are for our protection. You’ll come to value our seclusion once you fully embrace your immortality. Feeding, for example, is much simpler here than off of the farm.”

Her lips firmed. The ticker tape in her head was quickly running out of paper as she mentally listed causes for concern. Her orientation to Amishhood and the secret world of the supernatural was not an easy pill to swallow, and he could have used a bit more tactfulness. When he shoved it all down her throat in one hard dose, it had the same bitter aftertaste as brainwashing.

“I speak plainly because I do not want lies between us, little one. Would you prefer that I disguise my truth with flowery words bedecked with complicated phrases that require sifting and deciphering?”

“I’d prefer if you stayed the hell out of my head. But yes, a little sensitivity would be nice. I mean, would it kill you to lube the hole.”

“Lube the hole?”

She rolled her eyes. “You have a habit of cramming too much in at once. I get it that this is happening whether I want it to happen or not, but you could be a little more delicate in your delivery. It’s bad enough that I don’t have a choice in the matter, and that I’m wearing this stupid, fucking bonnet.”

“When you underscore your point with profanity you only harden my resistance to compromise.”

“Well, if you want me to choose my words carefully, you could at least be a little considerate of my feelings and soften your words too. Don’t think of it as compromise, think of it as mutual respect.”

“You’re saying we could both benefit from a little temperance?”

“Sure.” If that was the biblical term for it, why not.

He digested her words over the next several steps. “While we are in the open, I only keep a pulse on your thoughts to stay connected. My intention isn’t to be intrusive.”

“Well, it is. I appreciate you sharing your rationale, but I still don’t like having you in there twenty-four-seven. It’s also more hypocrisy, because I can’t tell what you’re thinking, so you clearly have the upper hand.”

There is no upper hand. We are one. Equals. And I believe my endless thoughts of your beauty and my intrigue would grow tiresome—

She gasped. “How did you do that?”

“A little push. Try to follow the thread back on your own now that I’ve opened the door.”

She frowned and concentrated. Data suddenly bombarded her regarding everything from livestock to mileage. Then she recognized his real thoughts beneath that subconscious mumbo jumbo. But his mind didn’t speak in words. She gleaned visions, of herself, of them, of his emotions. It overwhelmed her and she instantly withdrew.

“Oh my Go—sh.”

“You’ll grow used to it.” He glanced at her, a slight smile curving his mouth. “Shall we agree that I’ll work on my communication skills if you promise to work on your language?”

Was that a compromise?

Yes, pintura, it was. His words flitted through her mind like a gentle touch, stealing her breath once more.

“Holy—” Before she could finish the profanity Christian cleared his throat. “—cow.”

He chuckled. “Very good, pintura.”

He caught her hand and stopped walking. Her initial reaction to pull away vanished as he tightened his grip, not because he held her with strength, but because part of her instinctively deferred to his guidance.

“I’m sorry if I’ve not been sensitive to your needs. Don’t mistake my clumsy handling as any sort of detached indifference. You’re always my greatest concern, Delilah.”

“So you’ve said.” His brow tightened, and she realized he was trying to express himself, so she eased off the sarcasm. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“I’m a solution-oriented male, and I’m used to finding resolutions in a concise manner, involving as little emotional trappings as possible. I’m used to only thinking for myself. I’ll try to adjust my way of thinking, taking your way into consideration as well. You can see now how differently our minds work.”

She nodded, not at all eager to revisit the black-and-white landscape of his conscience.

A strange, heart-wrenching sound of distress screeched in the distance and her spine stiffened, all of her attention jerked to the startling noise.

She stopped walking and Christian glanced at her with concern, immediately filtering through her thoughts.