Call Her Mine

  “Oh, I just bet you would,” she grumbled. Dirty Amish pervert.

  Several minutes passed without a peep from either of them. This guy was the vampyre equivalent of her spouse. She sighed.

  “That is the bishop’s house.” Christian pointed. “He is the leader of our order, so to speak.”

  It was all very cult-like. “Uh, as far as any crazy rituals go, just count me out. I’m not into converting to anything or participating in any sacrifices…or being a sacrifice.”

  He frowned. “We do not sacrifice living things. We believe all of God’s creatures are to be valued. I think perhaps your understanding of Amish culture is skewed. I will get you some books to help correct your interpretation of our beliefs.”

  Her lips firmed. The tickertape in her head of ways he was pissing her off was quickly running out of paper. Of course the fault was with her beliefs. And of course he wouldn’t take the time to just have a conversation about his culture. No! He would educate her in the most removed way possible. Talk about a telling trait.

  When she was thirteen she got her period. Her grandmother was out of town and her grandfather was the only adult at the house. She told him and he looked terrified. An hour later he returned with a brown bag and handed it to her. “The directions are on the box,” he’d said. Apparently, enlightening women about the laws of nature was a deficiency in all species among the male gender, because Christian was handling her orientation to Amishhood and the secret world of the supernatural with about as much tact.

  When her grandmother had returned from her trip she’d brought Delilah some tea and a stitched rice pack that could be heated as a heating pad for cramps. They had a long talk about the ‘joys’ of being a woman and laughed long and hard about many male shortcomings. For some reason, picking on men in that moment made it easier to accept the injustices that came with being female. A fucking rib indeed.

  She and her Nanna had a long running joke that went, and on the sixth day he created man…That God…what a kidder. She missed her Nanna.

  “Can you introduce me to some of the women on the farm?”

  Christian looked at her. His eyes showed a bit of sadness and distrust. He caught her hand and stopped walking. Her initial reaction was to pull her hand away, but he only tightened his grip.

  “I am sorry if I seem…detached. It is not my intention, Delilah. I am only trying to help. I am a solution-oriented sort of male and I am used to working problems out in a concise manner, involving as little emotional trappings as possible. I will try to adjust my way of thinking now that I have a female to consider.”

  Wow. She picked up on his intention to make the situation a bit more palatable, but by his last word he made it worse. “I’m not a pet you have, Christian. And don’t do me any favors. You make it sound like your shortcomings are mine. You think, because I’m a female I’m prone to ‘emotional fits’ or however your chauvinistic brain would put it. The problem isn’t with me being a shrinking violet of a female. It’s with you being an arrogant, pigheaded male. I asked you a simple question and you manage to insult me with your longwinded answer. Why don’t you do us both a favor and stop snooping around in my thoughts? Most of them are over your head anyway.”

  She turned and marched off, not intending to wait for his escort. Fuck him and his ignorant opinions of supremacy.

  Delilah stilled as her mind snagged on a strange heart wrenching sound in the distance. What was that noise? It was faint. So faint, she had to strain to hear it and pinpoint the direction it came from. She heard it again and her body automatically pivoted, taking her in that direction. She was suddenly running.

  “Delilah?”

  She ignored Christian’s call, her only focus the faint cry of distress that pulled her deeper into the wooded area to the north and away from their intended path. He called for her again, but she kept moving. The cries became easier to focus on once she was under the shade of the tall pines.

  Her feet moved swiftly over the layer of fallen pine needles, shots of emerald, evergreen, and piercing shards of sunlit blue blurred at her peripheral. Her heart raced as she zeroed in on the weak cry and nothing else registered as she moved faster than she had ever moved in her life.

  * * * *

  Christian watched as Delilah disappeared into the woods. At first his heart sank, thinking she was running from him once again, but then something in her outpouring worry told him she was not running from something, but to something, something in need.

  He gave chase, careful not to interfere. Holding back a distance, he was quite impressed with her burst of speed. It was as though she did not realize the immortal abilities she was displaying.

  She stilled, head turning left, then right. Christian waited. Her head quirked to the side, eyes closed, ear tilted toward the canopy above, and then she was off again. He followed.

  Delilah crashed down to her knees, careless of the bush creating little cushion for her landing. He gradually approached.

  Her shoulders rounded as she leaned forward to the ground, tiny mumbles of compassionate words slipping past her lips. He frowned, not understanding the sudden change in her. And then he saw it.

  The small, green warbler lay on its side in a bed of needles and carnivorous debris, singing perhaps its last song. Delilah cupped her palms and gently scooped the injured bird up. Its soft wings fluttered weakly and its beady black eyes bulged with panic as she drew it close. The tiny heartbeat raced like a soft bouncing pebble in his ears.

  “It’s okay. I have you,” she whispered, drawing the small burden to her heart and protectively warming it. It must have fallen from the nest.

  The underbrush crunched beneath his boots as he stepped close. Delilah’s lashes rose as she looked up at him from her knees. Her gaze was tear filled and her emotions—grief, sympathy, fear—were screaming at him. The bird was dying.

  “He’s hurt,” she whispered.

  Christian nodded silently, watching her curious outpouring of desire to help the small creature. It was the cycle of life. Some creatures lived, while the weaker usually died. It was inevitable. To be sad for such happenings, was understandable, but not to the degree of sorrow he was interpreting from his mate.

  Wanting to offer some degree of comfort, he softly said, “Perhaps it was God’s plan, Delilah. We all must die sooner or later.”

  She shot him a scathing glance as if his words were insensitive in the bird’s presence. It chirped and she petted its tiny gray head with her thumb. Glancing back at the fledgling, she whispered, “You’re not going to die.”

  His mate was a compassionate female indeed. Jealousy shot through him, as she gently caressed the animal with such affection. She did not touch him that way.

  Its feathered belly worked as it quickly breathed, panicked in those last moments of life. A tear rolled down Delilah’s ivory cheek. It was a losing battle and he hated that he could not save her from the sad fact of life. But perhaps she needed to see the unfortunate truth, perhaps it was God’s plan to give her some small lesson. He waited.

  Frantically, the tiny bird’s lungs worked. Its beak opened, cries growing silent, and then it stilled. A broken sob ripped from Delilah’s throat as she cradled it to her breast. Her shoulders hunched and she wept.

  Christian could not bear the sight of her mourning the small creature. Her emotions were tangible and so incredibly sad. He lowered himself to the ground and gently pulled her to him. She only resisted a moment and then allowed him to comfort her. He recognized that he needed to comfort her in that moment perhaps more than she needed the comfort.

  “It is all right, pintura. We all have our time. It is life.”

  “He was only a baby,” she cried, pressing her face into his neck.

  Christian ran his hand gently over her hair and soothed. She never released the creature and he wondered if they would have to perform a burial for the tiny bird. He sighed, thinking farm living could become an endless trial of emotion and loss for his mate if this
was how she dealt with the laws of mortality.

  She grew quiet and rested her face on his shoulder for a while. A small hiccup of sound escaped her throat. She pulled away, almost urgently, and he released her. Sitting back on her heels, she gently uncapped her hands. The warbler lay still in the tender bed of her palm, lifeless, and growing cold.

  Delilah gasped and he frowned. Eyes wide, she stared at the dead bird.

  “Delilah, we can—”

  “Shhh… Do you hear it?”

  She gasped again then shut her eyes and drew in a long, fortifying breath. Her fingers coasted over the fledgling’s breast and unexpectedly a wing twitched. Christian stilled. It was dead. He had sensed its last breath.

  The rapid tapping of its little heart abruptly beat to life and the smile on his mate’s face was perhaps the most breathtaking sight he’d ever witnessed in his entire life. What was happening?

  Small beady eyes came to life. Her fingers coasted over the broken wing and the bird righted itself in her palm. This went against all laws of nature. He looked at her fingertips. Had she somehow given the bird life with her blood? Was that even possible?

  She laughed and kissed the smooth gray head of the warbler then raised her arms high and the bird miraculously flew from her grip, swooping low under the trees then shifting, building up speed and zeal as it disappeared into the forest.

  They watched it go, a watery smile on her face and a look of shock on his. Her joy at resurrecting the broken animal was palpable and potent. He simply stared at her, amazed.

  When the bird was gone she faced him. “That was awesome.”

  He said nothing.

  “Finally, a vampyre trick worth something.”

  Christian shook his head. “Delilah, I am not quite sure what you just did, but that is not a mannerism I have seen before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Death is part of life. We cannot interrupt it. I do not know how you resurrected that warbler, but…”

  “I couldn’t let it die. It was just a baby.”

  “But how did you bring it back to life?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was a vampyre thing. I have to admit, I’m sort of unimpressed with your species so far.”

  He grunted in surprise. “Unimpressed?”

  “Well, yeah. You can’t fly. You can’t turn into a bat—”

  “Why would one want to turn into a bat?”

  “Well, maybe not a bat, but a wolf would be cool, or a bear, or—oh! A dinosaur! That would be badass.”

  He blanked his expression and worried over his mate’s mental stability. He would ask Eleazar about the healing and see if the bishop had ever seen an immortal possess such a discipline. Until then, he would say nothing about her other issues.

  “What do you say we continue on our way?”

  She nodded, all the emotion of the past few minutes had evaporated. She jumped to her feet and turned. “Okie dokie.”

  He frowned and followed her out of the woods. She was indeed a strange female.

  * * * *

  Delilah was dragging. Her steps were sluggish and all she wanted to do was take a nap. The appeal of meeting others was no longer that overwhelming. They approached a cluster of homes and Christian opened a gate to a yard surrounding a colonial with a wraparound porch. A baby dressed in a blue smock sat on the planked floor drooling over a rattle.

  “Brother Christian, to what do we owe this surprise?” Who’s this broad?

  Delilah frowned at the petite Amish beauty as she leaned a broom against the door and approached.

  “Sister Abilene, I have come to introduce my mate, Delilah, to your family. I understand you and your daughters have been working on her clothing.”

  The woman smiled. “Indeed. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sister Delilah. How are you enjoying our farm thus far?”

  What was with all the Sister and thus talk? “Hi.”

  The woman softly smiled. “Jonas and the boys are in the barn if you would like to catch up with them, Brother Christian. The girls are in the house. Why don’t I take Delilah in to meet them? Little Jonas is due for a nap soon anyway. I was just about to retire.”

  Christian looked at her. “Very well. Thank you, Abilene.” He took Delilah’s hand. “I will not be far.”

  Whatever. She smiled tightly. A wave of dizziness grabbed hold of her as he let go. He seemed to detect her sudden loss of balance and frowned. “Are you ill?”

  She cleared her throat. “No, I think the sun’s getting to me. I just need to sit.”

  “Very well. I shall be back shortly.”

  With a hesitant look, he left and she felt a ping of irritation that he did not attempt to kiss her goodbye and that only irritated her more. Not that she wanted him to. She didn’t! He was a jerk. But it just would have been nice for him to show some sort of interest in front of the other woman. She was the newbie and didn’t want the others thinking she was such a shrew even her mate—or whatever—didn’t like her. Not that she gave a furry rats ass if he like her or not, but keeping up an image maybe was something they should do until she figured out a way to bail out of this freak show.

  “Would you like to meet my daughters?”

  Delilah nodded. She wasn’t a kid person, but sure, she could meet the girl’s daughters.

  They entered the house and she was surprised to see a table full of women—all stunning—smiling and sewing. “These are my daughters,” Abilene said proudly.

  Delilah frowned. Right, immortal. They don’t age. Abilene could be a million years old for all she knew.

  The women at the table stilled and turned. There were four females. A tall brunette with her hair pulled into a lace bonnet. She had bright silver eyes and probably the prettiest face she had ever seen. There was a shorter girl who looked very much like Abilene, but with blue eyes. A girl with bright copper hair shot with gold sat beside her. She didn’t wear a bonnet. Then there was a dark skinned beauty with big brown eyes and full lips. There was no way these girls were all blood.

  “This is my eldest, Larissa, the bishop’s mate. This is little Gracie. Annalise,” she said, gesturing to the redhead, “Is my son Adam’s mate. And Destiny is married to Adam’s twin, Cain.”

  “Hello,” they all said at once.

  “Hi.” Delilah needed to sit down before she collapsed.

  The smaller girl, Gracie, stood and directed Delilah to a chair. “Please, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Why was she so exhausted? “Uh, thanks, that’d be great.”

  All of the women were sewing. She looked at what they were working on and suspected it was clothing for her.

  “Thank you for the gifts this morning,” she said quietly.

  Larissa beamed. “It is our pleasure. Gracie will measure you and we will take in these other items. Soon you will have a stack of gowns to choose from.”

  They were all dressed the same. Delilah hated the idea of uniforms. Uniformity never sat right with her. She was more into anarchy and causing waves.

  “It’s a lovely day. Why don’t we take this out front and enjoy the breeze?” Gracie suggested, carrying a pitcher of what looked like lemonade.

  The girls agreed and gathered their belongings into baskets. Abilene carried the baby into the other room and Delilah followed the four daughters onto the porch.

  “So, how are you coping with the Amish thing so far?” Annalise asked.

  Gracie handed her a glass of lemonade as she sat on a rocker. She sipped—holy crap that was good. “Um, I guess it’s a little weird. Sorry. Is that rude of me?”

  The girls laughed. “Not at all,” Annalise said. “It’s totally weird. I’m still not used to it and I’ve been here for years now.”

  Delilah examined the redhead. “You weren’t born…”

  “A vampyre? No. I was a waitress at a bar when I met Adam. Sometimes I can’t get over how much my life’s changed, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my mate
and we have two beautiful children, Cain Junior and Lucy. Cain’s named after my brother –in-law and Lucy as in Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

  “Nice.” Delilah loved the Beatles.

  “I’m new too,” Destiny said. “You get used to it, although sometimes I miss television and the Internet. Most times—all the time. It’s really hard. I have no idea what’s happening on my shows.”

  “Calm down, Destiny. Breathe,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes.

  Destiny took a deep, calming breath. “You just have to negotiate with your mate for the things you think are important. They usually bend after a while.”

  These girls obviously didn’t know Christian. “Uh, yeah, Christian isn’t really the bending type.”

  “Just wait. You’ll find a way to get the upper hand and soon he’ll be eating out of it. Just give it time.”

  Delilah doubted that. She and Christian barely got along. When they did talk to each other it was usually with snide comments or him bossing her around like a dictator. That shit wasn’t going to fly. Ever.

  “Has Adriel been around to visit again?” Larissa asked.

  “Christian’s mom? No. I don’t think she’ll be back any time soon. He was a complete asshole to her.” Four sets of eyes silently stared at her. “What?”

  Gracie lowered her head and giggled.

  Larissa looked scandalized.

  Destiny and Annalise appeared amused.

  “Delilah, dear, it is not proper to call your mate such things,” Larissa offered gently.

  “But what if it’s true? Christian is an asshole and a lot of other things for that matter.”

  Grace schooled her expression and cleared her throat. Destiny smiled broadly. “Oh, I like you, Delilah.”

  The gate opened and they all looked toward the entrance. Two men stepped into the yard. Delilah recognized one as Dane. Between them walked a dark haired young girl with piercing blue eyes.

  “Momma!” the little girl called as she trotted up the path to Larissa.