Call Her Mine

  She held up her hand, opened her mouth, closed it, turned on her heel, and walked away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To flash my knickers on the front porch!” she snapped. But she didn’t go to the front porch. She went to the den and scowled out the window. This was some sort of new twist on hell. She heard him approach.

  Say one more word, I dare you…

  “There are varying shades of dominance in all marriages, Deli—”

  She shrieked. “Do you hear yourself? I am not your wife!”

  “You are my mate.”

  Her face planted in her palms as she screamed. “Christian,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Please, listen. I will never be the subservient wife you’re looking for. Accept that and let me go. Please!”

  “I will not let you go.”

  Was this what an embolism felt like? Her head was literally pulsing. A few more hours or days and she’d be gone. It couldn’t be that hard. The fucker didn’t even have a car.

  Stuffing down her rage, she pretended to be interested in negotiations. It was in her best interests to make him believe he was making progress. That way when she left he’d be totally unprepared to stop her.

  “Then bend—at least a little—in these ridiculous expectations you have. I met the other girls. I didn’t see any of them cowering to their spouses. Annalise had her hair down! Cain nearly groped Destiny in front of everyone. The bishop’s wife was out and about. Why is it, for all your talk about the ways of the Amish world, you’re the only one who seems to believe these outdated ways of life?”

  “The way others handle their marriages is none of our concern.”

  “Well, it concerns me, since I’m the one being sentenced to Donna Reed’s special corner of hell. When you show me where the flour is be sure to point out the arsenic, because a heaping scoop’s going in the first batch of muffins!”

  He stilled, his head drawing back. “Are you threatening to poison your mate?”

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! She took several deep breaths. She could figure this out. Nothing was this difficult. Plopping down on the firm sofa she rubbed her temples.

  “Okay, let’s try this again. How about we negotiate? You put a suggestion on the table of how you would like our partnership to work”—she could not call him her mate— “and I’ll also make a suggestion. For every condition I agree to, you agree to one of mine.”

  “All right.”

  She looked up at him. He actually seemed to be in genuine agreement with her for once. He lowered himself on the high back chair across from her. Delilah took a deep breath and sat up.

  “Okay, what is the first condition? Think carefully, Christian, because I’m not agreeing to wash your feet or rip off the heads of chickens, no matter what you give me in return.”

  He thought for a moment and she prepared herself for whatever ridiculous thing he was sure to ask. Fucking weirdo farm vampyres—

  “Sex.”

  All thoughts came to a screeching halt. “Beg pardon?” she said, nearly falling out of her chair.

  “You are my mate and I find it difficult not to take from you in a…marital sense. I would like to have husbandly rights to your body.”

  Funny, of all the expectations she assumed he’d ask for, that one never crossed her mind. Oh, yuck! Her body was already tightening at the possibility. Did she have no shame? No! She mentally growled the word in the direction of her thighs now pressing together with excitement.

  However…sex was a big request. That bargaining chip could maybe get her something huge in return. Annnnnd… men got stupid after sex. She could seduce him, get him to let down his guard, really put her feminine wiles to work. It wasn’t like he was ugly. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already done the deed.

  Brows raised, lips tight, she nodded. Sex. Sex with Christian. The idea wasn’t appalling. She liked sex. They had good sex. He couldn’t change her again… “How often?”

  “As often as I wish.”

  Something in his eyes had her shifting her weight and looking away. Damn chafing Amish clothes. Play it cool. “Biting?”

  The side of his mouth kicked up. “Only if you ask me to.”

  She snorted. “I’m pretty sure I can contain myself.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Should she say no? Should she think about it? It was a hell of a lot better than plucking chickens and milking cows. “Yyyyessss,” she said in a slow, distrusting voice.

  He smiled. “Good, pintura. Your turn.”

  “I want to be able to leave the house when I wish.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no? You didn’t even think about it. And I just gave you sex!”

  “You haven’t given me a thing yet. You are a mated female and not entirely familiar with our laws or people. For the time being you will require an escort, namely me.”

  “Okay, fine. You’re my escort, but I want to be able to make friends with the other girls. I liked hanging out with them today. If you say no I take the sex back and you can go fuck yourself.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Watch yourself, Delilah.”

  “Oh, I’m so scared. Which is it?”

  Drawing in a long breath and looking away, he mumbled, “I do not see an issue with their influence. Agreed.”

  The way he said that it didn’t seem like she’d won much in that trade-off. “Okay, your turn.”

  “You will refrain from calling me asshole, prick, douche, tool bag, sheep fucker, and any of the other colorful terms you seem to favor when referring to me. That goes for in your head or aloud. No telling me to go fuck myself either. I am your mate. You may address me as such or use my given name.”

  Well, that wasn’t much fun. But he was being pretty reasonable at the moment. “Fine.”

  He nodded. Her turn again. She thought about what was important to her. “I want to visit my shop. I have things I need to handle.”

  “No.”

  “Jeeze, do you know another word? Why not?”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are different now. Your body has needs you are not yet familiar with or capable of tending to without compulsion. If you stray too far from the farm, your body may betray you and you risk exposure. It’s my duty to protect you and I see such a journey as too much of a risk.”

  “Then go with me.”

  He seemed surprised she’d invite him. “I will consider it in two weeks’ time, depending on how you adapt. If I feel you are not yet ready, then the answer remains no.”

  Not like he’ll have much choice. Eventually I’ll just go without him.

  “You will not leave this farm without my permission.”

  “I want you out of my head!”

  “Is that a condition?” he asked calmly.

  “Yes,” she growled.

  “No. I do not trust you. Until you show me you can be trusted, you can expect me in your thoughts.”

  She threw her hands up in exasperation. “So far I’ve agreed to everything you’ve asked and you’ve said no to almost all of mine. This game sucks.”

  “Ask for something realistic, Delilah, and I will be more than happy to grant you it.”

  She didn’t even know what to ask. No matter what, he was winning. Any freedom she thought she was earning here was just an illusion of perception. She wanted something that would make him feel the pinch of loss.

  “You are not to feed me without consent.”

  “Will you feed on your own?” he asked.

  “I’ll eat.”

  “Feeding is not the same as eating. Blood serves a different purpose than food.”

  “Has a vampyre ever starved from not drinking blood?”

  “It would become very painful to go without blood.”

  “Well, then let me be the judge of how long I can go. I don’t want you doing that bedazzle thing again where you make me agree to drink your blood. I find it repulsive.??
?

  A cool ache settled in her veins the moment the words left her lips. He withdrew subtly and she wondered if what she said had been more insulting than she’d meant.

  “Okay,” he rasped. “I will never force my repulsive blood on you again. But when you do finally decide to feed, you will do so from my vein or the vein of one of the animals while in my presence. Your lips do not touch another living thing.”

  “Not a problem.”

  The mood had shifted. Christian’s expression was cool, but somehow guarded. “I believe we have discussed enough for now.” He stood.

  “What about all the cleaning and crap?”

  He turned to face the door. Not offering the eye contact she had come to expect from him, he said, “I have been taking care of my needs for three hundred years, Delilah. I expect to be able to make it another few days without your assistance.” Then he walked away and she heard the front door slam.

  * * * *

  Delilah sat at the plain wooden table in the dimming light and plucked at the crust of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She didn’t have an appetite. It had been hours since Christian left. Several times it occurred to her that she could just leave—got as far as the woods once—but something held her there. She refused to admit she might feel guilty about maybe hurting his feelings, so she convinced herself she was under some sort of spell.

  How was she supposed to know that calling a vampyres blood repulsive was some kind of supernatural faux-pas? It wasn’t like this was old hat to her. She was brand new. It would’ve been nice if she had a freaking mate who understood that.

  The sun faded from the sky and she stood, dropping her sandwich in the trash, and placing her dish in the sink. She was getting stir crazy from sitting in the house. Her eyes easily guided her up the dark staircase. Standing outside the washroom, she decided she’d take a bath. Thirty minutes later she was lowering herself into a steaming tub of water. She may have been a little overzealous about heating the water, but buckets and burners were another new thing.

  Her body adjusted to the heat and she settled in, taking time she had in spades to wash every nook and cranny of her body. Just as she was about to wash her hair, she heard the front door open. It only took a few minutes for him to find her.

  Christian filled the doorway of the washroom watching her. She rolled her eyes, hating herself for hating the fact that she hurt his feelings. Attempting to lighten the mood, she said, “What’s up, Count Chocula?”

  He hesitated a moment, shaking his head, before stepping into the room. “I do not understand your jests, but I know they are at my expense.”

  Relieving her of the bottle of shampoo, he gently poured some into his palms and worked up a lather, which he massaged into her hair. She remained tense only for a few seconds, and then gave into the gentle touch of his hands rubbing over her scalp. He said nothing, just worked the suds into her hair and repeatedly poured pitcher after pitcher of warm water over the strands rinsing them clean.

  It seemed they’d reached a momentary truce. She wanted to ask where he had gone, but decided it best to let the events of the day stay in the past. She wasn’t used to this constant tension and the tiny reprieve from their constant bickering was nice.

  Once the soap was completely gone from her hair, he rose and held out a towel. She was done anyway, so she lifted her body from the tub. Water sloshed off of her curves and he wrapped the soft cloth around her. Stepping out of the basin and away from him, she waited for him to speak, but he said nothing, only turned and left the room.

  She found her way to the bedroom where Christian had lit a lantern and turned down the bed. He waited, seated quietly in the chair along the wall. She shut the door.

  The silence was deafening. He’d removed his shirt and sat in nothing but a pair of black pants. His expression was blank and his eyes followed her every move. Delilah’s heart began to beat erratically as something light and fluttery tickled her insides. Was he just going to sit there?

  Sticking to the perimeter of the room, she went to the dresser and pulled out a chemise. She awkwardly slid it over her head and then removed her towel, so not to expose herself. Sure, he just saw her in the tub, but this was his bedroom and she stupidly agreed to do things with him that she was now second-guessing. She quickly brushed the knots from her hair and climbed into bed, wishing he would say something.

  She blinked and the lantern was extinguished, bathing the room in inky shadows. The bed dipped and the heat of Christian’s body warmed her backside. Utter silence surrounded them for several long minutes. Her heart continued to race, warning her not to fall asleep just yet.

  The quiet became intoxicating, a heavy blanket extinguishing her thoughts of the day and easing her mind into a peaceful place. Her eyelids grew heavy and her blinking became less like blinking and more like occasionally peeking out at the darkness. Then she felt him.

  The weight of his palm pressed into the curve of her hip as his body drew close behind hers. Without uttering a word, his fingers slowly inched up her chemise. Her gut reaction was to tell him to get off, but this was part of their deal. Husbandly rights. Why the hell had she agreed to that?

  Without disturbing the covers, he exposed her thighs, yet left them covered by the blankets. His fingers trailed over her hip and down to her knees. This went on so long her mind grudgingly grew accustomed to his touch.

  His fingers pressed between her thighs and lifted them apart, yet he did nothing more than touch her legs. She remained silent, as did he.

  This was nothing like the first time they had been together and she wondered if that was because now things were different. Maybe he was just touching her and that was all. His palm nudged her backside until her body turned and her hips pressed into the mattress, bringing her flat on her belly. The mattress dipped and then he was fitting his knees between hers.

  She frowned. Although he continued to run his hands over her, there was something so detached about his actions. He wasn’t talking to her or even breathing heavy. He was simply exploring her body and directing her motions. There was none of the intense need to have him like she’d felt in the past, yet he’d somehow managed to arouse her enough with soft caresses that she felt moisture at her folds.

  Her belly pressed into the bedding as her thighs were drawn apart and then his flesh nudged her, probing between her legs. A sort of sadness filled her that he could do this without the emotional connection. It wasn’t like they’d been lovers before, but at least there was that moment of agreed upon consent that left them both begging for it. This was different, almost clinical. It made her feel cheap and ordinary even in comparison to what she had thought was just a one night stand before.

  His palm coasted down her spine and lifted her hips. Barely given a moment to find her bearings, he slowly pushed into her. She silenced the moan that usually came with the first thrust. He was being tender and gentle, but his silence made her feel dirty. She hated it and didn’t want to become filthier by crying out as he fucked her.

  His thrusts were measured and unhurried. He pushed deep into her channel and pressure slowly built. Never in her life had she dreaded climaxing. If she came it would be mortifying. She was ashamed to admit that being fucked like a vessel that was nothing more than a hole to fill could still bring her release.

  Her throat constricted as he continued to fuck her and her eyes blinked back tears. She was so grateful for the cloaking blackness of the room. Never in her life had she wanted to hide from herself as badly as she did in that moment.

  * * * *

  Christian fought back the need to tell her how beautiful she was to him, how unbelievably soft, and sweet she could be when she submitted. She did not agree to platitudes of love or even romantic sentiments and he did not want his kindness again thrown back in his face.

  He hadn’t intended to touch her. In fact, he had sworn he wouldn’t. He’d watched the house for hours until he assumed she’d gone to sleep only to find her naked and bathing
in his tub.

  It only seemed natural to help her with her dark chestnut hair. He had ached to touch it since the first night they’d met, remembering its softness in his hands and wanting to feel its silken weight once more.

  He always envisioned himself doing such gentle things for his mate. He wanted to bathe her, take care of her, love her, yet Delilah seemed to need none of those things from him. Finding his mate had turned out to be one of the loneliest ordeals of his long life.

  His chest ached as he pressed into her. If only he could make her see what they could share together as one. Her body was reacting to him, but he was more interested in her mind. He wanted her to accept him as her other half. He wanted her to see that he could bring her contentment she’d never dreamed of having.

  There was no doubt in his mind that this was where she belonged. God had determined it so. So why was he coming up short at every turn?

  He said he wouldn’t stay out of her thoughts, but at the moment he lacked the courage to know what she was thinking. Her words cut and her mind was twice as sharp as her tongue. He simply couldn’t bare another insulting truth from the female who was supposed to bleed with him, not cut him down at every chance.

  Her shoulders quaked and he stilled. Her back moved with each silent breath she drew. Her channel tightened, growing closer to climax. There was no way she was not drawing pleasure from his touch.

  Christian drew his fingers down the curve of her back. “Delilah,” he whispered.

  “Don’t,” she gasped into the pillow. There was no mistaking the sound of tears in her voice.

  He didn’t know what to do. He should’ve never touched her. He was a fool to think that this could somehow bring them closer. The intimacy they shared seemed the only part of them not broken. “Delilah, I—”

  Her whimpered cry was so fragile, so unlike the strength he had begun to expect and even admire from her, he was nearly knocked out by the sad, broken sound.