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The trauma of her transition would pass, and soon she would see the gift they’d been given. Never one to hem and haw with nonsense, he could not regret attaining her so quickly. She was his mate and that was the end of it. She would come to love him in time.
It had been a long three weeks and he was glad to see the hunt come to an end. After suffering the first dream and recovering from such a dizzying experience, he found his equilibrium and prepared for a long and draining chase. He would not rest until he found her, and he hadn’t rested. Not once.
His mind had been focused and his intent unbending. When he finally laid eyes on her, he was consumed. The undeniable rightness of her existence fit into him like a missing piece. Feeding from her, mating, completing the bond, it had been an unmatched experience he only wished she could have appreciated as much as he.
The dreams were vivid but disorienting. Often, he would indulge in copious amounts of alcohol and tonics to help him sleep longer. She came to him like a jigsaw, piece by piece, until he was able to form a true picture of her in his mind.
Three weeks later, and here they were.
Her lashes finally lowered and her breathing tapered off to a slow ebb and flow. Occasionally, her brow pinched and she’d whimper. He tried to soothe her with his touch, but even in slumber, she recoiled from his affection.
A restless moan escaped, drawing his concern. He’d never been so in tune with another creature, or so consumed by the aching need to see to her comfort. It was a bit of an inconvenience he hoped to adapt to over time, but something told him his feelings for her would only grow. How would he ever bear such unrelenting worry, especially when she refused to accept his guidance?
She trembled viciously. Humans were delicate and prone to shock. She was no longer human, but some habits might take time to overcome. The transition could be a lot for a female to process if not properly prepared. Perhaps he could have done more to ready her.
No. Had he warned her in any way, he would have invited complications. They couldn’t afford delays. Mating was a life-or-death situation and, as an elder, he’d witnessed too many catastrophes come from equivocating the inevitable. It was best to see the deed through with haste and move forward once the danger was over at a calmer pace.
He knew that, so why did he feel so guilty?
Again she shivered. The soft, mews of distress coming from her alarmed him. He didn’t understand why her nervous system would respond so temperamentally hours after the transition.
He supposed a good deal of her response was mental. Was she dreaming? He’d thought the dreams would end after the bond, but perhaps they continued for mates. There was no guidebook for this sort of thing. He’d also presumed she’d recognize him at first sight, but she did not.
His fingers brushed over her pulse. Perhaps she feigned sleep. “Do you not recognize me, little one?”
The pinch of her brow deepened but she didn’t answer. He would give her time.
She was a tempting female, one who awoke his carnal desires like no other, but she was also so much more than that. She was his.
While she slept, he examined the markings on her body. The Amish did not waste time on such distractions, but distracted he was. Every detail, every unique accent, he wanted to touch and study. He desired to learn every inch of her and every thought behind each adorned decoration she’d chosen for her skin.
He grinned, thinking how misleadingly calm she appeared in sleep. When awake, she was a tornado of pride, stirring with explosive emotions too large for such a delicate frame. Courageous and strong yet also fragile and vulnerable.
Already, he was coming to understand her. His feisty mate did not like showing her softer sides, but he sensed her hidden vulnerabilities all the same. As her mate, it was his duty to know all of her weaknesses so that he may serve and protect her. He would be her strength just as she would be his.
Her confidence would develop once she understood the gifts of immortality. These brief moments of uncertainty would grow further and further apart as she realized the gift they’d been given.
Stroking her porcelain cheek, he tried to convey how much he cared for her and how deeply he ached to love and protect her. She, again, recoiled from his touch, her face pinching and her pulse quickening.
“Do not hate me, little—”
“Fuck off.” She rolled to her side, tucking her face into the pillows and hiding behind her dark hair.
Her mouth was indeed a problem. Foul language would not be tolerated among their people. She would acclimate in time. He could be patient, but he feared her anger might lead to public humiliation. His own insecurities roused at the thought.
