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“Can’t you just ask your dad?”
His expression shuttered. The fact that he would gate-keep anything when he was asking so much of her hurt.
“It’s very obvious when you’re keeping something from me.”
“My father is not a member of The Order. I was raised by my mother alone.”
Was that why he flinched when she called him a bastard? “Wait. I thought mates couldn’t live apart.” She waited for him to explain how his parents could separate, but he remained silent. “Christian?”
“I don’t have an explanation for you. All I know is that I won’t let you go, pintura. Perhaps our bond is stronger.”
She decided to choose her battles and let the topic of his parents drop for now, but she intended to get some answers. “I don’t want to hear any chauvinistic garbage. If we’re truly connected, half of each other’s soul, then we’re equals.”
“Yes.”
“I want some pants.” Before he could object, she said, “I have two legs just like you. Why should I have to wear dresses?”
“You had a dress on when we met.”
“That was different. That was sexy.”
He chuckled. “I find it difficult to believe you wouldn’t look sexy in a proper gown. You’re an incredibly beautiful female, pintura.”
Heat bloomed on her cheeks. If she could ignore the guilt, shame, and the sense that she was betraying herself by softening to him, she found a much needed sense of relief. It felt good to let down her guard and just talk. Her body was tense and tired of fighting. Maybe this was just a temporary truce, but it was one she desperately needed.
“What’s pintura?”
He glanced away, color now tinging his face. “It’s Portuguese.” His finger traced over the lotus tattoo on her arm. “It means painting.”
Well, didn’t that fill her with the warm and fuzzies? “Oh.”
“When I first saw you, I thought… She’s a masterpiece.”
Fighting a grin, she kept her head down and gently elbowed him. “Thanks.”
“It was an honest observation.”
Her emotions were all over the place. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. “So, can I do any cool tricks like fly or turn into stuff?”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I told you most legends were nonsense.”
“Well, what good is being a vampire then?”
“The proper term is immortal. Vampires are…different.”
“How so?”
“They’re dangerous. They lack self-control.”
“The immortals that aren’t Amish, are they vampires?”
“Some. Vampires are feeish. Called, but unanswered. They drink from the veins of mortals who are not their true mates, and an addiction begins. It mutates the mind. Bodies are drained and… Many tragedies have occurred over the centuries. We formed The Order to prevent such barbarism. Our soul belief is that immortals must answer the call to God, because bonding with a mate is our most sacred act. It is our purpose.”
“We?”
He frowned, then said, “I told you I came over on the Charming Nancy. I’m considered an elder, and I sit on The Council.”
“You mean you make the laws?”
“I enforce them, yes. But I do so because I believe in our way of life, Delilah. I don’t recall much about my youth, but I’ve heard tales of those lawless times. There are elders here much older than I.”
“Can the old guys turn into stuff?”
“The old guys?” He chuckled, “We old guys possess many honed disciplines, but there are also young immortals who have impressive gifts as well.”
“Like?”
His hand lowered and rested on the floor, his palm turning up and his fingers opening. He waited for her to take the offering. Only when she set her hand in his did he continue. “There’s telekinesis, telepathic touch, scent memory, tracking, fear inducement, projecting hallucinations, the ability to drain another’s energy or provoke paralysis, gravitation, and a few others.”
“Holy shit.”
He glanced at her, and she felt a mental stroke, sort of like a featherlight touch across her mind, and she knew he was reprimanding her for her language.
“Is that how you do that?”
“What we share, that internal communication, is a result of our bond. Disciplines are slightly different.”
“What can you do?”
He buttoned up.
“Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me?”
“I only hesitate out of habit. It’s not wise to share your abilities.”
“Even with your mate?”
His eyes darkened and in a hoarse whisper, he said, “No, with your mate you share everything.”
She waited, but he divulged nothing. “Well?”
“Are you my mate, Delilah?”
She withdrew her hand from his. “You set me up for that.”
“My intent wasn’t malicious. I only want to know how you think of me.”
She lifted a shoulder and shrugged. Breaking the intense eye contact, she plucked at her finger, pulling a piece of skin back until it bled. The flesh sewed back together right before her eyes. Freaky.
“No one could ever love you as much as your mate, pintura.”
“Don’t say things like that. You don’t know me well enough to love me or to even decide if I’m lovable. I’m still pissed at you. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive you for taking away my life. All of my friends…” Her vision blurred. “My apartment…” Her voice broke. “My shop.”
