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Her hands covered her ears. “My name is Delilah Starling!”
He caught her arms in an unbreakable grip and put his face close to hers. “Yes, and Delilah Starling is mine—just as I am hers. Do you have any idea how terrified I was last night when you fainted? Fainted, Delilah. That is not something immortals do. You deliberately hid your needs from me, and look at what it cost you. Fevered and in pain. Why would you put yourself through that?”
“I don’t want to be a fucking immortal! This is your fault!”
“Then it’s my fault!” he shouted. “Blame me for a thousand years if you must, but I will not sit idly by and watch you starve yourself to near death.”
Her jaw trembled as her eyes narrowed on him. Too weak to shout. “Maybe you won’t have to. Maybe one day I’ll succeed and die.”
He stilled. “That’s not funny.”
She wasn’t trying to be funny. “You sentenced me to an eternity of drinking blood. Ask me if I want to live like that.” She paused, and he said nothing. “Right. Because you never ask, do you? You just decide and take.” A jagged breath slipped down her throat and a sob exploded in her chest. “You deserve to lose me.”
This time he didn’t comfort her. He could only hold her stare for a moment before looking away in shame.
She hated it here. She hated him for bringing her here. His only hope was eternity, because that was how long it would take to change her opinion of this awful place and him.
He stood and crossed the room. At the pitcher on the dresser, he filled a glass of water and walked it back to her. “Here. It will wash away the taste.”
She sat up and took the water, drinking down every last drop. He studied her with pained concern, and she hated that behind his stubborn façade she sensed compassion in him. She pushed the glass onto the nightstand. “I don’t feel bad for you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Good.” She stared so long at the wall that her vision blurred. The creeping sense of guilt tightened her muscles and her stomach pinched, but she refused to take pity on him.
Every time she covertly glanced his way, a strong need to comfort him took hold. This was about her. She was the victim here! She needed to feel numb. The futility of her situation was unbearable. Drinking blood…
He literally robbed her of her last shred of hope.
“Delilah?”
Her eyes closed. Leave me alone…
The weight of his body left the bed, and she shut her eyes as his steps retreated. A moment later, he returned with rags and a bucket of water. She refused to feel guilty that he was cleaning up her mess. This was his mess. He’d done this.
Finally, the door quietly clicked shut and she was alone, but not. He might have left the room, but she still sensed him in her mind.
Christian stared out the window at the fading sun. It had been six days. Six days since he brought her here. Six days of opposition. Six days of quarreling. Six days of progress followed by mishaps and failure. He was failing, not just himself, but her. If he couldn’t take care of her, what good was he? She was his sole duty and purpose.
His head lowered as he sent a silent prayer to God asking for guidance. Never, in all his years, had he expected anything this difficult. He was starting to wonder if he should let her go.
Her hunger wasn’t abating. Since emptying her stomach, the pains came more frequently, so immense the vicarious waves even caused him to tremble at times. Her emotions were a mix of confusion and rage, but he also sensed her concern and guilt.
The tension in his neck radiated down his spine. They couldn’t go on like this. Failing was an unacceptable outcome, yet failure seemed the only thing he could successfully do where Delilah was concerned.
The sound of someone approaching his home caught his ear and his shoulders stiffened, his attention darting to his mate upstairs. He sniffed the air, identifying the intruder as male.
Delilah, someone’s approaching the house. Stay put.
She didn’t respond, but he sensed her weak attempt to push him out of her head, so he knew she heard his command. Without proper nourishment and training, she wouldn’t be able to manage such control.
The male continued to approach, now trespassing on his private property. With a growl, he left the window to confront the issue outside but paused to glance up at the second floor leading to the bedroom.
Exiting the house, he slammed the front door with more force than necessary, scenting Dane from several hundred feet away. He also scented the boy’s anger. Christian bristled for a fight, glad to have a target for his pent-up rage.
