Call Her Mine by Lydia Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

blinked,
needing the little break from his intense stare, but too stubborn to look away.
He tucked her hair over her shoulders and leaned close. Her stomach tightened
as it became clear he was going to kiss her.
    Under the fine cotton of
her chemise her nipples pulled tight. His head lowered, a breath of space
between his lips and hers. His palm cradled her chin in a curved nest of his
fingers.
    She slammed her foot
into his shin.
    He grunted and drew
back. Intense eyes glared at her, appalled. “We do not hit,
Delilah,” he said through gritted teeth.
    “Well, I do not kiss
kidnappers, Christian Fock. ”
    He drew back as if she’d
slapped him. “What did you just say?”
    “You heard me.”
    The energy in the room
grew tight and heavy. Breathing audibly, his nostrils flaring as his hard gaze
bore into her. Okay, maybe calling him that went a little too far. Her chest
was going to explode if her heart raced any faster.
    “Listen to me,” he said
slowly, quietly. “This is the last warning I will give. You will not speak to
me in a disrespectful manner. I am an elder and your mate. You will show
respect as I will soon be your husband whom you will be honor bound to obey.
This isn’t English society, Delilah. Do not make things harder than they
already are. I intend to provide you with a happy life, but your poor choices
and bitter words could change all of that. I do not want to punish you, but I
will if you continue in such a manner.”
    Her mind reeled. First
of all, there was no way she was going to be this guy’s wife, mate, compound
ho, broodmare, whatever. Second, respect was something someone earned. It
couldn’t be demanded and she certainly wasn’t dishing out respect to some
farmer who was holding her hostage. And third, his threat scared the shit out
of her. She definitely didn’t want to find herself locked in some dirt-floor
basement with scary farming slaughter tools and jars of pig parts.
    So she nodded.
    “Good,” he said and as
if that was all that needed to be said his mood changed, substantially
lightening the atmosphere around them. “Are you ready for lunch?”

 
    * * * *

 
    Christian sat across
from Delilah and waited for her to take a bite of the sandwich he’d made her.
He wondered if she was a fair hand in the kitchen. He’d been making his own
meals for three hundred years and couldn’t deny that he was excited about the
prospect of finally having a wife—mate—to do the cooking for him.
    Of course, his mother
sometimes prepared meals for him, but she wasn’t much of a cook either. His
mother was more of a revolutionary female, always hanging around the council
meetings, eavesdropping for news that did not concern her. If Christian had his
way, he would forbid his mother’s ridiculous intrusions. But she was a dear
friend of Eleazar, the bishop of The Order, and Christian had little authority
over his word.
    In all truth, Adriel,
his mother, should have been a council member, but having a female on the board
was unheard of. Of the nine families that resided on the farm, the eldest male
member of each stood as a representative of the council.
    Christian had no father
to speak of, so he was it. They were the smallest family on the farm, he and
his mother. The Schrock line was short, but Delilah would change all that.
Mated immortals shared immeasurable chemistry and that would eventually
outmatch her anger with being transitioned against her will.
    Many mated members of
The Order took a modern approach to mating. It was ridiculous. The results were
cut and dry. Once an immortal was called, they either mated or died. The
females all came around eventually—for the most part. He did not see the point
in all the wavering and persuasion. It was necessary for them to mate and for
Delilah to be transitioned. Now they had eternity to work out the kinks. Once
the kinks were worked out he’d introduce her to the others and share his news.
    The law stated that no
other could