Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
“That’s five.” He lifted her chin. “And she should know that you have no say over such things.”
“But I—”
He silenced her with a soul-spinning kiss.
“Um,” she said dazedly, unsure what she’d been saying a moment ago. “What was that for?”
“You called me yours.”
“Oh. Well, you are, right?”
He grinned and kissed her again. “Irrevocably.”
“Then please try not to be a dick to my friends.”
“Six. And I’ll do my best.”
She sucked in a breath, shocked he actually conceded. “Really? You won’t tell on her?”
“Not this time. But a good friend would remind her that a female’s clothing is an expression of faith.” He poured water from the pitcher into a bowl and washed his face like he did every morning.
“Yeah, I’ll jump right on that.” Sorting through her clothing options, she considered a bright blue gown she hadn’t worn yet. “This color’s pretty.”
Christian glanced over his shoulder and stilled.
She looked down at the blue dress then back at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple making a slow glide under the damp skin of his throat. “That’s your wedding dress.”
She looked at the plain gown again. “It is?”
He nodded. “Amish believe blue is symbolic of life’s most important moments. When a female gives her life to her husband, she wears a blue gown. The gown is only worn again when she gives her life to her maker.”
“You mean when I die? That’s sort of creepy.”
“Not all Amish traditions apply to us immortals.”
“Right. Because we don’t die.”
“No race is without tragedy.” He crossed the room and closed his hand over hers. “Your safety is everything to me, pintura.”
Such familiar statements filled her with a sense of security. “I know.” He released her hand and returned to the dresser. “Um, out of pure curiosity, how do you kill a vampire?”
He stilled as he pulled on his shirt. “Are you researching for future endeavors, pintura?”
“No, I just figure it’s something I should know. I mean, can I die if someone shoots me with a silver bullet or if I accidentally stab myself with a wooden stake?”
Barn raisings could be treacherous—all those splinters flying around willy-nilly.
He chuckled. “First, you’re immortal. Being vampire means something very different. Second, those things would hurt, but they would not end an immortal life.”
“Are you saying I could throw myself in front of a train and live to brag about it?”
“Delilah,” he said with censure in his voice. “Immortality is many things, unfortunately, it is not without pain. I suggest you stay away from all moving locomotives and other uncomfortable endeavors.”
“Like worship?”
“Very funny.”
She selected a purple dress and spread it on the bed then sorted through the underclothes, smirking when she found a few lacy options built for speed more than any sort of comfort.
“So, how does it happen? I should know, right? Not just in case I meet Nosferatu walking alone at night, but so that I can protect myself.”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll protect you.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” Despite their recent accord, there was still the matter of her abandoned life and shop. Now that she fed, she was stronger and in more control of her impulses. She was pretty certain she would get her wish and get to go back to her shop in a few days.
“Very well.” He sighed and came to sit beside her on the bed. “Immortality does not promise eternity. There are risks. True, we have rapid healing abilities and can withstand much more than mere mortals, but some injuries are impossible to survive.”
“Like starvation?” She could never put herself through that kind of suffering again.
“Our bodies can atrophy without proper nutrition. When immortals are without a proper food source, our bodies cannot heal as quickly. When a body fails to repair itself, decay naturally occurs.”
“Decay but not death.”
“The mind will die long before the other organs stop working. If an immortal is trapped without food long enough, their life will essentially be lost.”
That sounded horrific, sort of like living in a conscious coma. “But how would an immortal get trapped?”
“There are hunters, pintura. Legend is not simply imagined. It all traces back to a thread of truth. Historically, we have been stalked, chased out of villages, slaughtered, tortured—it is why so many of us chose to escape. The Order protects us and allows us to live in the open.”
Her imagination drew a descriptive image of an old village bursting with chaos. Flames exploded from stone dwellings as people screamed in pain and horror. The disturbing vision was not of her own imagination, and she understood he was showing her an actual memory.
Her hand went protectively to her throat. “You lived through that?”
“I was only a boy, but the memory has not left me. Things were different then, we lived without laws or discretion. Much has changed since then. But we remain a superior race with cunning strength, loyal to our nature. Mortals are wise not to trust us when they’re our primary food source.”