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sometimes even
indulging in alcohol to tire his body out after sleeping all day.
    His first impression of
her was beauty. She was stunning, petite, refined, built like a true hourglass.
Her brown eyes were round and wide, startling and dramatically set beneath her
swoop of ebony hair. She dressed as women did sixty years ago, before skirts
lost all modesty.
    He saw her in fitted
pants with pennies in her shoes and a red sash that matched her lips tied in
her hair. Adorable. His.
    He tracked her quickly
and wasted no time approaching her. What he had not noticed in the dreams was
her decorated skin. She had paintings everywhere, her flesh its own little
masterpiece. He had never seen anything like it before. And her jewels… nothing
adorned the lobes of her ears, but other places…
    His body shivered as he
remembered seeing her naked for the first time. She had been so proud at first
and then shy and modest and a touch insecure. It was silly for her to second
guess that he would see her as anything other than beautiful. She was
incredible.
    However, she needed a
great deal of acclimating to the farm. Her foul language simply would not do.
And he had been honest when he explained the kind of wife he desired. Christian
believed in traditional Amish living.
    He was an elder and as
such he would be held to a certain standard. He would not tolerate a
disrespectful, brazen wife.
    Yet, she was acting as
docile as a kitten now. He dabbed away the last of his blood from her face and
frowned. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused. Every now and then she muttered
something that made no sense at all. She was in shock.
    Christian put the cloth
in the basin on the nightstand and frowned. He did not expect her to react like
that. From what he understood, feeding after transitioning was a natural
occurrence. According to other males on the farm their mates naturally took to
the vein directly after waking from their transition.
    Their mates also
probably knew what to expect, you dummkup.
    He appraised his mate
and sighed. She was not getting any better.
    “Delilah? Delilah, can
you hear me?”
    She didn’t answer.
Pursing his lips together, he stood. Perhaps she just needed time. Christian
removed his shirt and drew the blinds. He would sleep and then they would
address matters that needed addressing.

 
    * * * *

 
    Li gripped the sheets to
her chest as the man removed his shirt and climbed into bed next to her. His
body settled then drew her close.
    Oh God, oh God, oh God,
what’s happening?
    She lay stiff as a board
and too terrified to blink. She waited, his breathing slowly evening out. She
needed to get the fuck out of there.
    After several long
minutes she thought he’d fallen asleep. Barely moving at all, she eased out of
bed, first sliding her calf off the edge of the mattress and bending her knee
so that her foot pointed toward the floor. Little by little, she contorted her
limbs and oozed out from under the covers. Last came her shoulders.
    Her feet touched to cool
ground and her toes pulled her hips along. In a Grinch Who Stole Christmas sort
of slither, she twisted and slipped silently off the bed. Kneeling on the floor
she took a moment to breathe. Peeking over the edge of the mattress, she
silently breathed. Christian still lay sleeping where she left him.
    Stealthily, she stood
and tip toed toward the door. The handle was old and metal. Her fingers curled
around the knob and she silently begged the Gods of Escape not to let the door
squeak. Please, please, please…
    Her fingers twisted and
the heavy door quietly opened. Slipping through the narrowest crack, she slunk
into the hall and let out the breath she’d been holding. The house was
unfamiliar, but simple enough. Gathering her chemise at her knees, she quickly
skittered down the hall—very burglar in a striped shirt and mask.
    When Delilah found steps
she nearly stumbled from rushing down them so fast. Light glared through the
window in the front door. Her fingers