Called to Order (8 page)

Adam nodded in comprehension. She’d said she’d grown up in the area, which made him wonder how old she was. “How old are you, Annalise?”

* * * *

Annalise couldn’t help but get a little thrill at the way her name sounded when he said it. He had an interesting accent she wasn’t familiar with. When he said words like “work,” the
k
sounded harder, coming out almost like
worg.
Words like “live” sounded softer like
liff.
And when he said her name, it sounded so much prettier than she ever thought it was. Rather than a clipped “Annalise,” he drew it out, softening and elongating the vowels, as if pronouncing it
Ah-nah-leeze
. She realized he was staring at her, politely waiting for an answer to his question. What had he asked? His question completely slipped her mind. “I’m sorry…”

“Adam.”

“I’m sorry, Adam. I forgot your question.”

“I asked what your age was.”

“Oh, I’m twenty-three.” He smiled and repeated the number quietly to himself. Of course it sounded more like
tventy-three
when he said it. “Where are you from? You have an accent.”

“I am from Lancaster.”

“Oh, that’s only an hour or two from here. I never realized you guys had such a different dialect.”

“I speak
Deutsch,
a form of Pennsylvania Dutch. It is like German, but mostly English.”

“Dutch? Are you Amish?”

He smiled, and his expression had a pleasant effect on her she couldn’t quite understand. “Yes, I am Amish.”

“So what are you doing all the way down here?”

At that his smile grew. “I have come to get something that belongs to me. Tell me, Annalise, do you work tomorrow?”

“From eleven to nine.” Just then there was a sharp whistle from the other end of the bar. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Adam. I gotta go take another order.”

By the time Annalise did another circuit around the bar, Adam was gone. She went to go collect his money and glass from the table and frowned. He had left her a hundred-dollar bill. This had to be a mistake. He had ordered two beers and barely touched the second one. His tab was two dollars. He could not have intended to leave her a ninety-eight-dollar tip. She turned to make sure he had in fact left. The bar only had a few other customers remaining. She walked over to the men’s room and knocked. When no one answered, she peeked behind the door. “Anyone in here?” It was empty.

“What’s up?”

Annalise jumped as Kyle spoke directly behind her. She slid the hundred into the pocket of her apron. “Uh, nothing. Did you see that guy at table one leave?”

“Yeah, he took off about twenty minutes ago. Why? Did he stiff you on a tip or something?”

“Or something,” she said letting the door to the men’s room close.

“You coming to my place tonight?”

“I don’t think so. I have to get some stuff done at home, and any free time I have should really be spent studying for finals.”

“Fine, but come graduation night your ass is mine.”

Chapter 8

Adam waited patiently in the shadows as the last customer left the bar. The only people left inside were Annalise and the man pouring drinks behind the bar. The evening air had cooled considerably. The pavement steamed through the thin coating of puddles, and the vibrations of the living mortals faded as they settled into sleep.

It didn’t take long for the green neon light spelling
Jimbo’s
to flicker and a light below illuminated the word
closed
. He watched the green door expectantly for his mate. A sound toward the back of the brick building had him turning in that direction. A nondescript door he had not noticed earlier opened and heavily shut as his mate emerged into the darkness. He watched as she moved over to the white vehicle he had seen her in previously. She slung her bag from behind her shoulder and reached deep into the pockets as the bag rested on her hip. He heard the distant jangle of metal and saw she had retrieved a set of keys. Just then the door on the side of the bar opened again, and the male from behind the bar emerged. He followed Annalise to her vehicle.

She unlocked her car and leaned in. A growl rumbled deep in Adam’s chest when he noticed the other man admiring his mate’s bottom as she bent into the car. The clunking rattle of her car’s ignition turning over drowned the sound out. The scent of the other male mixed with the exhaust fumes being emitted by the white vehicle. She stood from the vehicle, the door separating her from the other male.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow,” the male said.

“Sorry about this weekend. Just think, once my finals are over I’ll have so much more time.” Adam wondered what finals were. Was that more work his mate did?

“I know, and I plan on collecting on my tab of rain checks.”

His mate twittered a small, unfamiliar laugh. He liked the sound but did not like that it was for this other male. Suddenly the male leaned in close to his mate and pressed his lips to hers. A distant rumble of thunder covered the growl that ripped from Adam’s chest. Adam was not a violent man, yet he was suddenly fighting the urge to rip the man touching his mate to shreds. His nails lengthened into sharp claws and pierced the flesh of his palms. His incisors punched through his gums and filled his mouth. He knew his pupils had dilated, expanding into feline-like diamond slits over his silver irises. His breath punched through his nostrils, and his shoulders quaked with an unfamiliar rage. Finally the mortal man released his mate and stepped back.

The haze of rage receded. Adam’s heart rate returned to a normal pace, and his claws and fangs began to retract. Annalise said something then ducked into her car and shut the door. Adam watched as the man left the presence of his mate and entered a red truck parked nearby. He was torn as to whether he should follow the man and slit his throat for touching what was Adam’s or if he should follow his mate. Knowing he needed to track his mate to her resting place, he decided to push aside his urge to punish the other male. He had other ways to make sure the man no longer touched what was his, and he would make sure he employed any tactics necessary to protect his mate.

The truck rumbled to a start, much more smoothly than Annalise’s car. He watched as the headlights flipped on, illuminating the vacant lot, and frowned when he saw that his mate’s car only had one, rather than two, working lights. He did not understand why she would drive such an inadequate vehicle.

As the car and truck moved out of the lot, another light on the vehicle blinked. Annalise moved left on the road and the male moved right, tires squelching over the wet gravel. He watched as the truck disappeared in the distance then adjusted his bag and began to move after his mate.

Adam had followed the car less than two miles when it pulled into a congested lot filled with quiet cars. As his mate shut off the vehicle, the engine rattled and pinged as if belts and parts were still vibrating and wheezing from the short jaunt. The door slammed as Annalise stepped out. He watched from the shadows as she moved toward the tall brick building situated on a spread of unhealthy lawn. There was a device with wires pulled from it like ripped-out guts just by the door. She pulled the door open and disappeared inside.

A baby cried from within the building, and Adam frowned. The building was mostly dark. Covered windows shaded the faint glows of electric lights from the inside. He watched as a window three floors up suddenly was illuminated. That would be her room, he assumed. He watched as her shadow passed the glass and the next window lit up.

Adam moved toward the door and frowned at the wire box. There was a canister with a long, upside-down, funnel-type opening. He leaned over to look inside the tip and thought better of it when a stench of something unpleasant wafted out of the receptacle. He looked around the base and saw small white cigars littering the ground. Tobacco.

Losing interest in the odd bin, he entered the building and was assaulted by the overwhelming collision of various scents. There was a spice that seemed to permeate the air. He found it unpleasant. The smell of spirits and mildew drifted from the stained, threadbare carpet. The baby still cried in the distance. Adam moved up the narrow stairway and navigated around the forgotten clutter that littered the carpeted planks. His hand touched the railing, and he frowned as something unclean offended his skin. This was where his mate resided?

By the time he reached the third floor, the crying baby had quieted. Sounds of canned laughter echoed from behind doors. He assumed this was not a home like his farm where families and clans shared shelter, but a grouping of dwellings where people of no relation could rest. He focused his mind to read the pulse of his surroundings. The overall feeling was one of discontent. He caught the scent of honeysuckle just outside of a door with gold, plastic markings on it. There was the number 3 and a hook. He realized it was the letter J, but the marking letter had come loose from its screw and dropped at the wrong angle. 3J. That was his mate’s address.

He pressed his palm over the chipped, glossy door and felt her. She was preparing for sleep. He could sense her exhaustion. He stepped aside and folded his arms over his chest. He would guard her door, not liking the place she rested.

Adam had stood stoically quiet for several hours. When he finally sensed the residents and his mate had all drifted to unconsciousness, he stood from the wall. He placed his hand on the knob and turned. It was locked. He shut his eyes and focused on the mechanism until it clicked. Turning the knob again, he slowly pressed the door open. A chain stopped the door. He reached in and unlatched the thin device. It dangled and clattered against the wall. Moving into the dwelling, he gently shut the door behind him.

Her scent washed over him, coming from the worn furniture and items spread throughout the home. The room was sparse. A well-used couch sat against the wall. A box rested on its side, topped with books and a small reading lamp. He picked up one of the tomes and read the title,
Clinical Competencies.
He flipped through the pages and realized it was literature for medicinal practices. Images of the human anatomy were vibrant and glossy, nothing like the books his family kept on the farm. He replaced the item and moved over to a counter on the other wall. There was a machine that hummed. Adam recognized it as an electric icebox. A bag of bread sat next to the sink. There was also a machine similar to the one he had seen in his hotel room. Although Adam did not understand the function of such a machine, he knew from the well-used scent of Annalise’s that it was for brewing coffee.

He approached a small alcove with white tile. It was her washroom. A tall basket sat against the wall with rumpled clothing frothing from the top. A purple, daisy curtain hung half open at the shower. Beads of water still clung to the vinyl material. A yellow bath towel sat over the lip of the small sink. He picked it up, the fabric still damp from use, and pressed it to his face. His body hardened as her scent stole through him pressing deep as if massaging each nerve from his brain to his maleness all the way to his toes. A contented growl began to purr deep within his chest. He turned, needing to see the beauty that owned such an intriguing scent.

The dwelling was small. Other than the door to the washroom and the entrance to the space, there was only one other doorway. No door, but a beaded curtain covered the opening. Adam parted the beads and stepped inside what seemed to be his mate’s bedroom. For now.

His mate lay in the center of the mattress, her limbs twisted in a sheet, her still-damp hair splayed across the pillow. In the window a device with vents rattled not two feet from her face. Cool air coming from the device made the dryer tips of her golden brown hair twitch in the artificial breeze. The space was small, dominated by the bed. Although the bed was not overly large, it dwarfed her petite body. He had not realized how tiny she actually was.

His breath kicked out of his lungs as he stepped closer and saw that she was barely clothed. The bedding wrapped around her thighs, her privates were covered by only a wisp of material unlike any undergarment he had ever seen before.

Adam was not inexperienced with the fairer sex, although he had led his brother to believe he had more experience than what was true. Adam had just never taken much interest in the females of their home. True, he had flirted with Eve, a fair member of The Order. She had actually followed him into the barn one snowy afternoon, pressed her lips to his throat and whispered suggestive invitations into his ear. His body had pulled tight at her words, hardening and lengthening. They had kissed, and he had petted her curves through her dress but called halt as the scent of her arousal began to reach him. It wasn’t that he was afraid. He just did not want to disrespect the young immortal. The pulling and coiling of his body now was so much more potent in comparison to that innocent experience last winter.

His eyes moved from the tight-fitted material over his mate’s sex, across the flat expanse of flesh. Her hips swelled and tapered, her skin dipping deliciously into her tiny bellybutton. Adam’s mouth went dry and he swallowed. Her meager shirt, clearly an undergarment, twisted around her narrow waist and rose over the generous swell of her breasts. He knew women usually wore supportive bracings under their clothing but could tell only her soft flesh rested under her shirt. He watched the mounds rise and fall with her slow breaths.

One hand rested under the pillow while the other lay by her face, her delicate fingertips curling just next to the curve of her cheek. Her eyes were closed, her lashes painting two crescent shadows over her cheeks. Her full lips were set in a sensuous pout. He wanted to taste her kiss.

He stepped all the way into the room and sat gingerly on the bed just next to her hip. The need to touch her overwhelmed him. Instincts he did not realize he possessed raged inside him to mark her as his own. He slid his bag to the floor and turned more toward her. The teasing slice of flesh peeking out from her shirt called to him. He softened his hand and gently, slowly, ran the backs of his fingers over the soft white expanse. Goose bumps prickled her flesh, and a small moan escaped her throat. Her hips shifted the slightest degree as if she was reaching unconsciously for his caress.

He moved his fingers over her belly again, and her neck seemed to roll sensuously across the pillow. Allowing his fingers to glide upward, he gently treaded over the ripples of her shirt and in between the valley of her breast. Mesmerized, he watched as two hard points formed under her clothing. Turning his wrist, he ran his palm gently over the hard tips and let his fingers curl around the globe of her breast. He added the slightest bit of pressure to his hold, and she moaned again. Using some kind of unknown instinct, he dragged his thumb over the turgid tip of her breast, teasing the peak, and her spine began to arch into his touch as a sigh slipped past her plump lips. The sound, combined with her physical reaction, made his cock so hard he was in borderline pain.

He adjusted his position then paid the same attention to her other breast. Her breathing had grown choppy, and he noticed her hips were subtly digging into the mattress as if undulating of their own volition. She was so soft and refreshing. His fangs were fully extended, and he fought the urge to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of her throat where her pulse rapidly fluttered. Her hips rotated, and her thighs separated. The scent of her arousal slammed into him, and without realizing what he was doing he moved to the foot of the bed.

Pulling the sheet away from her limbs, he tossed it to the side of the bed. His thumbs traced the inside of her legs from her delicate ankles to her knees. Using the slightest pressure, he pushed her knees outward. The move caused her heels to drag up the bed as her knees raised and her legs fell open wide. This new position not only intensified her scent but he could also see proof of her arousal saturating the small patch of fabric covering her sex. He dragged his knuckle over the wet spot, and she moaned long and deep. He sensed her mind coming awake and gave her a mental push to stay asleep. “Sleep,
ainsicht,
my only one. I just want to look at you
.
”