Of Blood & Consequence (Book 2 of The Blood Bond Series)

14. Unexpected & Unwelcome

Delia sat up at the shocked tone of Michael’s voice. It wasn’t often he was caught off-guard, so it gained her attention like nothing else could.

She couldn’t see past his broad shoulders, and it didn’t look like he wanted to move to let the person or persons that were there in the doorway in either.

“Michele—”

Delia immediately recognized the voice as that of the woman on the other phone the other day. Michael’s mother.

Didn’t that b***h live in Italy somewhere? Delia thought and was immediately aware now why Michael was sounding so flabbergasted. You didn’t expect people to fly over a mere few days after they called you, and she knew from his surprised tone that he probably hadn’t called her back, and most likely hadn’t invited her to come visit. She’d just decided to come on her own.

Rude.

“We’d like to come in and take a seat,” the woman asserted. “We’ve been traveling for hours and hours to get here.”

At first, Delia thought he wasn’t going to let them in and would simply slam the door in their faces. He shifted as if to close the door, but then stepped back and allowed the woman in.

And man. Michele’s father must have come as well. He was right on the heels of the woman with him, his fingers intertwined with his.

Mrs. Jensen was an elegant, well-kept woman who looked no older than her son. Not a surprise when vampires usually stopped aging at around 35 years of age. She could have been anywhere from 35 to 3,500 years old and Delia wouldn’t have been able to tell except that she favored Michael in some ways. Her nose was quite a similar shape, as was the curve of her full mouth. The woman’s hair was lighter than his and much longer, hanging pin-straight down her back as she walked in through the door and past her son.

Michael resembled his father more. Same dark hair and eyes, whereas Mrs. Jensen’s were lighter and an interesting shade of green. They were dull, though, like they’d been muted with her apparently jaded attitude on life. There was something off-putting about the way she walked into a room like she owned it, but the father seemed a bit more relaxed as he followed his wife into the condominium.

Michael closed the door firmly behind them when they both had passed into the living area. “What are you doing here?” The words were gritty, as was the tense set of Michael’s jaw when he spoke.

Mrs. Jensen spotted Delia, who’d stood up from the couch but hadn’t dared to walk closer. Something about the visit felt all wrong, and she wasn’t sure she should greet them with warmth or ask to be excused so they could discuss was so all fired-up important to bring them six thousand miles from Italy on a whim.

“Is this your mate, Michele? Won’t you introduce us?” The woman completely ignored his question and took a step towards Delia.

Michael looked like the last thing he wanted to do was let the two women get friendly, and he seemed to come to a conclusion as his teeth ground together, placing himself between the two females, and deciding on his words a second before he spoke. “Delia, this is my mother, Giuliana Jensen. And my father, Nicolas, sposina.”

He’d never uttered any of his terms of endearment toward her with such vigor before. They usually slid off his tongue gently. Sweetly. Delia blinked at the harsh tone of his voice, but knew instinctively that it was the company that made him sound grating and not her.

Delia mechanically moved forward to greet the older woman. She may have been in her rumpled clothing from work, but she hadn’t been raised in a barn. Of course, she would greet what amounted to her mother in law—vampire in law?—with all the grace she could muster at the short notice. She was even able to dredge up a tight smile for the woman and murmur a few words.

“Please to meet you, ma’am.”

The older woman’s lips twitched, like she couldn’t make up her mind whether to frown or smile. The woman did neither, just nodded her head perfunctorily and glanced back at her husband. She didn’t even say anything back in greeting.

Delia suspected the woman was studying her quietly, silently judging her by anything from her voice, to her appearance, or to the fact that they’d never been introduced properly. Not that that was anyone’s fault, unless you wanted to place the blame on Michael. She still wasn’t aware of what the secrecy was all about, but she vowed if she didn’t get her answers tonight, Michael would be sleeping alone in their bedroom once again.

Nicolas moved forward, giving Delia a warmer version of the Jensen smile, though it wasn’t all that much more welcoming than Giuliana’s was. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Delia.” The man had a heavy accent, as did his spouse—or mate, she supposed. It was hard to compare the vampires she knew intimately to this new, European version she was being handed. She wondered if they were all as scary as the older Jensens.

Delia nodded back and mimicked his words as Michael’s eyes flickered between his parents and her.

Mrs. Jensen seemed to make a decision in the small interlude where her husband and Delia met officially, and she turned to Michael, whose wide brown eyes were scrutinizing every little event that was happening. It was like he was expected World War III to break out any minute and the claws—well, fangs, in this case—would come out at any moment.

“When you didn’t respond to my last message, I had to wonder if you got it at all, Michael—” Delia almost interrupted, but the woman kept going. He did receive the message. Apparently, he’d just ignored it. “—but I figured you disregarded that just like you have the last several attempts at correspondence. I wanted to speak to you about the business.”

Michael blanched, his eyes widening incrementally until he was sure they were stuck permanently open before clearing his throat. “Mama, we can talk about that at a later time. I would think you’d want to get settled in—at a hotel, perhaps. We don’t have much room here and you wouldn’t find it to your standards. We only have one functioning bedroom. The other we use as an office.”

“Two bedrooms? And not even a home but some fifth-rate condominium?” Giuliana’s brows rose like her son was living in a barn and not a moderately-priced—yet still lovely—high-rise residential complex in LA. It was definitely a few steps up from Delia’s last apartment in one of the nastier parts of LA.

“It’s all we need for now,” Michael excused.

“And what about when you have children? Have you thought of that? A child needs a place to roam, Michele, not a small, dingy apartment like this. It’s gauche.”

Delia took offense to that on behalf of her neat little home. It was tidy and all the appliances were new and on the pricier side. Michael and she had decided on renting it together months ago and had loved it. The woman was obviously more accustomed to opulence, but that just wasn’t Delia—or Michael’s—style, and they had no need for some glorified McMansion in the hills. It would have been utter waste and much more than they could afford.

“Mama, we won’t have to worry about children for years yet,” he soothed. “Delia and I are just starting out, and she’s not yet out of her vampire infancy. You know that—”

“And what do you do, Delia, for work? Are you in the security business like my son?”

The way she’s said ‘security’, one would have thought Michael was a door-to-door vacuum salesman or was a slimy car dealer who tried to convince unsuspecting people from the grittier parts of town to buy lemons from his shabby car lot.

“Actually, I work at SecurElite, like Michael used to. Now he works mostly for—”

“Delia, cara,” Michael interjected. “I think it’s time for your next meal, don’t you? I’d like to speak with my parents alone for a few minutes.”

She was ready to snap back at him. He was dismissing her like she was some servant, and though she had waited tables at Promises a year or so ago, she wasn’t about to take orders from her equal. Giuliana’s brows raised at them both, and Delia bit back her retort at Michael, turning about-face and stalking into the kitchen with a kick in her step, every determined stomp of her feet singing her displeasure with him.

Michael looked past his mother at Delia, sighing internally and hoping there was some way to salvage the evening. He knew she was going to be difficult when he finally had her alone, and he couldn’t blame her one bit. She was pissed and had every right to be. He escorted his mother and father into the study, closing the door behind him to the sounds of the microwave being programmed violently and the hard slam of its door. He closed his eyes before turning around to see his parents’ faces.

“Why are you here? I would have gotten back to you if you’d only be patient. I have a lot of things on my plate, one of which is a very pissed-off female and a ruined date night that you interrupted.”

Again, Giuliana’s brows rose, and her nostrils flaring. “Date night? At home? In this hovel?”

He closed his eyes, kneading the tension on his forehead between his fingers. Nico interjected.

“Giulia, you forget that his mate is not yet accustomed to being around humans. Her bloodlust might not be under control,” he soothed. “You remember me when I first turned. Lashed out at every human being. It’s a miracle I didn’t slaughter half of Sicily with my thirst.”

She grunted low in her throat, a modicum of understanding calming the crease between her brows as she nodded twice. “Yes. Yes, I remember.” It was said grudgingly.

Difficult woman.

Michael blew out a breath, praying for divine Providence to save him from a talk with his parents. If he was going to decline all of their offers and gestures of goodwill to try and woo him back into the fold, he was going to need a little more time to prepare. Even twenty-four hours would have been sufficient, at this point.

Trying to hurry them along and get them out of the house was probably the best he could hope for, and he attempted to stem his irritation with his meddling mother by smiling brightly, promising her pretty baubles of lies with his quick words.

“Mama.” His voice was low and silky, and he waved his hands, hoping to steer the topic away from Delia. He didn’t like either of them even thinking about her, much less showing any interest. It was dangerous. “You know what young vampires are like. I know I’d been reluctant to introduce you to my mate, but I was hoping that once her first year had passed, I’d be able to bring her to Italy to meet you formally.”

It was an outright lie that he had no problems with spewing. If it was up to Michael, Delia would never even be located in the same time zone as the older Jensens, much less in Sicily on the Jensen’s lavish estate.

“Michele, we wanted to speak to you about expanding the business to the west coast.”

She dropped that bomb, and it had Michael flinching.

“West coast of what? America?”

Hell. No.

“Yes. We were wondering if you’d like to head up the Pacific coast contingent of—”

“Mama, we discussed this.” His voice was grave, cutting through her noise of displeasure as his brows lowered over his eyes. “I’m not interested in coming back into…into the family, as it were. I left that all behind, which is why I don’t—”

“Please, think about it, Michael,” Nico interjected. “If you would just think about it, how rich you could become, how much you could give your little mate out there that she doesn’t already have—”

“We’re fine with what we’ve got!” he shouted. “Delia and I don’t need anymore than what we have. She…she wants to go back to school, further her education. She’s interested in graphic arts. Has a passion for it. She wouldn’t be interested in living in luxury if it came at the price of our souls!”

His mother scoffed haughtily. “Souls!” she hissed. “Honestly, Michele. When you could live a life of ease instead of living hand to mouth in this shack you call a home—”

“It’s not a shack!” he blurted out wildly. “We like it here. Delia and I enjoy our lives the way they are! And luxury? You must be mad, woman! All working for you would mean is constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone was betraying us, working with the Feds or planning my murder. I’d rather live ‘hand to mouth’, as you say, without wondering when the knife will be plunged into my back or a laser-sighted gun will be targeting my head.” He moved forward, closer to his mother. “I just want to live my life without worrying about it ending prematurely.” He pointed through the door to indicate Delia as well. “Mine or hers.”