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

9. Couch Comfort

“Hey, Gran! How is everything going with you?”

Delia forced a smile on her face so that the gesture bled through the phone. With every passing day, it seemed like her grandmother was trying ever harder to convince her that she was doing well in her small home in Arizona.

But maybe it was just Delia’s overwrought nerves that were making her see castles in the clouds, every syllable out of Gran’s mouth seeming tenser than the last.

She was laying on the couch, her ankles and feet resting on the arm of the long couch and crossed. Delia watched the pink toenail polish she had just painted on twinkling back at her. It was a bother to do her own home pedicures, but it was a necessity until she ran into an all-vampire owned beauty salon.

She could only thank God that Cassie knew a female vamp that could cut hair. Split ends were the worst, in Delia’s humble opinion.

“Doing well, Dee Dee,” her grandmother confirmed lightly. “Finally heard from your mother, too.”

Delia rocketed up from her prone position and planted her feet on the ground with a swiftness that would have made her a blur in her human grandmother’s eyes. Thankfully, she was alone, Michael’s job making him fill in for one of Eli’s other vampire guards that had a pregnant female presently. Apparently, she had gone into labor just earlier in the day and Eli gave him the night off and scrambled to backfill the position. Michael had gladly obliged, knowing how important the birth of the child was to his associate.

Before Delia could utter a word in response, her grandmother was speaking again.

“She’s in France now with that new gentleman she’s been seeing. He’s a bit better than the last and wanted to take her across Europe. They’re heading to Italy next, so she says.”

Delia blew out an irritated breath. Relief mixed with exasperation at her mother washed through her, and she bit back some of the snarkier replies she had in mind.

About f*****g time she decided to let us in on where she is. It was probably the kindest thing she could think about her mother at a time like this.

Delia’s nose twitched as her lips drew back in a sneer. Knowing what that probably portended, she got up from her seat and waltzed into the kitchen to warm up some blood. She may have slammed a few cabinets a little too hard, but her anger at the situation couldn’t be helped. Sasha Parker was too self-centered for her own damn good.

“About f*****g time she clued us in,” Delia growled out. “Did you give her what-for about keeping us in the loop this time, Nena?”

“Well, you know your mother,” her grandmother sighed over the phone line. “As soon as I started in, she waxed poetic over all the wonderful places that Travis was taking her. Apparently, he has some family in Rome that he wants to visit and she said she would call me again from there.”

Figured. Sasha’s world revolved around Sasha and whatever d**k she was sucking at the time. Anger at her mother boiled viciously in her veins as Delia set the timer for her drink and she stood there, tapping her foot and waiting for the microwave to beep. It took far too long as it always did when she was this thirsty.

“Gran, we have to have a seriously long talk with her when she gets home.”

Was that he 25th or 26th time she’d said that same thing? Or could it have been in the hundreds by now. Every time her mother got tired of the old boyfriend, the new one would whisk her away in hopes of wooing the woman to bed or to wed. No one had won the fight for Sasha’s heart as of yet, though that was probably good, in Delia’s opinion. Most of the assholes only wanted a simpering Stepford wife out of the bargain—someone pretty and elegant enough to bring to cocktail parties, but gregarious and charming enough to put people at ease. That was Sasha to a ‘T’, and even Delia had to admit it.

“Yes, well Lord knows when your mother will decide to grace us with her presence again. I have no idea how she keeps her job with her off and trotting the globe the way she does.”

Delia could pretty much figure out how she managed to keep her job. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out that Sasha Parker was probably servicing her boss as a sideline every time he threatened her with the unemployment office. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out how she convinced him to keep her on.

Sad, really. Even sadder that her own daughter would think so lowly of her without batting an eye.

Delia and Gran continued to talk, and Delia made plans in her mind to come and visit as soon as she could. It didn’t help that she was still struggling with her bloodlust, but she was making some headway. It was still minute, but Michael assured her that she gaining ground at a pace that was normal for a newborn vampire.

Finally releasing the line, she figured she would call up Michael and see how work was going. It was midweek, and she wasn’t used to being alone at night during the week. Being as isolated as she was already, she was left with only the television as her source of companionship.

Flipping on a channel, Delia searched for something to watch to while away the next several hours.

In the middle of a rerun of That 70’s Show, she was mid-laugh when the landline phone rang and startled her.

Laughing at herself, she got up and walked into the kitchen where the only indication that someone was ringing was the word UNKNOWN that lit up the screen of the wireless wall-set. Picking it up, she thought it had to be Michael calling from one of the lines at work. A lot of them had hidden phone numbers for security purposes.

“Hello?”

‘Yes, hello. Is Michele Jensen there?’

Delia looked at the phone and frowned. No one called Michael anything but Michael, so she had to assume by the heavily accented voice that this was someone who had known him when he lived in Italy. Who, she couldn’t say, for the voice was young enough to be anywhere in its early 20s to late 30s.

“No, I’m sorry but he’s at work at the moment. May I take a message?”

She thought she heard the woman scoff into the phone and rolled her eyes. She wanted to say something like, yes, people do have jobs that aren’t always nine to five, lady.

Biting the urge for snark back at the impolite female, she listened as the woman rattled off a bit and surprising her with her identity.

‘Can you tell him his mother rang and would like a return call at his earliest convenience, please? It is of utmost importance that you give him that message. Capisce?’

Again, Delia wanted to snarl back at the woman, not caring if she was, for all intents and purposes, her mother in law. Instead, she smiled blandly and forced more polite words from her mouth.

“Of course. I understand plainly. He will get the message when he arrives home.”

She was about to ask the woman a question when the line was cut off and she was greeted by the sounds of a dial tone on the other end. Delia placed the phone back on the cradle and muttered to herself.

“Rude woman.”

She put the volume back up on the TV, trying to settle back into her program but unable to truly immerse herself in the whimsical chatter and slapstick antics being portrayed on the screen.

She couldn’t help but wonder why Michael was being so mysterious about his upbringing with his family. After speaking with his mother briefly, she was determined to find out what was going on once and for all.

And tonight.

***

Michael walked into his quiet home, catching a glimpse of Delia passed out on the couch with the television on low. He took the remote from her clutched hands and turned the TV off before pulling his mate into his arms in a bridal carry.

Delia was roused from her sleep and curled her head into his neck as she mumbled in her half-doze. It was completely unintelligible, and Michael chuckled deep in his throat as he walked them to their bedroom.

“What was that, love?”

“Your mother called,” she muttered sleepily into his lapel. “Wants you…you to call her back.” She yawned and blinked her eyes open a moment later when she realized Michael had stopped in place. “What? What is it? Michael?”

He resumed walking, though his pace was slower and more methodical. Delia shifted upwards as they passed through the door, and she glanced at his face which looked closed-off and flat.

“It’s nothing, sposina,” he told her before dropping her gently onto the bed, bottom first. “Did my mother say anything else?”

She frowned at him, severely affected by his stilted demeanor. “She wanted to make sure to let you know that she would like a call back. Acted like I didn’t understand her accented English—like I was some sort of i***t or performing monkey. She hung up before she could say anything else. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

Michael sighed, closing his eyes. His parents lacked the niceties he had gotten used to in America. People would come up to you here without knowing who you were. Whether it was tourists asking directions or a stranger remarking on the weather, it had first had baffled him, how people could go up to someone they didn’t know and just start chatting. It was definitely an Americanism that took him a while to get used to. Even now it startled him at times, and he was a vampire.

“My mother is not exactly friendly, as you could tell.” His voice was still contrained, and his eyes roamed away from hers, hating that he had to keep his past from his mate. But it was for her safety that he had to keep the information of who his parents were a secret for now. If Delia knew and Giuliana and Nico found out…

He didn’t want to think about that. His mother and father would probably try to bring her into the fold as well. Michael didn’t want her to be in any sort of danger, no matter which country they lived in.

And even if she was a vampire. There were still other supernatural beings that hated the Jensens, and the family was on many hitlists in that community.

“Pay no attention to her, Delia. I will deal with her on my own.”

She sat upright in bed, a scowl marring her face. “I’m not some wilting flower and can’t take anything you can tell me. I was thrust into this supernatural world without meaning to, after all. I think I can handle whatever it is you’re hiding from me.”

He immediately wanted to balk and tell her he wasn’t hiding anything at all from her, but that would have been an outright lie. Sure, he skirted the truth when he had to, but this was different. Knowing could kill Delia, and he had very little faith in his parents after some of the things he had witnessed them doing to their enemies.

They were downright savage at times.

“Amore, trust me on this. If you needed to know about them, I would let you in on everything. My parents—they’re not good people, and even knowing that much I think is bad. They’re not honorable people.” Violent, he wanted to add, but held it back. “If there comes a time when you need to know about them, I will say something. Until that time, though, I think it’s best—”

“Best if I what? Best if I live in ignorance?” She shook her head, an almost violent gesture. “Michael, you know everything—everything—there is to know about me, and I know so little about you. I know you originally come from Italy, but I don’t know your hometown. I know that your mother calls you Michele, but that’s only because that’s who she asked for when she called. Why can’t I know more?”

Her anger was explosive. She’d had enough of his excuses and wanted nothing more than the plain truth.

Michael, as he many times did, pulled her closer to his body and tried to temper her ire with his proximity.

This time, it didn’t work. Delia was far too riled up, and she pushed him away with a shake of her head. It was a struggle, for mates were not meant to be turned away, but she fought every urge to curl into his body and let him comfort her.

She walked towards the door and passed through it on her way to the linen cupboard as Michael called out to her.

“Delia! Where are you going?”

“None of your f*****g business, Michael. See? I can keep things from you too. How does it feel now?”

Exasperated, Michael wandered off into the hall to try to coax her back to bed.

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