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Lancaster, Pennsylvania
Present Day
Adam’s mind jolted awake to the crushing agony of loss. Bone deep sorrow and instant regret stole his breath as he jackknifed off the bed. The house stood as still and dark as a tomb, yet he sensed his mother’s fear as intensely as if it were his own.
Pulse thundering, he scrambled to his feet, only to double over and catch his weight on the bed as he pressed a hand to the piercing pain in his chest. Not his pain, but hers. Panic, regret, loss, and heartache splintered through his ribs like jagged ice. So familiar with his mother’s emotions, he instantly identified her as the source.
Confusion shifted to impotent fury as his father came awake in the room above, his potent emotions knifed up Adam’s back.
“Abilene?” Adam heard his father’s deep timber through the ceiling, and the concern vibrating his voice.
“Jonas,” his mother wept. “Make it stop.”
He knew in that moment, as his parents’ fear clouded his own, another babe might be lost. Adam’s sorrow tangled with their intruding emotions.
His bare feet scuffed over the cool wood floor as he reached for his clothes in the dark. His gaze scanned the shadows, listening for the confirmation he’d heard too many times before. His mother’s cries cut through the chilled air, from the floor above, and Adam lowered his head, knowing his suspicions to be true. She’d lost another.
Concern pushed into his mind, and he quickly tugged his pants off the peg on the wall, sensing his younger sister, Grace, approaching. He hooked his suspenders over his bare shoulders and took a step back just as the door swung wide. Gracie’s elfin figure filled the cavity.
Tears shimmered in her bright blue eyes. “It’s Mother. Adam, she’s losing another one.”
He pulled her into his arms, lending his strength as well as comfort. She had such a big heart, her emotions cut into him like razorblades lacerating his insides.
“You must be brave, Gracie. We all must be strong for Mother.”
“And Father,” she whispered. “This will destroy him.”
“Have faith. Father is stronger than we realize.”
She gazed up at him and nodded with borrowed, feeble courage. But unlike Adam, who only felt others’ emotions, his sister heard their most private thoughts. And in the silence, when emotions ran high and thoughts were less guarded, Grace’s telepathy always got the better of others.
Her bravery crumbled and tears rushed to her eyes. “Oh, Adam, why does God keep taking her babies?”
He tightened his arms and pressed a kiss to her head. Long waves of dark hair dwarfed her already petite size. So rarely did he see her without her bonnet, her unadorned head only added to her innocent appearance. Although Gracie was an adult, she’d always maintain a childlike quality in his eyes.
“We mustn’t blame God,” he whispered. “Always trust that He has a plan for us.”
“Then who can we blame? This isn’t supposed to happen to immortal females.”
He wished he had the answers she sought. “Faith is based on trust, Grace. We must trust God’s plan. It is not our place to question that which we cannot know.” When he sensed a pending argument, he said, “You should see if you can be of assistance upstairs.”
As a male, he would not be welcome into his mother’s private quarters under such circumstances. Grace, on the other hand, was expected to lend her services in such situations. But as an empath, Adam was drowning in their turmoil thrumming through the ceiling, and had little shelter from the onslaught. If Grace could ease their mother’s anxieties it would go a long way toward salvaging his strength.
She unlatched her arms from around his waist and stepped back. “I can’t. Not yet. She’s so... I simply can’t bear her thoughts.”
Adam could sense the shame washing over his mother, while Grace heard all the disgraceful thoughts ruminating through her head. By morning, they would both be wrung out and raw. Yet, their mother would bear the worst of it.
Based on the pain mangling his insides, he now assumed the loss was complete. His father’s reverberating regret left no doubt that the babe was gone.
Adam nodded and waved a hand for Grace to sit on his bed. She lowered like a feather floating to the earth, delicate and depleted.
“Our added worries will only increase the burdens already laid upon this home. Let us suffer together in this moment, alone, where our doubts may be ground into teff and lost to the wind.”
Sorrow filled her blue eyes, tears magnifying them in size. “We must galvanize ourselves for the hours and days ahead,” she whispered, folding her hand around his. “It will be hardest on us.”
He and Gracie would suffer the brunt of the pain, as they always did. She had learned to temper her telepathy on most days, but there seemed no filter in times of extreme emotion.
Having suffered every sentiment under this roof, he sympathized with her and squeezed her hand. “One would think, after so many losses, the ache would wane.”
She shook her head. “It’s the opposite. With each miscarriage, her doubts grow, and her faith withers. Soon she’ll have no devotion at all, just a hollow womb and a hundred nameless graves.”
“Grace!” Her words, so contrary to her usual uplifting spirit, startled him.
“Would you rather I lie? I’ve seen the same worries in all of our thoughts. Even you wish they would stop trying to conceive for a time, so that we might have a respite from such grief.”
Ashamed that she was right, he lowered his gaze. “It pains me to see any one of you hurting.”
“Because you’re an empath?”
“No, because you’re my family.” His grip tightened around her hand. “It’s our duty to look after those we love. Father cannot save Mother from this pain any more than you or I can. It’s a terrible consequence for man to feel so helpless in what is already a great loss.”
“And for females it’s simply another lesson in acceptance. We have such little control over our lives as is.”
He didn’t like hearing such jaded words from his sweet sister, but as he heard the scuffle of footsteps in the hall, he contained his comments for another time. “Cain’s awake.”
Her spine lengthened as if she’d adorned invisible armor. The door creaked and their brother stood over the threshold. Unlike them, Cain had no special abilities that offered insight to the unspoken climate of the house.
“Am I dying? Why so bleak?”
Grace released Adam’s hand and stood, tugging the wrinkles from her chemise as a way to avoid eye contact with Cain and hide her tears. “It’s Mother. She’s lost another.”
Even Cain, for all of his cool indifference, couldn’t hide his regret at such news. “But she was so close, almost full term. Are you sure there’s nothing to be done?”
Their mother’s misery was inescapable. Adam shut his eyes to better absorb it without flinching. “It’s too late.”
His strength waned, and he debated taking a seat. He loathed drawing attention to himself when others were in such need of comfort. Grace, aware of his thoughts, glanced at him and frowned.
He met her stare. Mother needs you.
Without a word, she gave a subtle nod and walked to the doorway where Cain stood. “There’s nothing to be done. I should check on her.”
Adam need only to shut his eyes, and his mother’s heartache would consume him. A selfish gratitude, that he could not interpret her physical pain, raced through him. The emotional agony was enough to drop him to his knees, yet he somehow remained standing.
“Will she be all right?” Cain asked Grace.
Grace looked up at Cain, her white sleeping gown billowing around her in a cloud of cotton. “She blames herself. We must be strong and remind her that this is all part of God’s plan.”
Cain’s face paled. “What if this is God’s plan? It keeps happening—”
“It’s best for us not to question God’s intentions,” Adam reminded.
“You mean blame.”
Adam met his twin brother’s hard glare. “I mean question. What’s done is done. Inviting other doubts will only impede Mother’s path. She needs to heal, and we need to help her get to a better place emotionally.” So quickly his brother could undo the delicate comfort he’d sewn.
“I might not have gifts like the two of you, but even I can tell you have doubts. Our mother’s sobbing up there, and our father is trying to justify how a female, of an advanced species, could suffer what can only be a chronic medical shortcoming. If God is so almighty and knowing, why is he letting her suffer so?”
“Be quiet,” Grace snapped. “Adam’s right. This isn’t a time for doubt or blame.” She pushed past him. “I’m going to check on Mother.”
Cain watched her leave then turned back to Adam. “She’s too self-righteous.”
“It’s a momentary loss for you. Grace is forced to think about it over and over again, whenever it crosses Mother’s mind.”
“She’s twenty-one years, Adam. It’s not my fault she still hasn’t learned to control her gifts.”
He sensed the bitter jealousy hidden behind Cain’s indifference. “Her gifts aside, you mock our faith. It’s the only comfort she has in times like this. One seed of doubt can easily overtake an entire green.”
“What is a flock without one wolf? Someone has to keep things interesting around here.”
Adam’s stare narrowed. “And yet you stay on the farm, living a simple life like the rest of us sheep. I think if you truly were the heathen you claim to be, you’d have left by now to live among the English. But you wait like the rest of us, believing there will come a moment of truth.”
Cain rolled his eyes again and leaned his elbow into the doorjamb. “That’s not why I stay. Look at our Elders, the ones still waiting for God’s call. Father was wise to marry Mother. He took his destiny into his own hands. We should all be so judicious.”
Their mother and father were not the first of their kind to marry for convenience, but their union had not been a simple means to an end. Their parents loved each other deeply. Their grandfather often said their father had been lost in a fever of passion when he married their mother, too lost to fathom the consequences that may still come should either of them be called to their true mate.
Adam was far from convinced his brother’s words were a true representation of his feelings, especially when Adam could so clearly sense his doubt.
Cain might claim their father was wise to marry for love, but a part of him still believed in the power of divine intervention. Grace had once whispered to Adam that she’d overheard Cain’s fears that their mother’s miscarriages were perhaps a punishment for marrying a male who was not her called mate. Adam suspected these lingering beliefs were also responsible for keeping Cain on the farm living amongst a culture he disdained.
Adam decided to let the debate go for now, knowing his brother’s boldness hid more uncertainty than arrogance. They were not the only immortals on earth. However, they were by far the safest.
Living under the guise of an Amish sect allowed them a certain level of privacy not found elsewhere. It also had a way of slowing trends, which meant something to a species that barely aged and could live a thousand lifetimes. The Elders of their order scorned technology, finding its ever-evolving improvements more tedious than beneficial. As Amish, such advancements rarely affected them. And as immortals, hiding in plain sight seemed the safest way to ensure the survival of their kind.
“If Grace had any brains she’d leave,” Cain said. “Either that, or follow in Larissa’s footsteps.”
“Grace will not be like Larissa. She plans to wait. Larissa wanted a family.”
Their eldest sister had recently been assigned as the wife to Silus Hostetler. It was not a love match or calling, merely a marriage of convenience. Silus wanted children and Larissa was obedient enough not to object when the Elders made the recommendation. Yet, no one in their family was naïve enough to believe it was a happy union.
A sharp cry pierced the silence, and both he and Cain looked to the ceiling. Adam sensed Grace’s calming presence in an ocean of unrest.
“I’m going back to sleep,” Cain announced. “I know too well how long these nights last.”
Adam supposed he should check on their father, but as he took a step, his feet rooted to the ground and he stumbled, catching his weight on the bedpost.
Cain pivoted at the sound of his tumble and scowled. “What was that?”
Adam shook off the sense of vertigo and frowned. “I lost my balance.” Agility was an innate quality of their kind. Heat scorched up his neck as embarrassment bloomed in his chest. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Adam straightened his posture and walked with stiff legs out the door. Cain’s stare followed his brother’s strides. When he reached the staircase he paused, needing a moment to catch his breath.
“Adam?” His brother’s voice sounded miles away.
White bursts of light flickered behind his vision. The staircase wavered and gravity took hold. Cain hauled him back from the stairs, a split second before Adam lost control and toppled forward.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
The world tipped off its axis as his brother dragged him back to his room. As his back hit the firm, straw mattress, he blinked at Cain, seeing his mouth move and his face contort with concern, but the sharp ringing in Adam’s ears made it impossible to hear anything beyond the blaring moan exploding in his head. The edge of his vision wavered, his view shrinking to a pinhole, and then all went black.
A sweet breeze tickled his nose, lighter than a whisper. He was no longer in his bedroom, but resting in a field. A melodic laugh teased through the air, the dulcet sound as soft as chimes playing in the wind. His senses fanned out, chasing the sound and seeking its source.
The distinct scent of honeysuckle mingled with a purely tempting female musk, and his body hardened. Fangs elongating, he rolled to his feet, his vision shifting to that of a predator’s. Lost in the hunt, a flash of inexplicable beauty raced by, and he chased the intangible source of his pleasure. Like a child after a firefly, he raced after his prey as the soft sound of her laughter drifted into the night sky, lost among the stars.
A tormented growl ripped from his chest and echoed in the thunder rolling from the blackened horizon. The wind lifted his hair, teasing his lungs as he breathed her in. Her nearness taunted him.
Mine... his mind purred hungrily, his eyes seeking what could not be seen.
He tracked her scent, following it deeper into the woods. The further he traveled, the less alone he felt. The beast within him awakened, and he was soon panting for her touch.
Another laugh trilled from the trees, and he pivoted, racing toward the sound. Her brilliance called to his darkness. She was the heat and light, exposing the shadowless truth of his salvation. His nature recognized her before his eyes had an opportunity to steal a glance, one soul sensing its counterpart and recognizing its mate.
The urge to hunt her dominated his thoughts, only slowed by the temptation to weep with relief. Why now? Why him?
His heart fluttered as her laughter tinkled like a distant bell ringing from the clouds. Too soon did he understand the cruelty of this place. The earth and his surroundings repeated on a loop as he moved in circles. Exhaustion swept over him. His fruitless search frustrated him, and his newfound peace shifted into rage.
“Show yourself!” His voice echoed back with jeering repetition.
Rain pelted his back as he stared at the graying horizon. Thunder rumbled again, blooming as it neared. A loud crack exploded from the woods, and lightning set fire to the trees in the distance.
“Where are you?” he demanded, only to have the stormy skies mock him.
Gray clouds fleeced the night sky, painting it blue and orange as the sun showed like a pinprick of light beneath the fading stars. Adam lifted an arm against the radiant gold rays, unsure if he’d ever seen the sun shine so bright. Its luminosity burned his eyes and his skin tingled as the clouds blushed and the sky caught fire.
Ducking under the shade of a tree, he watched through squinting eyes as the sun escalated. Her laughter sang from the horizon as if played from an instrument of light. Hunger gnawed at his insides. An unquenchable thirst dried his throat, but the sun imprisoned him to the shadows.
Their kind could walk in daylight. He didn’t understand this place or the laws that held him. How had he come here?
Rain sizzled in the warm air before hitting the ground. Thunder battled to steal the light, but it was too strong, too radiant and the storm drifted away.
Exhaustion pulled him to his knees. Falling forward, his fingers clawed at the damp grass and he growled. Something shook him.
“Adam!”
He jolted awake to find his brother hovering over him. “Cain?”
They were in his bedroom, the dark walls hardly touched by the breaking dawn as it filtered through the curtains. His ears strained to register any sound. His sister’s voice whispered from the floor above. His father’s emotions churned and Cain’s pulse raced. “Did you hear it?”
“Hear what? You collapsed.”
He breathed deep, his mind recalling the sweet scent of honeysuckle but finding no trace in the air. His gaze drifted over the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. He’d been in a field, in the woods. It was breathtaking. How had he gotten here?
“What...? I was outside. The sun was rising. It was a new dawn and the heat...” Words couldn’t explain what he’d seen.
Cain lifted a brow. “You’ve been here. Sleeping. You were climbing the stairs when you started to fall. I dragged you to your bed and you passed out.”
“Sleeping?” Had none of it been real? It felt real. He’d tasted the air. Drawing his tongue over his lips, he searched for a trace of honeysuckle and found nothing. “A dream?”
Cain drew back and scowled. Their kind did not dream unless—
Adam’s mind halted. There had been a female. His female. Yes, he recalled her yet couldn’t envision her. Her essence filled him like a memory imprinted on his soul.
“I was dreaming,” he rasped, voice full of disbelief and awe.
Cain’s stare twitched with sardonic doubt. “You wish.”
Adam tried to sit up, but his body proved too weak. Dizziness flooded his senses, and he collapsed on the mattress. “I was running in a field under a sky bursting with stars. I could hear a female laughing like she was calling to me.”
“What female?”
He shook his head, trying to picture her face yet unable to perceive her features. “A mortal female. There was something delicate about her, playful and teasing.”
“You’re lying.”
Adam blinked up at his twin brother wondering how he could make such an accusation. “I never lie.”
In that moment he felt Cain’s fear, a confirmation that he believed his words to be true. The significance was not lost in the silence as they both comprehended what this meant. Their kind didn’t dream. Only one time in a male’s life did such a phenomenon take place.
“It was so real, brother. I could smell and taste her. I could feel the wet grass underfoot and hear the wind rushing past my ears as I chased her.”
Dreams were said to be mystic visions sent by God, His way to call upon individuals and lead them to their destined mates. Tonight, he glimpsed his true mate, the female who would fill the other half of his soul.
Cain looked into his eyes. “How long will you have?”
Adam glanced at the window, noting how the sun had yet to fully rise. “I feel fine now. Tired, but otherwise fine. Yet, in the dream, the sun affected me differently. I couldn’t face the light.”
“You must find her quickly.”
The desire to hunt his mate called to him as surely as gravity kept him hemmed to the earth, but he had no idea where to begin. “I need more time. I couldn’t see her, yet I sensed her beauty.” Even now, desire to possess her gnawed at him.
“Adam, you can’t delay. If this is real...”
Both he and Cain turned their attention to the hall as footsteps approached. Adam shut his eyes to read the emotional grid. “It’s Gracie.” He gripped his brother’s arm and sent him a warning glance. “Not a word.”
Cain frowned. “She’ll know. She’ll read it in our thoughts.”
“Block your thoughts. This isn’t the time, Cain.”
“You need to tell them.”
“Not now,” he hissed, weary from his episode and struggling to hide his weakness. He forced himself to sit upright and gripped the bedpost. “It can wait until Mother’s feeling better. This was the first I’ve suffered any symptoms. I’m sure we have time.”
His brother’s worried eyes measured him. Adam silenced him with a stern glare, as Gracie entered the room. “How’s Mother?” he quickly asked, hoping to distract her notice.
She went into a familiar description of loss, one they all witnessed before. His mother would need a few days to mourn, and then several weeks to heal. Adam was well aware of the emotional jab that came every time her hand reflexively rested on her empty belly, her memory smarting with recalled loss each time.
A selfish part of him wondered if his circumstances could excuse him from suffering his parents’ grief under this roof, but honor commanded he look over them while they recovered. The time would come when he could no longer delay but for now, his presence was needed here.