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

39. Stages

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

Death wasn't the only event in life that made you go through stages. Delia had gone through enough emotional upheaval in one evening to run the gamut.

First, was anger. Broad and fierce and making her cool skin light up with heat, brutal scalding heat that lapped at every inch of her skin as her skull burned up.

Denial—because Michael couldn't have done that to her, completely take her out of the equation and made decisions for them instead of consulting her first.

That couldn't happen, right?

She was now lingering somewhere between a deep sadness and plain despair. Cassie was trying to cheer her up, but all Delia could hear was that being apart from your mate was painful.

"More painful than this, Cass? Honestly, I can't even bear to look at him, much less sleep in the same bed. The last time we argued, I nearly stepped on his face when getting up off the couch. The stupid jackass laid on the floor next to me when I got pissy. Good thing for him I missed his pretty face and got his junk instead." She paused before muttering. "Wish I could do that now. Kick him square in the nuts, because it can't be as painful as what I'm feeling right now."

"I get it, Dee. Life sucks and men are idiots. You don't have to play that old song and dance for me." Cassie sighed, sitting back against the headboard next to Delia. It was the same room she'd stayed in when Cassie had been kidnapped, the same her and Michael had occuped when her grandmother was still alive. "Michael is prideful, it sounds like to me. He has an old-fashioned way of thinking, I think. He wants to be the one to nurture and keep you safe, be the breadwinner, and even if he's going about it all wrong, it doesn't mean he doesn't care or love you."

"I know that." She was irritable. "But it ticks me off. I don't want to be beholden to his parents or this Sangue Nero bullshit, and he caved in without even bringing it up to me. I could throttle him for that."

"Okay, bruiser, keep the fisticuffs on hold for now." Cassie patted her hand gingerly. "He's probably angrier at himself than you are."

She snorted and looked toward the window. "Not possible, Cass."

"Well, this debt he has, he had before he met you, right?"

"Right, but—"

"So, maybe he felt it was so far removed from you because of when it happened, that that's why he didn't say he had markers from a loan shark." Cassie seemed to be pleased with her loan sharks lingo.

"Are you writing a script on the mafia or something? How do you know about markers? Besides, markers wouldn't be money. It's like you owe them a favor instead. Something less quantifiable."

"Damn." She seemed put out she'd got it wrong. "But still, you are going to be miserable the next few days, or however long it takes you to forgive him."

"If I forgive him." Delia laid on a pout so prominent, she resembled Charlotte when she was laying it on real thick.

Girls learned early about the pout.

"You will, because that's what women do. Men fuck up, women have hissy fits, and then they deal. We have that forgiveness gene whereas men have the fuck-up gene. It's science-y and shit."

Delia snorted, despite herself. "What men need to do, is think a little before making rash decisions. Where's the gene for that? Latent, or can we do some serious DNA magic and bring that forth?"