Micah's Calling (4 page)

Sam had sat in rapt silence as she listened to Micah explain
yet one more aspect about the new life she had entered by becoming his mate.
Would she ever get used to this world he lived in? A world she never even knew
existed until she stepped into that parking garage to find a handsome,
mysterious stranger being beaten to death by a bunch of would-be thugs. Only he
hadn't been just a regular stranger and those hadn't been regular thugs. He had
been a vampire, and the thugs had been drecks, and when she shot Apostle, she had
sealed her own fate.

"Having regrets?" Micah said softly, his profile
unreadable.

Obviously he could see what she was thinking. At least there
would never be dishonesty between them. "No."

"You sure?"

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Yes."

Micah squeezed her hand back. "You're not in Kansas,
anymore, Sam. It's a scary place I live in."

"I don't want to be in Kansas. And I don't care how
scary it is."

They pulled up to a stop light and he turned toward her, his
eyes searching her face. "Why not?"

Sam smiled wistfully and looked at their joined hands.
"Because you're here. And I want to be with you."

She glanced back up and he blinked and smiled at her with a
gentle nod.

"And I'm so glad for that," he said.

"Why?"

"Because if you weren't here with me, I wouldn't be
here, either."

Micah gazed at Sam, his savior. He had been ready to die
before she stepped into his life. After Jackson had left him, Micah had been
ready to check out. For good.

But then Sam had shown up, smelling of lilacs and looking
like an angel. She had saved his life and given him a reason to live again, and
he could feel himself slowly morphing back into the male he had been centuries
ago, before his first mate's death. Maybe now he would rise up to become what
he had seemed destined to become back then.

If things had happened differently, he would be the team's
leader right now, not Tristan. Because that's what he had been before. He had
been Tristan's commander. Now it was the other way around.

He gazed at Sam, reflecting a moment longer, then caught the
glow from the light as it turned green. He returned his gaze to the front and
hit the gas.

He still found it hard to believe that he had changed so
much in the past few weeks. And he couldn't believe fortune had finally smiled
down on him after centuries of misery after losing Katarina in the late Middle
Ages. But all that was behind him now, and he suddenly found himself
considering a future of happiness. One where he could actually smile and laugh
again.

He'd been laughing a lot with Sam.

But he also couldn't forget how dangerous the world he lived
in was. And now Sam was part of that world.

They held hands in silence as he took them out of the city
and into the burbs. Her mind was processing everything he had told her, chewing
it up, mulling it over, and filing it away.

"Okay," she said out of the blue. "So how
many mixed-bloods are there, proportionately speaking?"

Micah shrugged. "I don't know. I know there are more
pure bloods than mixed-bloods. Maybe a four to one ratio. Possibly even three
to one. Why?"

She sighed as if she was trying to figure something out.
"Well, it just seems like since humans outnumber vampires — and I assume
they do since you vampires keep yourselves so secret from humans — there would
be a lot more mixed-bloods running around."

Micah was impressed. What an astute observation.

"Okay, so what's your question?"

She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. "Can't you just poke
inside my head and see it?"

"Yes, but it's so much nicer to hear your sexy
voice." He grinned sweetly back.

Sam laughed and shook her head. "You're
incorrigible."

"So they tell me." He turned the Audi toward the
north. "Do you want to know why we aren't overrun by mixed-bloods? Is that
your question?"

"Yeah, I can't figure that one out. If male vampires
are only fertile during their
calling—
"

"Not only," he said, correcting her. "But
they are most fertile at that time."

Sam nodded. "Okay, so if that's the case, are male
vampires mating humans and
not
having their
calling?
But that
doesn't make sense because you're having your
calling
with me, and I'm
human."

"Not technically. Not anymore, that is."

"Well, you know what I mean."

"I know. And that's a good question." Micah paused
as he pulled into a manicured subdivision with massive houses that sat far back
off the road. Each plot was at least five acres or larger. "
Calling
or no
calling,
it's harder for a male vampire to impregnate a human
female. And even harder for female vampires to become pregnant by human males.
But there are exceptions, and it happens. And when it does, you have yourself a
mixed-blood. I know a couple of mixed-bloods who have two or three siblings to
the same mixed set of parents, which is unheard-of. Most mixed couples never
have children of their own and have to adopt. But as with human evolution,
vampires and their mixed progeny are evolving, too. One day, it could be easier
for mixed couples to have young of their own, but right now, as a general rule,
it's harder. But a lot of them end up in some kind of enforcement capacity
because of their powers. It's why AKM has so many on staff. Their powers come
in handy on the job."

Micah slowed and turned into a long, curved driveway that
led up to a dark-windowed home surrounded by mature trees still awaiting the
warmth of spring so they could once again leaf out and provide a canopy of
shade to the magnificent home.

"Does that mean you and I might not have kids?"
Sam sounded concerned, and didn't that make Micah love her even more? She wanted
his babies, didn't she?

"It's a possibility, but I'll be damned if I'm going to
stop trying." He slowed the car as he approached the garage. "We're
here."

Sam gasped as if she had only just realized they had arrived
at his home.

"This is your home?"

Micah parked the car outside the four-car garage and shut
off the engine as he peered out the windshield at the luxurious monolith.
"Yup. This is home."

After he and Jackson had gotten together he had spent less
time here and more time downtown at the apartment. But then Jackson had split
and Sam saved him, and…well, he wanted to start spending more time here, now.
With her.

And not just because of what was in his basement.

He wanted to make a home with Sam, and he didn't think they
could do that at the apartment. Sure, the apartment was a great hangout and was
closer to AKM, which made it convenient, but this was home.

And he had to be honest with himself. Sam had awakened a
part of him he couldn't exercise at the apartment. A part of him that some
would call depraved but that he valued for the trust and honesty his fetish
required. And if Sam was going to be in his life, she needed to know what she
had awakened. She needed to see it for herself. Because he wanted to play. With
her. Hard.

"Sam…" He took a deep breath. "I want to show
you something here, okay?"

Her brow furrowed curiously. "Okay."

"And I need you to have an open mind about it."

She nodded. "Okay."

With that, he got out of the car and joined her as she
stepped out and shut the passenger door. He hoped this went well, but if it
didn't and his lifestyle wasn't for her, that was okay, too.

He took her hand and led her to the front door, unlocked it,
and stood aside as she entered. Someone came in once a week to clean and make
sure everything was taken care of, but they knew not to go into the basement.
Only he was allowed down there, and he had the only key, so they couldn't get
down there, anyway, unless they picked the lock.

Sam's gaze swept the open foyer that led into the recessed
living room. A pair of glass sliding doors led out to a patio and deck that
surrounded a custom pool. He would need to start thinking about opening the
pool for the coming summer.

He followed her as she walked from the living room, her hand
running along the back of the plush moleskin couch, and into the ultra-modern
kitchen. He had ordered custom cabinetry for the kitchen. Rich and elegant, it
brightened the entire living area with its antique, brushed off-white color and
brass hardware.

The kitchen had been a key factor in why he had bought the
house in the first place. It was huge, with granite counters and
top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances.

"Wow." Sam's gaze danced around as if she was
struggling to take it all in. "This is some kitchen."

"I like to cook." He quietly settled the side of
his hip against the island in the center of the room, his gaze following her.
He remembered what they had done earlier and grinned. "Can you imagine the
damage we could do to each other in here?"

Sam's head turned toward him, and her green eyes twinkled,
but she didn't reply. She just smiled her secret, sexy smile and continued her
tour.

"Come on," he said, pushing away from the counter.
"Let me show you the rest of the house."
Yeah, as in, let me show
you my dungeon of dastardly deeds.

Hopefully, she wouldn't run away after paying that part of
the house a visit.

She took his hand and followed him as he toured her through
the rest of the main floor then upstairs. There wasn't much upstairs since he
didn't spend a lot of time there, but perhaps she would change that. Unlike
him, she could dwell in the daylight. The upstairs floor would make a nice
daytime retreat for her. Lots of windows. Lots of light.

But her decorating plans for the top floor of his home
weren't why they were here. It was time to reveal the debauchery that had been
such a huge part of his life before he lost the passion for BDSM several years
ago. It had simply lost its appeal, getting old and stale — a fog of stagnation
that had begun to weigh him down every time he donned the domination persona.

In hindsight, he realized that his fall from grace a month
ago had likely begun when he'd lost his love of BDSM, specifically domination.
That should have been a sign that he was falling. Losing Jackson had just sped
up his demise.

But all that was behind him now, his zest for life as well
as for BDSM surging once again with Sam's arrival. And now it was time to show
her that side of him.

He led her back downstairs.

Standing in front of the basement door, he took out his keys
and turned toward her.

"I won't go down there with you," he said.

"Why not?" She cocked her head to the side.

"Because the
calling
is calling me, and I don't
want to get carried away."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "What am I
going to find down there, Micah?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Micah's eyes darkened in response to her question, and it
made her heart skip a beat. Whatever was down in the basement was something
that stirred his blood…in a good way.

She recalled her handcuff comment and how it had aroused
him.

"Micah?" She prompted him again, waiting for an
answer.

He took a deep breath, leaned in, and gently kissed her…a
soft, lingering connection between their lips. "My trust in you is down
there." He dipped his head toward the closed door as he unlocked it.

He flipped on a series of light switches just inside the
door, and the stairwell lit up. He looked at her expectantly, and Sam
recognized a hint of hope in his gaze.

She took the first step down.

"I'll wait in the kitchen." His gaze flicked down
the stairs as he took a deep breath, and then he walked away, leaving her alone
with whatever awaited her in the depths of his impressive home.

Micah was behaving so strangely all of a sudden, as if he
was both nervous and excited. He wanted her to like what she found in the
basement, but he was worried she wouldn't. Well, she might as well get this
over with.

She went down the stairs and entered what she imagined was
his bedroom. It was huge, easily taking up half the square footage of the basement.
The bed was enormous, with an ornate headboard and footboard bookending the
mattress. And pillows. Lots of pillows in lots of fabrics and colors. They were
everywhere.

A flat screen TV hung on the opposite wall, and the walls
were a rich creamy color. The motif was light, airy, and comfortable. Almost
earthy.

Except for a pair of wooden doors on the far wall.

The doors looked like a modern version of something out of
medieval times, with black, round, iron handles set within similar hardware
bolted to the wood. The doorway was arched and reminded her of the entrance to
a cave, but something told her Fred Flintstone didn't reside on the other side
of that imposing entrance.

After making her way across the room, she grabbed one of the
heavy round handles, and it swiveled up into her grasp. Should she pull or
push?

Giving it a yank, nothing happened. Okay, so let's push.

The double doors creaked and whined as if the hinges needed
a good oiling. Sam's mouth dropped open as she gasped.

What world had she just entered? It felt like a cross
between romantic Tuscany and Medieval Saxony. The walls of this new room were
painted a deep, yellowish-gold with texturing that reminded her of fresco-style
paintings. Several floor-to-ceiling mirrors hung in various locations
throughout the room. The floor was painted gray with what felt like non-slip
paint. But it was the ceiling that took her breath away. A fresco of a
richly-colored bowl of fruit, large and overflowing, surrounded by nude
Renaissance men and women engaged in every manner of debauchery, adorned the
ceiling, except for one area where hooks hung in a grid pattern, and another
where a ceiling-mounted mirror reflected a second massive bed framed in wrought
iron.