Micah's Calling (6 page)

She was lost in wanton abandon, her pupils dilated, her
nipples taut, her hands pressing against his chest for stability as she fucked
him with every fiber of her body.

Fuck, but he wished her body was capable of taking his seed
and making new life. She would make an amazing mother to his young, but he knew
it was futile to think such thoughts. At least for the time being. Maybe at his
next
calling
things would be different and he would finally be granted
the family he had always wanted.

In unison, they both cried out, coming, their bodies
shattering yet again through another powerful climax. Sam collapsed on top of
him, spent.

Except for Micah's fingertips lazily trailing up and down
her spine, neither moved for several minutes, remaining sprawled on his plush
carpet. Finally, he lifted his head and kissed the top of hers.

"Trace is coming over tomorrow night for the
game," he said quietly, setting his head back on the floor.

"Mmm."

"Do you think we'll be able to keep our hands off each
other while he's here?"

"Maybe." Her voice was muffled with her cheek
pressed against his chest.

She lifted her head and propped her chin on her hand against
his sternum. "We can always slip away at halftime for a little pick-me-up
if we have to." A crooked grin crossed her lips.

"True." His own mouth lifted at the corners, and a
mischievous arch played over his brow.

"As a vampire, Trace should understand this
calling
thing you're going through, right?"

"Uh-huh. He should. But wouldn't that make us bad
hosts?" His grin widened. He liked her suggestion to slip away at
halftime.

"Nah, just handicapped."

He laughed. "Handicapped with lust."

She started laughing with him. "Something like that,
yes."

Sam pulled herself up his body and kissed him, letting her
lips linger against his. "Your laugh is so sexy."

"Is it now?"

She bit her lip. "Uh-huh."

"Well, I'm glad I'm laughing again then."

"Me, too."

They lay like that a few seconds longer then Sam pushed
herself up and they stood and gathered their clothes. Morning was approaching
and the timer on his blinds and drapes engaged to make them close automatically
and block out the light.

"You know, at my house, we can re-do the upper level
and make that your special place," he said, following her to the bedroom.

They tossed their clothes in the hamper and flipped on the
light in the bathroom.

"Don't you use the upstairs?" Sam reached in and
turned on the water for the shower.

"No. Not really." He grabbed them a couple of
towels out of the linen closet. "I figure you can make that your day haven
or something. After all, you can still be in the sunlight."

He hoped Sam would want to make herself comfortable in his
life. He wanted her to decorate his home and put her touch in every room, but
especially upstairs. That would be her area, and he liked the idea of seeing
how she would arrange it. What colors of paint would she use? What kind of
furniture? Would she prefer more modern décor or a cozier look and feel? All
those small details would tell him so much more about her, and he wanted to
know everything there was to know about his Samantha.

Sam contemplated for a moment then smiled. "I'd like
that. I think I would miss the sun. Are you sure you don't mind?"

He shook his head and followed her into the shower.
"Absolutely. I want you to be comfortable, Sam." He grabbed her
lilac-scented shampoo as she dipped her head back under one of the multiple
sprays of water. After squeezing some of the shampoo into his hand, he stepped
up behind her as she turned, and then he began massaging it into her scalp.

Micah loved tending to her like this. Not that it was
unusual during the
calling
for a male to dote on his mate. This was when
a male nested, when he began caring for his mate's physical needs in
preparation to bear his child. He bathed her, prepared nourishment for her,
wrapped her in a blanket if she was cold, tucked her into bed to ensure she
rested, brought her tea and water or whatever else she needed.

He grinned as he worked his strong fingers over her scalp,
letting the thick suds coat his hands and forearms. He always used too much
shampoo to wash her hair, but he liked how the scent lingered on him after the
suds coated his arms.

As she rinsed her hair, he poured a healthy dollop of lilac
body wash onto a loofah, worked the soap into thick, aromatic suds, and gently
but meticulously washed every inch of her body, even kneeling to the floor to
wash her feet as she lifted one then the other, leaning down and placing her
hands on his shoulders for support.

Only after she was thoroughly washed did he quickly shampoo
his own hair and cleanse his own body.

Then they stepped from the shower and he grabbed one of the
plush towels and dried her. The first couple of times he'd taken her through
this routine, she had been confused at his need to tend to her like this. In
fact, she had tried to protest, but now she knew this was all part of the
calling.
He was compelled to worship her and treat her like the precious vessel she was.
And one day, when — yes,
when
— she became pregnant, this was the kind
of behavior she could expect every day. As her mate, he had no choice but to
obey the instinctual signals of his body, and his instincts would demand he
take care of her this way. She would need it then, because carrying a vampire's
baby was exhausting. Even in the early stages.

As he dried her, he paid extra attention to her slim, flat
belly. God, he wanted to see her belly swell as the weeks passed. He wanted to
be able to place his hand against her tummy and feel a little life — a life he
had helped create — moving inside her. What would that be like? He and Katarina
had never had young of their own. She hadn't been able to. Even after several
calling
phases, her body wouldn't accept his offering. A child was the one thing Micah
had always wanted and never thought he would have. Now, he had another chance
with Sam.

Reverently, he knelt down in front of her, wrapped his arms
around her waist, leaned forward, and kissed her stomach. And again. Then
again. He wanted a baby with Sam. He knew it was just the
calling
speaking through his consciousness, but he couldn't help the desire for a child
from springing tears to his eyes.

"Someday," she whispered.

He looked up at her. "Are you reading my mind?" He
tried to smile, but he knew it probably came out looking like only a pathetic
attempt.

"I don't have to," she said. "You're showing
me what you're thinking."

At her words, he nodded and pulled her close, tightening his
arms around her before resting his forehead against her stomach as her fingers
pushed through his hair to hold him against her.

"Yes, someday," he said, closing his eyes.

* * *

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday, and Trace was coming
over.

Micah and Sam spent the better part of the day tidying up
and getting ready for company when they weren't lost in each other's arms, and
somehow Sam managed to put together a batch of her famous chili. It was the
second batch she'd made since they'd been together, and he and Trace both loved
it. The whole apartment smelled heavenly with its aroma.

While Sam put away a few things in the bedroom, Micah took
out the last load of laundry and started folding it. He needed to make a quick
run to the store for beer, and Trace was due in about an hour-and-a-half, so it
looked like he wouldn't get anymore play time with Sam until after they all
went to bed, unless Sam was serious about making their own halftime entertainment.

And it looked like Trace was spending the night. Snow had
started to fall, and an icy mix was forecast for later on.

Micah liked Trace. The guy had turned out to be good people
and an even stronger ally. Throughout Micah's ordeal with Apostle, Trace had
been a stalwart bodyguard.

Micah still couldn't get over how Trace had defended him at
AKM that night he had almost lost Sam. Micah and Arion had been going at each
other, Arion sticking his nose into Micah's life where it didn't belong, as he
always did, and Micah had snapped. His fully-mated side had exploded and
unleashed itself on Arion. Fuck, but he had pounded the hell out of that guy,
but Trace had stepped in to pull Micah away and keep the others from coming
after him.

Something told Micah that Trace's protective nature of him
had more to it than just his desire to keep a friend out of trouble. He felt
like he and Trace were tethered together on two different paths that were
aligned to collide in the near future.

It would help if he could get a look inside that head of
Trace's, but his thoughts were securely locked away. There was no cracking that
safe. No matter how easily Micah got into the heads of everyone else, he wasn't
getting inside Trace's mind unless Trace wanted him to.

Still, the idea that he and Trace were bound somehow hung
over him like a portentous shadow. Trace needed Micah for something. But what?

He supposed he would find out soon enough, but he knew
instinctively that whatever Trace needed from him, he would give it. So, it
wasn't just Sam he had connected to. He had connected to Trace in a completely
different way, as well. Sam was his mate, and Trace was his best friend and
then some. Blood brothers was more how it felt. Whatever it was, he would break
all kinds of rules and laws to protect them both if it ever came to that.

Micah folded the last of the clothes and carried them to the
bedroom.

As he got closer, he tapped into Sam's thoughts. She was
thinking about his dungeon again. She had been thinking a lot about his
playroom today. Seemed she was excited to get back to it and see what he could
do.

He would go easy on her at first. He wasn't sure she could
handle all that he could give. He hadn't developed a reputation in the local
BDSM community as being a Master Dom for nothing. In his day, his reputation
had been legendary, and he had been much-sought-after, not just for the pain he
could give, but for his creativity, ardent trust, discretion, respect, and the
way he took care of his subs after a scene.

"Which are you? A top or a bottom?" He chuckled as
he entered the room and made her jump.

"Will you stay out of my head?" She always said
that, but she knew by now he couldn't.

"Sorry, habit." That was his patent answer every
time she reprimanded him.

He put the clothes away as she laughed.

"You are never going to stop that, are you?"

With a shake of his head, he wrapped his arms around her
waist. "No. I can't help it. I like the way you think. Especially when
you're thinking about my special proclivities." In fact, he was getting
aroused at the thought of her thinking about his dungeon and what he could do
to her there. Too bad, since they didn't have much time.

"Proclivities?" Sam's eyebrow arched at him.
"My, what a big vocabulary you have."

He pressed the hand more firmly against the small of her
back and eased up against her body like a predator. "I'm just full of
surprises. And I'm very well educated." Micah had studied in more
universities than he could remember. No wonder his vocabulary was so expansive,
although he did try not to use such big words on a regular basis. Most people
didn't understand them.

"I can see that, and I'm sure you are."

He saw inside her mind and grinned when he saw how much his
intelligence turned her on.

"Your intelligence turns me on, too," he said,
leaning in and skimming his lips over the side of her neck. Mmm, she tasted
good. Smelled good, too.

"Would you stop that?"

He wondered if she was referring to his mental break-ins or
his mouth on her skin. A peek inside her thoughts revealed the former, as he
suspected, and he smiled to himself.

"Huh-uh. Nope. Never." His lips closed over her
neck and he gently suckled her.

She loosened with warmth and arousal ever-so-subtly in his
grasp. "Well, can you at least stay out of my memories?"

Micah wasn't one to dig into memories, so he figured he
could accommodate her request. He was more into the here-and-now of people's
thoughts, not what had happened before.

He released her neck and pulled around until his lips were
so close to hers they were almost touching. "I can do that," he said.
"Maybe." He grinned and kissed her, holding her there as his gaze
smoldered into hers. He really wanted to take her to bed. Now. And stay there.
But Trace would be over soon, and they still had a few things to do.

He pulled away. "I'm going down to the corner store for
beer. I'll be back in fifteen. Need anything?"

She looked like she wanted the same thing he wanted, and it
wasn't something he could buy at the store. Damn.

"Maybe some pretzels?" she said, sounding just a
bit dejected.

"Will do." After kissing her again, he reluctantly
left her side and grabbed his wallet off the dresser then put on his coat and
headed for the bedroom door.

"Which are you?" she suddenly asked.

Her question made him stop. She was referring to the
question he had asked her when he had walked in. About whether she was a top or
a bottom. Was she ready for his answer? He knew she had fantasized about what
he could do to her, but fantasizing about it and hearing him say the word were
two different things.

When he turned, her innocent green eyes didn't look so
innocent, anymore. She had seen what was in his basement and was ready to move
forward with him.

"I'm a dom, but I also top. With you, I think I might
actually bottom, though. But I'll never submit." He saw her next question
before she asked it, and the corner of his mouth turned up wryly.