Micah's Calling (8 page)

With his sweats in his hand, he tossed back his hair and
looked at her with a shrug.

Trace was here. Playtime was officially over. But they had
at least had a last-minute fix, and the promise of more to come later hung over
them like an erotic shroud.

Micah disappeared down the hall, and Sam quickly skimmed her
fingers through her still-damp, boy-short hair. After brushing on some lip
gloss, she shut off the light and headed to the kitchen to check the chili.

She heard voices at the door, and a moment later, Trace
walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, Trace."

"Hey, little lady." Trace leaned down and kissed
her cheek.

He was such a sweetheart, but she could tell he was
dangerous. Still, she felt safer when he was around.

"You might want to check the front door," he said
quietly, leaning over the pot of chili and taking a deep whiff.
"Mmm."

"Why? What's at the front door?"

"Jackson's here."

"Who? Jackson?"

Trace arched an eyebrow and dipped his head in the direction
of the front door.

Sam frowned and hurried out of the kitchen.

"Micah, is someone –?" She hesitated when she saw
Micah talking to a man she had never met. Well, male in this case, since
Jackson was a vampire. She knew that much.

Jackson had been the reason why Micah had wanted to kill
himself a month ago. Micah had partially mated Jackson, but Jackson had left
him. And from the way it sounded, mated vampires — even partially mated ones —
didn't take well to their mates breaking up with them.

Case in point: The beautiful, sexy male standing in front of
her, with the navy blue eyes and black hair that cascaded in wet tendrils over
his shoulder.

Micah had nearly died from the pain of Jackson leaving him.

Thank God she had come along to save him.

Micah turned and those gorgeous eyes of his smiled at her as
his face lit up. Yes, she was Micah's mate now. So, why the hell was the guy
here?

She hurried forward and wrapped one arm around Micah and
pressed her hand against his back as she extended her other hand to Jackson.

"Hi, I'm Sam."

"Jackson, meet Sam," Micah said, looking at her
with what she could only describe as complete adoration.

His loving gaze made her whole body tingle.

Suddenly, it felt like Jackson wasn't even there, even
though Micah's next words seemed more for him than for her.

"Sam is my lifemate. She is my life now, always, and
forever. I love you, my precious Sam."

Sam felt her face heat. She was sure she was blushing.

Micah turned back to Jackson, who looked positively
forsaken. Clearly, Jackson had hoped for a different outcome to his surprise
visit.

Your loss, my gain.

She didn't dislike Jackson, even though what he'd done had practically
killed the male she had her arm around, and part of her felt sorry for him.
Jackson had realized what he'd lost too late. If not for Sam, Micah wouldn't
even be alive right now, and then where would Jackson be? Staring at a
headstone in a cemetery instead of in Micah's doorway, most likely.

Sam imagined this was the lesser of two evils.

"So, as you can see, Jack, I'm spoken for now."
Micah didn't sound as compassionate as Sam.

Jackson nodded and glanced between them. "I'm happy for
you." He brushed back his wavy, black hair and glanced toward the elevator
before looking back. "Congratulations. Um…." he gestured away.
"I guess, um…I guess I'll head on out. I just wanted to say hi."

"Okay. See you Jack," Micah said, tightening his
grip around Sam's waist.

"It was nice to meet you." Sam smiled at him.

Everyone made mistakes, and she couldn't fault Jackson for
his.

"Nice meeting you, too." He smiled wanly at her
and lifted his hand in a weak wave as he turned and made his way down the hall
toward the elevator.

Micah shut the door and turned toward her. "Now that I
have you, I don't know what I saw in him."

"He meant something to you once."

He nodded. "Yes, he did. But all that's past now."

She gazed up into his eyes for a heartbeat. "Come on,
lover. You need to get dressed before the game starts." She took his hand
and began to walk away with him in tow.

"Lover?" He stalled and pulled her back, a big
grin on his face.

"Mm-hm. You got a problem with that?"

He shook his head and kissed her. "Nope. Not at all,
Mrs. Black."

Sam groaned playfully and lifted her left hand. "No.
Ring. See?"

Micah chuckled and kissed her ring finger. "You're.
Still. Mine."

Oh yes. She was.

Micah quickly clasped hands with Trace as he passed the
kitchen on his way to the bedroom.

"Hey, brother," Trace said. "You gonna dance
around in that towel all night? Coz if you are, I'm overdressed."

Micah flipped him off. "You only wish, fucker." He
nodded down the hall toward the bedroom. "I'll be back in a sec."

Trace gave him a nonchalant once-over with his pale green
eyes and chuckled. "Thank God. Coz I wasn't sittin' next you if you
weren't gonna put some clothes on."

Micah rolled his eyes and flipped him off again then
departed for the bedroom to change.

Jackson showing up had been unexpected. For almost a year,
he and Jackson had been a thing. An item. A couple. Jackson had been the first
male Micah had been attracted to, and when he felt the pull to mate him soon
after they met, it had surprised him. The link between them hadn't been a full
mating, but it hadn't mattered when Jackson left him. Micah had still responded
as if he had lost a full mate, probably because Jackson's departure triggered
the memory of the loss of his first mate, Katarina.

Katarina had been a full mate. He had experienced a
calling
with her and everything. Several
callings,
actually. Even so, his mating
to Katarina hadn't been as strong as what he felt for Samantha.

He would die instantly if he ever lost Sam. His heart would
simply cease to beat. And not just because she was his third mate and it was a
miracle he had survived the loss of his first two. No, he would die for the
simple reason that one couldn't live without their most vital organ, and for
Micah, Sam was just that. She was more important to his survival than his heart
or his soul. She
was
his heart. She
was
his soul. Nothing was
more important to him in this entire world than she was.

After pulling on a pair of boxer briefs and the pair of
nylon sweats he'd been holding, he snagged a black Under Armor shirt from the
closet and pulled it over his head before heading back out to the kitchen.

Sam was spooning chili into bowls, and he walked up behind
her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly as he dipped his
nose into her fragrant hair.

"I love you," he whispered.

She giggled and pressed back into him, placing her delicate
hand over his arm. "What's gotten into you?"

"I just wanted to tell you that." He grinned into
her hair and inhaled before leaning his head to the side to capture her mouth
in a tender caress.

Trace cleared his throat and Micah turned and gave him a
smirk. "What? Do you want a kiss, too?"

With a harrumph and a frown, Trace shook his head.
"Fuck no, shithead."

He and Sam laughed at him. "Awe, what's the problem,
Trace?" Sam reached out and pushed him playfully on the arm. "Is
Micah too much man for you?"

Trace ran his large hand over his shaved head as he turned
and reached for some crackers. "Hell, no." Then he grinned out of the
corner of his mouth and glanced at them sideways. "He's not
enough
of one to get with this." Trace waved his hand down his body then turned
and shook his ass side-to-side twice before leaving them in his wake to take up
residence on the couch.

Micah and Sam laughed as he went.

"Trace, my man, you have no idea how much of a man I
can be!" Micah called after him then kissed Sam on the cheek and grabbed
one of the other bowls of chili.

"Yeah, yeah." Trace waved his spoon over his head
without turning around, and then propped his feet up on the ottoman. "Shut
up, you braggart, the game's about to start."

Micah caught Sam's eye then trailed his gaze down to her ass
as he ran his hand over her behind. "No panty lines." He kept his
voice quiet and popped his eyebrows at her.

"I told you I wasn't going to wear any," she
whispered.

"Mmm, I like it." He leaned in and nibbled her
earlobe.

"Stop." She giggled and tried to pull away, but he
clutched her and pulled her close.

"Micah!"

He pressed his lips to her ear. "You were serious then?
You want me to fuck you out here later?"

She looked up at him through her lashes and bit her bottom
lip, obviously aroused and a little surprised at his use of the f-word. Not
that she should be surprised. He said fuck all the time. But when it came to
what he and she did together, they usually referred to it as making love.
Somehow, though, making love didn't sound right for what she apparently wanted
him to do to her, because hadn't she herself referred to it as fucking instead
of making love earlier when they were, um, playing.

After a moment's hesitation, she grinned and nodded.
"Yes."

"Why, Miss Garrett, I do like how you think."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Black."

He purred. "Let the fun begin."

"Oh yes, let it."

After giving Sam's ass a gentle squeeze, he grabbed two
beers in his right hand and led her to the living room.

"Here you go." He held the beers out to Trace for
him to take one.

"Awe, you do care." Trace grabbed one and set it
on a coaster.

"Only a little, but don't tell anyone." Micah sat
down on the sectional and dug into his chili as Sam settled in next to him,
tucking her feet up under her.

Trace glanced over at her. "This is fucking awesome,
Sam." He pointed his spoon at his bowl, which was half empty already.
"I want the recipe."

"You cook?" Sam took a drink of her beer then set
it down next to Micah's.

"Sometimes. Surprised?"

"Surprised you're talking when you were the one who
told me to shut up," Micah said, throwing him an amused look.

"Eat me." Trace shoved a spoonful of chili in his
mouth.

"I don't do dark meat, bro."

"Micah!" Sam smacked his arm and he flinched and
laughed.

Trace chuckled and grabbed his crotch. "I've got your
dark meat right here, brother."

Micah grinned. Fact was he wasn't sure what Trace's lineage
was. He didn't look African American, and he didn't look Caucasian. His skin
was darker than everyone else's, but his features were unusual. Those pale
green eyes of his were a startling contrast to his dark complexion. Was he
Cuban? He thought he had heard that Trace's mom had been a Jamaican witch, but
that just didn't sound right. His look was more Cuban than Jamaican. Or maybe
his father had been Cuban, which would make sense since his father had given
him his vampire blood and Trace's human side had come from his mom. Any way
Micah sliced it, Trace was an enigma. A melting pot of physical traits from
multiple cultures. At least, that's how he appeared.

Sam shook her head and stirred her chili. "I swear you
two are like adolescents."

Micah leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We're as horny
as adolescents, too. You'd better watch out."

Trace chuffed. "As if you'd even let me get close to
her, Micah." He took a bite and chased it with a swig of beer. "I'd
probably lose an arm or my head if you even caught me looking at Sam like that.
Not that I would, but I'm just sayin'."

Micah sat back and looked at Trace, then at Sam before
dashing his gaze into his bowl of chili. What Trace said held merit, but for
some reason, the idea of Trace looking at Sam like that didn't bother him. How
strange.

He looked back up and caught Trace's eye for just a second
before glancing toward the flat screen. But his mind didn't register what was
going on in the game.

Why didn't the thought of Trace looking at Sam with lust
bother him? If it had been anyone else but Trace, Micah would have already been
up and off the love seat, beating the holy living shit out of him for even
joking about such a thing. Male vampires didn't take to their mates being
looked at, touched, or coveted by other males, and yet Micah was as cool as a
cucumber about the idea of Trace giving Sam surreptitious glances of interest.

Whoa!

This was a first.

Trace frowned curiously at him. "What? No snappy
comeback there, stallion?"

Micah looked at Sam, who grinned as she ate another bite of
chili, and then he looked back at Trace. "Not this time, bro."

Trace's frown deepened, and Micah looked back down into his
bowl of chili as if he'd find some answers in there. All he found was culinary
bliss.

What had just happened here? Was this part of what he felt
between him and Trace? Was this part of the inevitable collision course they
were on with one another, showing itself in his willingness to accept Trace in
every aspect of his life, even where Sam was concerned? If so, what did it
mean?

Micah turned his attention back to the game and ate. He had
a feeling that all would reveal itself soon enough. And when it did, their
lives would change forever. He only hoped it was for the better. Micah couldn't
take another dose of bad news after what he had just been through. Sam and
Trace were the two people he cared about more than anything in the world, and
he wouldn't let anything harm them.

Sam noticed the change in Micah's demeanor when Trace
mentioned looking at her with more than friendly intentions, but after a while,
he and Trace had returned to their back-and-forth bantering.