Micah's Calling (9 page)

At halftime, she excused herself to clean up the kitchen and
put away the leftovers. She planned on sending a container of chili home with
Trace, so she pulled two bowls of Tupperware from the cabinet.

Micah entered the kitchen a couple of minutes later and his
hooded gaze told her all she needed to know about where his mind was.

"Hey you," she said as he stepped up behind her
and corralled her within his arms and pressed his hands against the counter on
either side of her.

"Hi." He nudged against her backside, his
semi-erection caressing her ass.

Sam leaned back against him. "Is your
calling
calling?"

He nodded and bent down to kiss her neck. "It
definitely has my number."

"It won't let you hang up, is that it?" She ran
her hands down his arms.

"Nope. Damn fucker just keeps calling me back."

She sucked her tongue so that it made a mock sympathetic
noise. "That's too bad. We have a whole second half to watch."

He pushed his groin against her ass and groaned quietly.
"No halftime entertainment then?"

From what he had told her, she knew if he didn't succumb to
his
calling
within a certain amount of time, he would have to endure
increasing discomfort until he did. "Only if you can't wait."

He nuzzled her neck and nibbled. "I can wait. It will
make it that much better when I get to have you again."

"Do I stand a chance?" She turned and looked into
his eyes, grinning.

He shook his head. "None."

In other words, as soon as he was able, he was going to be
on her and in her in every way imaginable.

His lips meshed with hers and he pushed his erection against
her and around in a tight circle one last time before pulling back and grabbing
two more beers. With a quick adjustment between his legs, he flashed his sexy
smile and left the kitchen.

"About time, asshole," Trace said.

Sam peeked through the entrance to the kitchen to see Trace
reaching for a beer.

"Sorry," Micah said. "I got
sidetracked."

"Uh-huh. I know what's got you sidetracked."

Sam smiled to herself as she listened to them trade jabs.

"You take a mate and then let's see how much smack you
talk." Micah sat down as Sam shut off the light in the kitchen and re-joined
them on the sectional.

"You know, I don't have to be here," Trace said
gently, his tone understanding.

"Hey, Trace, I'm just kidding around. I didn't mean
anything by it." Micah leaned forward and playfully punched Trace's arm.

"Yeah, Trace," Sam said. "It's okay. We want
you here." Something in Trace's expression made Sam think he looked sad.
Maybe it was the way his gaze danced down then back up affectionately.

"No, that's not what I meant." Trace ran his
fingers around the label of his bottle of beer. "I just meant that I know
what's going on. I know you're in your
calling,
Micah." He paused.
"I was actually surprised you still wanted me to come over tonight. I figured
you two would want to be alone."

Micah leaned back and put his arm around Sam, kicking his
feet up on the ottoman. "It's not so bad now, Trace. Just be thankful we
didn't have you over the first couple days. You might have gotten caught in the
crossfire."

Sam was surprised at how normal it felt to be talking about
such a personal subject with Trace. Maybe it was because he was a vampire, too,
and to them, talking about what happened during a
calling
phase wasn't
such a big deal.

"You know," Trace said, looking up at them.
"I envy you two."

She leaned in toward Micah, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Why, bro?" Micah gave her his beer after taking a
sip.

Trace shrugged. "Because you have each other." He
looked down at his beer. "I've always wanted a mate. What's it like?"

Sam glanced up at Micah as he looked down at her, his eyes
reverent and full of adoration.

"It's the best feeling in the world, Trace." He
took a deep breath as if he was breathing in her very soul as he held her gaze.
"She's more important than anything else. She's my breath, my heart, my
soul, my better half. I couldn't live without her."

"Jesus," Trace said. "I can't believe you're
the same person I knew only a few weeks ago. Holy fuck. You've gone from being
a hard-ass son-of-a-bitch to Chaucer."

Sam pressed her hand against Micah's chest and felt his
heart beating as he inhaled long and deep again. "Trace, someday you'll
know what I mean. Someday, you'll take a mate and then you'll be fucking
Chaucer. You'll see." He lowered his voice and smiled at her. "You
smell like lilacs."

"You do," Trace said, confirming Micah's statement
as he lifted his beer for a swig.

Sam glanced over and laughed as Trace shot her a sideways
glance.

"Seriously, you do." Trace lowered the bottle.
"It's nice."

Micah purred quietly, sounding perfectly content. "Are
you sniffing my girl, Trace?"

Trace shook his head dramatically and grinned.
"Wouldn't think of it."

"Uh-huh." Micah threw a pretzel at him and
chuckled before sinking back on the couch and pulling her down with him.
"But he's right," he said to her. "It's nice."

"Must be my shower soap." She laid her head on his
shoulder.

"Or just you."

Trace picked up the pretzel and ate it.

The game ended and they watched the post-game, then the
news, then a movie, and before long it was almost four o'clock in the morning.

"Well, I should be getting home." Trace slapped
his hands on his thighs and stretched as he stood up.

Sam was still lying on Micah, listening to his heart beating
hard and fast in his chest. The
calling
was pushing him to the brink,
and she could feel it. Heat practically poured out of his body, both physical
heat and hormonal heat, and she was nearly delirious with arousal, especially
with his hard-on pressing against her thigh.

Micah rolled his head to the side to look at Trace as he
pointed to the window. An ice and snow mix was coming down hard and fast and
had been for a couple of hours, the ice crystals blowing against the windows on
violent gusts. "Um, no dude. Look out there. You're staying here."

"I'm a big boy." Trace looked down at him.
"I'll be fine. Besides, you two need to be alone."

Clearly, Trace could sense Micah's state as well as she
could.

"Like hell." Micah's voice broke as he spoke.
"We'll be fine. You can take the spare room."

Trace was about to object, but Micah cut him off.
"Don't push me, Trace. I'm not letting you leave. And that's final. Spare
room." He pointed. "Take it."

Sam forced herself to sit up, and she grabbed the remote and
turned off the TV before getting off the couch and stretching out the kinks
from lying on Micah for so long. Then she walked over and gave Trace a loose
hug and kissed his cheek.

"Good night, Trace."

Decision. Final. Trace was spending the day here.

"Come on, Micah. Time for bed." She held her hand
out to him.

He sat up, his erection evident in his sweats. No use trying
to hide it, right? Not like Trace didn't already know what was going down,
anyway.

"Okay. Fine." Trace sighed. "I'll stay."

Micah took Sam's hand, and Trace gave them a simple wave
before yawning and turning to follow them down the hall.

"Good night, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't
do." Trace opened the door to the spare room and chuckled.

"Oh, we won't," Micah said.

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of." Trace closed
the door, leaving Sam alone with Micah.

She grinned at him and quickly ducked into the bedroom as he
followed and shut the door. He was on her in a heartbeat, his hands shoving her
sweatshirt up and off as she gave in to him.

He pushed her sweats down, revealing her nudity. "Do
you still want —?"

"Yes." She grabbed two handfuls of his hair and
blistered his mouth with hers.

"Fuck!" He pushed her backward, re-engaging the
lip lock, backing her into the wall.

Her body was a sunrise of desire, a glow breaking through
her as the sun breaks the horizon each day, casting light and warmth over the
earth. Every cell in her body called for him, and she knew it was because every
cell in his was calling to her. She was beginning to understand the essence of
the
calling.
This was it. His body called, and hers answered. What a
magical, wondrous feeling this was.

Together, they worked him out of his clothes and he lifted
her up so she could wrap her legs around him.

"Sssshhh." She smiled at what they were about to
do as he carried her to the bedroom door.

Quiet as a mouse, he opened the door and carried her past
Trace's room and back into the living room as she rode herself up and down the
hard column of flesh pressed against his stomach.

"Female, you're going to be my undoing," he said
quietly as he sat down on the couch and situated himself beneath her.

"Mmm, well, I'll be sure to put you back together again
when I'm through." She lifted herself up, eager to feel him inside her
again to quench this fire of hormonal heat baking her core like a kiln.

Impaling herself on him, they both expelled their breath on
quiet moans. Yes, this was what they had both needed for the past several
hours. Now he was where he belonged. Inside her, locking into the place
reserved only for him now. Micah was her mate as much as she was his. She felt
the way her body responded to his. If she were a vampire, she was sure she
would have formed the same biological link to him that other female vampires
formed to their men – males, whatever. Gah! She needed to remember, Micah was
not a man. He was pure male. One hundred percent animalistic male vampire.

"Yes I am, and I claim you, Samantha."

She bit her lip, locking her fingers behind his neck as she
rode him, rocking against him, up and down, forward and back, needing to feel
his release as much as her own.

"Not if I claim you first," she said, keeping her
voice quiet.

"Oh, baby, you have no idea how I want that."

"Ssshhh." She grinned and glanced toward the
hallway.

Trace was only just a short distance away. At any moment, he
could come out for a glass of water or a snack and catch them in the act.

"It excites you." Micah bucked up against her,
gripping her hips and pulling her down hard as he rose to meet her body with
his.

She saw stars and gasped loudly before looking back at him.
"What does?"

"The thought of being caught." He did it again,
slamming into her, making her fight to keep from crying out.

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly. "It
does."

"Mmm." With renewed energy, he fucked her hard,
making her bounce with every rapid thrust of his hips. "It does me,
too."

* * *

Trace couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lying in bed,
wearing only his boxers, he wasn't imagining the obvious sounds of sex coming
from the living room.

He closed his eyes and rolled his head back, trying to
ignore them, but he couldn't. Micah had what he so desperately wanted. A mate.
And Sam was perfect, so perfect for him.

Trace wanted a mate like Sam. A female who would know how to
turn him on and turn him off as needed. Someone who could control his intense
power when it grew out of control and threatened to consume him. A mate who was
made expressly for him.

He feared he would never find such a person. As the enigma
and freak of nature he was, Trace didn't think God could create one being who
could fit everything he needed, if God was indeed in charge of such things.
Which he wasn't entirely sure He was. What God would allow someone like Trace
to be created in the first place?

One with a sense of humor?

What kind of mate would Trace need? He had been with both
males and females in the past, depending on the dom who could arouse his
interest enough in that way, but none had provided everything he needed. They
gave him the pain, but not the understanding, and certainly not the love.

Was it possible that Fate intended a male for him? Trace
didn't think so. For some reason, he knew that if he ever took a mate, it would
be a female. His mate wouldn't be male, because Trace had too much of an
affinity for the feminine and gravitated toward those of the female persuasion
more often than not.

Which made it even more unlikely that he would find a mate,
because what female could dish out what he needed while supplying the feminine
energy he craved? What he needed physically wasn't something most females could
provide.

When he had discovered Micah years ago and learned of his
reputation in the BDSM community, he hadn't been interested in sex with the
guy. He had wanted what Micah could give him in the scene. Trace saw in Micah
someone who could control the beast of power that loomed and threatened to
consume him and turn him into a mutant.

Ever since losing his brother, who had been his sense of
balance, Trace had been off-kilter. He no longer had a countermeasure to even
him out. That had been what his brother had provided, and he had lost that long
ago. And now Trace's power grew stronger and darker and harder to control every
day. The only thing that collared it was submission. When Trace submitted to pain
and humiliation, his power diminished to the point he could actually feel free
for a while. But then his power would slowly creep back in after the scene was
over, which meant he had to be vigilant against it 24/7.

Consequently, the only time he could harden sexually was
during a scene.

Well, wait a minute.

Trace looked down to find a semi-tent in his boxers.

What the hell?

He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten hard
outside his dom's dungeon. And yet, he was suddenly aroused.