Micah's Calling (11 page)

Sam quickly cleaned up in the bathroom then joined Micah. He
was already in bed and held the covers open for her, and she wasted no time
climbing in next to him. His arm slid around her waist and pulled her close as
he settled onto his back.

"What just happened out there?" She caressed his
chest and stomach as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

The look in his eyes was absolutely stunning. Content, yet
wanton. Sublime yet humble. His lips twitched into a whimsical grin.

"What do you mean? We had great sex."

He truly was incorrigible.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I'm talking
about."

"Oh, you mean with Trace?" His eyes twinkled. Of
course he knew that's what she meant.

"Well, yeah. I mean, hell, Micah. I've only known you a
short time, but even I already know that if another guy even so much as looked
at me, you'd kill him." She searched his face, but he was giving nothing
away. "Trace just saw me naked. He watched us having sex." She smiled
sweetly. "And you didn't lay a hand on him."

Micah kept his gaze on hers for several seconds then shifted
and stared up at the ceiling as he took a deep breath. Sam couldn't be
positive, but it sure seemed as though Micah was as perplexed as she was over
the events of the past half-hour.

"I don't know," he said, "but there's
something different about Trace." Micah rolled his head back toward her on
the pillow. "I don't feel threatened by him. I know that sounds odd, but I
actually
liked
it."

The way Micah's brow furrowed as he said it emphasized just
how strange all this was even for him.

"You liked it?" Sam lifted up on her elbow,
inspecting him more closely.

"Yes." He seemed on the tip of some revelation.
"Didn't you?"

Sam bit her lip. "Yes. I loved it."

Micah turned onto his side and faced her. "Would you do
it again?"

Hadn't they hinted as much to Trace in the hallway?

She nodded. "Absolutely."

This was so weird for her. She had spent a year dancing at
the Black Garter, hating every minute of it. She'd had to wear those masks and
fall into a role just to be able to get up on stage every night and take her
clothes off for those perverted men. And yet the moment she had seen Trace
standing in the hall watching her having sex with Micah, the most amazing
feeling of decadent arousal flashed through her, making her come almost
instantly.

She had enjoyed the exhibitionism of being seen in such an
intimate, lascivious moment. And when she looked up and saw him enthralled with
the orgasm she'd just had, she came undone a second time, her multiple orgasms
blistering her with excitement.

"I can hear what you're thinking," Micah said.

"I figured." She smiled, getting used to his
mind-probe nature. "Do you have any answers?"

"You mean, why would you hate dancing for a room full
of men and yet find being watched by Trace while having sex so exciting?"

She nodded.

Micah cleared his throat and sighed heavily. "I'm not
sure, but you seem to have exhibitionist tendencies, Sam."

"But then why would I hate dancing?"

"Was it the dancing you hated? Or the perverted men and
the looks they gave you?"

Sam thought about that a moment. She did enjoy dancing. When
she had first discovered exotic dancing when she was eighteen, she had really
liked it. It excited her. But, little-by-little, it began to lose its charm
because the men creeped her out. Some of them scared her. Those who did looked
at her as if they wanted to do horrible, nasty things to her. She remembered
leaving the club every night feeling as though one of those guys, or even a
group of them, would attack and rape her. So, yeah, it wasn't the dancing she
had hated.

"It was the men," she said.

She could see by the look on Micah's face that he had been
following along in her head as she came to the answer.

He nodded. "So what makes Trace different, baby?"
He caressed the back of his fingers over her cheek.

She recalled the look on Trace's face. He had been aroused,
yes, but he hadn't been lewd. In fact, Trace had looked more enthralled, maybe
even a little scared, but certainly grateful, as if she and Micah had given him
a gift. For Trace, what had happened hadn't been about lust. It had been about
something else. Relief, gratitude, something Sam couldn't put her finger on.
But a measure of surprise had shown in Trace's eyes as he'd watched them, as if
he was learning something new about himself.

The way he had behaved afterward, so sweetly and
platonically, also impressed Sam. She'd been naked, and yet Trace hadn't stared
lustfully, despite his obvious erection. Trace had actually seemed…respectful.
Maybe even somewhat apologetic.

Sam's gaze met Micah's, and he grinned knowingly.

"That's why he's different, Micah. Because…well,
because he
is
different."

"I know." He tenderly brushed her short, blond
hair off her forehead. "I don't think Trace has had many lovers, if any at
all. I'm beginning to think this power of his has robbed him of something he
desperately wants."

"I wish you could see inside his head." Sam sighed
sadly.

She liked Trace. A lot. Between Micah and Trace, she felt
like the safest person on the planet. These two seemed ready to live and die to
save her life.

"Me, too," Micah said. "If I could see
Trace's thoughts, I could know better how to help him." He hesitated.
"And I get the feeling somehow that I'm supposed to. Help him, that
is."

"What do you mean?"

He laid his hand over hers on the short span of mattress
separating them, weaving their fingers together.

"I'm not sure," he said, frowning subtly.
"But I feel like he found me for a reason. Like he needs me or
something."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. What could Trace
possibly need from Micah?

"I don't know," he said, reading her thoughts.

They lay staring at each other for a couple of minutes, and
then the blinds and drapes kicked on and began to close over the windows.

"Here comes the daylight," he said, smiling.

"Yep." Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as the
small night light plugged into the bathroom socket cast a faint glow into the
bedroom.

Daylight. Something Micah had never known.

"Oh no. I knew it as a child," he said.

Sam's eyebrows popped with surprise. Micah had been a child?

He laughed. Just threw his head back and laughed. "Of
course I was child. Where do you think vampires come from? Didn't I already
tell you we have babies?" He placed his hand over Sam's stomach and gently
pushed her to her back, rising up on his elbow to look down at her.

He kept his hand on her belly, almost as if he was trying to
feel a tiny life moving inside of her. As if he wanted more than anything to
feel that.

"I just can't imagine you as a child, Micah." She
smiled up at him and brushed his long hair out of his face before tucking it
behind his ear.

He leaned his head into her hand and closed his eyes
briefly.

"Well, I was. A long time ago."

"How long?" He still hadn't told her his age.

"I can't remember exactly, but over a thousand
years."

She gaped.

"Don't look so surprised," he said.

Still holding his face in her palm, she made an appraising
sound that embedded deep in her throat.

"You look good for a thousand-year-old man."

"Male."

"Whatever."

He laughed. "And I'm older than that, I just can't
remember exactly. You know, you kinda stop counting at a certain age."

Sam shook her head. "Well, can you take a guess?"

Micah blinked with appeasement. "It's just driving you
crazy not knowing how old I am, isn't it?"

"I'm just curious is all." She patiently caressed
his cheek with the pad of her thumb.

He took a deep breath and looked to be thinking back over
his life, adding up the years in his head. Finally, he said, "It was after
the collapse of Rome in 410, I know that much. Drecks used barbarian hordes to
hide within and attack vampire villages." Micah seemed lost in thought for
a moment then smiled at her. "Let's call it fifteen hundred years."

Sam planted a sweet kiss on his lips. "Well, like I
said, you look good for being an old fart."

"What can I say, I age well." He kissed her back.

"Very well. I daresay you're the best looking fifteen
hundred-year-old man I've ever seen."

Micah rolled his eyes. "As if you've seen many."

"Hey, how do you know?"

He tapped her temple. "Because I can see all,
remember?"

"Not if you're staying out of my memories, as you
promised you would." She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him.

"Difficult female." He bent down and kissed her
neck.

"Incorrigible male."

"Touche," he said against her nape.

"What kind of child were you, anyway?" She wrapped
one arm around him as he nibbled away at her and slid one of his long, powerful
legs between hers.

"Rowdy."

She giggled. "Why do I sooo believe that?"

"Because it's true."

"Seriously, what else. If I'm going to have your
children, I want to know what to expect."

The mention of children practically melted Micah against her
as he snuggled even closer and rubbed her stomach. She had to admit, she loved
this
calling
thing and how it affected him. He was so attentive and
reverent toward her body.

"I was an active child," he said. "Curious
about everything."

"How did your parents raise you if they were vampires
and you could go out in the sun?" She turned her face into his and kissed
the side of his mouth.

He kissed her back.

"We had human caretakers. The humans raised us during
the day. Our parents raised us at night."

"Us?"

"The children of the clan."

"Oh. Do you have brothers and sisters?"

He shook his head. "Only child."

"So humans cared for you?"

"Only during the day." He settled in closer
against her, his hand skimming up the side of her body.

"Are your parents still alive?" She dreaded the
answer to the question.

"No." He laid his cheek on her shoulder.

"What happened?"

"The war. Drecks killed them."

"I'm sorry." Sam kissed his forehead as he looked
up at her.

"It's okay. I grieved for them a long time ago. I've
accepted what happened."

"Still, it must be hard. Do you have any family
left?"

"I'm not sure. My father had a brother, my Uncle Rory,
but I haven't seen him in centuries. We lost touch after…well, after everything
happened."

She could only assume he was referring to the death of his
first mate, Katarina. From what little he had told her, Sam knew that Micah's
life had fallen into despair after Katarina's death, and he hadn't fully
recovered until…well, until she had come along.

What a life Micah had lived. She couldn't imagine what it
must have been like for him growing up. Hell, what did kids do for fun in the
Middle Ages? She didn't even know.

"What kind of games did you play as a child?"

Micah laughed, and she felt the low rumble through her rib
cage, right into her heart.

"You'd be amazed at how active we were, Sam." He
propped his chin on her chest and the whiskers from the goatee he was growing
tickled her skin. "We played all kinds of games and got into all kinds of
trouble."

"Really now?"

He nodded, making her giggle as his soft whiskers teased
her.

"I got very good at Chess, and while I prefer knives
and guns today, my archery skills were the best of anyone in my clan. At the
age of twelve, I was doing most of the hunting." He gave her a look that
indicated she should be impressed.

She was.

With a quirky smile, he continued. "We played
hide-and-seek, dice games, card games…we wrestled and had foot races. And we
learned how to fight and protect ourselves."

"When did you get to the point where you couldn't go
out into the sun, anymore?"

Micah settled in beside her again and pulled her back so he
was spooning her, both of them on their sides and facing the heavy drapes over
the windows.

"I started becoming sensitive to the sun in my early
twenties. By the time I was in my late twenties, when I went through the change
to an adult, I couldn't endure it, anymore."

"Do you miss it?"

"I did at first. But now…" he paused. "I'm
used to it."

"I'm not sure I could ever get used to being without
the sun." She played her fingertips up and down Micah's forearm. "I
enjoy it too much."

"I don't want you to ever be without something you
enjoy." Micah's breath warmed the back of her neck then he kissed it.

"You do take good care of me, don't you?"

"I plan on it, Mrs. Black."

She felt him smile against her skin as if he was waiting for
her reaction.

"Um…we've discussed this," she said.

"Yes, we have, and you know you're mine, so why can't I
call you Mrs. Black?"

"You know why." She shook her head, amused.
Incorrigible. Yes, he was.

He chuckled. "But you love me this way."

"You're pushing your luck." She smacked his arm
playfully.

Micah's laughter made her smile. Damn, but she loved his
laugh. So rich and deep. How sad that he hadn't laughed for so long before she
came along. The world had been robbed of a sound more precious than birds
singing.

"You flatter me, Miss Garrett."

"That's better," she said. "And it's not
flattery. It's true. You really do have a wonderful laugh, but then I'm
repeating myself, aren't I?"

His arms tightened around her. "Yes, but I love it. And
I love laughing for you."