by Donya Lynne
His fingers pushed into his hair and curled against his scalp as he slowly shook his head. He wanted to believe that Sam’s body had just been too weak to get pregnant so soon after he’d changed her into his davala. But what if the truth was something else? What if, for all his efforts, he couldn’t produce children? What if he was infertile?
It was possible. Centuries ago, when he’d been mated to Kat, they hadn’t been able to have children, either. They’d assumed she was barren, but what if it had been him? Other male vampires had proven infertile. A rarity to be sure, but not an impossibility.
Micah sank his face into his hands again. What if he could never give Sam a child, no matter how hard he tried, how many callings he endured, or how badly he wanted kids? What if he was shooting blanks. Maybe a future with children of his own simply wasn’t in his cards, and if it wasn’t, would Sam be disappointed? Would she resent him?
“Please don’t do that to me,” he whispered into his hands, to God or whatever universal entity ruled over life on Earth. “Please don’t be that cruel.”
And there, in the silence of his office, with his face in his hands, Mighty Micah broke.
Not much got to a warrior like him. But when it came to his mate and having children, he could shed tears.
And shed them he did.
Chapter 20
Nursing a busted lip and multiple contusions she couldn’t feel but knew covered her body, Cordray headed back to the ranch, racing along the highway. It was after one o’clock in the morning, and at least for a few hours, she had been able to push Trace from her thoughts. But she couldn’t avoid him forever. After all, she was his boss.
Almost two hundred vampires and drecks had been at Grudge Match tonight. For her first fight, she had been paired with a dreck named Sonia. Red hair, green eyes, and one tough bitch. Cordray hadn’t learned much about Sonia, but one thing was clear. Sonia was a master at Krav Maga. And Cordray’s still-bloody lip proved it.
Speaking of which, her lip wasn’t healing as fast as it should. Probably because the excitement of the last couple of days had depleted her energy and she was due for a feeding.
Later. Right now, she just wanted to get inside, shower, eat, go to bed, and avoid Trace as if he were a rabid piranha. Not necessarily in that order.
She slowed and turned onto Asylum’s long, gravel driveway. Ghostly ribbons of fog hovered a few feet over the ground in front of her, breaking and churning like smoke as she sliced through them.
She parked the Ducati in the garage, shut off the engine, pulled off her helmet, and let her gaze fall to the dark oil stain that had soaked into the concrete years ago.
She was alone. With an oil stain. How symbolic was that? Because didn’t she feel like a stain herself most of the time? A smear of living tissue that was only half alive, meandering through existence, her heart dead?
Well, not exactly dead. Because if it were really dead, she wouldn’t have reacted to Trace the way she had earlier today, and she wouldn’t be both dreading and looking forward to going inside, where she might run into him before she could escape to her bedroom and lock the door.
As if locking her door would keep a male like Trace out if he wanted to get to her.
The point was, the idea of never seeing Trace again was enough to spear dread into that four-chambered muscle that steadily thump-thumped inside her ribcage. So, yeah. Heart not dead. Got it.
With a frustrated sigh, she made her way out of the garage to the back door. She was in the habit of scanning the yard before going inside rather than entering the house through the garage. Call it an occupational hazard.
As she started up the steps to the back door, she glanced in the direction of the dorm and sensed the children sleeping inside. All except Leon and Riley.
Stopping, she scanned the yard, scowling as dread sank into the pit of her stomach. Those two had been steadily progressing toward taking their relationship to the next level for weeks. Had they finally gone there? Had they finally consummated their fledgling love to set certain tragedy into motion when—someday—Leon mated another or Riley’s true mate found her and stole her away?
Stretching out her senses, she swept the property until . . .
There. In the barn. The scent of sex drifted into her nose a moment later. Then her sharpened hearing picked up a quiet moan.
What the hell? It was after one in the morning!
Those two would never learn. Did Riley want to end up like her when Leon mated someone else? She wouldn’t be able to stop it. Leon might say he loved her now, and he might promise her the moon, the stars, and the entire universe, but when his biology stirred for another, he would leave her behind without a glance. She would be nothing. Nobody but a heartbroken female, left alone to suffer the emotional turmoil of being cast aside while Leon bonded to his mate and created a family.
Cordray rushed to the barn, desperate to stop what was happening. Needing to stop it. She couldn’t let Riley end up like her.
She threw open the doors, making them rattle as they swung and cracked against the wall.
And there they were, on a stack of hay. Leon on top of Riley, his hands fisted around hers as he rocked into her, holding down her arms beside her head, her legs around his hips, her shirt pushed high to reveal her breasts.
Their heads shot up and around, fear catapulting into their expressions. In an instant, they scuttled away from each other, pulling their clothes back into place as they clambered to their feet. Leon’s erection left nothing to the imagination. Riley’s downturned face was shaded bright red.
“What are you two doing out here?” Cordray stormed toward Leon, seeing Gideon. “How could you do this to her? She’s innocent. Only a child.”
“It’s not like that,” Riley said, reaching for Leon.
Cordray batted her hand away. “Don’t touch him.”
“But I love him!” Riley’s eyes filled with tears.
“And I love her!” Leon’s hand shot out and grabbed Riley’s before Cordray could prevent it.
Cordray saw red. How could they know what love was? Or how Riley’s love for him would destroy her when they reached the end of their transformation into adult vampires?
“Love doesn’t matter!” Her anger flared. “When you’ve grown up and come of age, you’ll understand that whether or not you love one another won’t make a damn bit of difference.” She glared at Riley as she pointed at Leon. “How many times do I have to tell you this, Riley? He will take a mate, and the odds are stacked against you that you will be the one his body chooses. And where will that leave you?” Then she turned her ire on Leon. “And what if another mates Riley? What will you do then? Because King Bain’s laws are explicit. A mated male’s rights are sacrosanct. His rights to her body will trump your love for her, no matter how long you’ve been together, and you will be left out in the cold.”
Leon’s face warped into a mask of anger and refusal. “That won’t happen.”
She laughed bitterly. “Oh, really. And you know this how? From your vast experience as an adult vampire?”
Leon’s face flushed, and he dropped his gaze to his feet.
“I thought so.” Cordray paced away. “Do you really think you’ll stand a chance if another male waltzes into Riley’s life and mates her? You won’t, Leon. She will be obligated to answer her mate’s call. She won’t be able to resist it. I’ve told both of you this time and again, and yet here I find you together, screwing one another as if you think you have forever in front of you. But you don’t!” She slammed the side of her fist against the wall as she turned on Riley. “Is this really what you want? This pain? Because I can assure you, pain is all you’ll have when one of you mates someone else.”
Unless, like her, the agony ended up being so raw that it annihilated every nerve ending so that she never felt anything again.
“I don’t care!” Riley’s fierce grasp on Leon’s hand turned her knuckles white. “I love him now. And he loves me now. I want him and
he wants me. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Everything!” Cordray clenched her fists. Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t they understand?
Leon wrapped his arm around Riley’s shoulders and tucked her protectively against his body, the way a mate would. “We can’t live for what tomorrow might bring, C,” he said, his voice unusually calm. Remarkably confident. “Because tomorrow might not come. And if it doesn’t, I don’t want to waste even a moment I could have spent with her.”
Cordray’s eyes tightened as she studied Leon. He spoke beyond his years, his voice strong and sure despite his usually quiet demeanor. It was clear he had thought about this a lot, and when Cordray glanced at Riley, it was obvious she had, too.
Riley’s gaze implored her. “C, we can’t control what happens tomorrow, next week, or years from now. We can only control what we do today. And today, I love Leon. I want to be with him. I want to plan a life with him.” She paused, looked at the dusty, straw-strewn floor, and said in a small voice, “If he ends up not being my mate, I’ll cross that bridge when I have to. For now, can’t you just let us be happy with one another? Can’t you just let us enjoy what we have while we have it?”
Cordray rocked back. Riley knew the risks, as well as the unattractive odds that Leon might not end up being her mate. So did Leon. But they refused to let the possibility of a stark future affect them in the present. Like a cancer patient who knows he only has three months to live, Riley and Leon wanted to make the most of those three months, not live in fear of the end.
Because of her painful past, Cordray only saw the suffering Riley and Leon were destined for. When she’d been their age, she had only felt the thrill Gideon had given her, not the fear of their relationship’s inevitable doom. Love and elation had ruled her decisions. Her awareness had been dominated by the way her heart skipped when she saw him ride around the bend in the lane, his gaze lifting to the window where he knew he would find her waiting and watching for him. In her youth, Cordray would have retaliated against anyone who tried to warn her away from Gideon the same way Riley and Leon resisted her now.
With the gift of hindsight, would she really have done anything differently? Would she have ended her relationship with Gideon knowing he would mate someone else? Knowing that she would lose her sense of touch because of it?
Honestly? No. Because despite the pain, those all-too-brief years with Gideon were some of the best memories of her life. How could she purposefully deny herself that?
“Go inside,” she said quietly as an emotion she couldn’t describe beat against her heart. “Both of you. We’ll talk about this later.”
“But—” Leon began to protest.
“Now!” Cordray pointed toward the door. “Go back to bed. Your own beds. You have to be up for school in a few hours.” Leon was in college, but in vampire years he was still a juvenile, at least until he completed his transition. While Riley was old enough to be in college, she had fallen a couple of grades behind during the turmoil she’d endured before coming to Asylum, so she was still in her final year of high school.
They hung their heads, and Leon wrapped his hand securely around Riley’s as he led her toward the open door.
After they were gone, Cordray slumped into a deck chair that would eventually find its way to the porch now that summer was upon them.
Yesterday, Mya had suggested that Trace might be the mate she’d thought she’d found in Gideon. Could that be true? Could she be pushing him away for fear he would make her feel the pain all over again when instead he was her true mate?
Was that why she could feel him?
Was that why she was so drawn to him?
She turned her head in the direction of the house. Trace was there. So close she could be in his room and against his body in less than two minutes. Feeling his lips against hers again.
Feeling!
That alone was enough to terrify her. What if something happened and her sense of touch shut off again after she allowed herself to get close to him? She wasn’t sure she could take that. To be given the sun and stars only to have them all supernova at the same time would devastate her. The universe had a reputation for playing cruel tricks on her, so her trust in things working out this time wasn’t exactly high.
And then there was Micah and Sam. Trace had a bizarre relationship with them. If he mated her, how would that pan out?
The mysterious heaviness in her chest spread. Her shoulders dragged forward, and she bowed her head. Her hands shook, and she raised her palm and pressed it over her heart, which felt like it was about to pound out of her chest. She could barely breathe. Tears broke in her eyes. A moment later, she squeezed her eyelids shut as a gut-wrenching sob ripped through her throat.
Fear.
She was afraid.
So much had been taken from her. But now, when everything she had always wanted might possibly be within reach, she was too scared to take a chance. Too afraid to risk it all again for fear the results would turn out the same.
Only a coward would resist taking a chance. Someone with courage would see the possibility for a very real, very tragic outcome but not let that stop her cold. Someone with courage would throw that potential future the proverbial middle finger and shout, “Fuck you! I’m doing this anyway!”
But for all her bravado, she couldn’t muster even a single ounce of courage. Trace was right there. Within reach. And all she wanted to do was run away from him.
If only she had a friend. Someone she could confide in. Who could listen and offer advice. Trouble was, she didn’t have a lot of friends. Mya. Brenna. That was about it. But they weren’t who she needed. She needed someone who was both impartial and informed. Someone who could serve as a link between her and Trace. Someone vested in Trace’s future.
Sam.
But was Sam really a friend? They’d share a couple of laughs, but that was about it.
Fuck it. Maybe she had wussed out on stealing into Trace’s room and rubbing herself all over him like a cat in heat, but she still had enough lady balls to face Sam.
She was on her feet in an instant, out the door, and practically running to the garage.
Snagging her helmet, she shoved it over her head, swung her leg over the seat of her Ducati, and lit up the engine.
Seconds later, she gunned the gas and sped back toward the road.
By the time she arrived at Micah’s home, desperation had her firmly in its grip.
She pounded on the door, her whole body clutched so tightly that if one muscle spasmed, she would fall over.
Sam opened the door and immediately frowned. “Cordray?”
Without waiting for an invitation, she rushed inside.
Sam shut the door. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is it Trace?” Sam hurriedly followed her into the living room. “Is he okay?”
Of course Sam would worry that her visit was about Trace. She was practically mated to the guy, living with him, engaging in threesomes with him, even if she and Trace never touched each other. At least not in that way. Not in a way that would put his very worthy, very ample cock inside her.
She spun around. “Hit me.”
Sam recoiled. “What? No!”
“Hit me!” She grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled her forward.
“Stop! I’m not going to hit you. Are you crazy?”
“Just do it, for God’s sake! Hit me!”
Sam stiffened, and for a heartbeat, Cordray didn’t think she’d do it. And then . . .
Smack!
Sam slapped her then immediately gasped as she pulled back, hand over her mouth, staring at her as if she were a freak.
Freak.
Just like Trace. Just like she’d seen in Trace’s mind when those kids from his childhood had teased and bullied him, making his life hell.
She was a freak, too, because she couldn’t feel a thing. She had seen Sam’s hand shoot toward her face. She’d heard the harsh clap of flesh on flesh. Her head had even snapped to the side. She possesse
d all the sensory evidence necessary to prove Sam had hit her except for the sensation of feeling the contact.
“Harder, Sam. Hit me harder.”
“Cordray . . .?”
“Just do it!”
SMACK!
This time, Sam struck her with enough force to knock her sideways. She stumbled then righted herself. Still nothing. No pain stung her cheek. No lingering echoes fired her nerve endings.
She was as unfeeling as one of Null’s cold, heavy rocks. She was a jagged stone. Able to cause pain but not feel it.
“Harder!” she commanded.
“Cordray, I—what’s going on?” Tears glistened Sam’s eyes, and her face was contorted in horror mixed with disgust.
“Just hit me, goddammit!”
This time, Sam’s fist shot out, clocking her on the chin.
Cordray staggered backward then tripped over her own feet, spinning and nose-diving to the floor.
“Cordray! Oh God! I’m sorry.” In an instant, Sam was kneeling beside her, her hands gripping her arms as she tried to help her up.
But there was no helping her.
Not in the true sense of the word.
She was defunct. Damaged. Broken.
Gideon had broken her.
In one fateful moment, he’d shattered her heart and stolen her sense of touch. He’d destroyed her.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her throat tightened abruptly. A moment later, she sobbed, face in the carpet.
“Why can’t I feel anything?” Until Trace, she had been able to live with her disability. But now that he’d reminded her of all she’d lost, she just wanted it back.
Sam stopped trying to help her. Instead, she brushed Cordray’s hair off her face, sniffling. “What do you mean? Are you saying you can’t feel?”
She shook her head.
“At all?”
Cordray shook her head again. “Nothing.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “What’s wrong with me?”
Sam sniffled again. “You’re asking the wrong person, Cordray. I’m out of my depth here.”