Sam blinked, but that was all the reaction Michael got. "As I said, I'm fine. Good, even."
He wasn't, and Michael didn't need his abilities to know it. Everything about Sam right then screamed that everything was most definitely not okay. And whatever Sam thought he was doing, Michael couldn't allow it to continue. His operatives were under his care, and it was up to him to make sure they stayed healthy, sane, and whole.
"From now on, you'll only take cases that I preapprove."
"What?"
Finally, a reaction.
"Furthermore you will take a mandatory day off between cases, big or small, in for an hour or days. After every completed case, you're home for at least twenty-four hours."
Sam shot up, hands balled into fists at his side. "You can't do that."
Michael kept his smug expression from emerging. While he hadn't necessarily been trying to make Sam angry, any emotion was better than the bland persona he walked in with. Face red, eyes flashing, Sam was truly a sight to behold. And at least he was feeling something.
"I can, and I did. I'm making a note in your file. Would you like to tell Dom or should I?"
"For the love of.... Michael, you can't do this. You can't keep me from doing my job."
Michael stood, leaned forward, and braced his hands on his desk. "What I'm doing is ensuring that you are healthy enough to do your job. I tried to talk to you, but you ignored me. If this is the only way to get your attention, then so be it."
Sam rounded the edge of the desk, and Michael turned as Sam pushed right up into his space. For a second, Michael thought Sam would hit him.
"I will lodge a formal complaint with your superiors. Which cases I take is my choice." Sam's voice was menacing, low, and Michael had never heard that tone from him. It sort of turned him on. But he couldn't, wouldn't, back down. Sam's safety was of the utmost importance.
"Feel free. They'll side with me." Michael leaned closer, until they were a hairsbreadth apart. "It's my job to keep you safe, and I'll do that by any means necessary."
Sam took a swing, but Michael saw it coming and easily caught Sam's wrist to stop the blow. He used his hold on Sam to haul him in closer and then gripped the back of Sam's neck so he had no choice but to look at him.
"Think what you want. Do what you want. But this is nonnegotiable. You're too important." Michael had to swallow. "To me, to Requiem, to all the spirits you help. You can't disregard your own safety. And I will do anything I have to in order to keep you safe."
Sam made a noise in his throat. He was breathing hard, and Michael smelled coffee and mint. They were pressed together from chest to knees. Michael felt a searing heat everywhere they touched, and his body reacted. There was no way to stop it when they were that close. But he didn't break eye contact. He stared Sam down and made sure he knew he wouldn't change his mind, whether Sam wanted it or not. Michael would keep Sam safe, even if Sam himself couldn't be bothered.
The moment stretched between them. And then suddenly the energy changed, became electric instead of tense. Michael listed forward. Sam did too. And then they both froze. Sam blinked. Michael dropped his gaze to Sam's mouth, and Sam's tongue snaked out to wet his lower lip.
Michael broke and surged forward to chase that tongue. He pressed his mouth against Sam's, and the instant their lips touched, Sam became pliant. Scorching heat raced between them. Michael changed his grip to hold instead of restrain, and Sam pushed closer. Michael wanted that too. He hauled Sam in until they held each other as tightly as humanly possible.
With a groan Michael tested the seam of Sam's lips with his tongue. Sam immediately opened and let Michael in. So he explored, changed the angle, and dove in again. He couldn't get enough of Sam's taste. Lips, teeth, and tongue clashed over and over as they both fought for control.
And then Sam gave up, melted against Michael, and let him take over. Michael slowed the kiss, though it was just as intense. He took his time to learn Sam's mouth and which angles worked best. And he breathed hard through his nose and took in Sam's scent--something citrusy, fresh, and clean. Michael pushed harder and turned so he could press Sam against the desk and get better leverage.
Sam skated his hands up Michael's shoulders and neck and into his hair. He gripped tightly and held on to the short strands. Michael gave a low, desperate moan, fitted himself between Sam's parted thighs, pressed his hard dick against Sam's, and made sure Sam could feel it all--that he could feel all of Sam.
Wrenching his mouth away, Sam sucked in a harsh breath. But Michael continued his exploration of Sam's skin. He nosed across his jaw, latched on to the corded muscles of his neck so he could kiss and bite gently. He laved the spot he'd bitten, and smiled at Sam's shiver.
"Michael," Sam moaned.
Michael froze with his lips pressed against Sam's Adam's apple.
What the hell was he doing? He shouldn't be kissing Sam--not now, not ever. He had to keep distance between them, keep things professional. They couldn't get involved with one another.
He'd been fighting it for ten years.
Slowly and with the utmost care, Michael pulled back. He made sure Sam was steady and then took a giant step back and put more than a foot between them. Sam gave a tiny whine, and Michael wanted to pull him back into his arms to soothe him.
But he couldn't.
"Michael?" Sam's voice was filled with concern, and a little bit of hurt. Michael shook his head.
"We can't do this."
Sam's expression crumbled, and the hurt was right there for Michael to see. The despair poured off him in waves, and Michael couldn't help but feel it. That kiss had torn down his walls, and all he could feel was Sam's confusion--his hurt. It almost made his knees buckle.
"You kissed me."
"I know." Michael tried to get himself under control. "I know. But we can't. You know we can't."
For a minute Sam didn't move. But that ache in Michael's chest got stronger, more painful. It was Sam's emotions, and it literally felt like his heart was breaking and a black hole was replacing it. Michael found it hard to breathe... and he felt it all secondhand. It had to be a thousand times worse for Sam. Michael lifted a hand before he could stop himself, but Sam skirted to the side and evaded his touch.
"You... I... I can't even believe you right now." Sam dropped his head and just breathed for a moment. Then he walked toward the door and spoke in a voice so low Michael almost didn't hear it.
"It hurts less when you shove a sword through my chest."
And then he was gone.
Michael's hands shook when he lifted them. He scrubbed hard at his face and managed to sit, but he could still feel Sam--all that pain and anger--and it nearly undid him. He almost raced to the door and called Sam back.
But he couldn't. He was the boss, the one in charge, and what had just happened was unacceptable. And it could never happen again.
No matter how right it felt.
Chapter Nine
IN the deepest part of his soul, Sam really believed he'd never reach a point where he had to call it quits, where something would happen, and he'd finally give up on everything he hoped for. He knew it was a slim chance that he'd ever get what he wanted, but he thought he'd come to terms with it. He had come to terms with it.
Until Michael kissed him.
It was absolutely everything he'd ever wanted--the heat, the passion, the feel of Michael pressing so hard against him. His wildest fantasies didn't even come close to what the real thing felt like.
Then Michael pushed him away. Said "we can't." And even though Sam had half expected it, when it actually happened, it hurt worse than anything he'd ever imagined or experienced--more than dying, day in and day out.
He was done. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't work for Michael, knowing what his kisses tasted like, and not have that again. Sam had never thought of himself as a masochist. If he stayed, it would be self-torture in its purest form. So he had to walk away. For good.
Dom and Levi lived in
a sweet little house not far from the river. It was a run-down bungalow when they bought it, but together they'd turned it into a cozy, happy home. Usually the bright red front door made Sam smile. But not today.
He'd sent Dom home after the whole thing in Michael's office, and then took off himself and drove aimlessly for hours. Other than assuring Dom and Blake that he was okay, he hadn't spoken to anyone. Lost in his own thoughts, he'd finally come to a realization, which led him to knock on Dom's front door.
Levi answered, his expression a study in worry, and Sam ducked under his arm, walked straight into the living room, and face-planted on the couch.
"That bad, huh?"
"Yes," Sam mumbled, his voice muffled by the cushion.
Levi made a sympathetic noise and rubbed his back for a moment. "I'll get Dom."
Sam knew the moment his best friend and anchor entered the room. They were so tuned in to each other--they had to be in order to do their job effectively--that Sam didn't even question it. He rolled onto his back and opened his arms. Dom lay down on top of him and hugged him tightly for a long moment. Then he sat up, pulled Sam with him, and sat close enough for Sam to lean on.
"Tell me."
"We kissed."
Stunned silence. "No freaking way."
Sam let out a mirthless laugh. "Yep. And it was everything. Everything. And then he pushed me away." Sam rubbed at his chest, feeling the ache all over again.
Levi muttered, "Shit."
Sam didn't care that Levi was still in the room. Dom would tell Levi everything anyway, and he counted Levi among his closest friends.
"What are you going to do?" Dom wrapped an arm around him, and Sam settled into the embrace.
Sam weighed his words. He knew what he needed to say, but he was unsure how to say it. He sighed. "What do you guys think about relocating?"
As expected, his proclamation was met with silence. Sam almost smiled. His friends were so predictable. But he'd thought long and hard on his wandering drive, and he knew it was the right thing.
"Maybe I should give you guys some time." Levi broke the quiet and pushed himself up, but Sam waved him back down.
"No, no. You need to be here too. This affects all of us."
Dom slid a hand into Sam's hair and used the hold to turn Sam's face to his. Dom's dark eyes were full of questions, and he searched Sam's for the answers. Whatever he saw there made him frown.
"Are you sure about this, Sammy?"
"I am." He sighed again, sat up a little, and angled so he could see both Dom and Levi. "I can't keep doing this to myself. It hurts too damn much."
Dom shot his husband a look and then turned his attention back to Sam. "I know. But... this is your home. Your brother is here. You once told me you couldn't imagine living and working anywhere else. It's why I followed you here in the first place."
Sam nodded. "It's time for a change. It's the only way--" He shook his head. "Levi, haven't you always said you'd love to open up another office somewhere else? Somewhere warm all year round?"
"Sure, Sam." Levi frowned. "But that was just talk."
"But it doesn't have to be." Sam clenched his fingers together in his lap. He turned pleading eyes on Dom. "I can't do this without you, Dom. But just think. We can go anywhere. Atlanta. Pensacola. Lubbock. Hell, even San Diego. Or a dozen other places."
"You're serious." Dom looked at him in disbelief.
"So serious."
"Sam, honey, what about Blake?" Levi's voice was gentle, as though Sam hadn't already considered that.
"My brother will be fine. Derek takes good care of him." Sam lifted a hand when Levi opened his mouth again. He already anticipated the next objection. "Of course I'll miss him. I'll miss him like crazy. But there are these newfangled things called airplanes that can take people wherever they want to go in a matter of hours."
Dom snorted out a small laugh. He apparently appreciated Sam's humor in a way Levi didn't, because Levi's normally kind face was twisted into a moue of distaste. Sam forced a laugh but only sort of felt it.
"I can't stay," he whispered.
Levi's expression softened, and he stood up. He came over to the couch, dropped a kiss on Sam's head, and touched Dom's cheek. For a long minute, they just looked at each other, and Sam knew they were holding a silent conversation. Finally Levi sighed and gave the barest hint of a smile.
"Well, I'm not opposed. And I have the staff and resources." He bent and kissed Dom softly. "You guys talk. Figure it out."
Levi walked into the kitchen, and Dom followed him with his gaze. Then he turned back to Sam. He didn't say anything for several minutes.
"Is this really what you want?"
Sam shook his head, and his chest constricted as the tears he'd kept at bay for hours threatened to fall.
"No. What I want is for Michael to get his head out of his ass, to realize that what we've been building between us for the past decade is actually a good thing, that he doesn't have to fight it. But that's never going to happen." Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Sam hadn't expected. His heart cracked, and his voice broke. "It's never going to happen. Ten years is a long time to love someone who doesn't love you back."
Dom gave him a watery smile. "He loves you back."
Sam shook his head. "He could if he'd let himself. But he won't."
Dom frowned and nodded. He reached out, caught Sam's hands, and held them tightly. Sam squinted at him and tried to pull away, but Dom only held on harder.
"Just tell me one thing." Dom's voice was low and serious, and Sam stopped struggling. He gave Dom his full attention. "Just tell me that this isn't some ploy of yours to, I don't know, finally get Michael to act."
Sam would have been hurt by the accusation, but he knew Dom was worried. And it was exactly the kind of thing his younger self would have done--make Michael see what he was losing. Hell, it was something the Sam of a few months ago would have done. But not anymore.
"It's not." Sam sighed and gently pulled out of Dom's hold. "Maybe before, if I had thought about it. But now? Now it's self-preservation. I'll never be able to move on if I don't leave."
Dom gave him a sad smile and then leaned back into the couch and slouched down. He rubbed a hand over his face, and Sam stayed quiet, knowing Dom was thinking everything over. Eventually Dom nodded.
"Okay. Okay, Sammy. We'll go somewhere else. But on two conditions."
Sam eyed him warily. "What?"
"You have to talk to Blake first. Because I know you haven't told your brother yet."
"Blake will understand," Sam said confidently.
"And," Dom said loudly, talking over him, "you have to speak with King before we put in for a transfer."
Sam scowled. "Why would you make me do that?"
"Because, Sam." Dom sat up. "It's the right thing to do."
"It won't change anything."
Dom shrugged. "Probably not. But do it anyway. Face this head-on, and then we'll go make a new life somewhere else."
Sam heard what Dom wasn't saying--that he hoped Michael would be able to talk sense into Sam, or that Michael would be able to change his mind. But Sam knew better. He knew Michael wouldn't stop him. He probably wanted the temptation of Sam gone just as much as Sam wanted to be elsewhere.
"Fine."
Dom studied him and sighed again. Raising his voice, he called into the kitchen, "Babe? You better open a bottle of wine. We have a future to plan."
BLAKE took Sam's news even better than he expected. He knew his brother would understand. Blake was good like that, and he had always wanted what was best for Sam. So he wasn't surprised that Blake understood.
He just didn't expect Blake to know just by looking at him.
When Sam showed up at the door, Blake took one look at him and gathered him into a fierce hug.
"Crap, I'm gonna miss you so bad."
Sam chuckled, hugged his brother hard, and then pulled out of his embrace. "But you get it. You know why I need to go."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You do realize I'm thirty years old and all grown up, right?"
Blake shrugged and pulled him into the house. "Thirty, maybe. Grown up? Eh."
Sam playfully punched his brother on the arm. "Jerk."
"Come in and tell me everything. Derek will make cookies. We'll figure it all out."
Four hours and about two dozen cookies later, Sam finally felt he was making the right decision. Even though he knew it was what he needed to do, having the long conversation with his best friend and then his brother convinced him that it was the right choice.
Still, it wasn't until he was back home in the quiet and solitude, with his cat curled up at his side, that he gathered the courage to message Michael. It took him nearly an hour to compose the message on his tablet, and he erased and rewrote the same words dozens of times before he was satisfied.
Michael,
I need to speak with you. Tomorrow morning if at all possible. Let me know as soon as you can. Whenever you have time.
Thanks,
Sam
It wasn't much, but it got the meaning across. Even so, it took him another hour to hit Send. And then, he waited and munched on the leftover cookies Derek had sent home with him. Just as he was about to give up hope, a chime let him know he had an incoming message.
I'll be in at 8.
That was it. Nothing more. Sam didn't know what he expected. Maybe some worry or even a demand to know what the conversation was about--something that showed Michael cared. If he weren't already resolved, that would have done it.
With a sigh Sam sent an affirmative and then closed his tablet and scooped up the cat to get ready for bed.
In the morning his life would change.
Chapter Ten
PROFESSIONAL, not personal.
Michael kept that thought front and center and forced himself not to glance at the clock and watch the time tick away. When he got the message from Sam last night, his stomach had bottomed out. He should have known Sam would push, would want to talk about that kiss and not just let it go. Michael wanted to forget it even happened.
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