Micah's Bride (All the King's Men Book 9)

by Donya Lynne

  Creating a child without a calling was near to impossible, but with a calling, the odds increased substantially. Not all callings yielded young, though. There was over a ninety percent success rate with a calling, and less than five percent without one.

  Cara sighed. “Colin’s birth was just so hard on me, Bain.”

  “I know it was.” He tenderly kissed the back of her shoulder, then lifted off her.

  She rolled to her back, and he settled into the cradle of her body, his hard cock pressed between them. His mouth found hers, then dragged down to her breast. Her nipple puckered as he swirled his tongue in languid circles around it.

  Her fingers drove into his long hair as she churned her hips, working herself up to the head of his erection.

  “You really want another young, don’t you?” she murmured, trailing off with a moan as he breached her.

  He rose over her body, supporting his weight on his arms. His hair draped over her breasts, swaying forward and back as he rocked into her, finding a steady rhythm.

  “Just one more, love.”

  Her hands gripped his triceps as she wrapped her legs around his back. “Okay.” She grinned, baring the tips of her fangs.

  “Okay?” He was so surprised to hear her finally relent that he nearly stopped making love to her.

  Her grin widened, making her look even sexier with her wild, just-fucked hair splayed over the pillows and her makeup smeared under her eyes. “You talked me into it.”

  Twenty minutes later, with his body singing with the aftereffects of another orgasm, Bain dropped to his back, out of breath, his skin covered in sweat, and pulled Cara against him.

  “Thank you,” he said before kissing her temple.

  “For what?” She was just as breathless as he was.

  “For saying yes.”

  Her fingertips lazily caressed his chest. “Your persistence made me realize I want another child too.”

  “Even after Colin?”

  She shifted and propped herself on one elbow. “Having him was hard on me, but it makes me appreciate him that much more. It makes me feel closer to him.”

  Bain trailed his fingers along her shoulders. “We only truly appreciate that which we work hardest for,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  He repeated what he’d said, louder this time. “That’s something my father used to say to me when I was a boy. I’ve heard others say it since, in one version or another, but no matter the words used, it always reminds me of my father.”

  She rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I like it.” She stared at him for a moment. “Wanna know what else I like.”

  He pushed her mussed hair off her face. “What?”

  “Weddings.”

  He laughed, full-bodied and out of the blue. “Don’t tell me you want to make them a vampire tradition now?”

  Her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “Why not?” She swung her leg over his body and pulled herself on top of him until she straddled his hips. “They’re fun. They give us an excuse to dress up and have a party. They could also make it easier and more official to track matings. And”—she wiggled her hips against him as if trying to rouse him for round three—”weddings would help us fit into human society better.”

  His large hands dug into her firm thighs and sharply tugged her legs forward, making her gasp as her upper body fell backward. She threw her arms back to catch herself, causing the light to fall over her full breasts and hairless mound, casting alluring shadows over her pale skin and displaying her perfect breasts to his ravenous gaze.

  “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you, love?” He smoothed his palms up her inner thighs to her glistening core.

  She bit her plump bottom lip and tilted her pelvis upward. “Maybe.”

  Using his thumb, he parted her folds and found her clit, massaging it in firm tight circles.

  Her head dropped back as she sighed.

  That was his queen, always thinking, always looking for ways to help their race fit in better.

  But Bain didn’t necessarily want to fit in. Not in all things. But Cara made a good point about weddings. They were fun. And they did allow matings to be more official. And who didn’t like a good party? The reception alone was worth the effort. The food, the music, the dancing. The laughter.

  Vampires didn’t have a lot to laugh about, and if the pull phase, as well as the news the lycans had shared about motley werewolves being made as vampire-killing machines, was any indication, they would have less to laugh about in the very near future. Maybe Cara’s suggestion was worth researching as a means to keep the race in good spirits.

  Whether he made weddings a part of vampire tradition or not, at least one thing had been settled tonight. She would receive him in his next calling. She would receive him and provide him with another young. For that, she deserved to be rewarded, and he would spend the rest of the night doing just that.

  “We’ll see, love. We’ll see. Now hush. Hush and let your king service you.”

  Chapter 11

  Sam stood in a candlelit bathroom that gleamed with cream-colored marble and polished gold. But she wasn’t admiring the grandeur around her. Her gaze was fixated on the glistening band nestled against the engagement ring Micah had given her months ago.

  She was still blown away Micah had been able to pull all this off in only one week. The wedding. The reception. Her dress, the flowers, the cake and food and decorations. The glitter.

  Her parents.

  Saying good-bye to her mom and dad had been brutal, but they promised to come and visit. And Cordray had hinted that she wasn’t going to strip out everything Sam had told them. King Bain was allowing her parents to know of vampires’ existence as long as they kept the knowledge to themselves. According to Cordray, her parents would be regularly monitored, and if it was discovered they had told anyone else that vampires lived among them, their memories would immediately be stripped and they wouldn’t be able to visit Sam anymore.

  Nothing motivated future grandparents more than threatening to take away their ability to see their grandchildren.

  But Sam didn’t worry about her parents blabbing about all they’d learned tonight. They were like Micah. Vaults. They wouldn’t spill a single word.

  With a contented sigh, she dropped her hand and swept her gaze around the bathroom.

  Bathroom? More like a spa. Large oval tub that looked deep enough to drown in. A glass-encased walk-in shower with half a dozen showerheads sprouting from the ceiling and walls. Separate water closet. A changing room in the back. Heated towel racks next to the shower and tub.

  The room was bigger than the studio apartment she’d lived in last year, post-Steve and pre-Micah. She’d barely scraped by back then. Now look at her, sitting in the lap of luxury. What a difference a year makes. If only she could shake loose Steve’s lasting grip on her mental state.

  The home itself was a wedding gift from King Bain.

  Talk about going overboard on the bridal registry! A home. The king had bought them a home. One bigger than Micah’s house in the suburbs, with twice as many bedrooms, but not quite as large as King Bain’s own crib. Then again, Sam doubted any house within five hundred miles was bigger than the king’s.

  Her gaze swept all the shining, shimmering surfaces surrounding her. She could get used to living like this. Yep, she sure could.

  Crossing from the door to the shower, she ran her fingers along the cool, smooth marble counter, then casually hung the garment bag she was holding on an ornate, brushed-bronze hook.

  After the reception, Josie and Cordray had rushed her off to prepare her for her wedding night, so she no longer wore her wedding gown. Instead, she was garbed in a knee-length Chanel dress the color of champagne, a pair of Louboutin pumps, faux-fur stole with a jeweled button, and a felt-covered beanie with a delicate veil that fell over her face. The getup was circa 1950s, retro but classic.

  She took off the beanie and riffled her fingers thro
ugh her hair as she tossed it on counter next to a trio of white pedestal candles. Their flickering flames cast dancing shadows over every surface.

  Sam stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

  This was her wedding night. The last wedding night she would ever experience. The only wedding night that mattered, and the first night she would share with her husband.

  Husband. Micah wasn’t just her mate now, but her husband. She had the marriage certificate to prove it, even if they’d had to fudge certain details about Micah’s age.

  She removed the stole, then leaned back and to the side so she could push off her Louboutins. She left them where they fell and reached over her shoulder to release the zipper at her nape.

  Within seconds, she was out of her dress and slipping out of her undergarments. Then she unzipped the garment bag to reveal a simple lace-and-silk nightie. Cordray had told her Queen Cara had ordered the demure but subtly sexy garment personally from a boutique in Paris. They’d called in a few favors to get the precious lingerie there in time for the wedding, but it had been worth it. The slinky nightie was exquisite.

  She plucked it from its hanger and eased it over her head. The silk fell over her body like melted butter.

  When she turned toward the mirror, she smiled at the way her nipples barely showed through the delicate lace over the bodice. Micah was going to love it.

  She took the small bottle of lilac perfume from the toiletry kit she’d set on the counter, spritzed one pump into the air in front of her, then walked into the dispersing cloud.

  She was ready.

  With the knowledge that she was about to sleep with her husband for the first time, she crossed the expanse of marble and quietly opened the door.

  Micah stood beside a mountain of pillows piled against the opposite wall from the down-covered bed, facing a crackling fire in a giant stone fireplace.

  His mouth fell open the moment he saw her.

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice was like a heated breeze.

  She stepped out of the bathroom. “So are you.”

  He wore only white linen pants. Nothing underneath, given the shadow of his backlit, half-mast erection. No shirt. No shoes. The flickering fire cast a warm and alluring glow over his skin.

  Everything about the setting was designed for romance. For sex. For bodies entwined and lost to everything but the wild rapture two people could create together.

  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to prepare the home for them. No doubt the kitchen and pantry were fully stocked, too, which was good. Given the amount of sex she and Micah were bound to have over the next few days, they needed to have plenty of sustenance to keep up their strength.

  Her gaze slid down his body as she approached. She was looking at the skin of her husband for the first time. His virility. His prowess. The way he commanded her awareness with only a look.

  She’d seen it all before. She’d witnessed and experienced it countless times, but never as his wife. He’d done this for her. He’d given her a human wedding for no other reason than she’d wanted it. To him—a vampire—it meant nothing. Yet he’d married her anyway, simply to please her.

  Out of nowhere, tears stung the backs of her eyes. Micah’s act of selflessness had moved her in ways she hadn’t expected. Her first husband had never been as kind, as thoughtful, as infinitely loving as Micah.

  Forcing down her emotions, she raised her left hand and lightly skimmed her fingertips across his collarbone. The diamond on her ring finger sparkled as she stepped to the side, trailing her touch over his shoulder.

  A low, lusty growl rumbled inside his chest, and he raised his arm as if to stop her.

  But she wasn’t ready to be stopped. She wanted to admire her husband. Inspect every inch of his skin, every hard muscle.

  “Don’t move.” She eased his arm back down to his side and then slid her palm up his biceps, which flexed under her touch. “Let me look at you.”

  As she stepped behind him, her hand swept across the back of his shoulders before she ran both hands down his arms and back up. The hard contours of his flesh rippled beneath her touch.

  “Do you like what you see?” He spoke over his shoulder, his low, provocative voice simmering with heat.

  Her gaze danced over his back, his arms, his firm ass. “Mm, very much.”

  She was a horse trainer admiring her prize stallion. She had committed to the purchase, now she would take a moment to appreciate the fine lines of sleek muscle along his back, the coiled potential of his hips, the unbridled strength of his legs.

  Smoothing both palms down the center of his back, on either side of his spine, she absorbed his warmth and reveled in the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

  His hands squeezed into fists as if it were taking an enormous amount of restraint to keep from moving. “What are you doing to me, female?”

  She smiled, hesitated for only a moment, then pushed her hands beneath the elastic waist of his pants and over the firm, rounded globes of his ass, scraping the skin with her nails. Leaning forward, she pressed a sultry kiss against the back of his shoulder, then said, “I’m admiring what belongs to me now.”

  His body contracted as he snarled like a vicious tiger ready to pounce. “What belongs to you?”

  “That’s right.” Her teeth scraped his skin before she traced the curves of his muscles with her lips. “This is my body now.” She pressed veiled breasts to his back. “I own you, Micah Black.” She slid her hands around to the front, cupping his balls with one hand and stroking his erection with the other.

  He fell still, dropping back his head.

  “This belongs to me.” She stroked up to the head, swirled her palm, then slid her hand back down.

  “Fuck, Sam.” His chest rose sharply as she stroked him again, then shivered as he exhaled.

  Her lips pressed against the nape of his neck. “You’re my husband now, which means I get to do whatever I want to your body, whenever I want to.”

  “Is that so?” He pulled away and turned around as he pushed down the waist of his pants to release his cock.

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “It’s the law.”

  “The law?” He took a step toward her.

  She took a step back. “That’s right?”

  He stalked her as she backed up toward the pillows stacked in thick piles on the floor. “Whose law? Human?”

  She bit her lip but didn’t respond. The sensually predatory shadows in his eyes had stolen her voice. All she could manage was a lusty exhale.

  He stopped, nostrils flaring as his gaze raked her from head to toe. “Do you want to know my law?” His hand whipped out and snatched her wrist with such speed, she couldn’t have evaded him if she’d wanted to.

  Her pulse picked up speed, and her breath quickened. “Yes,” she said, her voice nothing but an aroused whisper.

  As a wicked smile flitted across his face, he spun her around and drove her to the wall.

  She cried out as he flung the skirt of her nightie up and gripped her ass. “This?” He spanked her, making her knees quake and her fingers curl against the brick as the wetness between her legs intensified. “And this?” His hand plunged down the front of her between her legs, his fingers slashing through her folds and flattening harshly against her clit. “All this is mine.” His voice came from right beside her, right next to her ear.

  Her body was his. As his was hers.

  He took a step back, and she turned to face him, holding up her nightie and spreading her legs to display her naked sex, waxed smooth. Hairless. Just like a vampire’s. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared again as if he could smell how aroused she was. A sound that was something between pain and pleasure, admiration and confusion, greed and restraint, tore at his throat.

  “This is yours, Micah.” She opened her legs wider and slid her fingers down, finding her clit and drawing full, wide circles around it. “No other man—no other male—will ever touch me again. Only you.”
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  Micah stared, lust-drunk, as her fingers teased her clit. His chest pumped so heavily his whole body rose and fell. He was a male split between desires: stand and watch, or act and participate.

  Sam decided for him.

  Pushing away from the wall, she shoved him hard enough to knock him over. He landed on the pile of pillows with a soft thump a moment before she straddled him, grabbed his hands, and shoved them to the plushness on either side of his head.

  He sneered, eyes alive, full of fire. “She likes it rough on her wedding night.”

  “With you, I like it rough anytime.”

  He rocked his hips, making his erection slide between her slick labia. “Didn’t you say something earlier about wanting to fuck the hell out of me tonight?” Before she could respond, he lobbed her to the side, onto her back, and landed on top of her. Now he held her hands down. “I’m about to steal your thunder, baby.”

  Her eager body squirmed, but there was no escaping him. And that served only to transform her arousal from a bonfire to an inferno. He knew how much she enjoyed being held down . . . how much it turned her on to fight him. There was something exhilarating about the fake fear that being held down awakened inside her. To lose a vital component of defense rendered her almost helpless, and while she trusted Micah not to hurt her, she couldn’t help the tremor of panic that caused her core to tense, her legs to tighten, and her throat to constrict around her empty breath.

  She strained to free her arms, pulling, tugging. But it was no use. His hold was rock solid, his grip shackling her wrists like iron shackles. She tried to rock side to side to dislodge him, but he moved with her, teasing her with his cock pressed against her sex, using his legs to subdue hers, his body to pin hers, his hands to keep hers pressed against the pillows.

  And he smiled. A playfully sinister smile. As if he were merely placating her desire to resist, toying with her. Which, of course, he was. He was ten times stronger than she was and could easily restrain her so that she couldn’t even flinch. But he liked when she pretended to fight too. It turned him on just as much as it did her.