by Lynne, Donya
Trace flicked his gaze at him with a crooked frown. "Following you? I was about to ask if you're following me."
Micah tried to get inside Trace's head, but as usual, the mental fortress surrounding Trace's thoughts was firmly in place. He'd never met someone who could so easily close him off like that. Most of the time, people's minds were an open book. He didn't even have to try—he simply heard their thoughts. It could be exhausting, but he had learned to adjust to the odd-even-for-a-vampire phenomenon a long time ago.
"Why would I want to follow you?" Micah scowled and picked up his pace. He didn't want Trace around. Couldn't the guy take a hint?
"Exactly my thought," Trace said, meeting him stride for stride.
Micah searched the encroaching crowd for Jackson, but he was gone. His scent lingered, but it seemed he and his human had already split. Sudden aggression surged through his blood. Jackson was with someone else, heading off to do God knew what to one another. His heart splintered as anger, humiliation, and hopelessness crashed together like fusion atoms.
Roaring, he spun on Trace, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into the nearest brick wall, lifting him off the ground. "What the fuck do you want, Trace?"
Trace closed his eyes, almost as if he enjoyed the pain, and then blinked them open again to meet Micah's gaze. "Walk away from him, Micah." He spoke as calmly as he could with Micah's fist around his neck.
Micah reared back, and the skin around his eyes pinched and tightened as he glared at him. "Who are you talking about?"
"You know who I'm talking about." Trace's expression grew deathly serious. "Walk away, Mike. He's only going to hurt you."
Micah slammed him against the wall again, and Trace sighed and dreamily closed his eyes before lazily lifting his lids. The corners of his mouth lifted as if he'd just had a hit of feel-good juice. What the hell was up with this guy? Did he get off on pain or something? "Don't pretend to know what's going on here, Trace."
It looked like Trace had to force himself to focus. "I'm not pretending to know anything."
"Like fuck you aren't."
Trace waved his right hand, and Micah felt a wave of calming energy pour over him. It was enough to make him loosen his grasp and let Trace drop to the ground. Micah's gaze fell to Trace's hand then lifted again to meet his eyes. Trace had just gotten infinitely more interesting, but he was still wading in murky waters where Micah was concerned, and he needed to get out of Micah's business before he lost a body part. What did Trace know about anything, anyway? He wasn't mated and never had been. "I'm going to ask you again, Trace. Are you following me?"
Trace exhaled heavily, and his breath formed a fog of vapor in the cold air. Then he pushed his skull cap more securely over his hairless melon and glanced up the snow-covered sidewalk as a sharp wind drove against them. "What you need is a guardian angel, Micah." Trace flashed him a quick glance, and then he turned and trudged away, head down, hands buried in his coat pockets, leaving large, heavy footprints in the snow.
"I don't need shit, Trace. Least of all a guardian angel. So fuck off and leave me alone." Micah checked the time. It was after four in the morning. He still had a few hours before sunrise, but he no longer felt like being out and about. He wanted to go home. Where he could drown himself in a drunken haze.
His time was running out.
Chapter 7
Tristan grunted and drove his hips against Josie's bottom as he came. "I'm coming. God, I'm coming." Again, he pumped into her, and then again as he filled her and let out a long, deep growl of satisfaction.
His cock struck her tender G-spot as he throbbed, and she climaxed again with a shudder, leaning against her forearm, which was pressed against the tiled wall of the shower. That made three orgasms for her in fifteen minutes. Josie was a female lost to her hormones, and Tristan wasn't complaining. In the past week, they had fucked ten ways to Sunday. In the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the couch, in bed, on the floor, on the dining room table. She couldn't get enough, and Tristan aimed to please, eager to ride out the sexual roller coaster with her.
"You've been insatiable, baby," he said quietly against her shoulder, breathless and still waxing in the afterglow of hot and dirty shower sex.
"Hormones," she said, just as out of breath as he was. "They do a girl's body good."
"They do my body good, too."
She huffed a gentle laugh. "Is that so?"
"Mm-hm." He nibbled her neck, groaning through a tiny aftershock as she sighed. After several more luxurious seconds within her swollen warmth, he slid himself out and rinsed them both off.
"You hungry?" She turned and slung her arms lazily over his shoulders.
"I could eat." He kissed her full lips.
"I'll go fix you an egg salad sandwich while you finish up." She kissed him back and stepped out of the shower.
"Don't exert yourself." Tristan reached for the shampoo as he watched her wrap a towel around her slim body. Within a couple of months, her belly would swell with his child. Already, she had gained three pounds as her appetite increased.
She flashed him a curious glance over her shoulder and laughed. "Exert myself? Making an egg salad sandwich?"
Chagrined, Tristan rolled his eyes at himself. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just want you to take it easy." He was already becoming so protective of her and the baby. Overly so. He didn't want her trying to do too much. She should lie down and rest more. They had been given a gift, and he didn't want to leave anything to chance.
"Baby, I'll be fine. Stop worrying about me." She blew him another kiss as she hurried out of the bathroom to prevent cool air from rushing in, and he returned to his shower, which she had interrupted within a minute of him starting it. But she could interrupt all she wanted if the result was as hot as their interlude had just been. If what he'd gone through with Josie in the past week was even a fraction of what happened to a male in his calling, Tristan was jealous of mated males. Damn, he could get used to this nonstop sex thing.
A few minutes later, Tristan shut off the shower, dried off, and slipped into sweats and a T-shirt, then made his way to the kitchen.
"Oh my God," Josie spun for the sink just as Tristan walked around the corner.
"Baby? You o—"
She bent over and vomited into the sink…just let loose without so much as a warning.
Tristan rushed to her side and smoothed his hand over her back as she continued to throw up. "Josie? You okay? Just breathe, baby." Morning sickness. Had to be. Let the bad part about being pregnant begin.
Her body convulsed through another spasm, and then finally it was over. Tristan turned on the faucet to rinse out the sink, and he quickly grabbed a glass and filled it with water, then held it out to her as she stood and wiped her mouth with a trembling hand.
"You okay?" he said again.
She nodded, took the water, and sipped. "Yeah. I think so." She took a deep breath and glanced toward the opposite counter. "I took the lid off the egg salad, and as soon as I smelled it…" She fought back a gag.
Tristan hurriedly put the lid back on the container and shoved it back in the fridge. "Maybe roast beef will be safer." He smiled over his shoulder at her, and she nodded.
"Yes. Much safer."
She started to take the roast beef from him, but still looked green around the gills. Tristan squeezed her hand. "I can manage. Why don't you just sit down? I'll make you some tea."
With a grateful nod, she turned and took a seat at the table. "Good idea."
He filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. "Looks like we've hit the fun part."
"What? The part where I puke my guts out every day?" She settled in the chair, arm over her stomach. She still looked queasy.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. "I hope it won't be that bad."
She waved him off. "It's okay. If this is what I have to go through to have the miracle baby…" She smiled and patted her tummy. "Then I guess that's what I'll have to do."
"It's why you love me," she said with a wink. "My twisted sense of humor."
As the water heated, he turned his attention to putting together his sandwich. "That's only one reason why I love you," he said, and then licked mustard off his thumb.
"How many reasons are there?"
The lighthearted banter felt nice. Comfortable. Right in so many ways. He relished these quiet, easy moments between them.
"About a thousand." He grabbed a tea bag and plopped it in a cup before pouring hot water over it.
"Only a thousand?" she said, teasing him.
He set her mug in front of her with a spoon. "Give or take."
Their eyes met and held for a long moment as unspoken love filled the quiet space, and then Tristan bent down, brushed his lips over hers, and smiled against her mouth. "I love you to infinity, baby."
"Ditto," she said, combing her fingers through his hair.
He leaned in to the caress. "I'll take care of you through this."
"You don't need—"
He held up his hand. "No, Josie. Let me do my duty. As the male, it's my responsibility to tend to you while you're pregnant." He turned his face to her palm and kissed it. "If you're sick, it's my job to stay with you, ease your discomfort, and take care of you."
Her expression relaxed, and understanding filled her eyes. She knew how badly he wanted to be mated to her. Really, officially, bound-by-the-king's-law mated. He had told her so countless times. And a true mate, bound by biology and tethered soul-to-soul by a link so powerful it could kill a male if broken, would tend to his female while she was pregnant. He would hold her hair out of her face as she got sick. He would gently wipe her mouth after. He would make her tea, feed her, bathe her, wash her hair, and massage her feet. Whatever it took to keep her comfortable and as happy as possible. That was his job.
"Okay," she said with a gentle nod. "I'd love that."
He kissed her again, returned to the kitchen for his sandwich, and rejoined her at the table as she stirred sugar into her tea. "Better?" he asked as she sipped.
"I think it's passed," she said.
Seeing her sick like that had momentarily worried him before his instinct to take care of her kicked in.
"My team got invited to the king's holiday party this year. Should I cancel?"
Josie cocked her head to the side. "Why? Because I might have morning sickness? Hell no. It's been three years since we were able to attend King Bain's Christmas party. I wouldn't miss that for anything."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Tristan chuckled. "You're such a tough little thing."
"Well, I'm mated to you. I have to be."
He looked down at his sandwich. "Technically, you're not mated—"
"Tristan." Her voice held a warning tone. "I know how I feel. And whether we're connected biologically or not, you're my mate and I'm yours."
Her getting pregnant had awakened all his old fears. What if someone else came along who mated her? Or what if he mated to another? He couldn't bear the thought of losing her simply because his DNA hadn't gotten with the program to connect him to her forever.
"Tristan, look at me," she said, her tone commanding.
He met her gaze.
"We're mates, Tristan," she said. "In my heart, I know it. Just because that whole vampire biological hocus-pocus didn't magically activate between us doesn't make us any less mates."
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I know. I just want…I feel…" He closed his eyes. "I'm afraid of losing you."
"You won't lose me." Her fingers opened and caressed his cheek. "Never."
He nodded again and kissed her palm. "Never," he whispered against her skin. "You're mine." As he said it, he meant it. Josie belonged to him. And if anything happened to take her away from him, he knew it would kill him.
Chapter 8
Christmas Eve
King Bain loved watching Cara get ready for parties. She moved with the elegant grace fitting for a queen, her long fingers plucking a broach from a velvet-lined chest on her dressing table, her back straight yet relaxed.
Her kind, blue eyes met his in the mirror. "I'm hurrying," she said.
He grinned and pushed away from the wall where he'd parked moments ago, arms crossed. "I'm not rushing you. I'm admiring you." He knelt behind her and skimmed one hand around her slender waist. "There's a difference."
"I certainly hope so." She grinned coquettishly as she pinned the ruby and diamond broach in the center of the velvet bodice of her off-the-shoulder gown. "But didn't you admire me enough earlier?"
"Mmm." Bain slid his other arm around her waist and kissed the back of her shoulder. "Not nearly enough, my love. And I plan on admiring you again after the party. After I get you out of this lovely dress." In addition to the velvet bodice, the burgundy gown draped into layers of chiffon skirting and came with a matching wrap. The dark color accented Cara's olive complexion and black hair perfectly.
Cara leaned into his embrace. "You do dote on me."
He peppered kisses along the back of her neck, under her upswept hair. "It's my duty to dote."
Her fingers slid into his long hair as she tipped her head forward. "You're good at your duty."
If he didn't stop, they wouldn't make it downstairs in time to greet their guests, so he slowly pulled away and took a seat beside her dressing table so he could watch her put on the finishing touches of her makeup.
"You know, my next calling is due in a year or so," he said as he ran a fingertip up her arm. "Can we talk about it?"
It had been almost three decades since his second child, Colin, had been born, and he was ready for another. Like humans, vampires could use contraceptives to prevent pregnancy, and Cara had used them during his last two calling phases. He would prefer not to use them during his next.
Cara stiffened. "You know how hard Colin's birth was on me."
"Yes, but Miriam's wasn't." Miriam was their firstborn. She had been easy to birth, but was turning out to be hell to raise. She was so damned spirited and rebellious as of late. Even so, Bain longed for another child. It was the way of the mated male, to always yearn for young.
Cara bowed her head. "I know. I'm just worried. I don't think I can take another birth like Colin's."
For starters, morning sickness had lasted all nine months of Cara's pregnancy with Colin. And when the time came to give birth, Colin presented breech. The doctors had had to turn him inside the womb, which had been a nightmare for Cara. She had refused a Cesarean delivery. And then Colin got stubborn and wouldn't budge. Labor had lasted nearly two days, and Cara had been beyond exhausted when she finally squeezed him out.
"I want another child, Cara," Bain said as delicately as possible. He had failed with Miriam and Colin on so many levels, a point he was becoming clearer on as Miriam approached the age of official vampire adulthood. For humans, eighteen was when kids became adults. For vampires, sixty was the official age of adulthood, even though many mated before reaching that age. Miriam was forty-seven, but behaved like an adolescent human emotionally more often than not. She was so bright. So educated and cunning. And yet, she was often quarrelsome and behaved mutinously against his household rules, slipping away with her friends without permission, arguing with him over such silly trifles as what clothes she could and could not wear and when.
If he could have another child, he could prove to himself that he could be a better father than he had been to Miriam and Colin. This was essential to him.
Cara set down her lipstick with a sigh then turned a compassionate smile on him. "Okay, we can talk about it. I know this is important to you."
Relieved that she seemed open to the subject, Bain settled back in his chair.
She returned to applying her makeup and primping. "Speaking of children, Miriam is upset she doesn't get to attend tonight's party."
Bain bristled. Miriam was becoming more and more r
ebellious and headstrong in recent months. Like a human fifteen-year-old, she wanted to be an adult when she wasn't yet emotionally ready.
Miriam wasn't just any old random vampire. She was the princess. His enemies could use her to get to him. They could hurt her to hurt him. He had put rules in place to protect her, but she didn't understand them. She thought he was being overly protective, and in a way he was. Those rules were meant to keep her safe and even save her life, as well the lives of the entire royal family.
And tonight's party was not the place for her to lose sight of her role.
He stood and paced away. "She'll understand."
Cara turned to face him and placed her hands in her lap. "Maybe you should reconsider."
Bain frowned at her. "What?"
She nodded her head to the side as if to tell him to hear her out. "Bain, she's restless. What would be the harm?"
"The harm is that this party isn't a controlled environment." He was very careful about the males he put in front of Miriam. She was a beautiful female, and Bain wasn't stupid. Anything could happen when he had all walks of life in attendance, and Bain wouldn't risk that one of those males would form an improper relationship with his daughter.
Cara sighed impatiently. "Well, let's talk about that, Bain," she said. "Gregos's son, Arion, will be there. Arion is a worthy, respectable male, isn't he? What if he's the one meant to mate Miriam? You've been parading male after male in front of her for years, hoping that one would form a mating bond to her, but none have. Maybe Arion's the one. Wouldn't that be something?"
Bain shook his head. "And Arion's best friend is that philandering, womanizing jackass, Io. He'll be at the party, too. He's not the kind of male I want around my daughter, Cara. And she's become so rebellious lately that she probably wouldn't hesitate to run off with that Casanova just to spite me."
"Bain." Cara sighed heavily. "You can't protect her forever."
"I know I can't, but I can try."
"Then why did you buy her a car for Christmas?" Cara said, voice raised. "If you're so worried about her getting into trouble, isn't a car the worst thing you can buy her? To send her out into the world where she can get in trouble?"