Cordray had been listening to Sam tell her about the night she met Micah and how she’d shot Apostle when the door to the basement opened. She and Sam both turned toward the kitchen, and a moment later, Micah appeared, looking and smelling as ready for sex as a two-cent whore.
Then his eyes met hers, and the mood instantly shifted.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he said, his thick, black brows knitting together over the bridge of his nose.
Not to be intimidated, she set down her tea, stood, and crossed her arms. “You took Trace without my permission. I’m here to retrieve him.”
Sam bristled as she stood beside her, but not as if she were angry. More like she was concerned that World War III was about to go postal in her living room.
“Everybody just calm down,” Sam said, holding her hands up.
Micah ignored her and barged forward, getting in Cordray’s face. “Oh, so now you want to put Trace on your priority list, is that it? Where were you three hours ago?” He jabbed his finger toward her. “You were late, and my buddy needed me, so if you don’t like that I took him without your goddamn approval—”
“I can suck your ass,” Cordray finished for him. “Yeah, I got the message from the guard on duty. Now, if you and Trace are done swapping cock snot, I’d like to take him and get the hell out of here.”
Even as she said it, she knew moving Trace right now wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t so clueless that she didn’t understand how badly Trace needed to rest after his stay in her brother’s dungeon. But damn it, she should have been there on time. She should have been the one responsible for making sure he got out of that nasty place and safely into Micah’s hands to receive the care he needed. It hurt her heart that she had failed at something so important. Something that felt important.
“Damn straight, you can suck my ass.” Aggression blazed in his navy blue eyes as he took a menacing step forward.
“Stop!” Sam jumped between them. “Micah, back off. Cordray, let me handle this.”
Sam had no fear, jumping between two tigers about to shred each other.
Cordray took a deep breath and stepped back before turning away and squeezing her eyes closed. She’d seen inside Micah’s mind. She knew what he and Trace had done to one another. Or rather, what Micah had done to Trace. He’d made Trace come. He’d kissed him. They’d held each other like lovers in a bed the size of Chicago.
And knowing that hurt.
She didn’t want it to hurt. She didn’t want what Micah and Trace had done together to carve out her insides like she was a Thanksgiving turkey. But that didn’t stop the ache from gnawing at the inside of her chest.
Something about Trace threw everything inside her into upheaval, and tears stung her eyes at the idea that he and Micah were so close they could be as intimate as lovers.
And then there was Sam. She and Micah were so in tune with one another. Cordray stole a glance over her shoulder. Sam had pulled Micah aside, her fingers massaging the pulse point in his neck, their foreheads touching as she spoke soft, coaxing words to calm him.
At one time, she had had that. A long time ago, with Gideon, before she had lost her sense of feeling, she had loved and been loved that deeply. And then it had all been stolen from her.
She turned away again, breathing through the emptiness, hugging herself as she willed her tears not to fall. Forever had passed since she’d last cried, which had been over losing Gideon.
Now she was crying over Trace. Damn him!
She cleared her throat and dropped her arms to her sides. “Go get him,” she said without turning around, forcing iron resolve into her voice. “Bring him to me now.”
“Trace is resting,” Micah said between clenched teeth. “And he will remain resting until he decides he wants to get up.”
“Well, I’m not leaving without him.” Cordray faced him and crossed her arms, doing her best to put on a steadfast front. She was good at putting on tough façades. After all, she’d been doing so for eight hundred years. Another five minutes shouldn’t be too hard.
“Then I hope you’re ready to get good and comfortable.” Micah took Sam’s hand and ushered her toward the stairs. “Because he stays until I say he’s ready to leave.”
“Fine.” Cordray jutted out her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’ll wait then.”
Sam held her tongue, although Cordray sensed she wanted to speak. Perhaps she remained quiet because she wanted to hurry Micah away before another outburst occurred.
“Don’t go downstairs,” Micah warned, pointing his finger at her as Sam tugged his arm. “I swear to God, Cordray, if you go near him and fuck with his head, I’ll beat your ass into next year. I don’t care how tight you are with King Bain. You’ve caused Trace enough problems. You don’t need to cause him any more, so just park your ass on the couch and don’t fucking move.”
Cordray threw eye daggers at him. If only Micah knew her true relationship to King Bain, he might not be so arrogant about threatening her.
Issuing a mock salute, Cordray stepped toward the couch and plopped down, keeping her gaze locked to Micah’s as Sam pulled him up the stairs. Only when he disappeared from view did Cordray allow herself to exhale. Her entire body slumped forward as she dropped her head into her hands. Her long hair hung over her face, the ends sweeping the floor.
For the past eight hundred years, she had prevented anyone from getting close enough to hurt her the way Gideon had, but now Trace threatened to do just that.
Part of her wanted nothing more than to let that happen.
Another part of her simply wanted to run the way she’d run away from the cabin in the woods when she found Gideon with another female.
Her whole life ceased to exist that night. Now Trace threatened to resurrect her heart. She was stuck between fight or flight. Should she fight for what she wanted, or should she flee before he could destroy her completely?
She didn’t need a Magic 8 Ball to tell her the outlook wasn’t good.
* * *
Sam sighed irritably as Micah closed the door to the upstairs bedroom. A small, dim lamp on the nightstand served as the only light. The blackout blinds and curtains were secured over the windows, shutting out the sun.
“How long has she been here?” Micah said quietly, almost as if he were hissing.
Sam brushed her hands over both sides of his neck, massaging his pulse points in a continual effort to keep him calm. “About an hour. Maybe a little longer.”
Micah purred and leaned his head into her right hand before turning and kissing her palm. “I’m sorry I left you with her.”
“She wasn’t so bad. I, uh . . . I actually kind of—”
Micah’s eyes shot open, and his gaze spun toward hers before she could get the words out. Obviously, he had seen in her thoughts what she was about to say. “You like her?”
She still wasn’t used to having her mind read twenty-four seven, but she was beyond chastising him for it. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway.
Sam huffed and crossed her arms as she took a step back. “Yes, I like her. Have you got a problem with that, Mr. Bossy Pants?”
He raked his fingers through his hair as he let out a frustrated growl and looked away. “Whose side are you on here, Sam?”
Now it was her turn to get frustrated. “I’m on my own side. Look, I know you and Trace don’t like her, but I think it’s because you’re both too close to the situation. I—” Micah began to pace away, but she grabbed his arm. “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
His gaze burned into hers. “I can’t believe you would take her side over ours.”
She bopped him V-8 style on the side of the head. “You aren’t listening to me.”
He blew out an irritated breath. “Fine. I’m listening.”
She took a step toward him and caressed his cheek, which was covered with black stubble. She loved how he looked when he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. “Hear me out.” He rolled his eyes, but some of the steam had left his chimney. “You and Trace are looking at Cordray all wrong.”
“And how would you suggest we look at her?” Then, under his breath, he added, “Especially when neither of us wants to look at her at all.”
She fought back a grin at his flippant tone. Micah was so damn stubborn, but part of her loved that about him. “You’re the genius, Micah. You’re the one who can see all, remember?” She tapped the side of his head.
“Yeah, but I can’t see inside her mind. She’s got a wall up, same as Trace. You know that. I’ve told you that before.”
“You are such a man.”
He narrowed his eyes as he slinked closer and placed his hands seductively on her hips. “I’ll remind you again, I’m not a man. I’m a male. All male, baby.”
“And don’t I know it?” She trailed her index finger down his jaw to his neck. “But right now, you’re being a total man. Because men can be total douche bags when it comes to females.”
“Okay, fine, baby. What’s your point?” His hands slid up the sides of her hips, and then inward to the robe’s sash tied around her waist.
“My point is, if you can’t see inside her mind, then open your damn eyes. Think. Use your common sense.” She leaned in and kissed the side of his neck as the robe fell open and his hands slipped inside. “Baby, your mind probe abilities are your greatest strength, but they’re also your biggest weakness. You depend on them too much to tell you what you can easily see for yourself if you just look.”
“Mmm, what are you telling me, baby?” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “That you’ve figured Cordray out in less than an hour, and I haven’t because I’m too hung up on being pissed off at her . . . and because I can’t see her thoughts.”
She nodded. “Something like that.”
He backed her toward the bed and eased her down. “Look who’s the smarty-pants now.” He crawled over her as she lay back against the pillows.
“Damn straight, Skippy.”
He chuckled and nibbled her collar bone. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
She giggled at his double entendre and pushed her fingers into his long hair. “I hope so.”
His fangs teased the side of her neck. “So, what have you figured out about Cordray that I haven’t?”
She wrapped her legs around his hips as he slid the thin strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. “That she’s seriously misunderstood.”
“Okay?” Micah licked her shoulder. “And . . .?”
“That she’s been hurt before and has a wall up to protect herself from getting hurt again.”
Micah pushed himself to a sitting position and tugged her onto his lap. “What makes you say that?”
“Women’s intuition.” She straddled his hips and brushed her palms over his shoulders as he nipped the side of her neck. “She reminds me of the way I was after I left Steve.” Micah tensed at hearing Steve’s name and pulled away to look in her eyes as she continued. “Until I met you, I pushed everyone away when all I wanted was to pull them closer. I was so alone. I desperately wanted a friend, but I couldn’t risk letting anyone get too close for fear of Steve finding out.”
Micah caressed her cheek, his gaze intensely protective. “You don’t have to worry about that asshole anymore, baby.”
“Thanks to you, but I still feel the effects of what he did to me. I still fear letting anyone get close.”
“You let me get close.”
She smiled and ran the backs of her fingers down the side of his face. “You’re different.”
“Damn straight I am.” He reached around and patted her on the rump. “But what’s this got to do with Cordray?”
“I think she’s been through the same thing. Or at least something similar. Which is why she’s so abrasive.”
Micah’s eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed. Sam had seen that look before. He was processing Sam’s logic and running through everything he knew about Cordray to validate what Sam had just told him. A moment later, he pursed his lips and raised one eyebrow as he sighed. “Okay, I’ll concede you might be on to something.”
“So, do you think you and Trace can cut her some slack?”
Micah grinned. “Not a chance.” He dove in and sucked a mouthful of skin at the top of her breast into his mouth, causing her to shriek and fall into uncontrollable giggles.
“Micah! Stop it! I’m trying to be serious here.”
He released her and lapped his tongue over the place he’d just given a love bite. “So am I.” A lusty growl broke inside his throat. “God, I need you so badly right now.” He lifted his face and hit her with a gaze fiery enough to burn down Chicago.
“I take it things went well with Trace.” She tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
“Mmmm, yes. Very well.” His fingers hooked the other strap of her gown and drew it down her arm. “So no more talk about Cordray. She’s killing the mood.”
With that, he claimed her mouth with enough steam to push all thought of anything but him from her mind.
The atmosphere in the room grew thick with arousal. Heavy waves of it pulsed from his body like ocean surf as he continued to undress her. His fingers trembled with such force as he unfastened his belt that the metal prong vibrated against the buckle, and the more time that passed, the more urgent he became.
Whatever had gone on in the dungeon had definitely worked Micah’s sex drive into a frenzy. She hadn’t felt such heady surges of energy from him since his calling.
When he finally entered her, he held her wrists over her head with both hands as he devoured her body with his, until finally he sank his fangs into her shoulder and shuddered through the most earthshaking, mind-blowing climax he’d spent on her in months, sending her body into the stratosphere as she blew apart beneath him.
* * *
In the afterglow of what had been the strongest orgasm he’d had since his calling, Micah held Sam against his body, drowsy, lazily caressing her arm with his fingertips. He wasn’t finished. Sexual need still vibrated up and down his spine, the lust-filled tide already rising again. He would have his mate once more before falling asleep. Maybe even twice.
Sam kissed his chest, and he could feel her eagerness for more as her hand traveled south along his abdomen.
“One more thing about Cordray,” she said softly against his chest, somewhat distracted.
He didn’t want to talk about Cordray. Maybe Sam was right and Cord was hiding some awful, painful past that turned her into a bitch with devil horns to keep people away from her, but he didn’t care about that right now. At this moment, he only cared about the female in his arms—his perfect, sexy mate—and Trace.
Undeterred by his silence, Sam continued. “I think she likes Trace.”
Micah’s eyes shot open, and he sat up, pushing Sam up with him. “What?”
Sam frowned. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.” She stared at him then gaped. “Oh God, it hasn’t.” She straightened and crossed her legs so that her knee rested on his thigh. “It’s so obvious, Micah. I can’t believe you didn’t see it.”
“No. I . . . how . . . no way.” His brain rejected the possibility that Satan’s mistress had set her sights on his bestie.
“Think about it.” Sam pushed to her knees then straddled his lap, hanging her forearms over his shoulders.
“I don’t want to think about it,” he said under his breath, cupping her ass in both hands. “Cordray with Trace makes my stomach turn.”
Sam laughed. “Will you grow up for two seconds. You’re not Trace’s father. You can’t prevent women from being attracted to him.”
“Cordray is not a woman.” He voiced the sentiment with a little more bite than was necessary.
“Fine. Female. Whatever.” Sam rotated her hips, teasing his erection.
He relaxed and gripped her hips, churning her more forcefully against him. “I was thinking she was more like an ogre.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled, grinding against him again. “My point is, if she likes him, you can’t force her not to. Not everything in this world must bend to your whim, you know.”
Micah yanked her against him, thrusting to strengthen the friction between them. “Why would you think she likes him? She does nothing but insult him and give him grief.”
Sam’s eyelids fell erotically to half-mast, and she smiled. “How does a grade-school boy show a little girl he thinks she’s cute?”
Micah frowned then smirked. “I haven’t been a grade-school boy in a while, so I wouldn’t know.”
“He pulls her pigtails and teases her, silly,” Sam said coyly. “Don’t you see? Cordray is pulling Trace’s pigtails and teasing him . . . all to get his attention.”
Micah refused to believe that, because Trace went after Cordray as much as she went after him. The two were like bickering children on a playground.
Bickering children.
His heart stopped. Oh God. Sam was right. More right than she knew. Because not only was Cordray pulling Trace’s pigtails, he was pulling hers.
“No,” he said aloud, pulling Sam closer, as if by wielding his possession over her, he could do the same with Trace.
“Yes.” Sam nipped his neck and clung to his shoulders. “Face it, baby, Cordray likes Trace.”
He set his jaw and shook his head.
Sam threw her head back and giggled. “Cordray and Trace, sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.” She pecked him on the lips. “First comes love”—peck—”second comes marriage—”
Micah placed his hand over Sam’s mouth before she could say the last line of the song he’d heard kids sing from playgrounds for decades. “No more talk about Cordray, or Trace, or how they’re k-i-s-s-i-n-g in a tree.” He flipped Sam to her stomach, and she arched her back so that her hips raised to meet his as he fell in behind her and forced her legs apart with his knees. “We really need to work on your pillow talk, baby.” He smoothed his palm over the cheeks of her ass then gave her a swat. Her supple flesh rippled and bounced back.
She squeaked then sighed, her body drawing in as if she were preparing for him. “Why?” She moaned as he positioned himself, using his fingers to spread her slick labia. “I think we have some of our best conversations when we’re fucking.”
He thrust into her, making her gasp and fall forward.
“No more talking.”
She nodded, mewling for more. “Okay. No more talking. Fine. Just”—she moaned—“don’t stop.”
This time as he took her, he not only claimed his mate, but willed himself to claim Trace, as well. Sam was his surrogate to connect him in the most intimate way possible to his best friend.
He couldn’t lose the most incredible submissive—a piece as vital to his soul as Sam—when he had only just found him. In just a few hours tonight, Trace had become critical to Micah’s survival, and hormonal heat suffused the air around him as he poured his mind and heart into keeping this new element of his life intact while pouring his body and soul into his beautiful, exquisite female.
He wouldn’t lose Trace. Not to Cordray. Not to anyone. As he shattered into another mind-numbing orgasm more powerful than the first, Micah forced into the universe his will to keep Cordray away from his best friend. As much as Sam was his, so was Trace. Trace belonged to him. Beware all who tried to take him away.