All the King's Men: The Beginning (15 page)

"And no one's heard from him?" Bain's jaw tightened.

Tristan shook his head. "No. Nothing. And no one's heard from Trace, either."

Bain frowned and looked away. Trace was the quiet one. The mysterious one who spoke only when it was necessary, and then usually only one syllable at a time. But Trace was solid, never a troublemaker. Until now. From what he knew of Trace's record, it wasn't like him to not answer a call or at least check in.

"Keep me posted," Bain said. "I worry about Micah."

"I do, too," Tristan said.

Josie spoke up. "So do I." She sounded more concerned than they did.

The three exchanged uneasy glances, and then Bain took a spirited breath and blew it sharply out. "Well, let's not be somber tonight." He gestured toward the tree. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion. There will be plenty of time after the holiday to be worried and sad. For tonight, let's try to be happy." He waved toward the banquet tables. "We'll be having a meal fit for a king soon." Bain forced a smile. "So eat, drink, be merry." Then he leaned close to them and said, "And think good thoughts for our friend Micah, as well as for our lost comrade."

Tristan nodded and smiled, as did Josie. "Yes. Good thoughts."

"Enjoy yourselves tonight." With a wink, Bain bowed his head so that his long, black hair fell off his shoulders. Then he rose back to his full height, turned, and made his way back to Cara.

Despite his words of good cheer, a heaviness fell over his heart. Too much sorrow surrounded the evening. Luca's death. Now Micah. Where was his old friend? Bain's instincts told him something bad had happened. Bain only hoped that Micah had the strength to survive it. Micah wasn't like other vampires. He was special, and right now, that might be his only saving grace if what Bain thought had happened had come to pass. If his relationship with Jackson had come to an end, Micah would need every bit of what made him special to survive, especially after how he reacted to Katarina's death. God help him.

* * *

Across town, Micah sat on his balcony in his suit, alone, cold, and still as stone. He had been there for hours, freezing but unfeeling, ignoring the incessant ringing of his phone, abandoning reality as heartache and suffering seeped into his heart. There would be no holiday party for him. No more happiness. No more life. Jackson was gone.

In truth, he had been gone for weeks. And tonight, Jackson had made it final. He had broken up with Micah. On Christmas Eve. Merry Fucking Christmas to him.

Fucking bastard! Micah scrunched his eyes closed and coughed up a bitter sob as he hunched over and stamped the back of his hand against his forehead. Even now, as hurt as he was, he couldn't be angry with Jackson. Even though Jack had ripped his heart out, lied to him, and used him, it still felt like blasphemy to curse his name. Perhaps in time—not that he would live long enough—he would be able to hate Jackson, but not now. Not yet.

The freezing wind bit the tears that streamed down his cheeks. What had he done wrong? All he'd wanted was to love Jack, and be loved by him in return. But Jackson had made it clear tonight that he had no love in his heart for anyone but himself.

"I never loved you, Micah," he had said.

Micah buried his face in his palms and sobbed as Jackson's declaration played on a repeating loop through his mind.

It didn't matter that Jackson had said the words almost from the beginning. "I love you," he'd said within days of the start of their relationship. Now the truth had come out. They had just been words to Jackson. Words without meaning. And Micah had never seen it coming. So thorough was Jackson's manipulation that even his thoughts had betrayed what Micah wanted to hear. And yet, all along, Jackson's words, as well as his thoughts—at least up until recently—had been lies. All of it. One big fucking lie!

Micah slammed his fist against the marble wall he sat slumped against.

"You want something from me I can't give," Jackson had said. "I never wanted this to be forever. I never wanted to be your mate." Then Jack had dropped the bomb Micah had seen rocketing his way for weeks. "I've met someone else."

Someone else. The human he had seen Jack with at Berlin. Who was probably fucking Jackson right now. Fucking him like some motherfucking interloper thieving away what belonged to Micah. That son of a bitch!

There was nothing Micah could do. Jackson had made his decision, as flimsy as that was. He had chosen, and his choice wasn't Micah. And Micah would honor that choice, even if it killed him. Already, he could feel the black hole opening in his soul, sucking away his sanity.

Pain. All Micah wanted was pain. Pain would take away his suffering. Pain would ease the ache in his heart and give the demon that came for him from the bowels of hell an offering to buy Micah more time. More time to…what? To what? There would be no getting Jackson back. So, what was it Micah needed time for? Whatever it was remained hidden within the shadows of his mind, like some blurred memory he couldn't quite grasp. He just instinctively knew that he needed more time…for something. Something important.

He hung his head between his outstretched arms, which rested on his knees. Right now, all that was important was this. Nothingness. Emptiness. Tears that froze against his skin.

Jackson had left him. The unavoidable end had finally come. Micah's life was over.

Chapter 10

December 26

Tristan stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading back in to check on Josie. She had been fine at the king's holiday party on Christmas Eve, but yesterday, she'd gotten sick twice, and this evening she didn't look any better.

"Baby? You okay?"

She stirred from sleep and reached for the box of cookies beside the bed with a moan. Poor thing had lived off Nabisco Ginger Snaps and ginger tea for the last twenty-four hours in an effort to quell her nausea.

"I'm going to stay home with you today," he said, brushing her hair off her face.

"No," she said quietly. "You don't need to do that. I can—"

He shushed her, placing his fingers against her lips. "Yes, I do need to do that. Remember what I said last week? Besides, you need to rest."

She rolled her eyes and nibbled on the edge of a cookie. "I hate that you're seeing me like this."

"Baby, all I see is the most beautiful female in the world, and she's carrying my child. I think she's ravishing." He caressed her cheek.

She began to laugh, and then her eyes opened wide as she slapped her hand over her mouth, scuttled out of bed, and darted to the bathroom. The sound of her vomiting had Tristan shaking his head. Decision final. He was taking some time off.

After joining her in the bathroom and helping her get cleaned up, brush her teeth, and sip some water, he carried her back to bed. "I'll be right back." He secured the towel around his waist and went to the living room.

He was about to pick up the phone when it rang.

"Hello?"

"I need some time off." It was Micah.

"Yeah? What for?" Tristan drove his hand over his hair as he glanced back toward the bedroom. The last thing he needed was for Micah to take time off when he was leaving to tend to Josie.

"Jackson split."

Fuck. Tristan slammed his eyes shut. He'd been so concerned about Josie he'd forgotten all about Micah and his looming breakup. "Shit, man, you okay?"

"Fine."

Tristan didn't buy the nonchalance for a second, especially since this was Micah. "I'm sending someone to pick you up. You need to be in observation."

"No."

"Micah—"

"I said no. I'm fine."

Micah was clearly not fine. He sounded too calm for fine. But the last thing he needed to do was make things worse. If it was one thing he knew from spending a millennium with Micah, it was that once the guy made up his mind on something, no one would change it.

"You sure?" he said, afraid for Micah.

"Fuck off."

The line went dead, and Tristan held his phone away from his ear and scowled. He didn't care what Micah said, he would have Malek send someone over to check on him. He dialed in to administration and informed them he was taking a two-week leave, and then called Malek.

"Tristan, what's up?" Malek said.

"You're in charge," he said. "I'm taking some time off to be with Josie."

"Is she all right?"

He glanced over his shoulder as Josie groaned. "Morning sickness. It's bad. She's having a hard time keeping anything down."

"The doc'll have something to help with that," Malek said.

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to call him next."

"How long do you think you'll be out?"

Tristan shrugged. "I put in for two weeks, but we'll see how it goes. I'll play it by ear, but right now I just want to be here with her."

"I understand."

That was the good thing about Malek. He was straight and dependable. Maybe a little dry, and maybe even a bit too tame, but that was just how he handled his business. His mate had died, and Malek had somehow found a way to displace his sadness with a complete lack of emotion.

"One more thing," Tristan said. "Send someone to check on Micah."

"Why?"

"Jackson left him."

"When?"

"He didn't say." Tristan didn't like Micah being out there alone right now. "Just make sure someone goes over and checks on him. The address of his private residence is in his file."

Malek didn't say anything.

"Malek?"

"Yeah. Got it."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll be in touch. Call me if anything comes up I need to know about."

"Will do."

He disconnected and returned to Josie. Her face was pale, and she looked miserable.

"What's wrong with Micah?" she said.

Josie had always held a soft spot for Micah. She was probably the only one who could get through to him on his worst days.

"Ssshh." Tristan stroked her cheek. "You don't need to worry about Micah right now, baby."

She arched one brow at him. Even as sick as she was, she was still a demanding little fireball. "What's wrong with him?"

Tristan took a deep breath and bowed his head. "Jackson left him."

"Oh no." She placed her fingers over her lips. "Poor Micah."

"Poor Micah?" Tristan leaned down and kissed her forehead. "What about poor you?"

"I'll live." She patted his hand. "Micah might not."

"Malek is going to send someone over to check on him. If anything's wrong, he'll let me know. Now, I'm going to call the doctor about getting some anti-nausea medicine." He kissed her again, got up, and returned to the living room. He couldn't worry about Micah. Micah was Malek's responsibility now.

* * *

Malek stared at the phone. The time had come. He was about to lose his oldest and dearest friend, and as he'd promised, he would do whatever he could to protect Micah's final days so he could go out in solitude without dishonoring himself.

Being that his life had mirrored Micah's in almost every way since the day they'd met, Malek only hoped it meant his end was near, too. He was tired of holding up false pretenses and trudging through life as a wraith.

Please God, please. Let me be next.

But it wasn't to be tonight. Tonight he had a team meeting to run, and he had to announce that Tristan wouldn't be around for the next couple of weeks.

He grabbed his gear, locked up, climbed into his truck, and headed to AKM. Once there, he got situated at Tristan's desk and started reviewing the files.

"Where's Tris?" Ari said as he led Io in about thirty minutes later.

Malek looked up from his tablet. "Taking care of Josie."

The two nodded and sat down. "So, you're in charge now." Io sprawled in his chair, grinning. "How does it feel?"

"No different." To Malek, being in charge didn't feel much different from being a regular enforcer. Not that it should. He wasn't going to be in his new role permanently, so he wouldn't get used to it, and he had no desire for promotion.

A strange male with long, blond hair entered the office, stopped, frowned, backed up to read the nameplate by the door, and took a step back in. "Isn't this Tristan's office?"

Malek eyed him. "Yes. Who are you?"

"That's Severin," Ari said, waving the new guy in. "Come on in. Grab a seat."

Malek remembered Tristan mentioning a new addition to the team and recalled the file he'd read on the guy a few days ago. "Welcome to the team, Severin. Tristan's taking a short leave. His mate's pregnant." He waved his hand as if his explanation was all Sev needed to understand the situation.

Severin nodded, glanced at Ari, and then took a seat on the couch against the wall.

"While we wait on the others, why don't you tell us about yourself, Severin," Ari said.

"Yeah," Io chimed in. "What brings you to Chicago?"

Severin cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly as he shrugged. "I just needed a change of pace. There's not really that much to tell, to be honest." He looked at his hands.

Malek got the impression that Sev wasn't comfortable talking about himself.

"You'll have to come with us to Four Alarm later," Io said. "It's where we all hang out. Lots of action, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows.

Ari shook his head at Io as Sev's cheeks turned pink. "God, Io. Let the guy get settled before you bombard him with the meat market." Ari turned to Sev. "You'll have to excuse Io. He's kind of got a one-track mind."

Sev shrugged and gave Ari a crooked grin. "No problem."

"But you should still come hang out with us. Just ignore this guy." Ari gave Io a shove. "He'll just get you into trouble, anyway. But you can hang with me while he's off with the females."

"As long as you're not with me." Io shoved Ari back. "Which you usually are, I might add."

Ari huffed out an awkward chuckle then frowned and looked away.

Trace chose that moment to saunter into the office, black skull cap pulled over his head and a matchstick hanging from his bottom lip. "Who are you?" He chucked his chin toward Sev.