Rise of the Fallen (14 page)

"Wait, you said they use humans. Are you saying they're
not human?"

"That's right."

Sam took a wary step backward. "And what about
you?" Sam remembered what her kidnappers – these…drecks, as he called them
– had said about a vampire.

"You already know, don't you?" Micah's deep blue
eyes held her as he drew his glass to his lips once more, slowly sipping,
always watching her.

"Why don't you spell it out for me?" She took
another step back then looked at the door, weighing the odds of getting out
without him catching her, fear rising in her blood.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sam. I want to protect
you."

"Really?"

Micah took a step toward her and she turned and bolted for
the exit, dropping her glass. Micah's hand slammed against the door just as she
reached it, his other arm locking around her waist.

"Yes, Sam, I'm a vampire," he said. His mouth was
next to her ear. "But that doesn't mean I want to hurt you."

Sam's heart raced, her lungs pumping hard for air as her
fingers fumbled at the lock. "Let me out! Just let me go. You're
crazy." Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. He spoke the truth and
her gut told her so, but that didn't make it easier to accept. Vampires and
shifters and whatever else out in the city? What dimension had she just
entered, the Twilight Zone?

"Stop it, Sam," he said, pulling her hand away
from the lock and securing her arms against her body. "Calm down." He
rocked her as if she was a scared child and he wanted to soothe her.
"Sssshhh, I won't hurt you. I can't hurt you. It would kill me to hurt
you." The last he said as he stopped swaying back and forth, his voice
dropping to a whisper.

What was he saying?

"Why? Because vampires don't hurt humans?"

"No, because I'm…" He hushed abruptly in
mid-thought and turned his face so his nose sank into her hair. He inhaled, his
hold on her morphing into one of tender yearning. The simple gesture stirred
warmth to pool in her belly, and a soft gasp escaped her throat. "You are,
too, aren't you?"

He wasn't making any sense, but she nodded once, bending her
head toward him as his nose drew a circle over her scalp and his breath warmed
her skin. Whatever Micah thought she was, she would be it. He released her arms
and without thinking, she trailed her fingertips over his forearms. "Is
this where you drink my blood?"

"Don't tempt me." He brushed his lips against her
neck.

Wait. No, no, no! What was she thinking? She yanked out of
his embrace and threw herself against the kitchen counter then turned back
toward him. He looked like she had just ripped a vital organ out of him.
"I know what you're doing. You're screwing with my mind, aren't you?
Trying to seduce me. Trying to lure me into your lair or whatever." She
waved her hand at him.

Shaking his head, Micah moved toward her, but Sam stepped
away. "Just stay back."

"Sam, I wasn't compelling you. I wasn't screwing with
your mind, as you put it. What you felt just now was all you, not me
manipulating your mind."

Jutting her chin out, Sam thought about that. Her body still
sparked where he had touched her, and just thinking about his lips on her neck
set butterflies tittering in her belly.

"Maybe you should just sit down," he said, walking
back toward the living room, leaving her to watch him go. God, the man –
vampire – whatever – was sexy. He walked with a swagger most men would kill
for, confident with a hint of vulnerability that drew eyes to him like he was
moving art. He was the type who could put fear into his enemies or make a woman
swoon just by crossing the room.

"Thank you," he said.

"I didn't say anything."

He looked over his shoulder as he knelt and picked up her
glass, one eyebrow popping as he shrugged one shoulder apologetically.

"Oh," she said, drawing the word out. "So,
you can read minds, is that it?"

"Yeah, sorry. Habit." He took the glass to the
kitchen and grabbed a towel and carpet cleaner from under the sink.

"Well, quit the habit around me, okay?"

He knelt once more and sprayed the carpet. "Okay. I'll
try."

"No, don't try, just do."

"Damn, you're bossy."

She chuffed. "Excuse me?"

"That's not a bad thing," he said, holding up one
hand as if warding off her pending retaliation. "It's just that I'm not
used to it. People don't normally boss me around. I like it coming from you,
though."

Huh? That was an interesting tidbit, but she could see what
he was saying. Micah struck her more as the type to boss others and do what he
wanted, not the other way around. She could imagine that most people gave in
around him.

"Well, get used to it from me," she said, trying
not to sound humored.

"Yes, ma'am."

Now he was just mollifying her, but she liked it. She
watched him scrub her spilled Jack and Coke from the carpet. "I'm sorry
about that," she said finally, taking tentative steps back into the living
room, giving him a wide berth in the process.

"It's no problem. You took it better than I thought you
would, to be honest."

"I'm still not sure I believe it, but right now I
suppose anything's possible." It all began to make sense, though. The
books, the music, the sword, her kidnappers. She frowned. That part still
didn't make sense.

"Okay, so why did those guys try to kidnap me? That
part I don't understand."

Micah returned to the kitchen and tossed the towel in the
sink. "You interfered the other night." He threw her a concerned
look.

"Interfered?"

"You saved me. You interfered." He went to the bar
and poured her another Jack and Coke.

"So now those…drecks," the word still wasn't
familiar on her tongue, "want to kill me?"

"Let me tell you about drecks," he said, handing
her the drink. "They take it personally when someone interferes with a
kill or fucks—pardon me, screws them over. Drecks enjoy killing vampires more
than they do humans. You know, a kind of in-your-face to mommy and daddy, as it
were. They don't like us very much."

"Us meaning, you and Trace, right?"

"Well, yes, Trace is a vampire, too, but there are more
of us."

Sam struggled to keep up, but motioned for him to continue.
"Okay, so, drecks don't like you and they wanted to kill you the other
night and I interfered. Why did they want to kill you, anyway?"

"Because I told them to."

Sam's breath caught, the glass stopping halfway to her mouth
as her eyes shot to his. He was dead serious.

"You told them to?"

He nodded, and she lowered her glass. "Why the hell
would you do that?"

Micah looked to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and
looking away toward the wall of windows that overlooked the dark city. He
looked like a man facing his demons, pain and shame crossing his face. It was
clear he wasn't proud of what he had done. Something had happened to hurt this
larger-than-life man, and Sam's heart instantly went out to him.

"Micah?" she said, walking toward him. Setting her
glass down, she touched his arm. "You okay?"

His face turned toward hers as if he was surprised to see
her there. "Vampires love very deeply," he said. "We don't just
love, we mate. It's hard to explain to a human, but it's powerful when a male
vampire mates and those binds lock him to the one his soul has claimed."

"You're not talking about…well, sex. I mean, not just
sex, but more like partnering?" Something about the thought of Micah with
another woman bothered her.

Micah nodded. "I was mated, and my mate left me a few
weeks ago."

"Oh."

"Anyway, when he left—"

"He?" Sam stiffened, not sure what to think of
that.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I wasn't clear."

"So, you're not into women?" She thought about
what had happened by the door and grew even more confused, and if she was being
honest with herself, disappointed.

"Yes, I am. I mean, okay, wait." He huffed,
collecting his thoughts. "Until Jackson, I'd never looked at males. He was
the first, and as luck had it, I became bound to him. But he didn't bind to me,
so when he left me a few weeks ago, I…" he paused as if it was too hard
for him to think about it. "Well, let's just say I didn't want to live,
anymore. I'd already lost one mate, a wife centuries ago, and that had been bad
enough to survive. This time, I didn't want to live."

Centuries?

"How old are you, Micah?"

"Old enough." He gave her a look that said he
didn't want to freak her out any more than she already was.

Okay, maybe she didn't want to know. Perhaps she should
digest one hard-to-swallow topic before taking on another.

"So, that's why you asked those men—drecks, whatever—to
kill you?"

He nodded. Guilt shrouded his features. "But then you
came along and gave me a reason to live again." His gaze dropped to her
hand and he placed his palm over it.

Warm and sure. Gracious. That's how his hand felt over hers.

"Well, thank God for that." Her gaze met his and
she smiled at him.

"You were in the wrong place at the right time."

"Something like that. I mean, hell, it's not every day
I get to save a vampire."

He rolled his eyes at her obvious attempt at humor.
"Well, don't get too carried away with your heroism. You pissed off those
drecks."

"Are you sorry I did?"

He looked at her like he wanted to kiss her, and she
half-hoped he would. "Hell, no."

In silence, the two only looked at each other. She felt like
they were refugees, on the run from danger, only having each other to count on
to survive. Whether he really was a vampire or not, something about Micah
steeped her in safety.

"Okay, you kept up your end of the bargain and answered
my questions. It's my turn. What do you want to know?"

"Another time," he said, looking toward the
windows. "You look tired and we both need to rest."

A whirring sound caught her off-guard and she darted her
head around to see dual tracks of heavy drapes closing over the windows.

"They're automated to close before sunrise," Micah
said.

"Oh, that's right. Sunlight. Vampire." She nodded.
"I see."

"You sass me."

"Who me?"

"Come on, funny lady, let me get you settled in my
room. You'll sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

He pulled away from her and walked toward the hall.

"You don't have to do that. The couch is more than
adequate for me."

Micah turned around and leveled her with a look that made
her feel like a rare, delicate orchid. "No, the couch is not adequate for
one such as you, Sam. I insist that you sleep in my bed."

The way he looked at her, waiting for her to follow him to
his room, made her heart flutter and her breath catch. "Well," she
said breathlessly, "Since you put it that way."

She joined him and let him lead her to his room.

* * *

In the hall outside, Apostle stopped in front of Micah's
door and smiled. Luck had been on his side tonight, after all. He had followed
Micah from the woman's South Side apartment to the Sentinel. After finishing
his shift, he had come back. It had taken getting off on every floor below the
eighteenth, but he had finally found where Micah lived, and where he had taken
the woman. Now he just needed to bide his time. He returned to the elevator and
rode down, left the lobby, got back into his squad car, and started planning.

Micah couldn't sleep. He just kept playing over and over in
his mind how Sam had felt in his arms and the way her hand had touched him with
such care. No one spoke to him with such obstinacy, and no one seemed to care
as much, either, despite only knowing him for less than a week. Sam had his heart
in a twist, a tug of war to stay put or go to her.

He rolled his head on the couch cushion he was using for a
pillow and stared at the drapes. If she decided to run out the door right now,
he wouldn't be able to stop her. Apostle and his team of drecks were out there,
though…somewhere. And they would be looking for her. The sunlight didn't affect
them like it did him and most of the others. Just the thought made him feel
helpless. Maybe making an alliance with a day walker like Trace had been a good
decision, after all. Which reminded him…he picked his phone up off the coffee
table and texted Trace, asking him if he'd been able to get Sam's things from
the club.

Trace returned his text immediately:
Yes. Will give to
you tonight at AKM.

Micah tossed his phone aside and tried closing his eyes, but
it was no use.

Suddenly, he needed to know Sam was okay. He already knew
she was still awake. He could feel her mind working and worrying. After
swinging his legs off the couch and pulling on a pair of sweats, he went to the
kitchen and flipped on the light. A pot of tea and a snack would do them both
good. He heated water for the tea while he made a pair of roast beef
sandwiches, cutting them diagonally when he was finished, then loaded
everything on a tray and carried it to his bedroom. He gently pushed open the
door.

"I can't sleep," she said as he entered, as if she
had been expecting him.

"I know. Me neither. Maybe this will help." He
carried the tray through the dark room to the bed as she sat up and pulled the
blankets around her. She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, but maybe just the
simple idea of being in bed around him made her uncomfortable. Or maybe the
prim behavior was just habit. "We can eat in the kitchen if that would
make you more comfortable."

"No, I'm fine. This is fine."

"I hope you like roast beef." He held out one of
the triangles of sandwich and she smiled as she took it.

"Love it."

He poured two cups of tea, and for a few minutes, neither of
them spoke as they ate.