The REASON Series - the Complete Collection (44 page)

Mikah turns as someone approaches. "Hi, Sydney."

"Hello, you two. Vivienne, I would like to thank you so much for your generous bid and to congratulate you on winning," she says. She is very friendly, awkwardly so.
 

I smile. "It was really Mikah's doing."
 

She smiles, bright and warm, giving me the distraction I need from what has just happened. "I know. I saw the handwriting."
 

She and I both laugh. Mikah has a look of mock disgust on his face, and we laugh a little harder.
 

"Either way, thank you. And thanks for coming." She takes me by the shoulders and kisses each of my cheeks. "I look forward to seeing you again." She steps back and turns toward Mikah. "Will you be in on Monday?"
 

He looks down at me and shrugs. "Let's see how the weekend goes."

She smiles. "Sounds good to me. Enjoy your evening." She waves and heads back toward Gary.
 

Mikah leads me toward the table that now separates the two rooms.
 

"Good evening, Mr. Blake," the elderly woman behind the table says.
 

"Hello. This-" His long fingers casually gesture in my direction. "-is Vivienne Callahan. She-"
 

"Oh, of course. Thank you so much, Ms. Callahan, for your bid and your donation." She stands and turns to a gentleman behind her, and he goes toward the tables where the last few remaining prizes are sitting. There is a beautiful deep purple case on the table with the same rose pattern on it as the laptop.
 

"How would you like to make your donation tonight, Ms. Callahan?" the elderly woman asks.
 

I look to Mikah briefly, trying desperately not to look completely freaked out.
 

Mikah smiles and turns to the woman. "Credit card."

"Perfect," she says and reaches for something on a table behind her.
 

I reach into my purse, glad that I didn’t take the credit card out of my wallet when I switched bags this afternoon. I pull it out and hand it to her. She does a couple of things and hands me a receipt and a pen. Having just done this for the first time yesterday with Celeste, I'm suddenly thankful for the shopping spree. I sign my name with a shaky hand and give her back the receipt and pen.
 

"Wonderful, you're all set," she says as the gentlemen hands me the case. Mikah grabs it before I can and slings it over his shoulder.
 

"Thanks so much for all your help this evening," he says to both of them, and off we go toward the door.

Andrew is waiting with my coat in hand. Mikah takes it from him and offers it to me. I turn, slip my arms inside and quickly button it as Andrew hits the call button on the elevator.
 

The doors open immediately and we step inside.

FORTY-ONE

We make it to the limo in what feels like record time, helped by the fact that the reporters and photographers who were here when we arrived are gone now. I also note that, though the windows are up, every light in the back half of the limo is on.

"Thank you for a fabulous evening," I say once we are settled and in motion.
 

He looks at me, tenderness in his eyes. "You're most welcome, Vivienne. I had a wonderful time."
 

I slide a little closer to him and he wraps his arm around me, holding me close.
 

Sitting here next to him, after seeing Elton in the ballroom, I realize how safe I feel. I know that, no matter what, he will protect me from anything and everything that can be thrown at me. Even though Riley is still out there and the possibility of his finding me sends a chill through me, what Zirah said about Riley's fate has me feeling more and more certain that Riley will likely never be coming after me again. I'm finally starting to see that over the last couple of weeks my mind, too, has been healing, and Mikah is responsible for that.
 

I'm also hyperaware of the fact that the feelings I have for Mikah in the dream are becoming reality.

"I'm sorry that I ever accused you of bad intentions when you offered to help me," I say quietly. He pulls back a little and I look up at him. He's puzzled. "In the hospital. Well, the first time we were there. Every time I've jumped to conclusions, I've been wrong, and I apologize."
 

He takes a deep, thinking-style breath. "You had every right to think and even express those things. I realize now that I came at you pretty strongly without knowing your circumstances." He smiles slightly. "So for that, I apologize."

"You're forgiven," I whisper as I snake my arms around him and hug him tight.
 

He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Thank you for your forgiveness and..." He pauses long enough for me to pull back and look up at him expectantly. His eyes are soft, filled with something I'm not sure I recognize. "I don't know how to express to you what it meant to me tonight, when she was moving around. I've never felt anything like that before. It was..." He doesn't add anything more to that statement, but I know what he's trying to say.
 

I lean back into him, and a sudden vision fills my mind: Mikah with a beautiful baby girl with curly red hair. Though this baby is not his biologically, he feels some deeper connection to her than I ever could have expected from anyone.
 

The idea of Mikah stepping into her life as someone she can look up to brings new tears to my eyes. I succeed in blinking them back so that they don't drip onto his shirt. I don't want him to know what I'm thinking about right now.
 

We pull into the underground garage and are met by Connor at the elevators. He opens Mikah's door, and Mikah slips out. I follow right behind him when he offers his hand again.
 

We ride up with Connor and Red in the elevator. Their presence makes me a little nervous because they don't usually ride with us. But after tonight’s events with Elton and this morning's events with the shifter, their caution is understandable.
 

Jeez, could today have been any more of a mess?

FORTY-TWO

After I've washed my face and changed into one of Mikah's t-shirts, I stand in the doorway watching him work on his laptop. I notice that my iPod is playing quietly in the background and the TV is off.
 

He’s rid himself of his jacket, vest and tie. I can't see if he's changed his pants, but he is still wearing his dress shirt, so I think not.
 

"You don't have to stand back there and watch me,” he says, surprising me. “Come here."
 

I smirk, totally busted. I push away from the doorway and walk around the couch. He puts down whatever it is that he's been looking at and opens up his arms.
 

I go stand between his legs, and he puts his hands on the backs of my thighs. When he gently rests his head against the upper curve of my bump, that surge of desire returns. Once again the urge to kiss him comes over me, this time stronger than before, nearly overpowering.
 

Though he hasn't actually made any moves toward advancing our relationship, he's shown me no reason to fear rejection. On the contrary, everything he's done tells me that he needs me, too.
 

I run my hand through his hair and he holds me tighter, closer to him. When he does this I'm instantly reminded of the dream - our dream - and how he took so much care in preparing my outfit for tonight. He, too, must feel and see the same things as I do in that dream.

"Are you ready for bed?"

I yawn. "Yes."

I step back, and it's there in his eyes - that look I saw earlier - and in this context it strikes me as desire.
 

I take his head in my hands and lean down. He doesn't flinch or say anything. But as I move my lips closer to his face, fear washes over me, and I end by kissing him on his forehead.

"Good night, Mikah. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"Good night, beautiful. You're most welcome, and I'm very glad you were there with me." He smiles. "See you in the morning."
 

I nod and head off toward bed.

FORTY-THREE

I'm back in the white room. Mikah is down on his knees with his eyes closed, wings fully extended. It's right where we left off the last time I had this dream, and here I have no inhibitions about doing anything to him.
 

I reach up and place my palm against his face. He leans into my touch. "Give me your hand," I say, and he does. I bring it up past my face and place it on the top of my wing. Pleasure surges through me, hot and rapid, pooling between my thighs.
 

I take his head in both my hands, and he mirrors the gesture on my own cheeks.
 

He rises, bringing me with him, tilting my head upwards. I feel my belly bump into him, pressing gently into his stomach. His eyes open, and they are the purest blue I could ever imagine.
 

Steadily, he brings his face closer to mine. The motion is impossibly slow and I ache with anticipation. I stretch upward a little in an attempt to meet him faster, and he smiles.
 

Just like that, his lips are on mine. All my angst and anguish dissolve in an instant, and I'm lost to the soft, warm touch of his lips.
 

His tongue lightly traces the outline of my lips, teasing me, tempting me to open them. Desperate to feel his tongue on mine, I open my mouth. The touch is electric. It surges, hard and hot, straight to my innermost desires of love and lust.
 

Desire. He's awakened a need stronger than anything I've ever felt before.
 

His kiss grows more urgent, and his hands move slowly and lightly down my neck to my shoulders and then along my arms. I shiver at the contact from wanton need.
 

My nipples, which are already tight and tender, harden and ache. An ache that can only be soothed by something warm and wet.
 

His fingers trail back up my arms as my hands slowly slide down his neck, along his chest, then follow the line of his ribs. I bring my arms around him, desperate to be closer to him, to be touching him.
 

His ragged breathing matches mine. We’re both practically gasping for air as our kiss deepens. Nothing else matters; there is nothing in the world but him and me. Us.

A loud grunt. It comes from behind me and is followed by a moan, but it is not from me or Mikah. It's something else...

"Ahh."
 

This is real, different. It's not my dream. I'm awake, and someone is moaning, but not in pain.

"Mmmm."

My eyes fly open. There is light in the room, but from where? I sit up and look behind me, thinking it's the bathroom, but no, it's coming from the corner, near the closet door.
 

It's.... What is that?
 

"Ahh!" it comes again.
 

I jump to my feet and turn around. My eyes are adjusting to the light. It's not bright, but I can see now that it is coming from the kitchen, but at a very strange angle.

My hand flies to my mouth. "Holy shit," I mumble.

I pull my hand away and take a deep breath.
 

It’s Mikah. He's on his knees on the kitchen floor. But that’s not what has my attention. Spread out in full, awesome splendor are a pair of brilliantly white wings.

FORTY-FOUR

I walk quietly toward him. I can’t tell if he’s awake or sleeping. He's not looking at me, but down toward the floor. As I get closer I see his wings flare and twitch slightly.
 

When I’m about five steps away from him, I shed my shirt so that I'm down to my bra and lacy boy shorts. I don’t want to destroy his shirt.
 

I concentrate extra hard and, after a beat, I feel them pushing out, spreading outward. The sensation is strange, almost like arms emerging from my body. I smile at the fact that I was able to bring them out on my own.
 

Once I feel as though they are fully extended, I open my eyes and peer over my shoulder. They are as brilliant as they were this morning, but bigger, and I gasp as I watch them shimmer in the faint light of the kitchen.
 

I test the muscles in my back, flexing them. My wings move slightly and a thrill of excitement washes over me.
 

I turn back toward Mikah. He hasn't moved, but his breathing has grown strained, ragged like in the dream.
 

I take the five small steps I need to reach him and stop.
 

I reach down and gently stroke the stubble along his jaw. He leans into my touch. I lower myself to my knees; they slide along his as they come to rest on the floor.
 

"Keep your eyes closed," I whisper.

He nuzzles into my touch a shade more, and with my other hand, eager to see if the sensation is the same, I reach for his wing. When I make contact, his mouth goes slack, his breathing stops momentarily, and the feathers of his wings flare. He moans: a warm, sensual sound.
 

I pull my hand back and cup the other side of his face. He does the same with my face.
 

"Kiss me," I breathe, and he rises up, bringing me with him.
 

I'm looking up at him, and slowly, even more slowly than in the dream, he lowers his kiss to mine. I stretch, hoping to meet his mouth faster, and he smiles.
 

The next thing I know, his lips are on mine, soft and warm, hot and needy. The moment we make contact, satisfaction and desire sweep through me. I can feel his need in the touch of his lips, in the trembling of his fingers against my face, a need that matches my own.
 

His tongue lightly teases my lips. I part them. In an instant, his tongue is on mine, teasing and tasting.
 

My hands slide along his neck, down his sternum, and then follow his ribs. I slip my arms around him, bringing him closer and tighter against me. His chest touches mine. My belly presses into his taut stomach and his hands trail along my neck, shoulders and arms.