Blood Match

by Linde, K. A.

  Reyna was repulsed by the words, repulsed by B. She just wanted to be as far away from B as possible. Harrington was teaching her a lesson she didn’t want to learn.

  Then suddenly, as Reyna was moving toward the door, she was shoved hard and she collided with the glass. Her head smacked against it roughly. She gasped as tears welled into her eyes and she slumped into a heap on the floor. Her head pulsed with pain. She couldn’t believe what had happened. B had thrown her bodily across the room.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. She was out of her mind. B was going to kill her. The manic look in her eye revealed how gone she really was. Harrington was holding her back, but Reyna didn’t want to wait to find out. Her head was the size of the room as fear propelled her to try to escape. To run away from this nightmare.

  “I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her!” B screamed, trying to claw her way past Harrington. “She can’t have it! Doesn’t belong to her! I’ll take it all back.”

  Reyna had nearly made it to the door the moment that Harrington lost his grip on B. She lunged forward, landing like a cat on all fours above Reyna. Reyna screamed.

  “No! No, stop!” she shrieked, trying desperately to get away from B.

  B held her in place, exposed her fangs, and then without preamble sank them into Reyna’s arm.

  It all happened in slow motion. The feeling of adrenaline pumping through her system. The vamp venom she hadn’t gotten earlier from the IV flooding her bloodstream and taking over. Fight or flight kicking in. Tears streaming down her face as B drank her blood. The terror and disbelief and pain.

  Blood rape. Forcing herself upon Reyna to drain her against her will. At least as an escort she had chosen this. She had accepted it as her fate. And Harrington…he took the blood without her consent, but this was…this was worse. This was…degrading and humiliating and made her want to vomit all over the floor. She hadn’t realized how much worse it could be.

  This was hell. This was actual hell.

  Just when she thought it was all over, an electrical shock pulsed through them. She and B screamed.

  Screamed and screamed and screamed.

  B fell in a heap on the floor, twitching and shaking. Her head cocked to the side irregularly. Her eyes wide and wild.

  Reyna pushed farther away from her, clutching her arm and shaking from head to toe. Fuck, it had stopped. He’d stopped it. She had thought that was the end. She had thought it was all over. She didn’t care how he had stopped it, just that he had.

  Harrington stepped over B. “What a pleasant demonstration.”

  Reyna curled in on herself, trying desperately to avoid Harrington’s gaze. Her body was trembling involuntarily and her heart stuttering in fear in her chest. Harrington’s shadow covered her frame. She skittered farther away from him, pressing her aching head into the glass. She needed to be away from here…far away from here. But Harrington would never let her go. He’d never leave her alone. She was going to die like this—or worse, be kept like an animal. Kept like B.

  He tipped her chin up to look at him and his keenly intelligent eyes. “You have been living in privilege. You think that there is nothing I could do to you that hasn’t already been done and you are wrong. I need your blood, but only your blood. I don’t need your mind. I don’t need you happy. I certainly don’t need you living in luxury. This is your fate if you continue to displease me.”

  Chapter 4

  Reyna sank back into her bed with her knees tucked up under her chin. Her tears had finally halted hours after she’d been deposited back in her room. The nurse had stuck around long enough to bandage her up, but vampire bites healed quicker than average injuries. Usually within a couple hours, maybe a day or two for a bad bite, it would fade away to just a thin scar. And sometimes the scars wouldn’t even last. She had a feeling this one would. Scar physically, yes, but definitely emotionally. She wasn’t soon going to forget the feeling of B biting her and the sheer horror of almost dying.

  The rush was already wearing off from the bite and she was crashing hard. Harrington had lamented the fact that she had never gotten addicted to the venom. A lot of people did. There was an entire group of people who were blood whores desperate for their next fix. He couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t that way.

  Reyna always suspected it was because her first bite had been from Beckham. He’d been the one to say that emotional connection intensified the reaction. At the time she hadn’t wondered if he knew that from personal experience, but as she sat in her bed with a massive headache coming on, she let herself go to that dark place.

  All the maybes and what-ifs flew through her mind. What if Beckham was better off without her? Maybe he’d loved someone else. What if biting Penelope had been like this? Reyna shuddered at the thought of Penelope. She was the mayor’s daughter with all the privilege and entitlement that came with it. Penelope and Beckham had been romantically involved as a cover for his involvement with the rebellion. But it didn’t make it any easier to think about them together or the fact that he had drunk Penelope’s blood. Maybe he really did have feelings for Penny…even though he’d claimed he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to find Reyna. What if he’d orchestrated this whole thing?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth. No. She couldn’t think these things. This was what Harrington wanted. He had broken her. He’d put her in a situation that had been beyond anything she had had to handle before and the trauma colored all of her thoughts. He wanted her to lose it. He wanted her to turn back into that complacent little pet. His stupid queen. Whatever the fuck that even meant.

  But she didn’t feel complacent after Harrington’s demonstration today. She knew now what he would do to her if she acted out. He would shatter her mind. He would turn her into a raving lunatic like B.

  It hit her with a two-by-four. If worse came to worst, she would rather be dead than mindless or insane. She could take pain if she had to. She could survive whatever he threw at her. But she would not fall.

  She would not become like B.

  She would not be broken.

  She’d rather die than succumb to Harrington.

  * * *

  —

  Reyna woke up the next day with a clear head.

  She hadn’t even realized how depressed she had been until the fog had lifted. Trapped in a world with no answers and no hope, she’d been lost. Floating along a river of self-doubt and not even looking for a way to dock. Then it all came back to her. She needed to get out of here. She needed to find a way back to her life.

  And it started today.

  With renewed zeal, Reyna spent the next couple days plotting. She wouldn’t be let out of the room again until Monday. The nurse would come and get her. She usually had all of breakfast time, and then some, for uninterrupted conversation with the nurse. She knew there were cameras all around, but maybe she could get some information out of her or at least try to appeal to her sympathies. The woman had looked afraid when Reyna had been dragged off after having her IVs ripped out. There was no time like the present to use that to her advantage.

  She had a mental map of the corridors she’d traversed in the building, but she didn’t know what to do about the little device embedded in her arm. It was about a centimeter long and roughly the width of a grain of rice. She could feel it right under the skin when she ran her hand over her left forearm.

  If she had something sharp, then she probably could have cut it out. Maybe. She shuddered at the thought of all the blood. But she didn’t have anything sharp anyway. They weren’t that stupid.

  “Ugh!” Reyna grumbled, snapping her notebook back onto the bed. She didn’t know how long this thing would take. Collecting enough information to find an exit was already a big enough challenge. Removing a device with a blunt object was another thing all together. But she was done being complacent. She would get out of here.

 
With a huff, she threw on the provided white workout clothes, walked into the adjoining workout room, and turned on the treadmill. She had never been someone who worked out before this, but boredom and desperation did something to a person. The cardio would come in handy later. Not that she could outrun a vampire, but any edge would do.

  She was sweating and panting by the time she finished her workout. She leaned over with her hands on her knees, trying not to fall flat on her face, when she heard the distinctive sound of the door clicking.

  “Who’s there?” she asked,.

  But no one answered. When she walked back into the room, no one was there. She breathed a sigh of relief until she saw the black garment bag lying against the bed, along with a handwritten note.

  Be ready in an hour.

  “Be ready,” she whispered. “Be ready for what?”

  In eight weeks she’d worn nothing other than the standard issue white uniform. She hadn’t left. She hadn’t done anything. What game was Harrington playing?

  Eventually curiosity won out. She slipped the zipper down the black bag to reveal a long-sleeve black ball gown. She checked the tag and found it was her size.

  She shoved the bag away. A ball? Why would Harrington want her to go to a ball? After his warnings and introducing her to B, why would he feel the need to extend an olive branch?

  With a frustrated sigh, she relented and headed into the washroom to get ready. She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going. She didn’t want to wear that stupid dress. She didn’t want to play into his hands, and she knew that she needed be on guard. But she was too curious not to go.

  With only five minutes left before she was supposed to be picked up, she slid into the dress and zipped it up the back. It had lace sleeves that hooked around each of her middle fingers and the black satin material made a V in the back. The front fell off of her shoulders with a surprisingly prudish neckline. There was a box of black heels with red soles in the bottom of the bag. Everything fit her like a dream.

  If only she weren’t living a nightmare.

  Promptly an hour after the dress had been left on her bed, the vampire that had been there when she’d tried to escape stood in the doorway looking imposing. He handed her a blindfold without a word.

  “Thanks,” she grumbled before sliding it over her eyes. Maybe Harrington wasn’t as stupid as she thought.

  “Can you walk in those heels?” he asked.

  “I can manage.”

  The guy grabbed her by her upper arms and marched her out of the room. Marched being the optimal word. This guy must have been ex-military because his pace was bruising and it wasn’t a short trek. She didn’t know if the guy was taking her the long way on purpose, but she wouldn’t have been able to find her way back.

  Finally, Reyna was escorted up a flight of stairs and then pushed into a room. The door closed and locked behind her. She ripped off her blindfold and found herself in a small conference room. It had a buffet of delicious-smelling foods against the back wall. A television hung suspended to her right and a projector on the left. It was more technology than she had seen in months. A table for one was set up against the opposite wall of the television with an unopen bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket and a single lit candle. She was surprised to find it had an actual flame.

  But what was the point?

  She was circling the room searching for clues when the door sprung open. She stumbled back a step and then straightened her spine. Whatever this setup was wouldn’t change a damn thing in her mind. This was a con. It had to be.

  Harrington stepped into the room dressed in a crisp tuxedo. His cane was tucked under his arm and his eyes flashed bright. She’d never noticed how crystal blue they were. She usually only saw his inhumanity. But today he seemed almost human. It unnerved her.

  The door slid closed behind him and he smiled. This insane powerful vampire smiled at her. This was bad…very bad.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Ah, my little queen, I knew that dress would suit you. You look like the queen you shall be.”

  Okayyyy.

  “Have you tasted the buffet? I had it prepared with your favorites in mind.”

  She didn’t answer. How would he know what was her favorite? And since when did he care?

  He laughed when she didn’t answer and walked across the room. She followed him with her eyes. He reached for the champagne and looked down at the label. “Champagne is your favorite, no?”

  Still she said nothing.

  “This is my favorite vintage. It’s a rosé from this little vineyard in France I used to frequent in the early years after I was turned.”

  Oh God, he just wanted to hear himself talk again. He made her get all dressed up for this?

  “I purchased the property when it was clear that the French Revolution was going to destroy everything good about France.”

  Reyna’s eyes widened slightly. The French Revolution. He had been born before the French Revolution?

  “America’s fault of course,” he said as he popped the top of the champagne. He poured two full champagne flutes. “If it hadn’t rebelled where would France be now?”

  “Are you French?” she couldn’t help but ask. Even when he normally droned on, he never talked about himself.

  “Certainly not,” he said without further explanation. He walked back to Reyna and handed her a glass of the champagne. “Taste it for yourself.”

  She swallowed in fear. She didn’t know that she liked this new Harrington any better than the old one. She couldn’t figure out his ploy and that made it scarier. But she tilted back the champagne.

  The bubbles exploded in her mouth and down her throat. It was crisp and dry and the most delicious champagne she had ever had in her life. Something about it popped and it had the perfect bite.

  “You like it,” he said with another candid smile.

  “Yes,” she said carefully.

  “Good.” He brought it to his lips and took a long swallow. “Ah, as good as I remember.”

  Reyna knew that vampires could technically eat food, but they didn’t all that often. They drank but she had never been forward enough to ask if alcohol tasted the same. If anything tasted as good as blood. And yeah, she wasn’t about to now.

  “You are probably wondering why you’re here.” He poured himself another glass of champagne and then set the bottle back in the ice. “Come closer.”

  She moved an inch. His hand landed on a small control panel she hadn’t even noticed and suddenly glass revealed an enormous ballroom filled to the brim with people.

  People.

  So many people.

  Without meaning to, she moved forward and put her hands on the glass. “What…?”

  “It is one-way glass and this is a soundproof room. No one can see or hear us. They will never know that you’re spying on them.”

  She deflated. “Then why am I here? What is all of this?” She gestured around the room—the buffet, the candlelight, the champagne, the dress, the heels. “You want to show me the ball but I can’t be part of it?”

  “I realized,” he said, leaning casually back against the window, “that I showed you only one side of the coin.”

  “What coin?”

  “Your life does not have to be like B’s, Reyna. Your life could be just like this.”

  “I’m still trapped.”

  “Either you can be trapped and gradually go insane,” he told her, “or you can choose to be here living this life. It’s a choice. I thought you’d like to know that there is a choice. You could choose this.”

  She stared at him, trying to mask the look of disbelief that crossed her face. He was mad. Utterly mad. He thought that shoving her into a pretty dress and feeding her would make her realize that she should be grateful to hi
m for kidnapping her?

  “Is it really so different than your life with Beckham?”

  Reyna recoiled against the name. Harrington didn’t mention Beckham anymore. After a week or two of questions about him, he had presumably given up on getting any information out of her about him. She suspected they were investigating him after her disappearance, but she never provided information that could indict him. And since Harrington didn’t dish anything up about Beckham either, she figured that was that.

  “Did he not feed you and clothe you and offer you everything your heart desired?”

  “He also paid me and allowed me out of his house,” she ground out.

  “I could pay you,” he said dismissively. “And you are, of sorts, out of the house.”

  “Alone and unsupervised.”

  Harrington barked out a short laugh. “Do not think for a moment that Beckham Anderson allowed you out alone or unsupervised any more than I am.”

  Reyna didn’t back down from his taunt. It was kind of true. Had she ever really been alone?

  “I have known him much longer than you. Believe me when I say that the man you think you knew does not exist. There is no one more ruthless than him. No one more willing to tear the world apart with his bare hands to get ahead. He treated you like a well-maintained pet. What freedom he allowed you to believe you had was nothing more than an illusion. At least I am not playing any games.”

  No games. That was laughable. Every word out of his mouth was a game. She wouldn’t listen to his babble about Beckham. He might’ve known him longer, but she knew him better. She knew him to his core. The man might have made her utterly crazy at times and she may have doubted him in the darkest corners of her mind, but still she knew how he felt about her. Words from Harrington only solidified her resolve.

  “Well, think on it. You could be a guest instead of a prisoner. Things could be better for you here than they are,” Harrington said. “Enjoy the view of the guests.”