by K. A. Linde
Graves examined the necklace with delicate fondness, as if he could identify the piece. Then he slowly, purposefully removed his black leather gloves. Reyna tensed at the deliberateness of the move and inhaled as his hands moved to either side of the diamond choker. The pads of his fingers skimmed the section around her neck. They moved to the hollow of her throat before slowly dragging down the V of the necklace. A finger circling each and every diamond as he dragged his way to the one dangling between her breasts.
His gaze shifted to her eyes for a split second and he smirked. He was enjoying himself. The bastard was fucking enjoying himself.
“Yes, I think this will do,” Graves said.
His hand moved back up the necklace and he shifted around to stand behind her. Beckham’s chest was rising and falling heavily. His hands were balled into tight fists. She could see that Graves wanted to toy with them but she didn’t understand why.
Then his finger touched her.
She couldn’t suppress her gasp. Barely a touch—just his index finger against her shoulder blade drawing a line across her back to the clasp on the choker. And suddenly her cheeks were aflame, her body flushed, her heart beating furiously. Just one touch had made her skin tingle and her knees threatened to buckle.
“Ah,” Graves said behind her. “I see.”
“What the fuck do you see?” Beckham seethed.
Graves carefully unclasped the necklace and removed it from her neck. He took a step back and finally she was able to breathe regularly again. She dropped her hair down her back. She suddenly wished she had her jacket or something to cover herself with. She felt utterly exposed to him. As if what he had done had been more than sexual…more than primal…undeniably intimate. It was as if one touch had bared her soul to him. And she wasn’t comfortable showing that to anyone but Beckham.
Coming here had been a mistake.
Chess was a game of strategy. You were meant to outmaneuver your opponent. Force them to make sacrifices and then go in for the kill. You never expected another piece to enter the board and throw all your strategies to hell. There was no way to anticipate this.
Graves tossed the priceless necklace next to his book on the table as if it meant nothing to him, and carefully pulled his gloves back on. Reyna’s eyes rounded. What the hell?
“What did you do to me?” Reyna gasped out.
“I took your payment.”
“I…I don’t have anything to give.”
“True. Material possessions. It is a good thing for your sake that I don’t only deal in the material.”
“Are you going to answer our questions now or do you intend to keep putting your hands on my girlfriend?” Beckham snarled.
“Girlfriend.” Graves frowned, sending his features into shadows. “Such an interesting term you picked.”
“The term wasn’t the point.”
“I thought you’d prefer to go with blood match. Or perhaps soul mate.”
Reyna’s jaw hit the ground. Beckham looked just as shaken. How the hell could Graves know that they were blood matched? No one outside of their group at Elle knew that much. It was an incredibly small number of people they would trust with their lives. It just…wasn’t possible.
“How?” she murmured.
Graves waved his gloved hand in the air dismissively. “I suspected. But wasn’t certain until I saw you together. It’s been…a while since I’ve seen one. They’re always so…temperamental.”
“You’ve met another match?”
Reyna couldn’t believe it. Graves had known another match. He might know more about what they could do or what they were capable of.
“Here and there. They don’t normally last very long.”
“Why?”
Her eagerness overrode all logic.
“One usually kills the other,” Graves said. “Very Romeo and Juliet, without all the family interference.”
“Are they always vampire and human?”
“The ones I’ve met. If they were two humans, they probably wouldn’t have the sensory abilities for it. I think it’s something with the virus that triggers it.”
“Have any of the humans ever been turned?”
“Reyna,” Beckham snapped, drawing her back to reality.
Graves leaned back against his table and eyed them as if he suddenly understood everything. “You’d like to be made?”
“It’s out of the question,” Beckham said. “That’s not why we’re here.”
Reyna’s mind filled with the savagery of Brian and how he might never come back from that. She didn’t think that would happen to her if she turned. But the very brutal truth of being turned had very recently been thrown in her face. It made her squeamish and hesitant.
“Maybe,” she finally said.
“This is not why we’re here,” Beckham repeated to deaf ears.
“Interesting. Do you think your abilities would follow with the change?” Graves asked.
Reyna nearly doubled over in shock at the words. How did he know?
“What abilities?” Beckham asked. Apparently he’d forgotten that they weren’t supposed to be asking these questions.
“Depends on how developed you are.”
“Other blood matches had abilities?” Reyna whispered.
“Oh yes. I can think of all sorts of things you two could accomplish together.”
For a price.
Reyna could read it all over him. For more information about that, he’d need more payment. And as much as she wanted to know—she was dying to know—she didn’t trust him. It made her nervous for what else he would ask.
She took a step back. Reined in her eagerness. Put a lock on it and bolted it down.
She and Beckham could figure this out together. They could discover the rest of their blood match as a pair. They’d come this far. It was enough to know there were others. That people had gone through before what they were experiencing now. That there was someone else out there who had answers to this. Even if she’d have to pay the price at a later date.
“We want to know about William Harrington,” she managed to get out.
“Ah,” Graves said. He almost seemed put out that they’d shut the inquiry down. “What about Mr. Harrington?”
“We want to kill him,” Beckham said tersely.
“He’s high on many lists.”
“He’s at the top of ours.”
“What will killing Mr. Harrington do exactly?”
“He’s up to something. Something big,” Reyna said. “Surely you know about the feeding camps that he’s calling housing. He’s killing people and ruining lives and he’ll take over the world if he can.”
“People go to those camps willingly. In fact, they go to Visage willingly.” Graves’ eyes raked her skin like hot coals. “Surely you of all people know this.”
“They go willingly because he has created a world in which people need him!”
“That’s very smart of him.”
“Smart,” Reyna deadpanned.
“It is smart,” Beckham said. “Harrington is a very intelligent man. He knows what he’s doing and how to spin things to his advantage. There’s no dispute. However, we know that Harrington is working on something else…something big. Do you know what it is?”
“I do.”
Reyna sucked in a breath. “You know what he’s working on?”
Graves’ eyes met hers and she regretted repeating the question. He didn’t seem prone to repeating himself. And the way his irises swirled dangerously, she wondered how close she was to pushing him over a precarious edge.
“I know much about William Harrington. He’s a man who I keep tabs on for business purposes. I’ve never much cared if vampires spread like parasites on the surface of the earth,” Graves said. “They can lay claim to the world th
ey believe they own. It matters not to me. As petty as human wars.”
Reyna saw then the machinations behind that beautiful face. Humans and vampires were ants to him. Moving around and waiting for someone to stomp on their ant hill. He wheedled away his time lording over it all with none the wiser. A true master.
“Will you help us?” Reyna whispered.
Graves snapped his finger and moved away from the table. “Yes. I think I will.”
Reyna breathed a sigh of relief.
“But there’s a cost.”
“We already paid,” Beckham reminded him.
“That gaudy necklace covered as much as I’ve told you.” Graves turned from the bookshelf he was inspecting. “We both know it really meant nothing to you anyway.”
Beckham balked at the accusation, but there was some truth to it. Reyna knew that material possessions mattered little to Beckham. He enjoyed living in luxury, but the objects were always replaceable. The only thing that truly mattered, that he fought for, was…her.
“What price?” Reyna whispered, fear pricking her.
Graves looked at her from under long black lashes. His devious, wicked, trickster mind at work.
“A bite, if you please.”
Chapter 22
“No,” Beckham said.
“Becks,” Reyna muttered.
“I’m not going to bite her for your fucked-up pleasure of watching.”
Graves turned his palms up and arched his eyebrows. He didn’t care one bit that Beckham was averse to biting her. That it was deeply intimate and personal. That it had only happened when they’d had sex. Not once outside of that erotic moment.
Beckham had never willingly given in to his lust for her blood. Even while he was recovering, he couldn’t bring himself to do it except while they were having sex. That’s how much he feared the monster within. That carnal beast that threatened to break free to the surface. To end up in the same position they’d been in when he’d first bitten her. When he hadn’t been able to stop.
She couldn’t do this to him.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of Graves.
“We can’t,” she whispered.
“Something else,” Beckham barked. “Ask for something else.”
“Don’t bite her, then. Give her to me for a night instead.” Graves lifted one shoulder mockingly. “Your choice.”
Beckham moved so fast that he was just a blur. Reyna could hardly process it. One minute he was standing beside her, the next he was holding on to Graves’ throat and glaring into his stormy eyes.
“I think I’ve had enough of you,” Beckham snarled. “I should snap your fucking neck or rip out your throat for half of what you’ve done tonight.”
“Becks!” she cried. “Stop it!”
Graves didn’t even look bothered by the fact that Beckham was attacking him. Reyna had never seen anyone look like that. It was unsettling.
Finally, he lifted his hand, held on to Beckham’s wrist, and twisted it. Reyna winced. On a human that move would have snapped his wrist in two. Pulverized the bone into paste. On Beckham, it just swatted his hand away as if he were a fly that had irritated Graves.
“Vampires,” Graves said with a disdainful sigh. “You are tiresome. As if resorting to violence is always the answer.”
Beckham looked as if he were going to punch Graves in the face. But he’d reassessed Graves after that maneuver. This wasn’t some amateur. Graves could handle a vampire. That was…terrifying.
“I’d like to remind you that you came to me,” Graves told them, irritation finally settling into his voice. “You offered me something that wasn’t valuable enough for the information you requested and then threatened me. In my own home.” He stared at Beckham with malice on his face. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Reyna jolted at his tone. Then she dashed forward between Graves and Beckham again before it came to blows. “He’s sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t what we expected. You have to understand that we had no idea what to expect here. We’re coping poorly. But we want the information.” She placed her hand on Beckham’s wrist. “We do.”
“You know my price,” Graves said. “Either get on with it or leave. I don’t have time for games.”
Which was the opposite of true. Graves seemed to only deal in games.
Reyna nodded and then turned to face Beckham. His face was grim. His mouth set in a line of stone. His jaw feathering with barely controlled rage. His eyes the window to his soul, which was screaming to unleash.
“Hey,” she whispered. She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”
She could see that he didn’t agree with her, but she didn’t care. What was one bite for the information they needed to stop Harrington? She knew how Beckham despised it. How much it made him feel like an animal. But they couldn’t dwell on that right now. They’d deal with the consequences later.
“I’m here. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he barely breathed.
“I do anyway.”
Reyna swallowed and then gently pulled her hair back off of her neck. This time she had no necklace to obscure access to her throat. She gathered all of her hair, brushing it to one side. She guided his hands to her hips. His grip was tentative at first then he seemed to remember the shape of her, sliding his hands up her sides to her shoulders.
Their eyes locked. Warm chocolate meeting the bottomless depths that had infatuated her from the start. She wasn’t afraid. She knew that this was a pivotal moment for them and she wanted to be here for it. She wanted him to know all the love that was in her heart. How little she feared him.
She took a breath and on the release opened up that connection between them. Tapped into whatever was between them that made her feel his presence, that linked their emotions. In that moment, she didn’t care that Graves was watching or that they had never done this before or about everything else they had to face. All that there was was her and Becks.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
She angled her head to give him better access. Then she held her breath. She knew that she shouldn’t be, but somehow she was turned on by this. Maybe because he’d only ever bitten her while they were having sex. Although, everything about Beckham was a turn-on. Even in this uncomfortable situation where they found themselves.
Not once in all the times that she’d been given the vamp venom had she ever gotten addicted. And Harrington had tried. But she was pretty certain she’d been addicted to Beckham and the intensity between them long before he’d bitten her. Nothing else could compare to that. She doubted anything else ever would.
Beckham’s lips grazed her neck. He trailed soft kisses up her throat. She stifled a moan and pressed her body into his.
The first prick jolted her. The pain as he pierced the skin of her neck. She shuddered at the feel. Then the venom flooded her system. A natural high from the bite. The fight or flight kicking in and adrenaline speeding through her, waking up everything.
When she’d first felt this, her body had immediately screamed Run. Run far far away. This man is going to kill you.
Now…
Fuck.
Now she just wanted more. More, more, more. More than she knew she should give. Her body pulsed. Her core was hot. She squeezed her legs together.
Even when he went deeper, dipping into the artery and drinking of her blood, all she felt was desire. Her desire and his desire. Their love and heat and longing and want. So much want. Her blood, her body, her mind, her soul. They were one and the same. He would take it all. She would give it all.
Her fingers curled into the front of his tuxedo. She couldn’t hold back her moan this time. She wanted. She needed.
Then she felt him pulling back.
She c
lamped down on him. “Please,” she gasped. “More.”
Beckham grasped her hips so hard he was going to leave bruises. Then he wrenched back, holding her at arm’s length. Her heart was racing, beating a million miles a minute. She felt ravenous.
“More,” she repeated.
And dizzy.
“Becks.”
And she was floating on clouds.
“Reyna,” Beckham said.
“Please.”
“I’d kill you.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Beckham growled low. “Come back to me, love. Come back.”
She closed her eyes and felt herself swirling away. She knew that it shouldn’t be this potent. That he must have taken a lot to get to this point. That it was more potent with an emotional connection. But she couldn’t seem to bring her logical brain around to caring.
Then Beckham’s lips were on hers. Hot and enticing and demanding. His tongue tasted of tangy blood. Her blood. She gave in. She’d fuck him right here on this floor. What would be the harm? She wanted him. She wanted everything.
And she knew that he wanted her too. She could feel it. Sense it. It overwhelmed her, it was so much. So much love and want. Fuck, the control the man had.
“Please,” she repeated.
Then she felt something else. Something different.
She didn’t know what it was. What was happening?
Her breath quickened. Her brain fizzled. Her body shook violently under it. And yet she didn’t pull back. She didn’t release him.
It was as if…she was pulling more than his emotions. As if he was giving her more. Giving her something she never thought possible to give.
Reyna felt as if she were coming out of dense fog. She hadn’t been able to see an inch in front of her face and now…now Beckham was here. He was here and she could think properly. She felt no pain. She felt none of the normal side effects of the bite. It all vanished on the wind. Leaving her clear and levelheaded…and confused as fuck.
Her hand jumped to her neck where deep bite marks should have been. But there was nothing. Not even a scab. Clear perfect unmarred skin.