by K. A. Linde
“What…what did you do?” she gasped.
Beckham looked as shocked as she did.
“Beautiful,” Graves said. He took a deep breath as if he were inhaling the very essence of what he’d just watched. “Wonderfully done.”
They snapped their heads to the side to glare at Graves. Reyna had forgotten he was even in the room.
“What the hell happened?” Reyna asked.
“He healed you.”
“How?” Reyna couldn’t fathom it.
“I transferred my vampire healing properties to you,” Beckham said. “I could feel it happening.”
“Indeed.” Graves rubbed his gloved hands together. “Even better than I imagined.”
“You’re one sick fuck,” Beckham muttered.
“Payment rendered,” Reyna said a little breathlessly. “Are you satisfied?”
“Hardly,” Graves said. “But that will do.”
Then he turned around and walked away.
“Where’s he going?” Reyna asked.
Beckham shrugged. She could see that despite the amount of blood she’d just given him, he was flagging.
And so was she. She clutched onto Beckham’s sleeve as her accelerated pulse started to recover. She couldn’t believe that he’d…healed her. She had never even considered that to be a possibility. All the things that he could have done when she reached out for him, and he’d made her whole again.
Maybe that was the point.
They were two halves of the same whole.
It made sense that if her blood could heal him…his vampire powers could heal her. Her blood match.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He kissed her forehead. “I love you too.”
Graves was gone long enough for them to worry. They lost the sound of his leather oxfords as he’d disappeared into the stacks.
Reyna was happy for the reprieve. She needed a couple minutes to recuperate after what had happened. She didn’t know what he’d gotten from that bite, but it made her wary. What kind of price was it to watch Beckham drink her blood? Was he just toying with them? Did he know the toll it would take on them both? Or was there some other more sinister purpose?
By the time he’d finally come back, Reyna was standing on her own two feet again. She felt good. Better than good. As if part of what had made Beckham so indestructible had been transferred to her.
“You required information about Mr. Harrington and what he’s working on,” Graves said. “William Harrington is building an army.”
Reyna stammered over her shock.
Beckham simply sighed. “So it begins again.”
“An army of vampires?” Reyna asked.
“Of course. He’s been turning people, setting a few of his vampires loose to feed the fear around the cogitare anemia. He’s housing them in his new facilities and using the humans who enter as a feeding ground.”
Reyna sighed. That much they’d figured out on their own. Well, everything except the army. “What are his plans with his army?”
“What are armies used for but destruction?” Graves asked.
“He’s planning to take over,” Beckham guessed.
“My sources point all the way up. Depose the human president and put a vampire politician in his place that he can use as a puppet. You can imagine where this goes. The facilities here in the city are the first wave. He intends to set them up all over the country. Humans are nothing but a food source. Vampires rule aboveground.”
“Fuck,” Reyna whispered.
“We suspected much of this. We’ve paid for more than this,” Beckham said, taking a threatening step forward. “What’s his next move? Where’s he holed up? How do we get to him?”
Graves held up a hand. “Keep your demands to yourself. I wasn’t finished.”
Reyna tensed. If an army and trying to take over the world wasn’t the bad part…
Graves removed a small glass vial from the inside of his suit coat. Liquid sloshed around the inside. “This is what he’s testing in the housing facilities.”
Reyna stopped breathing. “What…what is it?”
“An antidote.”
Chapter 23
“Oh no,” Reyna whispered.
The first time that Reyna had ever heard Harrington discuss the possibility of an antidote she had been sick to her stomach. The very idea that vampires could go back to drinking from any human that they wanted regardless of blood type was a horrifying concept. The blood type cure kept them in check. Even if, as she had later learned, it wasn’t as potent for every vampire, it still helped to drink the right match. But that would all go away with an antidote.
Reyna had thought she’d stalled that research the day that she’d saved Jodie from Visage. A doctor had said that she was critical to the development of the antidote and Reyna had broken her out right after that. It chilled her to think that they must have been further along than she thought. Or had used someone else’s blood in Jodie’s place.
Now Harrington was using it in his feeding camps to build up his army. Ugh! She was going to be sick. Reyna covered her mouth and turned away.
“How does it work?” Beckham asked.
“One vial per human. It’s injected into the blood system essentially nulling the blood type and creating a sort of universal host,” Graves explained. “It lasts the length of time it takes to replenish the blood. Typically, every fifty-six days, but with the vampire saliva, twice a week.”
Reyna saw all of their potential plans unravel with the appearance of that one tiny vial. Jodie wasn’t important. Reyna wasn’t important. There was no reason that Harrington wouldn’t just drain her and dump her. No reason at all. He had no weakness.
Graves passed the small vial into Beckham’s hand. “Because I’m feeling generous.”
Beckham hastily pocketed it. Neither of them cared how he’d acquired it. Just that they had it to take back.
“And as for where Harrington is holed up, I’d start trusting your enemies.”
“What does that mean?” Beckham asked.
“Don’t you mean which one?” Reyna drawled in annoyance. She hated that he was being purposely obscure. They had a lot of enemies. He could narrow down the list for them.
“Start at the top of your list and work your way down,” Graves said, and slid his hands back into his pockets. “Now, it’s been my pleasure to host you for the evening. I will have Edgar escort you out.”
Then just as easily as he’d walked in, he disappeared through the massive double doors.
Reyna met Beckham’s gaze and lifted one shoulder. What the hell had they walked into?
Edgar entered the room almost immediately. “This way, please.”
They walked in a daze back through Graves’ unbelievable house, retrieved their coats from the closet, and were hastily pushed into the elevator. It dinged onto the bottom floor in record time. The driver gave them back their hoods and they tugged them on once they were safely seated back in the limo.
As soon as they left Graves’ house, she had the distinct feeling she’d just dreamed the entire thing. It couldn’t possibly have been real. It felt too unbelievable to even contemplate. And she didn’t know what the fuck he was. Because he made it quite clear that he wasn’t a vampire or a human. He didn’t seem to like either group much. Whatever he was…it was powerful. That was for damn sure.
“What do you think he is?” she finally whispered into the silent limo.
“A bloody bastard.”
“Well…yes. That much is obvious. But he’s powerful.”
Beckham’s hand landed on her thigh. “I don’t give a fuck what he is.” His hand moved up higher and higher. “Or care to hear you talk about how powerful he is.”
“Jealous?” she breathed.
“Infuriated.”
He pressed her knee out wider and then wider still until she was spread open for him. His fingers continued up to the apex of her thighs, parting her lips and slicking through her wetness. She’d been hot all evening. On fire since the moment Beckham had seen her in her dress. and everything had only intensified through the night. Her body reacted instantly to his touch as he swirled a finger around her clit until she was quivering beneath his skilled hands.
Heedless of consequences, Beckham tugged both hoods off of their heads and slammed their lips together. There was nothing gentle in his touch. Just claiming her body as his own. Just taking what already belonged to him and reminding her exactly where she belonged.
The tension had been palpable when they’d been in Graves’ mansion. He’d tested their limits. Pushed them beyond what they had even known they were capable of. He might be a manipulative, arrogant, conceited asshole, but he’d played them like a fiddle. And now they both wanted to erase the memory with the feel of each other’s body.
Beckham rocked her flat against the seat, splaying her out long. He hastily unbuckled his tuxedo pants and took his cock in his hand. A hand in her hair, lips melded together, bodies a furnace every place they touched, then his cock pressing against her waiting opening.
She gasped into his mouth. “Yes.”
He thrust to the hilt, burying himself inside of her. She threw her head back as he filled her to the brim. She’d been on the edge all night. God, she needed this. Needed him.
“Mine,” Beckham growled as he pulled out and pumped into her again.
She could sense that his anger about Graves had boiled over. The way she’d reacted to Graves. The way that Graves had forced her to react to him. Graves touching her. This was a fervor that both of them couldn’t seem to find release from. The need to belong to each other despite powerful circumstances threatening their relationship.
Beckham was possessive and protective. After what had happened, fucking her was how he showed it. What he needed. Fuck, what she needed.
She needed him pounding into her. Taking her body. Owning her body.
“I’m yours,” she repeated over and over again until her climax hit her like a tidal wave.
She cried out in the backseat of the limo as Beckham fucked her brains out. His own climax followed violently. As if his very roar of ecstasy could shake this world. And together they would remake it.
* * *
—
The rest of the ride was tense and silent.
Reyna had thought that, once they got that out of their system, things would go back to normal. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
An uncomfortable strain echoed between them like a discordant song.
She’d never felt out of sync with Beckham. Even the days when she was terrified of him, where she had no idea what was going on in that limitless mind, even when she’d believed that he loved Penelope. They might have been on a different octave, but they were still in tune.
This stretched and expanded immeasurably.
All she had to do was reach out and touch his emotions to see what he was feeling. But…she couldn’t. No, wouldn’t. Exposing herself to anything but his love was asking to push herself over the edge. He wouldn’t be pleased and she couldn’t blame him.
She wasn’t happy about what had happened back there. That they’d been puppets in a master’s show, twirling around on the strings he pulled. That she had been the thread he’d pulled to get what he wanted. And she was certain that he’d gotten a lot more than they’d been forced to give. Not that she knew how it’d been possible.
All she knew was that he’d enjoyed it. Taken some perverse pleasure from their discomfort. No love lost from him, that she and Beckham were now at odds. Limits tested and left reeling from the emotional whiplash.
The limo finally came to a stop back at the location where they had been picked up. The driver opened the back door. “After you.”
Beckham slid out of the backseat. Reyna took a deep breath and followed him.
“Thank you so much for coming. Hope to see you again soon,” the driver said pleasantly.
It was incredible that Graves’ staff was so friendly and personable when the man himself was…obstinate, at best.
Beckham inclined his head at the driver. Reyna threw him a half smile. She didn’t have to tap into Beckham’s emotions to know that seeing Graves again in this lifetime would be too soon. Reyna seconded that.
She followed Beckham through the double doors of the building. He’d already phoned Gerard to come get them when they were getting close. Gabe was waiting inside, pacing back and forth on the tiled floor like a caged animal. He’d changed into all-black attire. His red hair stark against the rest of his clothes. His jaw set.
His head snapped up at their approach. “ ’Bout fucking time!”
“Hey, Gabe,” she said.
“It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning. You were gone for-fucking-ever.”
Reyna chewed her lip. She hadn’t even realized how long they’d been at Graves’. Time had seemed to slow and stretch.
“Well, we’re here now.”
His eyes jumped from one to the other. “So, how’d it go? Did you get the information? What was it like? What was he like?”
Without even a single word, Beckham punched Gabe in the face. He fell back a few steps, spiraling his arms to try to stay on his feet. Then his hand went to his jaw as he cursed violently.
“Beckham!” Reyna cried, reaching out for Gabe.
“What the fuck?” Gabe cried at almost the same.
But Beckham wasn’t even looking at them. He was far off somewhere else. His face cold and hard as stone. The mask she’d seen for so long before. Then he walked past them both.
“Jesus Christ! I just asked a fucking question,” he grumbled. “What’s with him?”
Reyna sighed. “I don’t know. It was tense and it’s been a long night. But he shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”
“You think?”
Reyna’s eyes were still following Beckham out the door to where Gerard was waiting. “We should probably get back.”
“What happened that has him so pissed off?”
“We got what we were looking for,” Reyna said on a sigh. “But there was a price. One neither of us wanted to pay.”
“I see. Must have really rankled him.” Gabe followed her toward the door. “I’m dying to know though…what’s the contact’s name? Everyone is so secretive.”
Reyna opened her mouth. Graves. She coughed. Nothing came out. She tried again. Graves.
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t find out?”
She swallowed, shocked by the fact that she couldn’t make herself say his name. She could think it. She’d been able to say it in his presence—hell, he’d commanded her call him Graves. But now she couldn’t say it out loud. Had she said it out loud since leaving his house?
“He told us,” she muttered. “But…but I can’t say it.”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Okayyyy. What did he look like? Maybe I’ve seen him around.”
Reyna opened her mouth to describe that midnight-blue-black hair. The stormy gray eyes. The immense height and expensive suit and the sheer magnitude of his beauty. And nothing.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I…can’t say.”
“What the fuck, Reyna? Why not?”
“I don’t know, but uh…don’t ask about him in front of Becks, okay?”
“No worries there.” He rubbed his jaw once before slipping the back door open for her. “What kind of guy can keep you from saying his name…or what he looks like? Was he not human?”
Reyna chewed her lip. No. Definitely not human.
&
nbsp; “Fuck me. You really can’t say,” Gabe said in shock.
“I really can’t.”
Reyna slid into the backseat of the van, carefully watching Beckham in the passenger seat. Beckham never looked back at her and she felt almost as if he had a block on his emotions. She didn’t dare try to discover them through their bond, but his anger was so evident. His shoulders tensed, his jaw set, his fingers typing rapidly on his phone in a way that felt all too familiar. And not in the best way. She didn’t like that he was hurting or burying deep down whatever he was feeling. She knew it was a defense mechanism, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
It was a long and silent ride back to the mansion. The windows might as well have frozen over with Beckham’s frigidity the whole way.
Once the van came to a stop, before she could even say something or reach for Beckham to try to find out exactly what he was feeling, he darted out of the car. Beckham’s circle met him in the garage and they loped off without a backward glance. Reyna breathed out in frustration as he disappeared into the darkness. Gabe dropped a hand on her shoulder in solidarity and then they walked back to the house. They entered through the kitchen and Reyna made an ice pack for his face, which was already swelling, an eye shut.
“Sorry again about this,” Reyna said.
“Occupational hazard. Should probably check on Meghan.”
“Yeah…I’m going to look in on Brian.”
“Be careful, okay?”
Reyna nodded and then headed up the stairs. A light was on at the end of the hall. The emotional roller coaster of the last couple hours hit her like a punch to the gut. She was exhausted. She wanted to clean all this makeup off and sleep for at least the next twenty-four hours. Deal with her brother and Graves and a vampire army and the fucking antidote another day.
But she didn’t.
She headed down the hall to her own personal hell and pushed the door open slightly. She startled at the sight of Genevieve reading from Dante’s Inferno. Brian was asleep. His chin resting against his chest as he remained chained to the chair.
“May not be the best choice,” Reyna whispered. “Descending into Hell.”