Chapter Four
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 more quickly than average injuries.
Usually within a couple of hours, 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 desperate for their next fix.
He couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t that way.
Reyna didn’t say but always suspected it was because her first bite had been from Beckham.
He’d told her at the time that emotional connection intensified the reaction.
She hadn’t thought to wonder 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 and had all the privilege and entitlement that came with that life.
She and Beckham had pretended to be romantically involved as a cover for his involvement with the rebellion, a group known as Elle.
But knowing it hadn’t been real didn’t make it any easier to think about them together, or about 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’d ever had to handle, and the trauma was coloring all of her thoughts.
He wanted her to lose it. He wanted her to turn into a complacent little pet.
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.
She could take pain if she had to. She could survive whatever he threw at her. But she would not fall. 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 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.
It started today.
With renewed zeal, Reyna spent the next couple of 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 and then uninterrupted conversation with the nurse, not that she’d ever taken advantage of it.
Maybe Reyna could get some information out of her or at least try to appeal to her sympathies.
The woman had looked afraid when Reyna was 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.
She could feel it right under the skin when she ran her hand over her left forearm.
It was about a centimeter long and roughly the width of a grain of rice.
If she’d had something sharp, she probably could have cut it out.
Reyna didn’t know how long this escape plot 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 altogether. She was done being complacent, though. She would get out of here.
With a huff, she threw on the provided white workout clothes, walked into the adjoining exercise room, and turned on the treadmill.
She had never been someone who worked out before this, but the cardio would come in handy later.
Even if she couldn’t outrun a vampire, she’d take any edge she could get.
She was sweating and panting by the time she finished her workout. She was leaning 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.
No one answered. When she walked back into the bedroom, no one was inside. Just a black garment bag was laid out on 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 gone anywhere. She hadn’t done anything. What game was Harrington playing?
Eventually, curiosity won out. She unzipped the black bag to reveal a long-sleeve black ball gown in her size. She shoved the bag away from her. 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 to the bathroom to get ready. She didn’t want to play into his hands, and she knew that she needed to 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 rested just off her shoulders and had lace sleeves that hooked around her middle fingers, but while the black satin material plunged to a deep V in the back, the front covered her collarbones with a surprisingly prudish neckline.
In the bottom of the garment bag, there was a box containing black heels with red soles. 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 same vampire guard who’d been there when she’d tried to escape arrived. He stood in the doorway looking imposing. He handed her a blindfold.
She took it without a word and slid it over her eyes. Maybe Harrington wasn’t letting up on her after all.
Once secure, the guy grabbed her by her upper arm and marched her out of the room. This guy must have been ex-military, because his pace was bruising and it wasn’t a short trek. She didn’t know if he was taking her the long way on purpose, but she wouldn’t have been able to find her way back.
Finally, the guard escorted Reyna up a flight of stairs and then opened a door and pushed her through ahead of him. The door closed and locked behind her.
She ripped off her blindfold and found herself in a small conference room.
A buffet of delicious-smelling food was laid out against the back wall.
A television hung suspended to her right and a projector on the left.
A table for one was set up against the wall across from the television with an unopened bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, two empty glasses, 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 sprang open. She stumbled back a step and then straightened her spine. No matter what, she had to remember this was a con. It had to be.
Harrington entered, dressed in a crisp tuxedo. His cane was tucked under his arm, and his eyes flashed brightly. 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 unbelievably powerful vampire smiled at her. This was bad…very bad.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Ah, 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 her favorites were? 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 also your favorite, no?”
Still she said nothing.
“This is my favorite vintage. It’s a rosé from this little vineyard in Reims 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 was 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 droned on, he never talked about himself.
“Certainly not,” he said. He walked back to Reyna and handed her a flute. “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 nonetheless, 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 his own flute 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 do it often. They drank, too, but she had never been forward enough to ask if alcohol tasted the same. If anything tasted as good as blood. She wasn’t about to ask 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. He touched a small control panel she hadn’t even noticed, and once again the wall turned transparent, as it had outside B’s cell, to reveal an enormous ballroom filled to the brim with people.
Without meaning to, she moved forward and put her hand on the glass. “What…?”
“Another one-way mirror, and 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,” 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 you could choose this.”
She stared at him, trying to mask the disbelief she felt. He thought that shoving her into a pretty dress and feeding her fancy food would make her realize that she should be grateful to him for kidnapping her?
“Is it really so different than your life with Beckham?”
Reyna recoiled. Harrington didn’t mention Beckham anymore. After a week or two of questions, he had presumably given up on getting any information out of her about him. Since Harrington never brought Beckham up again, she’d 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 have.”
Reyna ground her teeth together. It was kind of true. Had she ever really been alone?
“I have known him much longer than you have. Believe me when I say that the man you think you knew does not exist. There is no one more ruthless than he. 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 games.”
No games. That was laughable. Every word out of his mouth was a game.
She wouldn’t listen to his babble about Beckham.
Harrington might’ve known him longer, but she knew him better.
She knew him to his core. She may have doubted Beckham in the darkest corners of her mind, but still she knew how he felt about her.
Harrington’s words only solidified her resolve.
“Think on it. You could be a guest. Things could be better for you here than they are currently,” Harrington said. “Enjoy the view of the guests.”
“What’s the party for?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“We have a new mayor.”
“A new mayor?” she asked, whipping around.
As soon as she did, she knew that she’d walked right into his hands.
“Mayor Sky recently passed away.”
She knew what that meant. He was murdered.
“Who is the new mayor?”
He smiled, and she saw his lethal look return. “I believe you’re acquainted with his daughter: Penelope Sky.”