Chapter Twenty-Two
“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. “I haven’t witnessed a bite between blood matches. This is science, if you prefer.”
And Graves didn’t care that Beckham was averse to biting her.
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. Just lose your war and any future with her.” Graves stuffed his hands in his pockets. “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’s 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. On Beckham, it swatted his hand away as if he were a fly that had irritated Graves.
Beckham reared back in shock.
“Vampires,” Graves said with a disdainful sigh. “You are tiresome. As if resorting to violence is always the answer.”
Beckham looked as if he wanted to punch Graves in the face, but after that maneuver, he reassessed. 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.
But we want the information.” She placed her hand on Beckham’s wrist. “We do.”
“You know my price,” Graves said. That flicker of amusement returning to his features. As if he had known that he had never been in any trouble here. “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 faced Beckham. His mouth was set in a line of stone. His jaw clenched with barely controlled rage. His eyes, the window to his soul, screamed to unleash.
“Hey,” she whispered. She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”
He clearly didn’t agree with her, but she didn’t care. What was one bite for the information they needed to stop Harrington? 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 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. This was a pivotal moment for them, and she wanted to be here in the moment. She wanted him to know all the love that was in her heart. How little she feared him.
She took a breath and on release opened up that connection between them.
Tapped into the blood match bond that allowed her to feel his presence and linked their emotions.
As they linked, she didn’t care that Graves was watching or that they had never done this before or about everything else they had to face. There was just her and Beckham.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
She angled her head to give him better access and held her breath. Somehow this turned her on. Maybe because he’d only ever bitten her while they were having sex. Although, everything about Beckham was a turn-on.
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 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 she wanted more. More, more, more. More than 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 clamped 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. Blood ran down his lips and over his chin. Her heart raced, 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. The bite shouldn’t be this potent. He must have taken a lot to get to this point, and 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.
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. Her breath quickened. Her brain fizzled. Her body shook violently under it. And yet she didn’t pull back. She didn’t release him.
What was happening?
It was as if she pulled more than his emotions. As if he gave her more. Gave 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 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.
“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 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,” Graves said.
“How?” Reyna couldn’t fathom it.
“I transferred my vampire healing properties to you,” Beckham said. “I could feel it happening.”
“Indeed.” Graves sketched a shape around them. “Your magic—sorry, science—was very clearly on display. It glowed red.”
“Red?” Reyna asked in confusion.
“The power has a shape, a color, a scent to those who are attuned to it,” Graves admitted. “You two are red. The power swirling around you when he healed you.”
“Did you know that would happen?” Beckham demanded.
“I told you that I had not seen it done.”
“But you knew it could happen.”
He shrugged. “I know many things. I did not know the magic would be red. That is worth much.” Graves rubbed his gloved hands together, his eyes alight with new knowledge.
As if that was what sustained him and not the games he had wielded them through since they arrived. “Even better than I imagined.”
“Red,” Beckham muttered. His gaze shifted back to Reyna. “Incredible.”
“Payment rendered,” Reyna said a little breathlessly, her hand still on her throat. “Are you satisfied?”
“I’d watch it again for science,” Graves said in an almost teasing voice. “Though I suppose you are not willing subjects.”
“No,” Beckham barked.
“So that will do.”
Then he 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 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. By the time he’d finally come back, Reyna stood 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. As a matter of fact, he already has a sizeable one.”
Reyna stammered over her shock.
Beckham simply sighed. “So it begins again.”
“An army of vampires?” Reyna asked.
Graves nodded. “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. “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 is it?”
“An antidote.”