by K. A. Linde
“As soon as we can get the executive branch to push it through. They’re sluggish, but I’m funneling the money into it so it’s not taking the unreliable tax dollars to get it going. Ideally within the next month. The president keeps saying six months at the earliest, but we all know that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Little puppet. I wonder what puppets taste like,” Cassandra singsonged.
“He’s B positive, Cassie. No tasting for you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “If you’d get that damn antidote already, I could try anyone I want.”
“Antidote?” Reyna asked. Whatever that was…it didn’t sound like a good thing for humans.
Harrington looked at her in surprise. “All in testing. Attempting to replicate the universal donor. So we wouldn’t have to be as specific with subjects.”
“It’d be like the good old days, then,” Rowland said. “Une fête.”
Harrington laughed. “You have a feast already, Rowland. Enjoy your little Sophie.”
“Oh, I do,” he said.
“Why…why would you need that?” she couldn’t help asking.
“Full of questions, aren’t we?” Harrington asked. He fixed his steely gaze on her and she quickly looked down into her water. “I’m surprised Beckham allows you to be so inquisitive. He hates that kind of thing. Perhaps he just hasn’t…broken you yet.”
She shuddered at the word choice. Broken. Was that what he had planned for her?
“If you must know, I have a very rare blood type. Do you know what the rarest blood type is?”
Reyna cleared her throat. “No.”
“Rh null negative. It means that the individual is missing the entire Rh antigen group from the blood. No A, B, or O to worry about. A true universal donor. So few that only three others have been known to have the blood since I’ve been searching.”
“Only three?”
“Indeed. Two are dead and one is dying. A universal donor would solve part of my problem,” he said, gesturing to his decrepit body. “We’re looking for a Permanent match for me, but investigating all options of course.”
“Well,” she said awkwardly. “I hope you find someone.”
He smiled that toothy grin again. “Me too, dear. I’m changing the world with this company. Employing more humans than ever before. Once the Blood Census is in effect, I’ll find the other Rh null subjects…if there are any others.” His eyes grew distant for a moment, and then they snapped back to their normal iciness. “I’ll find them.”
That was the moment Beckham appeared in the doorway like a storm cloud.
Reyna straightened in her seat at the expression on his face. He walked across the room like a tightly coiled spring ready to explode.
“Ah Beckham, there you are,” Harrington said.
“Excuse me, William. I need to speak with Reyna. Alone.”
She hastened out of her seat and followed him around the corner. He tugged her straight through the kitchens, out the back door, down a corridor, and into a dead end. Then her back was slammed against the brick wall. His fist connected with the wall behind her, and she felt the wall shudder. Debris floated onto her shoulders.
“You left,” he growled.
“I…”
“No.” He pressed his finger to her lips roughly. She stopped breathing and just stared up into his eyes as dark as night. Her body trembled under the feral stare. “You left without me.”
The silence was weighted. All she could do was stand with their bodies nearly touching. His finger on her mouth. Her mind wandering to hellacious places.
“You are my Subject. Can you imagine what it was like when I found you missing? When you turned up with three of my kind?” She shook her head minutely. He bared his teeth to her, and she shrank back. “These are meant to drink your blood. To drink you dry until there is nothing left of your body but a dry corpse. We are killers. We don’t hesitate. Just because we’re wearing suits and seem more like you…does not mean we are like you. We are not like you. They especially are not like you. The only way you get to the top of Visage is to be fucking ruthless, Reyna. Do you understand?”
“You’re…scaring me,” she whispered.
“Good.”
He pulled away and ran his hands back through his hair, trying to pull himself together.
“What happened while I was gone? Tell me everything.”
She explained what happened in the car with Cassandra and then the conversation about the Blood Census and rare blood types with Harrington.
He growled low in his throat and looked ready to punch something all over again. “I told you not to say anything.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But a Blood Census and a blood antidote…those sound really serious. Does anyone else know about that?”
“No. And no one else needs to know.”
“I don’t have anyone to tell,” she murmured. “Becks?”
“Another question? You wear on my nerves.”
She bit her lip. “If you didn’t agree with the Permanent program, why did you get a Permanent Subject?”
“Does it matter?”
“You won’t drink from me. You don’t trust your colleagues. You disagree with the work Visage is doing, yet you’re at the top of the totem pole. I’m just trying to understand you…”
His eyes found hers again for a quick moment, a reckless abandon as he beheld her. “It would be better if you didn’t.”
Chapter 12
The rest of the afternoon went better than expected. While Beckham and his associates each had a cocktail and discussed the company, Reyna ate a completely normal lunch. But after that Beckham kept Reyna on a tight leash. Whatever had him spooked after she left Visage without him carried over to their everyday life. She didn’t leave the penthouse without him, which meant she never left. Her world had become one big routine, and it was nothing like how she thought it would be.
What stood out most was that after nearly six days with Beckham he hadn’t drank from her once. She honestly had no clue how he was still functioning. A week was max time in between meals without feeling sick and irritable. And while Beckham honestly couldn’t get any more irritable than he already was…he certainly wasn’t sick.
She didn’t know what that meant, but after Cassandra’s display at Visage, she wasn’t keen on asking him about it.
Reyna occupied her spare time browsing the Internet. Ever since talking to Harrington, she had taken an interest in the Blood Census development and research on antidotes. Rumors floated around out there that Visage had bought the Blood Census from the government for some secret mission. Reyna wished she could tell people how true that statement really was. But of course she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything to risk the money to her family.
As another day rolled around, filled with utter boredom and endless surfing of the Internet, she remembered that she had Everett’s business card in her purse. She dragged it out of the bag and dialed the number.
After two rings, Everett answered, “Hello?”
“Everett! It’s me, Reyna,” she said enthusiastically. She knew it was crazy to be this excited about speaking to someone, but she hadn’t left the house and she was going a bit stir crazy.
“Ah, Miss Carpenter,” he said. “Have you decided to join us?”
“Am I still welcome?”
“Of course. Where should I pick you up?”
“Oh…um, I’m still at Beck—Mr. Anderson’s,” she explained. She had never felt more awkward.
The line was silent for a moment.
“Right. Okay. I’ll get you at the valet desk at nine on Saturday.”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait,” she said.
“See you then.”
“Wait, what should I wear?” She had never thought about that before Beckham, but
now she worried that she would be over- or underdressed everywhere she went.
Everett laughed. “Whatever you want. We’re just going to a club.”
“Club. Right.” As if she had ever been to one.
That was how she ended up rummaging through her closet for something acceptable to wear at eight at night on a Saturday. She still hadn’t told Beckham she was going out, but she thought it might be better to warn him on her way out than to try to convince him to let her go. He had said on her first day that she wasn’t a prisoner. If that was the case, then he should have no problem letting her go out with some friends. It would be fine.
At least she kept telling herself that.
After investigating clubbing attire online, she finally decided on a shiny black dress with a silver undertone, tiny little straps, and a square-cut bodice that hugged her figure like a glove. She paired it with some intense strappy black heels and then piled all of her dark hair on the top of her head with a few wispy strands loose around her face. It was so different from her normal ponytail. She hoped that she would blend in.
At quarter to nine she eased out of her room in search of Beckham. She wasn’t looking forward to this.
The living room was empty as usual, and she ended up having to text him to get him to come out of the back room, since she wasn’t allowed in it. When he appeared before her, he stopped short in the open doorway. His eyes widened as he drank her in from head to toe. The air seemed to crackle between them.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
She gestured down at her outfit. “A dress? You left it in my closet.”
“Yes. But not for nine o’clock at night when we’re staying in.”
She swallowed and worked up the courage to tell him. “Well, I’m going out with some friends.”
Of all the responses she expected from Beckham, laughter was the last one.
“Your friends? The ones in the Warehouse District?” he asked incredulously.
“No!” she cried. She couldn’t hold back the anger in her voice. He didn’t have to be an asshole about it. “The ones I’ve made since I’ve been here. I’m going out to a club nearby and that’s that.”
Beckham straightened immediately. He clearly didn’t like her tone or the thought of her meeting people he didn’t know about. “Who are these friends of yours?”
“I’m going out with Everett from downstairs.”
“The valet?” Beckham asked. He pursed his lips.
“Yeah.” She straightened her dress and ignored his pointed stares. She was not backing down. “I’m meeting some of his friends.”
“No,” he said. “That doesn’t sound safe.”
“What do you mean it’s not safe?” she demanded. “You don’t even know them.”
“That’s why it’s not safe.”
“No! You don’t get to decide that. You said I wasn’t a prisoner, and you’ve been treating me like one all week, especially after I left Visage without you. What was I supposed to do? They said I was going, and you would catch up…so I went. You can’t force me to stay here!”
“You’re not a prisoner.” His eyes were steely. She knew she was more than he had bargained for, but at this point, she just didn’t care. “You don’t understand the city, and you have no idea what could be out there.”
“Nothing is going to happen. I’m in a new place. I don’t know anyone. The first person who isn’t paid to be nice to me invited me to hang out with his friends and I’m going to go. Can’t you understand what it’s like for me?”
Beckham stared at her blankly. She ground her teeth and crossed her arms in defiance. She had plans, and he couldn’t dictate her life for her. If this was going to work as a permanent situation, then he needed to trust her.
“So, no? You don’t get it at all,” she said. “Let me explain. I’m here all alone, all the time. I don’t have any friends. My brothers live an hour away and are now no longer part of my life. The only person in my life is you.” Beckham arched an eyebrow as he watched her stoically. “And with you I feel…I feel…useless!”
“Useless?” he asked.
“Do you ever get hungry?”
Beckham smirked at her question, which was all the more infuriating. How was he so calm about all this? Not that she was aching for him to bite her. The idea still terrified her, but did he ever eat?
“How did I end up with the only vampire who doesn’t eat?” she asked in frustration.
He eyed her curiously as if trying to decipher what was hidden beneath. “Is that what you want?”
She swallowed. This was dangerous territory. She didn’t want to have this conversation again. She didn’t want to think about the kisses he had trailed down her neck. How despite how afraid she should feel, when he looked at her like that, her insides ignited. It was a strange paradigm.
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“I thought I made it clear that you shouldn’t,” he said. His gaze was intent and deadly.
“I’m bad with instructions,” she muttered.
“I’ve noticed.”
“Well, did you just get me to please your boss?” she asked the question that had been rattling around in her brain since she had found out that Beckham hadn’t even wanted a Permanent Subject.
“Would you be upset if I said yes?”
Reyna stumbled at the response. “Wait…really?”
She hadn’t thought that Beckham would really agree to something like this for work. She hadn’t thought anyone could bully Beckham into anything. He was formidable to say the least.
Beckham took a few slow steps toward her. Prowling like he was stalking his prey. She took an unsteady step backward and reminded herself that he wasn’t going to bite her. If he hadn’t already, then she didn’t think he would right now. That first time had been an accident. He…didn’t even want her. And she shouldn’t hope that he would want her.
“Do I look like I’m eager to have someone in my space? Someone I have to constantly watch?” he asked, standing so close to her she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
Her stomach twisted as his nearness seemed to encase her, trapping them in a bubble. He had such a powerful presence that she never ever forgot that he was a vampire when they were this close together. Sometimes when he got this close to her, it became overpowering. But for the first time, she saw beyond the deadly façade to the man beneath. He might be terrifying, but he was also terrifyingly beautiful—body chiseled from stone, razor-edged cheekbones, pools of onyx, effortless masculinity that oozed from every pore.
“No,” she finally whispered, tearing her thoughts from the man before her and focusing on the discussion at hand. It was obvious Beckham wasn’t the type to want anyone here in his penthouse. She shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t want her, but feeling useless was infuriating. Being useless in her job was something else entirely.
“So, what?” she asked. “You’re not going to drink from me because I’m in your space?”
“I can do what I want with you, Little One.”
The way his eyes landed on her body wrapped in a tiny swathe of clothing made her feel completely dirty.
“I am not a whore,” she got out with conviction.
“Of course you’re not,” he said.
She glared back at him, finding only the monster in his gaze. “Fine. Drink from me. Don’t drink from me. Die of starvation for all I care. I’m going out tonight and if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”
She sent him a scathing look and then walked to the elevator. She pressed the button and tapped her foot impatiently.
After she had stepped inside and the doors were closing, he finally said, “Be safe tonight, Little One.”
Chapter 13
Reyna arrived downstairs late and beyond irritated. Beckham worked
her up like no one else she had ever met. His very presence set her on edge. Most of the time she wanted to slap him and then she got lost staring into his handsome face. And she didn’t even like him. But the tension was so thick she never knew which way the pendulum was going to swing.
“Wow,” Everett said when she walked outside. His jaw dropped open. She smiled at his reaction and assessed him. He was dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a blue striped button-up rolled to his elbows. Maybe she was overdressed.
“Good wow?” she asked.
“Great wow. You look amazing.”
“Thanks!” She beamed.
“You look way too good to be going out with me and my friends.”
“Oh…should I go change?” she asked uncertainly.
“Absolutely not. If Mr. Anderson let you out in that tonight, then I’m not letting you walk back inside.”
Reyna laughed. “Beckham. Call him Beckham. Mr. Anderson sounds like a parent or something.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Everett offered her his arm. “My car is parked in the back. Habit.”
She placed her arm on his sleeve and followed him to where an old Mustang was parked.
“This car is amazing,” she breathed.
“Thanks. Original body. I fixed it up with my dad. He was a mechanic before the economy tanked. Hard to afford fuel for her, but to and from work isn’t that bad.”
Everett opened the side door for her, and she sank into the seat. Since leaving the Warehouse District, this was the first time that she wasn’t in a car with a hired driver. She felt more normal here. Less like she had to be a doll for the show. She wasn’t anyone’s pet. She was just Reyna tonight.
The club Everett took her to was only about five or six blocks away. On any normal day at home, she would have walked to and from without a problem. But it wasn’t safe in the city, and she didn’t have her sneakers anymore, just these impossible heels.
They valeted the car and then walked through the front doors into a pulsing nightclub already half filled with bodies. Everett grabbed her hand and then pulled her through the crowd to a secluded booth. A group of people was already seated with drinks and a pitcher of beer in front of them. As soon as Reyna and Everett approached, a blond girl threw herself at him.
