Blood Type

by K. A. Linde

  “Wow,” she breathed into the wind, with Beckham at her side.

  The entire city was laid out before them. Where she had thought it was dark and silent, it was so clear now that it was bright and bustling. The buildings and streets were lit up to show the crisscrossed blueprint of the city.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. She felt his gaze sweep her face and wondered if they were talking about the same thing. “Yes, you are.”

  Chapter 23

  His words were like a dream. She wanted to respond, but she was worried she would wake up and the dream would dissolve into reality.

  She couldn’t help herself. She turned her head and looked at Beckham. Their eyes locked and everything crystallized. Whatever had been going on between them was real. He might deny it. She might try to deny it. But she saw even in that brief moment that he felt something. A thread connected them, and all she wanted to do was tug on it and bring him closer.

  “This is one of my favorite places in the city,” he told her.

  “Why?”

  She felt as if she could hardly breathe in his presence. No more than a foot was between them, but it was suddenly as if all the air had been sucked out of the sky.

  “The city almost looks whole from up here.”

  “And not from the streets?”

  He circled the dew on the railing with his finger. “You know it doesn’t look whole from down there. You’re the one with the camera.”

  At the mention of the camera, she suddenly remembered that was the whole purpose of the trip. The thread grew longer, pushing distance between them again. It was a bit of a tug-of-war, keeping up with the rawness of his shifting emotions.

  To keep her face neutral, she dug into her bag and retrieved the camera. Putting a physical barrier between them should keep her steady. At least she hoped so.

  She took the cap off of the lens and shifted the camera up to her face. She snapped a few pictures of the city skyline. The familiar click of the camera calmed her nerves, and she let the rhythm of the pictures take over.

  “Much easier to see the big picture from a bird’s eyes, but the aggregate doesn’t equal the individual. From up here you would assume everyone was happy and successfully living out a fairy tale. From down there you see the reality, the lie,” she told him.

  Beckham was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he judging her answer? Weighing it against his Visage rose-colored glasses? She knew her words weren’t a popular opinion among the wealthy, but she couldn’t forget the things she had seen.

  “Are you not living the fairy tale, then?” he asked.

  She looked at him over the lens of her camera and made a face. Hardly.

  Despite the stirring of emotions about Beckham, she would not consider this life a fairy tale. Maybe it was every girl’s dream to live in a penthouse, have an unlimited credit card, and a closet full of designer clothes, but it was a cover-up. Beckham was not a shining prince on a white horse riding in to save her. The world they lived in was not a peaceful kingdom where all worries disappeared.

  “If this were a fairy tale, there would be no need for a rebellion, would there?”

  “Perhaps, but you are not part of any rebellion.”

  “No,” she agreed.

  She was a silent voice among countless other silent voices against the establishment. People with no energy to fight, no means to accomplish anything, and worst of all…no hope.

  “So, tell me about this covert group, Elle, and how it relates to the rebellion. You said we would talk when we were up here,” she reminded him.

  Beckham grumbled under his breath and turned back to look out at the city. “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know, but if people think my images are part of Elle, I want to know what they think they stand for.”

  “I’d rather you not know much,” he said into the breeze. “It’s safer that way.”

  “Safer for who? You or me?”

  “Both,” he said thoughtfully. “Everyone.”

  Reyna blew out a frustrated breath. They were going nowhere fast with this line of conversation. It wasn’t as if she were part of the rebellion. She just wanted to know what the hell was going on out there.

  “Well, what can I know?”

  Beckham sighed. He was stalling, hoping she would change her mind, but she wasn’t about to do anything of the sort. She stared at him and waited.

  After a moment, he seemed resigned to the task. “Don’t repeat anything I’m about to tell you. You already made quite a spectacle at the ball,” he told her. He waited until she nodded before continuing, “There are two factions among vampires. One is of the belief that humans are food.”

  Their eyes met briefly and she blushed. She didn’t know why she would find that embarrassing. She should find it horrifying. Maybe she would find it more horrifying if he had bitten her or ever made her feel threatened in the least.

  “We control the food.” He gestured to her. “And we shouldn’t have to limit ourselves. After all, we are supreme. We should be able to have whatever…whomever we want.” His eyes seemed to drink her in. “In fact, many believe it is a limitation to only drink from a blood type match.”

  Reyna gasped. “But then wouldn’t you be…savage? You would kill people. No one would be safe.”

  His eyes darkened and a scowl appeared on his face. “Yes. People would die. It would be the way it was before, but now with so much more power in the hands of the vampires. But this faction feels entitled to it. Vampires are the greater species, higher on the food chain, predators.” His voice took on a dark menacing tone. “You are no more than a fly caught in our web with no chance of escape.”

  She couldn’t help but shudder at the bloodlust in his voice. She tried to laugh as if what he was saying didn’t affect her, but it came out strained and desperate. She hated to imagine a world like he described, where humans were crushed like ants under his boot.

  “And the other faction?” she asked.

  “Abide by the cure.” His fingers tightened on the railing. “Most vampires did not ask to be made into this…this monster. We were created. Forced to drink the blood of our maker, drained dry of our blood, and then left for dead to reawaken like this. The virus or curse, whatever you want to call it, inhabits our body and mind, crawls under our skin, and begs to be released against our will. It makes us want to be the first group.”

  “But the blood type cure changed that, right?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Which made her wonder all the more why he refused to drink from her. He didn’t seem like the animal he described. Shouldn’t he want to drink from her?

  “To an extent, the cure curbs that tendency. It makes us almost human…makes us feel human. Alive, when we’ve been dead inside for so many years. Some enjoy that feeling and want to live beside humans without any more death, and some think it’s an abomination to want to be like a weaker species.”

  A weaker species. Wow. Did he really think that?

  “And you? Which faction do you fall into?”

  His eyes found hers once more, and she was immediately lost into the dark depths. They were deceptively blank, yet entirely enticing. He took a step closer to her. She felt frozen in place.

  “I’ve lived a shorter life than most of my kind. I can still remember the feel of being human,” he said, running his hand down her arm for emphasis. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. “But I can also vividly remember the feel of taking a human life.” His hand gripped her arm. “I’ve killed viciously, savagely, and enjoyed it. I’ve sought people out, tortured them, drove them mad just to kill them slowly through their insanity. I’ve done horrible things and enjoyed it, Reyna.”

  “Okay. I get it,” she whispered. She grasped his hand on her arm to try to get him to loosen
his grip. He was going from hurting to bruising her.

  “As a universal donor, an O negative blood type means there are so few matches out there for me, unlike an AB positive, which is a universal receiver. Before there was a cure, the majority of humans I drank from were not a match. The things I did were…unspeakable…”

  Reyna was starting to feel sick at the mention of the horrible things he had done. That was not her Beckham. She knew it with her entire being. He was not that person anymore. He couldn’t have ever really wanted that.

  “So, you ask me which faction I’m in, and I have no answer for you. To be human is to be weak and fragile,” he said, suddenly releasing her arm. She clamped her hand over the area where she was sure her skin was already turning purple. “But to be a vampire is to be a murderer.”

  “Well, I don’t think you want to hurt anyone.”

  Beckham shook his head. “What makes you think that?” He peeled back her fingers and looked at the swollen skin. “I’ve given you no reason to believe that.”

  “I’ve seen Cassandra and Rowland toy with humans and act as if they’re beneath them. But you don’t. If Sophie were dying, Rowland wouldn’t care or do anything to save her. But you risked a lot to ensure my safety, not to mention Everett’s.” Beckham opened his mouth, likely to object, but she held her hand up. “And I know it’s not just because I’m an investment, Becks. You don’t drink from me and you could replace me with ease. It’s because you care for humanity…for me.”

  “Believe what you wish,” he said.

  Which was the most non-answer she had ever heard. He didn’t have to admit it. His actions showed very clearly the person he was.

  Beckham motioned for her to bring her camera up to her face, effectively ending the conversation. She sighed, but did as he directed.

  “Now find Visage.”

  She searched out the massive building on the horizon. They were far enough away that so many of the buildings appeared as if they were on top of one another. But Visage was the tallest and stuck out like a sore thumb on the horizon.

  “Okay?” she said.

  He had moved to stand behind her. He was bent forward so that he was level with her camera. His chest nearly pressed against her back. His breath tingled against her ear. He reached forward, covered her hand with his own, and slowly adjusted the angle of the camera.

  “There,” he breathed. “What do you see?”

  She focused back on the matter at hand instead of the feel of him against her. Twisting the lens until it zoomed in on the roof of Visage, she concentrated, trying to see what he was showing her. It looked like a regular roof with a large antennae type thing on the top with a flashing red light.

  “What am I supposed to be seeing?” she whispered.

  “The roof,” he said softly. His lips brushed her ear and then she shivered.

  “But it’s just a roof.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Visage may seem all-powerful, impenetrable, but everything has limitations. Their building is not infinitely tall. From a distance or the right perspective, you might see that it’s really just a building after all.”

  Reyna clicked the picture a couple times. She didn’t know exactly what he meant. Was he saying Visage was vulnerable? Was he saying he was vulnerable? She knew there were clues in what he was telling her, but none of it made sense. Wasn’t Beckham further proof of Visage’s power?

  But her train of thought vanished when she felt his lips move from her ear to her neck. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to give him better access to the area, and then started to grind her body against him. She stuffed her camera into her bag and then let it drop to the ground, forgotten.

  His hands grasped her hips, tugging her closer. Thoughts fled her mind as his lips cast a spell on her. The tension from the past few weeks cracked wide open. All that there was in the world was Beckham.

  His presence was overwhelming. Everywhere he touched she felt superheated. All she wanted was to push him to go further. Beg for more. But she wasn’t about to test his limits. The thought about how dangerous he had been before the cure flitted into her mind and then quickly out again. He wouldn’t hurt her. Of that she was certain.

  Beckham turned her abruptly in his embrace and then dropped his mouth down on hers. Here at the top of this abandoned building, the world was spread out before them, and nothing could stop what was crashing down all around them. And she didn’t want it to ever end.

  Her hands were around his neck as she kissed him with fervor. The feel of him was incomparable. Her heart was ready to burst. Her fingers trembled with the anticipation of this moment. Being near him did nothing but ignite her desire for him. She saw no reason to turn back.

  “Reyna,” he murmured in between kisses.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He groaned into her mouth. She could tell he was fighting with his inner demons, and she felt horrible but she hoped they won out. She wanted him so desperately. She ached for him. There was no second-guessing this decision. He grabbed the backs of her legs and hoisted them up around his waist. She gasped and a devilish smile crossed his face. She liked his forcefulness, when he so often pushed her away.

  Beckham carried her through the rooftop garden. He reached a large circular lounger and carefully laid her back on the plush cushion. Her body was flushed even in the chilled air, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the gorgeous man in front of her. She didn’t even want to blink, for fear that all of this would disappear and she would wake up in her bedroom, aching for him all over again.

  His hands crawled up her legs, then her stomach, across her sides, and then up to her face. He cupped her cheeks in his strong hands. He was in complete control, and she surrendered power at the touch of his hand.

  “You disarm me, Little One.”

  She broke into a smile. “And here I thought I was the one tangled in your web.”

  “Oh the tangled webs we weave,” he murmured, planting soft kisses down the hollow of her throat.

  She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, ignoring the deception laced in his words. He kissed back down her front and then ran his fingers up her inner thighs. She trembled under his practiced touch. She couldn’t even be embarrassed that she was so ready for him.

  When his mouth replaced his fingers, she had to do everything in her power to keep from bucking against him and begging for him to take her. His lips reached the hem of the black dress she was wearing. He bunched the material around her hips, leaving her exposed to him, all save for her tiny silk thong that she had already soaked through.

  “You smell incredible,” he groaned, running his nose the rest of the way up her leg to the edge of her panties.

  She tightened as desire raged through her.

  “Would you like me to taste you?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. Fuck, did she ever want him to taste her!

  “You know there’s the most incredible artery in your inner thigh.” He spread her legs wider and ran his teeth lightly along the spot. Her legs shook with anticipation. “I can almost smell the blood pumping through your body this close to the skin.”

  He nipped at her lightly, and she nearly lost it there. She almost prayed he would break the skin so he would get over his aversion to drinking from her. She was ready. She was well past ready.

  “Becks,” she moaned.

  His hand tangled in the soft fabric of her thong. She heard the material snap apart and then he ran a finger down her folds. “My two favorite things all in one place.”

  He spread her lips wide and then pushed two fingers deep inside of her. She arched her back off of the lounger at the feel of him penetrating her. Then his tongue swirled around her clit, and she thought she might actually combust. He languidly pumped his fingers
in and out, building her pleasure while his tongue flicked against her.

  Reyna dug her fingers into the material of the lounger. She couldn’t even think properly. All that she felt was the work Beckham was doing to her body. It was hard to believe this was happening, let alone on the rooftop under the starlight.

  In a matter of minutes, her walls were clenching almost painfully around his fingers, and she knew instinctively that she was going to orgasm.

  Her breathing was ragged as she tried to speak. “Becks…I’m so close.”

  He thrust into her faster at her comment. “Good,” he growled. “Come for me.”

  Her body shuddered at his command, and obeyed as his fingers hit just the right spot. She came undone at the skill of his hands and lay back panting, shaking, practically intoxicated from her climax.

  “Come here,” she pleaded breathily, reaching out for him.

  He didn’t move and she hastily sat up and started undoing his belt. Her hands deftly unbuttoned his pants and slid down the zipper. She reached her hand over the band of his boxer briefs and trailed her fingers lightly along the sensitive skin. She could feel how hard he was for her through the material. It made her want him even more, knowing how much he clearly desired her. She moved her hand down farther and brushed against the head. He jerked against her and then grabbed her wrist forcefully.

  “Stop.”

  “What?” She looked up at him, confused.

  “Reyna, just stop.”

  “Stop?” she asked as if she didn’t understand the word.

  “Yes. Stop. That’s enough.” He took a step away from her and fixed his pants.

  “What the fuck?” she asked. “Why are you stopping?”

  “None of this should have ever happened.”

  Reyna quickly straightened her dress and stood. “Don’t lie. You want this. I know you do.”

  “No. I can’t believe I almost went further.”

  “Went further? You mean you almost let me blow you or that you wanted to have sex with me? Because you clearly want both.”