Blood Type
Page 28
“No,” he agreed. He leaned his head into her hair and drew a deep breath. “I will do that.”
Chapter 16
Reyna was ripped out of her dreams by a nightmare of a vampire chasing her in the streets and tearing out her throat. She screamed and bolted upright in bed. Her hair stuck to her back. Her body was clammy. And she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the terrible sense of unease.
She was fine.
She was in Beckham’s penthouse.
It had been days since their visit to the dregs of the city. Days since she had been attacked by a vampire.
Nothing had happened. Nothing at all since then. But she couldn’t seem to shake the nightmares.
She hoped Beckham didn’t hear her. She didn’t want to bring it up to him. Not after the distance he had put between them. She had felt so safe and secure in his arms, even knowing he was a vampire and could easily do to her what she had just seen in the streets. But as soon as he had let her go, it was as if he had constructed a wall of impenetrable ice to keep her out.
So much effort went into it on his part that she had given up on trying to get through to him. He wanted her to be grateful for her position, and she was. But she still hoped for him…and hope was dangerous.
Rolling out of bed, she hopped into the shower to wash off the sweat. She draped a towel around her body and towel-dried her hair in the mirror. She wound her hair up in a knot on the top of her head and then went in search of something to wear. As soon as she entered her closet, she noticed a blood-red dress hanging by itself. She stopped in her tracks and glanced around. She hated when things just appeared in her room. It didn’t usually mean anything good.
She moved over to the dress and skimmed the silky material between her fingers. It was gorgeous and soft…and still so not her. A note was attached to the hanger and she snatched it up in her hand.
Today.
That was all it said. No further instruction. She sighed, knowing what the word meant, and pulled it on. The dress had a strapless sweetheart neck with a tight satin bow around the waist of the silky top. The skirt was tulle to her knees and made her feel like a ballerina. Though she was hardly graceful and hadn’t actually seen a ballerina since before her life had turned to shit.
After securing the dress at the back, she turned to exit her room, but found something else that hadn’t been there the night before. On her nightstand was a large blue box. She hurried over to it and procured the card.
Perspective.
She narrowed her eyes, undid the ribbon, and took the lid off of the box. Inside was a sleek black camera with a large lens and a thick strap. She removed the camera reverently. Her parents had had one when she was a kid, but she didn’t know exactly how this one worked. It took a couple of minutes of fiddling around with the buttons before it turned on. The screen lit up, but didn’t show her what was she looking at. Pressing her eyes to the small square at the top, she pointed it in the direction of her closet and pressed down hard on the button at the top. The camera clicked and whirred, and when she looked down, an image of her closet appeared in perfect clarity.
Her mouth hung open. It was…amazing!
“Perspective, huh?” she mused.
She pressed it against her chest and rushed into the next room.
“A camera!” she said excitedly when she saw Beckham seated at a barstool in the kitchen, staring down at his blasted phone.
He glanced at her once, scrutinizing her appearance. She stilled under that molten gaze. “And here I thought you’d complain about the dress.”
“Oh well, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve dressed me up in,” she retorted. Her cheeks were pink from his assessment, but she was too giddy to think about the hot and cold. “But a camera, Becks!”
He shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. “You said you wanted a hobby.”
“It’s amazing,” she breathed.
Before she could think twice, she threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened beneath her and she quickly released him. But she didn’t apologize. She was too excited to care.
“Can I go shooting now? What will I take pictures of?” she asked.
“I presume whatever you want.”
“Well, I should get going.”
“Wait,” he snapped, reaching out and grasping her hand to keep from her darting away. “We should set ground rules.”
“Does everything come with rules?” she groaned.
“Yes.”
“Fine. What are they? Let’s get this over with.”
He gave her a stern look, but she just smiled. “It’s very simple. If you leave here to take pictures, you may go wherever you please as long as you take my car and have a security guard with you.”
Reyna’s mouth dropped open. “You think I need a bodyguard?”
He ignored her question entirely. “If the security guard believes you to be in danger in any way, he has express permission to remove you from the situation.”
“Anything else?” She understood that she needed to be safe, but he could have at least made it seem less like she was going to have all her moves watched at all times.
“What do you plan to do with the photos?” he asked carefully.
“I don’t know. I just got the damn thing.” She shrugged. “Look at them? Is there a way I can put them on the computer?”
“Yes,” he said hesitantly.
“Then probably that.”
“This is important, Reyna. I don’t want your photographs to show up anywhere with your name on it. If you want to post them somewhere, they need to be anonymous. No one needs to know it’s you or that I’m letting you do this.”
“Why does it even matter?” she asked, her curiosity piquing.
“Because I said so. Haven’t you ever heard a picture is worth a thousand words? I don’t want any of those words connected to you.”
“Or you,” she reasoned.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said automatically. If she didn’t, then he’d never let her leave again. Plus, who would care about her images? She didn’t even know if she would care about them. They could totally suck.
“Good,” he said. His shoulders relaxed as he seemed to have gotten through the difficult part of the conversation. “Also, you have a shopping date with Sophie.”
Reyna’s face fell. He gave her freedom and a ball and chain at the exact same time.
“Do I have to?” she asked, feeling like a child.
“Yes,” he said, already turning back to his phone. “Visage is throwing a celebratory ball for the passage of the Blood Census. I have to be in attendance, which means you have to be in attendance.”
“A ball?” Her ears perked up at that prospect. A ball with Beckham. Now, that could be interesting.
“Find something suitable to wear and put it on the credit card. I don’t care the cost. Whatever you want,” he muttered into his phone.
“All right.” She hugged her camera to her chest. “When am I meeting her?”
“Noon.” He looked back up at her. His eyes remained fixed on her face. God, if she only had a penny for his thoughts. “Be careful around her, Reyna. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Then why do I have to meet her?” she asked, exasperated. The politics behind this was all so confusing. She didn’t want to spend time with people she had to guard herself against.
Chapter 16
Reyna was ripped out of her dreams by a nightmare of a vampire chasing her in the streets and tearing out her throat. She screamed and bolted upright in bed. Her hair stuck to her back. Her body was clammy. And she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the terrible sense of unease.
She was fine.
She was in Beckham’s penthouse.
It had been days since their visit to the dregs of the city. Days since she had been attacked by a vampire.
Nothing had happened. Nothing at all since then. But she couldn’t seem to shake the nightmares.
She hoped Beckham didn’t hear her. She didn’t want to bring it up to him. Not after the distance he had put between them. She had felt so safe and secure in his arms, even knowing he was a vampire and could easily do to her what she had just seen in the streets. But as soon as he had let her go, it was as if he had constructed a wall of impenetrable ice to keep her out.
So much effort went into it on his part that she had given up on trying to get through to him. He wanted her to be grateful for her position, and she was. But she still hoped for him…and hope was dangerous.
Rolling out of bed, she hopped into the shower to wash off the sweat. She draped a towel around her body and towel-dried her hair in the mirror. She wound her hair up in a knot on the top of her head and then went in search of something to wear. As soon as she entered her closet, she noticed a blood-red dress hanging by itself. She stopped in her tracks and glanced around. She hated when things just appeared in her room. It didn’t usually mean anything good.
She moved over to the dress and skimmed the silky material between her fingers. It was gorgeous and soft…and still so not her. A note was attached to the hanger and she snatched it up in her hand.
Today.
That was all it said. No further instruction. She sighed, knowing what the word meant, and pulled it on. The dress had a strapless sweetheart neck with a tight satin bow around the waist of the silky top. The skirt was tulle to her knees and made her feel like a ballerina. Though she was hardly graceful and hadn’t actually seen a ballerina since before her life had turned to shit.
After securing the dress at the back, she turned to exit her room, but found something else that hadn’t been there the night before. On her nightstand was a large blue box. She hurried over to it and procured the card.
Perspective.
She narrowed her eyes, undid the ribbon, and took the lid off of the box. Inside was a sleek black camera with a large lens and a thick strap. She removed the camera reverently. Her parents had had one when she was a kid, but she didn’t know exactly how this one worked. It took a couple of minutes of fiddling around with the buttons before it turned on. The screen lit up, but didn’t show her what was she looking at. Pressing her eyes to the small square at the top, she pointed it in the direction of her closet and pressed down hard on the button at the top. The camera clicked and whirred, and when she looked down, an image of her closet appeared in perfect clarity.
Her mouth hung open. It was…amazing!
“Perspective, huh?” she mused.
She pressed it against her chest and rushed into the next room.
“A camera!” she said excitedly when she saw Beckham seated at a barstool in the kitchen, staring down at his blasted phone.
He glanced at her once, scrutinizing her appearance. She stilled under that molten gaze. “And here I thought you’d complain about the dress.”
“Oh well, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve dressed me up in,” she retorted. Her cheeks were pink from his assessment, but she was too giddy to think about the hot and cold. “But a camera, Becks!”
He shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. “You said you wanted a hobby.”
“It’s amazing,” she breathed.
Before she could think twice, she threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened beneath her and she quickly released him. But she didn’t apologize. She was too excited to care.
“Can I go shooting now? What will I take pictures of?” she asked.
“I presume whatever you want.”
“Well, I should get going.”
“Wait,” he snapped, reaching out and grasping her hand to keep from her darting away. “We should set ground rules.”
“Does everything come with rules?” she groaned.
“Yes.”
“Fine. What are they? Let’s get this over with.”
He gave her a stern look, but she just smiled. “It’s very simple. If you leave here to take pictures, you may go wherever you please as long as you take my car and have a security guard with you.”
Reyna’s mouth dropped open. “You think I need a bodyguard?”
He ignored her question entirely. “If the security guard believes you to be in danger in any way, he has express permission to remove you from the situation.”
“Anything else?” She understood that she needed to be safe, but he could have at least made it seem less like she was going to have all her moves watched at all times.
“What do you plan to do with the photos?” he asked carefully.
“I don’t know. I just got the damn thing.” She shrugged. “Look at them? Is there a way I can put them on the computer?”
“Yes,” he said hesitantly.
“Then probably that.”
“This is important, Reyna. I don’t want your photographs to show up anywhere with your name on it. If you want to post them somewhere, they need to be anonymous. No one needs to know it’s you or that I’m letting you do this.”
“Why does it even matter?” she asked, her curiosity piquing.
“Because I said so. Haven’t you ever heard a picture is worth a thousand words? I don’t want any of those words connected to you.”
“Or you,” she reasoned.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said automatically. If she didn’t, then he’d never let her leave again. Plus, who would care about her images? She didn’t even know if she would care about them. They could totally suck.
“Good,” he said. His shoulders relaxed as he seemed to have gotten through the difficult part of the conversation. “Also, you have a shopping date with Sophie.”
Reyna’s face fell. He gave her freedom and a ball and chain at the exact same time.
“Do I have to?” she asked, feeling like a child.
“Yes,” he said, already turning back to his phone. “Visage is throwing a celebratory ball for the passage of the Blood Census. I have to be in attendance, which means you have to be in attendance.”
“A ball?” Her ears perked up at that prospect. A ball with Beckham. Now, that could be interesting.
“Find something suitable to wear and put it on the credit card. I don’t care the cost. Whatever you want,” he muttered into his phone.
“All right.” She hugged her camera to her chest. “When am I meeting her?”
“Noon.” He looked back up at her. His eyes remained fixed on her face. God, if she only had a penny for his thoughts. “Be careful around her, Reyna. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Then why do I have to meet her?” she asked, exasperated. The politics behind this was all so confusing. She didn’t want to spend time with people she had to guard herself against.
