Reyna blinked up at him. “But everyone said you were so fearsome. You yourself said you were the deadliest of them all,” she breathed, lapping up this bit of his history.
Beckham frowned as if realizing how much he was giving away. “Yes, we were worse.”
“Regardless,” Washington said, “this woman’s blood was incredibly enticing. It was clear that, had she not found someone to protect her, she would have been dead long ago.”
Reyna let that settle between her and Beckham. The same could be said for her.
“What happened to her?” Reyna asked.
Washington frowned, clearly not liking where his own story had turned. “He sucked her dry and remade her. He wanted her to be at his side forever.”
“So, he made her a vampire?”
“He tried,” Washington said wistfully. “But she did not survive the change.”
“She died?” Reyna gasped.
“Not all do,” Beckham said.
“You mean some people try to become vampires and are killed?” How had no one ever told her that? She’d never heard of that happening.
“A shockingly large number, actually,” Washington informed her. He seemed oblivious to her discomfort about the subject. “Vampirism itself is sort of like a virus. A human must drink a vampire’s blood and be completely drained of their own blood. They effectively ‘die’ and are remade. The vampire virus latches onto the host and restarts the heart, producing vampire blood to refill the arteries. The new blood conveys the increased strength and speed. It makes our eyes naturally better adapted to the darkness and prolongs our life far beyond a normal human’s. Thus, with all the changes that occur, it would make sense that not all humans are sufficient hosts for vampirism to latch onto.”
“And the woman with the blood that smelled like mine—she wasn’t a proper host?” Reyna asked softly.
“She wasn’t,” Washington said.
Reyna knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There were a million different things that could have prevented this woman from changing into a vampire. It felt too close for comfort, though.
If this woman with the exact-same-smelling blood couldn’t turn, then could Reyna turn? Could she become a vampire? The smell of her blood must mean something. Surely it had something to do with her very rare blood type and the way Beckham could sense her. If all those traits were connected, that meant it was even likely the woman had been an Rh null human.
Of course, Harrington was Rh null, so obviously the blood type alone didn’t determine a suitable host. So maybe her blood smelled different because of something else. Maybe she was similar to that woman in another way andthatwould prevent her from turning. She shuddered at the thought of dying. Of course she didn’t want to die. And since when did she want to turn into a vampire?
She didn’t. Did she? Her heart pattered away as anxiety took over. If she didn’t turn into a vampire, she couldn’t stay with Beckham. She would keep getting older, and he would stay the same age. Brian had flung that in her face when he found out about her and Beckham—as if Reyna turning into a vampire was the only option for them to continue to be together. She clearly must have taken that to heart.
“Reyna,” Beckham said warningly, as if reading her weighted silence.
Reyna swallowed and pushed forward with her heart in her throat. “Can you…can you tell if someone isn’t a proper host?”
Washington stared down at his equipment, still oblivious to the turn of this conversation. “Well, I haven’t discovered a way without infecting a person. And then I’m afraid it’s too late.”
Reyna let the conversation lapse into silence. She could feel Beckham’s eyes boring into her, but she didn’t dare look at him. She needed a second to mourn the loss of that option. Because how could she risk something like that? There was no way Beckham would if there was even a possibility she could die—her safety was his number one priority—and she couldn’t fathom the thought of having someone else turn her. There was always the possibility that it could work, but it still felt like driving away from the mountains and seeing them fade in the distance.
“This should suffice,” Washington said with a bright smile. He looked between Reyna and Beckham and their stern expressions quizzically. “Well, thank you for allowing me to collect your blood, Reyna. I know it is not something you had otherwise wanted to do.”
She nodded, still not sure she had words.
“If you want to check in with me, I would love to have you in the lab. I could use an assistant,” he offered.
Reyna’s gaze shifted to Beckham’s. He trusted Washington. That made a difference to her. It made her see Washington differently. He wasn’t just the vampire who had created the blood type cure, who had gotten her mixed up in all of this to begin with. Though donating her blood and being in a hospital still made her queasy, she felt more at ease around him. She’d always known her helping would further the greater good, but her own fears had gotten in the way. She didn’t want to be that person. Maybe she could be brave enough to help out. To overcome her fears for this.
“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s see how it goes. I can’t promise much, but I’ll try to help where I can.”
“Will you wait outside a moment?” Beckham asked. “I want to have a word with Dr. Washington.”
“Sure.” She hopped off the chair and hurried out of the room.
She didn’t want to know what they were talking about. She was sure Beckham was pissed Washington had revealed some of their history and scared her in the process. She knew sheshouldbe scared, based on the history, but all she felt was numb.
