“William? Of course. He was always in and out of Washington’s life. They were the closest of friends.”
Reyna’s stomach turned at the fondness with which Genevieve spoke of Harrington. “Was he always as he is now?”
“How so, dear?”
“A calculating and a murderous bastard set out to take over the world and leave humans subjugated to vampires forever?” she asked, unable to keep her vociferous hatred of the man from her speech.
“Hmm, he was always a passionate man. His mind was beyond reproach, but he did have a unique way of looking at the world,” Genevieve mused. “He saw things like no other. As if the world was one of his precious chessboards. I know he has killed. All of us vampires have unfortunately. But he never went out of his way to do it. It wasn’t his nature any more than Washington’s. He didn’t like to get his hands dirty, figuratively speaking.”
Reyna thought over what Genevieve had said as she went about preparing plates of breakfast for everyone in the house that didn’t sustain on blood. She couldn’t see past her hatred of Harrington and what he had done to her, what he was doing to all the people she loved, and the direction took Visage. She would never forgive what he had attempted to do to Beckham. In that instant, he sealed his fate.
But maybe she needed to look at Harrington from another angle. If she ever wanted to destroy him, then she had to understand him. Know him like Washington and Genevieve had known him, how Beckham had known him, not just how she hated him.
“Genevieve,” Reyna said, turning back to face her, “do youthink you could tell me more stories about Harrington? From before Visage?”
Genevieve cocked her head to the side but nodded. “Of course. If you wish.”
“Thank you.”
…
Later, Reyna found Beckham standing stoically on the front porch. She wrapped herself up to the gills and followed him out onto the icy stone path. He looked pensive. This was one of those moments where she wished that she could read his mind. He’d had a life she could hardly fathom. She’d never known the real monster deep within. But she still loved him. Hopelessly loved him. Even with the monster chomping at the bit to be released again.
If she cared even a fraction less, then she wouldn’t have fought so damn hard to keep him. She would be blissfully stupid in a warehouse outside of the city, dealing with everyday complications that meant the world to her then and hardly anything to her now.
But she hadn’t loved Beckham any less. Not a modicum.
Even when he stood in the freezing cold as snow blanketed the earth and acted like the broody man he was.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking or should I guess?”
Beckham didn’t respond.
“Oh, I should get creative, then. Friday afternoon after work, heading to the bar with your friends and drinking yourself stupid. No, summer days lying out in the sun and getting a tan.” She chuckled at the idea of Beckham with atan. Yeah, right. “Daydreaming about taking me to an exotic beach and never seeing the snow again. Or anything but the bedroom.”
That got his attention.
“I prefer the night.”
“And here I thought you preferred the bedroom.”
“Reyna…”
“Could you clue me in on the staring? Why the somber aloofness?”
“I have been contemplating ways to stop Harrington.”
“As have I. We already know how to draw him out and how to use his weaknesses against him. But I feel as if I’m missing something. Like Harrington is always one step ahead of us and I haven’t figured out how to get a step ahead of him.”
Beckham stiffened. “We already know how to draw him out?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“You want to use yourself as bait. Again.” He said each word crisper and more biting than the last.
“If it comes to that.”
“Your protection is my greatest concern. Even if you’re his blood type, that does not offer you all the protections you believe it does.”
