Finally, he lifted his hand, held on to Beckham’s wrist, and twisted it. Reyna winced. On a human that move would have snapped his wrist in two. On Beckham, it swatted his hand away as if he were a fly that had irritated Graves.
Beckham reared back in shock.
“Vampires,” Graves said with a disdainful sigh. “You are tiresome. As if resorting to violence is always the answer.”
Beckham looked as if he wanted to punch Graves in the face, but after that maneuver, he reassessed. Graves could handle a vampire. That was terrifying.
“I’d like to remind you that you came to me,” Graves told them, irritation finally settling into his voice. “You offered me something that wasn’t valuable enough for the information you requested and then threatened me in my own home.” He stared at Beckham with malice on his face. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Reyna jolted at his tone. Then she dashed forward between Graves and Beckham again before it came to blows. “He’s sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t what we expected. You have to understand that we had no idea what to expect here. But we want the information.” She placed her hand on Beckham’s wrist. “We do.”
“You know my price,” Graves said. That flicker of amusement returning to his features. As if he had known that he had never been in any trouble here. “Either get on with it or leave. I don’t have time for games.”
Which was the opposite of true. Graves seemed to only deal in games.
Reyna faced Beckham. His mouth was set in a line of stone. His jaw clenched with barely controlled rage. His eyes, the windowto his soul, screamed to unleash.
“Hey,” she whispered. She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”
He clearly didn’t agree with her, but she didn’t care. What was one bite for the information they needed to stop Harrington? They’d deal with the consequences later.
“I’m here. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he barely breathed.
“I do anyway.”
Reyna swallowed and then gently pulled her hair back off of her neck. This time she had no necklace to obscure access to her throat. She guided his hands to her hips. His grip was tentative at first, then he seemed to remember the shape of her, sliding his hands up her sides to her shoulders.
Their eyes locked. Warm chocolate meeting the bottomless depths that had infatuated her from the start. She wasn’t afraid. This was a pivotal moment for them, and she wanted to be here in the moment. She wanted him to know all the love that was in her heart. How little she feared him.
She took a breath and on release opened up that connection between them. Tapped into the blood match bond that allowed her to feel his presence and linked their emotions. As they linked, she didn’t care that Graves was watching or that they had never done this before or about everything else they had to face. There was just her and Beckham.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
She angled her head to give him better access and held her breath. Somehow this turned her on. Maybe because he’d only ever bitten her while they were having sex. Although, everything about Beckham was a turn-on.
Not once in all the times that she’d been given the vamp venom had she ever gotten addicted. And Harrington had tried. But she was certain she’d been addicted to Beckham and the intensitybetween them long before he’d bitten her. Nothing else could compare to that. She doubted anything else ever would.
Beckham’s lips grazed her neck. He trailed soft kisses up her throat. She stifled a moan and pressed her body into his.
The first prick jolted her. The pain as he pierced the skin of her neck. She shuddered at the feel. Then the venom flooded her system. A natural high from the bite. The fight or flight kicking in and adrenaline speeding through her, waking up everything.
When she’d first felt this, her body had immediately screamed,Run. Run far far away. This man is going to kill you.
Now she wanted more. More, more, more. More than she should give. Her body pulsed. Her core was hot. She squeezed her legs together.
Even when he went deeper, dipping into the artery and drinking of her blood, all she felt was desire. Her desire and his desire. Their love and heat and longing and want. So much want. Her blood, her body, her mind, her soul. They were one and the same. He would take it all. She would give it all.
Her fingers curled into the front of his tuxedo. She couldn’t hold back her moan this time. She wanted. She needed.
Then she felt him pulling back.
She clamped down on him. “Please,” she gasped. “More.”
Beckham grasped her hips so hard he was going to leave bruises. Then he wrenched back, holding her at arm’s length. Blood ran down his lips and over his chin. Her heart raced, beating a million miles a minute. She felt ravenous.
“More,” she repeated.
