Beckham directed Reyna through the network of corridors and to the back entrance of the medical wing. Reyna memorized the way in case she needed to do it again.
She was nervous. No doubt about it.
Following Beckham inside had her completely on edge. Even though she trusted Becks and, if he thought this was important, then it likely was, it didn’t make it any easier. Now here she was…
Beckham put his hand on her lower back. “Your pulse is through the roof.”
“Nerves.”
He stopped her. “Will I let harm come to you?”
“No.”
“Would I willingly put you in a position where you are unsafe?”
“No.”
“I would kill before letting a single person lay a hand on you. You know this?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. Then he brought it up to his lips and placed a kiss there. “You are mine, Little One.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t entirely calmed down, but there was something in his eyes that told her she had nothing to fear. It was incredible to think that she had once feared him. Or that he still believed that he could ever be a threat to her.
Beckham directed her down the rest of the corridor until they reached an open office door. He knocked twice and then entered. Washington was seated behind a desk so cluttered Reyna could hardly see an inch of the surface. Just paperwork, notepads, pens, a clipboard, and various medical supplies that disappeared beneath more papers.
“Beckham,” Washington said with a genuine smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am here about Reyna.”
Washington’s eyes drifted to Reyna who was still standing like a scared mouse outside of the office. “Hello there, Reyna. Good to see you back in the medical wing.”
“Hi,” she said softly.
“What is this about?”
Beckham looked at Reyna as if to check that she still wanted to do this. He held his hand out and she finally stepped inside. Her heart was thudding once more, but she knew that Beckham was right. She needed to do this.
“I need to find out what’s wrong with my blood.”
“Wrong with it?” Washington asked.
“I can sense her,” Beckham said, explaining all the strange incidents. “It has happened many times.”
“Fascinating,” Washington said, standing up appreciatively.
“How do we make it stop?” Reyna asked.
“Stop?” Washington asked, perplexed. “Hmm…I doubt you can make it stop. I’d have to think on it some. Why would you want it to stop?”
“I don’t,” Beckham said with finality. “But I do not want Harrington to have the same access I am privy to. I do not want anyone who has tasted her blood to have the same reaction.”
“Well, we could have someone else drink her blood and see if it works,” Washington said simply.
Beckham growled. Actually growled.
“Or…we could try something else,” Washington said hastily, taking a step back.
Reyna could see the death in Beckham’s eyes at the suggestion. She placed her hand on his sleeve. “It would be okay.”
“It would not.”
“I was merely suggesting the simplest test,” Washington added.
“Reyna’s blood is not for feeding,” Beckham snarled. “No one else will taste her. Not ever.”
“Becks,” she whispered.
“If her blood does allow the ability to sense her, then another vampire will have claim on her. I won’t allow it.”
“I have heard of this sort of thing before,” Washington said, obviously trying to redirect the subject. “But it’s been many years. Long before we had the technology that we do now. Might I be able to take a sample of your blood to run some tests?”
Reyna nodded. Washington glanced at Beckham, who nodded as well. All three of them moved out of his office and into a lab.
Reyna took a seat and tried not to think about the needle by focusing on her breathing. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Beckham came to stand next to her.
“Hey, look at me.” She slowly did as he asked. “This will be over soon.”
She didn’t nod or do anything. She just stared at him and waited. Not watching usually helped some. She didn’t anticipate it. But it didn’t lessen the fear. It was like waiting for someone to jump out at you in a haunted house.
The prick of the needle happened. Beckham inhaled deeply. His hand clenched on the chair. But he never broke eye contact. She could see him retreating deep into himself, fighting for control. Could see the hunger buried there. Then as quickly as it happened, it was over.
“There we go,” Washington said. He cleaned up her arm, put a Band-Aid on it, and then swept the blood vials up and onto the counter. “That was interesting. Your blood smells very sweet.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Reyna said. “Do you know what that means?”
“Well, all blood smells differently. Especially to vampires with our more enhanced sense of smell. But I personally only know of one other person who has ever smelled like that.”
“I’ve never smelled anything like it,” Beckham said, still in a bit of a trance.
“You were not even born yet when I discovered this woman.” Washington finished with the rest of his work and then came to stand before them. “One of the lords had a favorite who smelled similarly.”
Reyna head swam. “Lords?”
Washington gave her an apologetic look. “I am afraid that vampires were not as we described when Visage took power.”
“Not all were as described,” Beckham clarified.
“I don’t understand.”
“Not all vampires were animalistic, crazed monsters,” Washington told her. “We spun that tale to make it more palatable for the humans when Visage rose up from the ashes of the depression.”
Reyna felt like her entire world had been flipped upside down. “But…there were mass killings. People couldn’t go out after dark except in well-lit places, and even then it wasn’t advised.”
“That’s true. Vampires committed atrocities you could not even imagine. But they were just the masses,” Beckham told her. “However, we were on an elevated plane.”
Reyna blinked up at him.
“But…everyone said that you were so fearsome. You yourself said that 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.”
“Survive?” Reyna gasped.
“Not all do,” Beckham said.
“You mean that some people try to become vampires and are killed?” How had no one ever told her that? She’d never even heard of that happening to someone. Was it very rare or more common and they just covered up the truth? The thought made her feel a little sick.
“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 helps with 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.”
“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 that she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There were a million different things that could have prevented this particular woman from changing into a vampire. But it felt too close for comfort.
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 that Beckham could sense her. That meant it was even likely that the woman had been an Rh null human.
Of course, Harrington was Rh null, so obviously just the blood type alone didn’t determine it. So maybe her blood smelled different because of something else in it. Maybe she was similar to that woman in another way and that would prevent her from turning. What was the likelihood of that? Would she want to risk it? 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, then that meant 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 had 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. She wanted more time as a human…but she’d always thought that it might be the endgame for her and Beckham.
“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 completely unaware as 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 silence lapse. 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 that Beckham would if there was ever a possibility that she could die. Her safety was his number one priority. And she couldn’t even fathom the thought of having someone else turn her. There was always the possibility that it could work. But it 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 that it is not something you had otherwise wanted to do.”
She nodded, still not sure that 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. 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 messed up with all of this to begin with. And though donating her blood and being in a hospital still made her queasy, she felt more at ease around him. Plus, she had known that helping was for the greater good, but her own fears had always gotten in the way. She didn’t want to be that person. Maybe…just maybe she might 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 out of the chair and hurried out of the room.
She didn’t want to know what they were talking about. She was sure that Beckham was pissed that Washington had revealed some of their history and scared her in the process. And she knew that she should be scared based on the history. But all she felt was numb.
Beckham appeared a few minutes later like a thundercloud. “We should get you back. I need to return to work.”
“Okay.”
Beckham frowned at her compliance but didn’t object. In silence, they walked together back to her rooms.
When they got there, Beckham tilted her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes. “You are shaken.”
“I don’t know that I can talk about it yet.”
“Explain it to me,” he commanded though his tone was surprisingly gentle.
She tried to grasp at what she felt.
“It is like finding out that you can’t have children. You didn’t really consider whether or not you wanted to have them, but now that you can’t, all you can think about is the loss.”
Beckham’s eyes were haunted by her words. And he remained silent.
“I thought that maybe…one day…you and I…” She trailed off.
“I never wanted you to be this,” he told her, gesturing to himself. “No one deserves this hell.”
Reyna nodded and turned her face away. “I guess I see that turning me was never a possibility. Never something you would consider.”
“You make it seem like a tragedy.”
“The fact that our time is limited is a tragedy.”
“Such is the way of the world.”
“My world,” she countered. “Not yours.”
“We cannot undo the mistakes of our past. Just hope to make better choices in the future.”
But it suddenly felt as if she had no choice in the matter. And she hadn’t even known it was what she wanted before that moment. Now she might never know.