Blood Cure (Blood Type 3)

Reyna stripped back the comforter with a coy smile and sank onto the dark blue silk sheets. Her hair fanned out around her head, dark and alluring, while he towered over her, dark and terrifying. An unlikely match—and yet somehow perfect in every way.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” Beckham said.

“I thought I’d have to live mine without you.”

He stroked a finger across her cheek before slanting his mouth on hers. It was a kiss of claiming. A kiss filled with loss and heartbreak and renewal and hope. It was everything she could ever want in a kiss, and more. It meant he was here. He was really here. Above everything else…he was here and he was hers.

She wanted to take her time getting reacquainted with his body, but one kiss was her undoing. She clawed at the remaining clothes that separated them. He grinned against her mouth before obligingly removing his boxers.

When he got to her black underwear, he didn’t seem quite as in control as he’d been with his own. He hastily ripped the material in two and tossed it onto the floor. She laughed at the abruptness and then immediately groaned as his mouth replaced his hands.

Just when she thought she was going to come all over again, his mouth moved to her inner thigh. He inhaled sharply right at the apex and leisurely ran his tongue along the main artery.

“Oh God, Becks, please,” she groaned. Sure, he needed to heal, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him to sink his fangs into her. To claim her in every way that he could.

“Reyna…”

She thrust her pelvis up and rolled her hips achingly. She wanted him so bad. She wasn’t above begging.

Then she felt the prick. She gasped at the first feeling of pain, which was instantly smothered by pleasure as he sank his fangs in her artery and began to drink. Endorphins flooded her system. The vamp venom heightened everything in her body, especially the intense pleasure. If she got too much, she knew it could make her really disoriented and even knock her out. But she trusted that he was going to take only enough to make him feel better…and to make her see stars.

Fight or flight was kicking in, amping up the adrenaline in her body and sending her into a frenzy. It was what had sent her running from Beckham the first night that he drank from her. It was what made humans fear vampires. But the adrenaline could make you want more too. It was a rush. Hot and primal and exotic. It sent heat straight to her core, heating her up and making her body practically vibrate with need.

Then just as quickly as he’d gone in, he came up, breathing heavily with blood on his lips and looking as if he was ready to orgasm. His pupils blasted out and his sharp features heightened.

“You,” he groaned.

“Me?” she asked breathily.

He moved up her body and she reached in between them, taking his cock in her hand. His eyes closed for a split second at the touch. She stroked him idly as the rest of the venom flooded her system, giving her the best high of her fucking life.

“Taste like Heaven.”

“My blood or my pussy?” she joked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Both.”

Then he kissed her, filling her mouth with the taste of her body. He grabbed both of her hands and pushed them over her head before thrusting forward into her body. His mouth muffled her cry of desire as he moved in and out of her in the most delicious way.

Beckham Anderson had stolen her heart, he owned her body, and as they came together, their souls touched.

Chapter 9

Kisses trailed down her naked back.

Reyna hummed happily in response. “I like that.”

“Mmm,” Beckham murmured against her bare skin the next morning. “You have raised gooseflesh.”

A finger glided up her spine, touching every vertebra until she shivered uncontrollably.

She sighed. “I could stay in this bed all day.”

His mouth returned to her skin, tasting every inch of her. “If only you didn’t have to save the world.”

She humphed. “A girl can’t have a day off?”

“Sure. Let me take care of it.”

“Yeah, no,” she said, turning her head to look at him. He was grinning as if he’d known that she would never relinquish the power she had claimed since New Year’s.

“Do you know how many people have openly disagreed with me?” Beckham asked casually.

“And lived?”

He arched an eyebrow, which only made her giggle.

“I’m going to guess not many.”

“Before Visage, when we became more…civilized…very very few.”

He’d stumbled over the word civilized as if he knew that it didn’t quite fit them. Beckham had been one of the most dangerous vampires. For his cleverness and sheer brutality. For his controlled insanity.

“Well, you’re not going to hurt me,” she sassed him.