Blood Cure (Blood Type 3)

He was no better than when they’d first gotten him though. He woke up with a fiery vengeance. He snapped and snarled and yelled. He tried to kick and bite and claw his way out of the chair. But with the chains in place, he wasn’t going anywhere. Especially not as malnourished as he was.

“You should go downstairs,” Beckham told her.

“No, I want to be here for him.”

Beckham’s eyes were black and depthless. His hardened mask was in place. And for the first time since she’d found Brian, she delved into Beckham’s emotions. He was practically projecting them into her. She could feel the hardened exterior, the savage beast within. She could practically taste the ferocity on her tongue. Feel the thing he had to become to handle this.

And feel that he didn’t want her to become it. He was doing this to protect her. As much as he worried for her fragility, he didn’t want this to ruin her fragile human heart. He’d promised to break it. But only him. Not this. Never this.

She swallowed and nodded. No words needed to be spoken. They were on the same page.

She stepped through the door and tried to close herself off to the sounds coming from the room down the hall.

* * *

—

It was hours and hours before the others finally returned. Reyna had retreated to the farthest corner of the house. She was sure she could still hear Brian’s screams. Or maybe that was just in her head.

“Hey!” Jodie said, skipping into the room. “We just had the best day. Wait…what’s wrong?”

Reyna shook her head. She didn’t want to repeat the words. She’d been trying to forget them all day. Despite the screams.

And there was another one.

Jodie’s head snapped up to the staircase. “What the fuck? What the hell happened while we were gone?”

Reyna sighed and stood. She straightened her back. She could do this. She could survive it. “Brian.”

“Brian? You found him?” Jodie eyes lit up.

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing! How did that happen?” Then she scrunched up her nose. “Is he okay? Why the screaming?”

“He’s…he’s not okay.”

Meghan and Tye rushed into the room, followed closely by Zoya and Katarina, who had her swords drawn.

“It’s okay,” Reyna said. She held her hands up to keep them from charging forward to put out the fire. “Everything’s…okay.”

Katarina whirled on her. “Where is the screaming coming from?”

“Upstairs. Beckham has…he has Brian up there.” A flicker of recognition lit up in Meghan and Tye’s eyes, but the expressions on the faces of Beckham’s circle remained questioning. “My brother. My brother is upstairs.”

“You found him?” Tye asked in relief. “How the hell did that happen?”

She didn’t want to deliver this news. Not to the people in front of her. Not to Drew or Laura. Not to anyone. But…she had to.

“He was turned,” she whispered.

All the air was sucked out of the room.

“No,” Meghan whispered.

Katarina slid her blades back into their holsters behind her shoulders. “Newborn?”

Reyna nodded. “And starving.”

“Someone has gone out for blood?” Zoya asked.

“Yes.”

“The boss has him chained up?” Katarina asked.

“Yeah. They…they purposely starved him. We’re not sure if he’s going to come back from the point of brutality. He went so long without blood, Beckham is concerned that even the blood type cure might not bring him back to what he was.”

Zoya and Katarina exchanged a glance. They’d been there when Beckham had used it as a form of torture. They knew the odds of Brian coming around.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Zoya suggested.

“I have the best recipe for Russian tea,” Katarina offered as Zoya gently moved Reyna to the couch. As if she were a wild animal about to bolt.

“Russian tea?” Reyna asked in confusion.

“Vodka. Takes the edge off.”

“This isn’t good,” Jodie muttered.

“Jodie, come help me in the kitchen,” Katarina snapped. “Meghan and Tye, blankets and candles. It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

—

Reyna fell asleep on the couch with her head against a pillow and her feet in Meghan’s lap. Having someone to take care of had finally seemed to snap Meghan out of the daze she’d been walking around in for the last couple weeks. She’d helped Zoya and Katarina nurse Reyna through the hours and hours of screaming and snarling.

Soft voices and the feel of fingers brushing her hair out of her face drew Reyna from her deep slumber. She felt half-awake and half-asleep. Somewhere in an in-between place.

“How’s she doing?” Beckham whispered low.

“As well as can be expected,” Katarina responded. “She is sleeping. That is best.”

“How much vodka did you give her to get her to do that?”

“Enough.” Katarina sighed. “Will the boy make it through?”

“He’s going to need more blood. He’s rabid. If I could just get him to drink, then maybe he’ll pull through.”

“Did you ever think that we’d be the ones trying to save a rogue vampire?” she asked with a tinge of humor in her voice.