Blood Cure (Blood Type 3)

She needed him pounding into her. Taking her body. Owning her body.

“I’m yours,” she repeated over and over again until her climax hit her like a tidal wave.

She cried out in the backseat of the limo as Beckham fucked her brains out. His own climax followed violently. As if his very roar of ecstasy could shake this world. And together they would remake it.

* * *

—

The rest of the ride was tense and silent.

Reyna had thought that, once they got that out of their system, things would go back to normal. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

An uncomfortable strain echoed between them like a discordant song.

She’d never felt out of sync with Beckham. Even the days when she was terrified of him, where she had no idea what was going on in that limitless mind, even when she’d believed that he loved Penelope. They might have been on a different octave, but they were still in tune.

This stretched and expanded immeasurably.

All she had to do was reach out and touch his emotions to see what he was feeling. But…she couldn’t. No, wouldn’t. Exposing herself to anything but his love was asking to push herself over the edge. He wouldn’t be pleased and she couldn’t blame him.

She wasn’t happy about what had happened back there. That they’d been puppets in a master’s show, twirling around on the strings he pulled. That she had been the thread he’d pulled to get what he wanted. And she was certain that he’d gotten a lot more than they’d been forced to give. Not that she knew how it’d been possible.

All she knew was that he’d enjoyed it. Taken some perverse pleasure from their discomfort. No love lost from him, that she and Beckham were now at odds. Limits tested and left reeling from the emotional whiplash.

The limo finally came to a stop back at the location where they had been picked up. The driver opened the back door. “After you.”

Beckham slid out of the backseat. Reyna took a deep breath and followed him.

“Thank you so much for coming. Hope to see you again soon,” the driver said pleasantly.

It was incredible that Graves’ staff was so friendly and personable when the man himself was…obstinate, at best.

Beckham inclined his head at the driver. Reyna threw him a half smile. She didn’t have to tap into Beckham’s emotions to know that seeing Graves again in this lifetime would be too soon. Reyna seconded that.

She followed Beckham through the double doors of the building. He’d already phoned Gerard to come get them when they were getting close. Gabe was waiting inside, pacing back and forth on the tiled floor like a caged animal. He’d changed into all-black attire. His red hair stark against the rest of his clothes. His jaw set.

His head snapped up at their approach. “ ’Bout fucking time!”

“Hey, Gabe,” she said.

“It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning. You were gone for-fucking-ever.”

Reyna chewed her lip. She hadn’t even realized how long they’d been at Graves’. Time had seemed to slow and stretch.

“Well, we’re here now.”

His eyes jumped from one to the other. “So, how’d it go? Did you get the information? What was it like? What was he like?”

Without even a single word, Beckham punched Gabe in the face. He fell back a few steps, spiraling his arms to try to stay on his feet. Then his hand went to his jaw as he cursed violently.

“Beckham!” Reyna cried, reaching out for Gabe.

“What the fuck?” Gabe cried at almost the same.

But Beckham wasn’t even looking at them. He was far off somewhere else. His face cold and hard as stone. The mask she’d seen for so long before. Then he walked past them both.

“Jesus Christ! I just asked a fucking question,” he grumbled. “What’s with him?”

Reyna sighed. “I don’t know. It was tense and it’s been a long night. But he shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

“You think?”

Reyna’s eyes were still following Beckham out the door to where Gerard was waiting. “We should probably get back.”

“What happened that has him so pissed off?”

“We got what we were looking for,” Reyna said on a sigh. “But there was a price. One neither of us wanted to pay.”

“I see. Must have really rankled him.” Gabe followed her toward the door. “I’m dying to know though…what’s the contact’s name? Everyone is so secretive.”

Reyna opened her mouth. Graves. She coughed. Nothing came out. She tried again. Graves.

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t find out?”

She swallowed, shocked by the fact that she couldn’t make herself say his name. She could think it. She’d been able to say it in his presence—hell, he’d commanded her call him Graves. But now she couldn’t say it out loud. Had she said it out loud since leaving his house?

“He told us,” she muttered. “But…but I can’t say it.”