Blood Type Page 13

  Chapter 17

  When she left her room again, Beckham was gone. She could have skipped out on this entire escapade and taken her camera into the city all on her own. But then her nightmares hit her fresh. She couldn’t do that. Not to herself and not to Beckham. He had been genuinely worried about her, and the last thing she wanted was for something to happen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Sophie.

  She traipsed down to the lobby and was relieved to see that Everett was back to work.

  “Miss Carpenter,” he said formally, not meeting her eyes.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but what could she say? He might have defended Beckham for saving his life. But he knew what she was and all of his friends now knew too. Maybe Beckham was right. Maybe it was all bad and there was no way to break through it. Everett was the nicest, most genuinely kind and optimistic person she had met. If he couldn’t get past the fact that she worked for Visage, then she didn’t know if anyone really could.

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “Mr. Anderson’s car today?” Everett responded.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He signaled Beckham’s driver. The minute they stood together in silence was painful. She wanted to say so much. How glad she was that he was back at work, reiterate how sorry she was about the attack, try to refute the things his friends had said about her. She knew what a blood whore looked like now…

  Instead, she didn’t say anything.

  She just let Everett open the door for her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Their eyes met in that brief moment after she sat down and before he closed the door. It felt as if the distance was insurmountable. Things would never be the same. Maybe he would never be the same.

  The drive to the boutique, where she was meeting Sophie, was short. Reyna hoisted the large hobo bag over her shoulder. The weight of her camera in the bottom of the bag gave her confidence, and she strutted forward in her high heels. She was finally getting the hang of things. Still she hoped that she would have enough time, after this trip, to get some clothes that were more comfortable and would help her blend in to take pictures.

  When Reyna entered the storefront, she teetered in her heels uncertainly. She had expected a small shop with a few dresses. When she thought designer clothing, that was what she envisioned. But this place was massive. Two or three stories high and stretching at least a city block.

  A woman as tall, lean, and beautiful as any vampire she had ever met clicked her tiny pointy-toe heels toward her. She was in a black dress that hugged her thin figure and had her hair pulled up into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. As she drew closer, Reyna startled when she realized that she was human. How could any human be this beautiful?

  “You must be Reyna,” she said with a smile. “I’m Blythe.”

  “Hello.”

  “Your friend has already arrived. Allow me to escort you.”

  “Sure,” she said, trying to will confidence into her steps.

  Her eyes roamed the walls filled with so many beautiful expensive clothes that she didn’t even know where to begin. How could anyone afford this? Better yet, how could they do this when there were so many starving, and working for nothing, and needy? It turned her stomach that she was even part of it.

  “We’re so glad that you’ve chosen our store for your shopping pleasure. Mr. Anderson informed us that this was your first shopping expedition and to treat you with the utmost courtesy. Are you excited?”

  “Um…a little overwhelmed already.”

  She smiled kindly. “That’s perfectly normal. We’ve had others come through for their first time. It’s most important to outfit Visage employees. We’re known for it, in fact. Some of the designers have an entire Subject–Sponsor line.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. What kind of clothes would come in a Subject–Sponsor line? Did she even want to know?

  “You’re looking for a ball gown, correct?”

  “Yes. Something extravagant, I’m sure.” She rolled her eyes.

  Blythe’s eyes sparkled. “We can do extravagant.”

  “I’d prefer to blend into the background, but I have a feeling that isn’t what I’m supposed to do.”

  “A beauty like you?” she asked. “Absolutely not. We’ll make you and your friend Sophie sparkle beyond measure. When in a room of vampires, you have to go out of your way.”

  They entered a section of the store filled with ball gowns. Every shape, size, color was available. She had no idea where to begin. All she could do was stand there dumbfounded and stare at the extreme luxury.

  “Reyna! There you are,” Sophie called, walking out of a dressing room in the most revealing yellow gown. The neckline dropped almost to her navel. The sides were cut out, making her waist look teeny tiny. When she turned to stand on a box and stare at her reflection in the glass, Reyna saw that the back crisscrossed and then dipped unbelievably low before ruffling down to her feet.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  “Isn’t it divine?”

  “It’s…something.”

  Sophie pinched the sides. “I think I can go a size down, Blythe. This one is a bit baggy. Don’t you think?”

  Baggy where? She looked stunning. Her blond hair cascaded over one shoulder as she looked at the salesclerk seemingly innocently.

  “We could have it taken in. Better to have a little bit of room so it’s easier to get on and off than to go a size lower.”

  Clever answer.

  “No,” Sophie said, looking at herself in the mirror. “It’s all wrong. I want to be irresistible to every man in the room.”

  Without another thought for modesty, she wrenched the zipper down to the bottom of the dress and let the material slide off of her body and pool in a heap on the floor. She wore nothing but a white strapless bra, matching thong, and high heels. She kicked the dress away from her and sighed.

  “Find me something else. Something that would eclipse the sun.” Then she turned and stalked dramatically back into the dressing room. “Come on, Reyna. Find something you like. Are you even a sample size?”

  Reyna ignored her snide remark. It didn’t matter what size she was.

  Blythe looked over at Reyna with a perfectly neutral expression on her face. She looked Reyna up and down, taking her measurements with her eyes. “I have just the thing.”

  Reyna bit her lip. “Sorry about her.”

  “Miss Sophie is a great customer. We like to keep her happy. Why don’t we get you a few choices and I’ll bring them to you in the dressing room?”

  “Thank you.”

  Reyna clutched her bag awkwardly as she walked back toward Sophie. There was another woman who offered her a glass of champagne, which she promptly refused.

  “Don’t be a prude,” Sophie said, striding back out in another tiny yellow dress.

  “I’m not thirsty. Thank you.”

  “Whatever. Are you excited about the ball? I’ve never been to a Visage ball. It’s going to be so amazing. All the right people. I’ve only been to small parties. So, I know all the major players, but this…gah, I’m dying,” she said. She ran her hands down the silky material. “I mean, not really dying.” Then she giggled.

  “That one is nice.”

  “Nice? Ugh. You’re bad at this.”

  She stripped out of that dress too and then just stood there with her hand on her hips. Her body was unbelievable. Reyna felt bad for even looking at her, but she clearly wanted to flaunt it.

  “Here you are, Reyna,” Blythe said. She carried a handful of dresses with her into the dressing room. “Do you have your card?”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry!” She fished out her credit card and passed it over to Blythe. Before it got to her, Sophie snatched it out of her hand.

  “Holy shit!”<
br />
  “What?” Reyna asked.

  “You have a fucking black card?”

  “Um…yeah?”

  “How the fuck did you get ahold of this? Beckham gave it to you?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Fuck. I need one of these. I’m going to make Rowland give me one of these. I’m on a cap. Ugh! It’s frustrating as hell. I should have unlimited access to everything I want. Not that he denies me anything, but still. A black card! This is a must!”

  “Miss Sophie,” Blythe said, putting her hand out.

  “Oh right. So jelly.” She handed over the card, giving Reyna a pouty face as if she had any control over Sophie getting a credit card. Let alone any control over getting the card in the first place.

  When Blythe walked away, Reyna closed the door on the dressing room. She had no special lingerie to try this stuff on like Sophie. Her closet was stocked with little silk panties and bras that fit her perfectly, but she still felt uncomfortable stripping in the middle of the store.

  The first dress was a baby blue mermaid dress that she found impossible to walk in. She started to take it off, but she heard Sophie on the other side.

  “God, you’re taking forever. When do I get to see?”

  “You want to see?”

  “Duh! Haven’t you done this before?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Well, come out, silly.”

  Reyna stepped out in the dress and Sophie wrinkled her nose. “No. Gross. Go change.”

  Reyna rolled her eyes. Why would she want to see the obvious duds?

  They tried on a few more dresses before Sophie finally landed on one that she fell in love with. It was all white like a wedding gown with real crystals embedded in the dress. It sparkled like a diamond whenever she moved.

  “So,” Sophie said, in a better mood now that she had found a dress. “How many times did you and Beckham bang before he gave you that card?”

  Reyna stumbled in the fitted dress she was wearing. “What?” she gasped.

  “Oh my God, stop being such a prude!”

  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She was terrified to look at her reflection. She felt flushed from head to toe.

  “Oh please! I’m not naive enough for that.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “That dress sucks.”

  Reyna hurried back to the dressing room for what felt like the hundredth dress. She took her sweet time not wanting to continue that conversation with Sophie. Why did she think Reyna was sleeping with Beckham? Was that part of the job description that she had missed? Not that she hadn’t thought about it…or that she didn’t want to, by any means…

  “So…is he good?” Sophie asked.

  “Is who good?”

  “Beckham, obviously. Get with it, Reyna. Is Beckham good in bed?” she asked, but didn’t wait for Reyna’s response before continuing. “I mean, Rowland is rough with me and all, but he’s French. You know what they say about the French?”

  “What do they say?” she murmured.

  “Oh, you know,” she said distractedly. She fluttered her fingers dismissively. “Anyway, I know Rowland is nice and rough, but Beckham. I couldn’t imagine. Rowland tells me he has such a dark past. I could just imagine that he’s an animal in bed.”

  Reyna swallowed hard. How had they gotten to this conversation? Ugh!

  “So, is he?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she said softly.

  “You don’t know if he’s an animal? I mean, how is he compared to your other lovers?”

  Reyna closed her eyes to try to stave off her embarrassment. “Honestly Sophie, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t slept with Beckham.”

  Sophie started laughing, but when she looked up at Reyna she stopped. “Wait…you’re serious?”

  “Couldn’t be more serious.”

  “Oh my God, how is that possible? Rowland had his hands all over me on day one. Couldn’t get enough of me, until I was literally delirious from the bites and exhausted beyond measure.”

  “I did not need to know that,” Reyna said, raising her hand.

  “But…how did you get the black card, then?”

  Reyna shrugged helplessly. “He just gave it to me.”

  “He just…gave it to you.” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  “There you are, ma chérie!” Rowland crowed.

  He strode into the fitting room area with purpose, bypassing Blythe without so much as a glance. His eyes were fixed on Sophie standing in her stunning white gown. Then his eyes drifted to Reyna, and they widened with approval. Once the surprise wore off of his face, his smile was devious and eyes desirous. She felt completely exposed in the black floor-length gown she was wearing with its high slit to her upper thigh and the plunging neckline.

  Sophie threw herself into his arms, breaking their eye contact. For that Reyna was grateful. “Don’t you love my gown for the ball?”

  She twirled in place for him and he smiled admiringly.

  “Yes. It’s perfection. Go get out of it so the sales associate can box it up for us.” He motioned for Blythe to follow Sophie into the room, leaving him completely alone with Reyna.

  Reyna stayed stark still, up for display on the box before a row of mirrors and Rowland’s prowling eyes.

  “My Reyna, you are…stunning.” He seemed to savor the word on his tongue.

  “Thank you.”

  “If you show up to the ball in that, you will outshine every woman in attendance.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “Beckham is a very lucky man,” Rowland said, suddenly directly in front of her.

  “Oh…yeah. I guess.” She swallowed and tried to look anywhere but at him.

  “Does he satisfy you? That self-restrained brooding stoic? Is he a good lover?”

  She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and he was staring at her like he would very much like to find out if he would satisfy her. Or more precisely like he wanted to find out and then snap her neck and would enjoy doing both.

  “I could show you what you are missing,” he growled, running his fingers up her bare arm.

  His hands on her felt wrong on so many levels. Her throat tightened and she tried to remain perfectly still. Maybe if she didn’t move, she wouldn’t draw his further attention. Maybe he would walk right past her, back to Sophie, and not molest her with his eyes. All she wanted to do was run away from him, but it was not as if she could escape a vampire. Nor was he an enemy she wanted at her back.

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but Beckham is very predatory. I don’t think that he would want to…share.”

  In truth, she didn’t want anyone else. Whether Beckham wanted to share or not mattered little to her in that moment.

  Rowland narrowed his eyes and grabbed her by the hair. “I’d like to see Beckham get predatory…”

  Reyna cried out at the sudden assault. She closed her eyes and shook from head to toe. “Please…please…”

  “Just think, I could taste you right here. And maybe if you’re lucky, I’d let you taste my blood too. Mingled together and you would be remade.” His hand caressed her cheek. “You’d make the prettiest little vampire.”

  “Please, please stop,” she said, squeezing her eyes together and trying to release the tension on her hair.

  “What is going on?” Sophie asked, appearing out of the dressing room.

  Rowland released her roughly. “Nothing. The car is waiting for you. Have the dress delivered.”

  And then he turned and strode out of the room. Reyna couldn’t rein in her fear even after Sophie left with a mixture of pity, jealousy, and anger rolling off of her.

  “Miss Reyna?” Blythe said. “Have you decided on a dress?”

  “Yes. I’
d like you to charge this one to the card,” she said, her eyes like molten lava, “and then burn it.”

  Chapter 18

  With Beckham occupied with work, Reyna hadn’t found time to tell him about Rowland. Maybe she was avoiding it. She didn’t really want to recount what had happened. Beckham was overly protective, and she would rather stay under the radar about it all.

  But as the days grew closer and closer to the ball, her anxiety peaked. She didn’t want to see Rowland and have his disgusting eyes on her. She had scrubbed herself clean all afternoon to get over the feel of his hands touching her. To rid herself of the desire clear on his face.

  She spent more time with her camera after that, to avoid revealing to Beckham what had happened. The driver had agreed to stop at another clothing store, where she picked up a few plain T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a baseball cap, and her coveted Converse. She had stashed all of those clothes in a hiding spot where hopefully no one else would find them and throw them away. On the rare occasion that Beckham was home when she was planning to head out, she would stash her street clothes in an oversized bag and change in the car.

  It was hard enough getting pictures the way she wanted without standing out like a sore thumb. She never again wanted to encounter what had happened when she had gone back to the Warehouses dressed in silk and heels. She might have a bodyguard, but she knew people were not forgiving of the wealthy in this environment. And she could hardly blame them. She didn’t want their anger to come down on her.

  And the pictures she wanted to take weren’t nice normal pictures of the city. She preferred the ones that showcased the true heart of the city, sort of like the black-and-white ones hanging in Beckham’s living room. She wanted to capture what was really happening. She wanted to find her perspective.

  Most of her time was spent trying to take pictures of the poor, the homeless, the beggars, blood whores, starving vampires, human–vampire interaction on every level. She wanted to remember what it felt like to see these people. She never wanted to become the establishment or forget where she came from.