Page 113 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

“Really?” Everett asked. He furrowed his brow. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Yeah. It made it hard for him to stop.”

“So, just like that, you’re going to go back? After he almost killed you?”

Everett’s voice was low and pained. He clearly hated this line of discussion. He wouldn’t even look at her. He was staring down at his phone. She could never make him understand.

“He didn’t mean any of that,” she insisted. “He lost control. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. My fight-or-flight reaction kicked in, and I ran without thinking. He followed me to the elevator and said it was a mistake. Now that I’ve come down from what happened, I know he was right. I actually said some pretty horrible things.” She winced as the memory hit her fresh again. A monster. Christ.

“You should stay here a little longer, Reyna,” Everett said. His eyes finally met hers, and he looked sad. “I’m not trying to push you, but what you went through was traumatic. Maybe you should give yourself time to heal and process.”

Did she need time to process? Sure, having Beckham lose control had been scary. It had made her freak out. But he had said it was a mistake, and she believed him. She had been too freaked out to see beyond her own fear to his sincerity. She shouldn’t have let Everett lead her away. She should have gone to the park and then come back a couple of minutes later to discuss what had happened. Instead, she had barely made it inside Everett’s apartment before passing out.

“I’m fine,” she said finally. She started toward the door, finding her balance along the way.

“You might be,” he conceded. “Physically, at least, but that doesn’t mean your mind is. I remember my bite. My body recovered, but I was still fucked up in here.” He reached out and touched her temple.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Really. I know Beckham isn’t going to hurt me, and I want to let him know that I know that.”

“I hate to say this, Reyna. I really do. But have you considered the fact that you have Stockholm syndrome?”

Reyna’s mouth dropped open. He thought that she cared for Beckham because she was his prisoner? “I donothave Stockholm syndrome.”

“Come on. Isn’t it worth considering? It’s the same kind of situation. He takes you off the streets, gives you everything you could want except your freedom. Then the first time he hurts you, you go running back to your cage, hoping he’ll forgive you for leaving and wanting to make surehe’sokay?”

“No, I’m not considering that.” She refused. This was ridiculous. She had left. She had walked out of his apartment. She didn’t feel like his prisoner, and she hadn’t in a long time.

“He took you in, almost killed you, and now you want to go back without even stopping to think about it?”

Reyna narrowed her eyes. “Beckham isn’t a bad guy. He lost control this one time.”

“What happens the next time he loses control?” he asked, staring her down. “Do you wind up dead instead of drugged?”

“No. He would never do that.”

Reyna crossed her arms. She didn’t have to listen to this. All she wanted to do was get back to Beckham. Everett’s words were laced with jealousy or prejudice or whatever the hell his problem was. But he didn’t know Beckham. He wasn’t like all the other vampires she had met. One bad action didn’t make him bad.

“I hope you’re right.” Everett rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “I don’t want to argue with you. I want you to be safe. I’m not sure Beckham is going to keep you safe.”

“Well, you don’t know him.”

Reyna pushed his arm away and walked toward the door. His time was up. The panic in his eyes about her leaving wasn’t helping anything. She was going to leave whether he thought it was a good idea or not.

Everett stepped in front of her. “Reyna…”

“Take me back to Beckham’s or get out of my way.”

“You can’t leave.”

She glared at him. “Like hell I can’t.”

She pushed past him, but he grabbed her hands in his and shoved her backward. She stumbled a few steps. Her feet nearly left the floor, but she righted herself. Her eyes rose to Everett’s. He had pushed her!

“Reyna, I’m sorry. I want you to stop and think about this.”

“I appreciate you taking care of me. I do. But I won’t let Beckham think I’m angry when I’m not. And you can’t stand in my way of doing that.”

“I understand,” he said. His shoulders slumped, and he looked resolved. “But it’s almost curfew.”

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