Page 47 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

Perspective.

She undid the ribbon and took the lid off of the box. Inside was a sleek black camera with a large lens and a thick strap. She removed the camera reverently. Her parents had had one when she was a kid, but she didn’t know exactly how this one worked. It took a couple of minutes of fiddling around with the buttons before it turned on. The screen lit up but didn’t show her what she was looking at. Pressing her eyes to the small square at the top, she pointed it in the direction of her closet and pressed down hard on the button at the top. The camera clicked and whirred, and when she looked down, an image of her closet appeared in perfect clarity.

Her mouth hung open. It was amazing.

“Perspective, huh?” she mused.

She pressed it against her chest and rushed into the next room.

“A camera,” she said excitedly when she saw Beckham seated at a barstool in the kitchen, staring down at his blasted phone.

He glanced at her once, scrutinizing her appearance. She stilled under that molten gaze. “And here I thought you’d complain about the dress.”

“Oh. Well, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve dressed me up in,” she retorted. Her cheeks were pink from his assessment, but she was too giddy to think about the hot and cold. “But a camera, Becks.”

He shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. “You said you wanted a hobby.”

“It’s amazing,” she breathed.

Before she could think twice, she threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened beneath her, and she quickly released him. But she didn’t apologize. She was too excited to care.

“Can I go shooting now? What will I take pictures of?” she asked.

“I presume whatever you want.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“Wait,” he snapped, reaching out and grasping her hand to keep her from darting away. “We should set ground rules.”

“Does everything come with rules?” she groaned.

“Yes.”

“Fine. What are they? Let’s get this over with.”

He gave her a stern look, but she just smiled. “It’s very simple. If you leave here to take pictures, you may go wherever you please as long as you take my car and have a security guard with you.”

Reyna’s mouth dropped open. “You think I need a bodyguard?”

He ignored her question entirely. “If the security guard believes you to be in danger inanyway, he has express permission to remove you from the situation.”

“Anythingelse?” She understood that she needed to be safe, but he could have at least made it seem less like she was going to have all her moves watched at all times.

“What do you plan to do with the photos?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t know. I just got the damn thing.” She shrugged. “Look at them? Is there a way I can put them on the computer?”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly.

“Then probably that.”

“This is important, Reyna. I don’t want your photographs to show up anywhere with your name on it. I can set you up an anonymous secured website and show you how to add to it, but no one needs to know it’s you or that I’m letting you do this.”

“Why does it even matter?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Haven’t you ever heard that a picture is worth a thousand words? I don’t want any of those words connected to you.”

“Or you,” she reasoned.

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