Page 52 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

“There you are, ma chérie,” Roland 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 they drifted to Reyna and widened with approval. Once the surprise wore off of his face, his smile was devious and 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 stock-still, up for display on the box before a row of mirrors and Roland’s prowling eyes.

“My, Reyna. You are stunning.” He savored 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,” Roland said, suddenly directly in front of her.

“Oh, yeah. I guess.” She swallowed and looked 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 remained 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 territorial. 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.

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

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.

Roland 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, “and then burn it.”

Chapter Seventeen

With Beckham occupied with work, Reyna hadn’t found time to tell him about Roland. 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 Roland 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.

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