Page 81 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Beckham opened the door and assisted her out of the car. There was a door that blended in with the surrounding concrete and opened at their approach. They entered a nearly pitch-black hallway. At the end was a small room with a giant vault door. Beckham passed a white card through a slot next to the door, and then a hand slipped them two similar cards.

“Welcome to the Vault,” a woman purred from the other side.

“What’s that?” Reyna asked, pointing at the cards.

“Participation cards. You won’t need yours.”

Reyna arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because youwon’tbe participating,” he growled low.

She looked up at him defiantly. “And what if I want to participate in whatever this is?”

Beckham tugged her close to him so they were nearly pressed together. “This bracelet says you’re mine, Little One. No one can get near you but me, and they would be a fool to do so.”

Reyna nodded despite her trepidation about what was to come. Their conversation made no sense to her—participation cards, bracelets that claimed her—so she steeled herself for whatever she was about to witness.

The large handle on the door turned in circles and then pushed inward. When the door opened all the way, she was transported into another world and gasped.

“It’s a sex club,” she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“A brothel, technically,” Beckham said.

Reyna stared around the room in awe. The whole place was decorated in swaths of red, purple, and black. Divans covered with pillows littered the perimeter of the large open room. Tables were set up with dozens of plush chairs around them already occupied by attendees. Everything was centered around a stage with a large white bed on it.

She tore her eyes from the empty stage and to the patrons in the establishment. Many were pulling people into shadowed alcoves where they could do things she could only imagine. Bare-chested men in nothing but tight black shorts carried around trays with cocktails and a little dropper filled with something as red as blood. She didn’t even want to know what that was for. Stark-naked women lay on buffet-style tables filled with all varieties of food. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

The patrons were all vampires dressed to the nines with lapdog humans on leashes and all forms of debauchery. Even though Reyna matched the general attire of most other women in the place, she felt out of her depth. In fact, most people wore less than her. But it was the feeling of power that reverberated throughout the room. Vampires had all of it, and the humans were subjugated to their desires. She shuddered at the thought.

“You said you wanted to come,” Beckham reminded her.

“And now I’m here.”

He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Take off your robe.”

She didn’t even question him. She could tell by the vibe in the room that this was not the place for questions. She swallowed back her discomfort, looked up at him, and let the material slide to the floor. His eyes crawled over her body again, and she noticed a slight tremor in his hand.

“I need a drink,” he said.

Reyna smiled at the implied meaning in his words.

She followed him across the room and tried to keep her eyes on him alone rather than the decadence and debauchery around her. They took a seat at the back of the room. She tucked her chair under the table until most of her body was obscured.

Beckham sat next to her, and a waiter approached them. She accepted a glass of water, because she wanted to keep a clear head, but Beckham ordered scotch.

“A drop, Mr. Anderson?” the waiter asked.

He waved his hand. “No.”

The man nodded, handed him a drink, and then disappeared.

“What is adrop?” she asked.

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