She didn't want to think about it. Had no reason to. The General had brought her back here and that was all that mattered.
What was he playing at offering her his blood anyway?
Was he mad?
Or was he after something?
It had to be the latter. With Killian, it would always be that latter.
But really, what was he playing at? Vampires didn't drink from vampires. Not under normal circumstances. And under the circumstances that a vampire did drink from another vampire then it was...like...sort of intimate.
And not normal sexual intimacy. It was a bonded kind of intimate. A passionate kind.
What was he even thinking to throw that curve ball at her in the first place? She'd told him not twenty-four hours before that how blood poisoning was spread. Through the swapping of blood. Surely that would've been big enough for him to keep his 'blood sources' limited to a trusted rota. And here he was ready to add Reagan to the mix?
Madness.
Maybe it was because she was soon to die. She'd displayed no symptoms of the poisoning, and with her spot in the cells, she couldn't exactly go out and get herself infected.
Blood—ugh.
Vampire or not, the actual taste of it left her queasy.
Why would he offer that? And right after that too?
She pushed him from her mind. With the dying woman in front of her, forgetting about him for a time was easy. A relief, come to think of it.
She hated the silence that blanketed the cells. Not the whole cellblock, just their area specifically. Jenna hadn't spoken a word in hours. Equally, Reagan didn't know what to say. She wasn't all that good at the whole comforting skit. As well as that, she didn't want to say something untoward and thrust Jenna into another painful memory.
"How you feeling?" She asked eventually, forcing the words out. Everything felt redundant. Like there was nothing left to say. Nothing that could make this any easier. Jenna was as good as dead already.
"I feel like I'm going to die today."
She needed to lighten this situation. She didn't do these sappy goodbyes. Hell, Reagan didn't do goodbyes at all. She'd never really had anyone to say goodbye to.
"Try to hurt them whilst you're at it, yeah? Give them hell."
"I think I'm just going to take it," Jenna said. There was no fight left in her. Not anymore. "Get it over with fast. My body hurts. There's no need to take it... to take it further. It's not like—it's not as if I've ever had much worth living for."
Reagan avoided looking at her.
Jenna's situation was too much of a reminder. It hit too close to home.
She'd led the same life as her Mother. At least Jenna would be going down with her dignity.
"You know," Jenna mused. "I think this might be the first time the guards will be coming this way to get me instead of you. Ought to be quicker since there's not fifty million locks on my cell. I wish they were coming to take you to him. It feels like I should've done something more. Like I've never really lived at all. Like I'm going to die leaving nothing of myself behind. I haven't—I've never lived. Not really."
She hadn't. Reagan knew that for a fact.
Jenna had seen nothing and experienced nothing beyond what was her normal. She'd been a pawn in someone else's game her entire life. Something to be tossed around on the side lines. Something to be used and paid for but never truly appreciated. Never held dear.
"It'll be weird when you're not here," Reagan offered. "Who will I have to talk to?"
Her stomach churned with discomfort.
Reagan had never really lost anyone. Not that she'd really be losing Jenna. They'd only known each other for two weeks, forced by circumstance. When her Mother kicked the bucket, the blood poisoning had rotted her brain. She'd withered away weeks ago. Besides, she'd never been fully present in the first place.
Reagan wasn't sure how to cope with death.
"They'll replace me," Jenna scoffed. "And I doubt you'll be down here for long anyway."
"Ha, they'll kill me faster to get it over with."
"That's not what I meant."
Reagan's stomach dropped,churning all over again, but she never got the chance to question Jenna any further. The steady marching of the guards' feet was already upon them. Jenna was right. For the first time since Reagan had been put down here, it wasn't her they were coming for.
There were only two guards here for Jenna. Had it been Reagan, there'd have been five-wary of what she could do-unless the General had come to get her himself. But it was common knowledge that Jenna couldn't teleport. Even if she could, her sickness would kill her from the strain of it. To the guards, Jenna didn't pose a threat.
An even weirder feeing hit her as the guards snatched Jenna from her cell.
It wasn't a feeling she was used to—but she knew it so well.
Sadness.
Undeniable sadness—because Jenna had become her friend. A friend. Something she had so few of. For a time, in a strange way, it felt like she'd had a little piece of her Mother back. Disjointed as it may have been.
And now she was gone again.
She was dead either way.
That knowledge should've made it easier.
They dragged Jenna down the halls, never to be seen again.
Reagan peeled her ears, hating that her witch senses won out over those of the vampire. If Jenna had said something, pleaded for her life, offered any final words—anything—then Reagan was none the wiser.
Reagan stared forwards for a long time. Longer than she meant to, contemplating what to do with this feeling. What to convert it to.
The guards were back soon. They walked slower this time, more resigned in their steps now they'd come for her. And as was typical for Reagan, there were more of them. They were dealing with a threat now. The dangerous prisoner. The one none of them knew anything about.
She let them take her to the General's room without putting up a fight. A blank expression fixed itself upon her face.
Inside, she didn't bother with her usual routine. She kept her shoes on and lingered by the door awaiting instruction. She wasn't in the mood to be broken down and interrogated.
They'd left things on a tense note anyway.
His fault.
What kind of mad man offered their blood up to someone they barely knew? Worse, he'd expected her to drink it straight from his vein. Could it get anymore intimate than that?
It had to be a lapse in judgement. The orgasmic atmosphere had gotten to his head, leading to a temporary break in rationality.
An outfit was laid out across his bed. A little black skirt with a white t-shirt, a black waistcoat and a red bow tie. The same clothes the castle staff wore. Reagan trailed her fingers over the uniform. They'd be going through with their plan today. By the time she'd made it to the bed to inspect it, shuffling through the pile, the General had emerged. His presence hung heavy in the room. She felt it without turning.
"I'm sure you know what that is."
"Yes."
"Everything's in place," He said from right behind her. They stood so close they were nearly touching. Not today. She couldn't be bothered for any of his games today. Jenna dying was hitting too close to home. The past felt too real. Reagan didn't need the reminder. Not when she carried them with her already. "I'm to have dinner with the King and Queen today. It'll be the perfect time. They won't suspect a thing."
She nodded, not looking away from the clothing.
"I'll do what needs to be done."
"Not yet Sinclair."
"No games. Not today."
"No games. I want you through here first."
His General voice was in play. That wasn't a suggestion.
She turned, watching as he headed over to his office. Shaking her head, she stood her ground. She didn't need to be in that closed space. But his bedroom was no better.
"I'm not interested in any question games today, General. I'm tired. I just want to sleep."
To sleep and forget.
"What I'm offering will help that."
"I don't need another orgasm."
His lip twitched.
"Follow me."
Begrudgingly, she did as told, knowing there'd be no winning. Not so long as she remained in this captor/captive setting. Not long now Reagan. She barely had a week left until this little game was up.
The General stepped aside in his office, allowing her a view of the desk. The desk that'd been removed of all stationary and replaced with a miniature feast.
No blood in sight.
Food. Physical food. Actual edible food.
But how—?
She swivelled around to a smug looking General.
"I realised you don't drink blood."
"I— you don't know anything."
He took a step closer, towering over her, though she wasn't intimidated. "I know it's a secret you wanted to keep to yourself, but I know it now. I watched you force your rations down on the camera history."
He'd gone out of his way to dig up a secret.
Her blood pumped hot and fiery.
"You invaded my privacy."
"You have no privacy, Sinclair. Not here. Not from me."
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair. You should've thought about that before you came here."
"How was I to know you'd become obsessed with me?"
There were plenty of stories about Killian. A million rumours. None of them described him like this.
He rolled his eyes. "Just sit down."
"I don't want to. Why were you watching me?"
"Why are you so difficult?"
"Why were you watching me?"
"Because you and I were getting along until we weren't."
He was right. Amidst the flirting and the touching, they had been getting along. And then he'd bitten into his wrist and offered his blood like a tap and she'd flipped her switch on him. "Now you can eat something. Your secret will stay safe in these walls. No one else will have to know."
Her stomach growled. Traitor—
"Why would you do this for me?"
He rubbed his lips together, torn between responses. It took him a good minute to answer.
"We need you at top strength for today."
Top strength my arse.
"Why have you done this for me?"
"Stop asking questions and eat already. Don't cut that pretty nose off to spite your face."
There was something the General wasn't telling her, only she didn't have the same secret discovery resources. One and the same. He told her just as much as she told him.
As she sat down and tentatively picked at the food, Killian dropped the bag of blood down in front of her.
"I'll ensure Viktor and Zara remain distracted. It's down to you to get the blood into their drinks without being noticed. I'll do all I can to help you." Even if that meant entertaining his Uncle Viktor for a time. This was the closest he'd gotten to everything he'd ever wanted. Annoyingly, he had Reagan to thank for that. He'd had to rely on someone else, going against everything he'd ever known. The least he could do was watch her back.
As he let her eat, it occurred to him that he still barely knew her. That there was so much left to be discovered. Reagan was too guarded, even as she allowed people to believe otherwise. That underlying intelligence was still lingering.
"What do you want revenge for?" He asked abruptly.
Slowly, she looked up, the food in her hands abandoned. "That's personal information, General. You don't need to know that."
"Or you don't want me to know."
"What does it matter? Why I want revenge changes nothing. You still get what you want at the end of it."
Her response irked him. She kept these things too close to her chest. At the same time, he convinced himself he didn't care.
Mate or not, she wouldn't be in his life forever.