Chapter 8

The rest of the morning was magical. After we put the dishes from breakfast in the sink, Beckham led me down another long hallway to a garage that had a multitude of shiny cars, trucks, motorcycle, and the like. It resembled the garage under Damon's penthouse, except I knew that all of these vehicles had to belong to Beckham. Although, come to think of it, Damon probably owned most of the vehicles in that garage as well since he hadn't let Shelton answer my question about the cars the other night.

I was cut off from my distracted musings when Beckham clicked a key, and the most gorgeous white convertible beeped from nearby and started automatically. I decided right then and there that it was my dream car.

Beckham laughed at me when I involuntarily squealed with delight, and did a little jump. He opened the door and waited for me to get in before walking around to the driver's side. One of the garage doors opened, and he sped out, making me look frantically for the seat belt before I flew out of the car.

It was a gorgeous day. I was convinced that the sky was just more blue in California. There was a light breeze in the air that pulled at Beckham's hair as we drove, making it dance. He looked more like a golden prince than ever before with the strands glistening in the sunlight. That same bittersweet sense of familiarity rushed over me and I had to look away before I involuntarily started to tear up for no explainable reason.

I watched fascinated as we drove down a highway that ran parallel to the ocean. I was in awe of it all. The smell of the sea in the breeze, the squawking of the seagulls as they dipped and dived over us, the sound of the waves crashing against the surf, it was so different than New York City, but no less magical to me. I looked over at Beckham who for some reason looked extremely masculine in that moment casually steering with one hand. He had put on a pair of aviators like the male models I had seen in magazines, except he looked a million times sexier than any of them had looked.

I sighed and he glanced over at me, an amused look on his face.

"Enjoying yourself angel?" he asked. Why did that endearment sound so familiar as well? It was making me feel like I was going crazy, this sense of deja-vu when I knew I had never met him before. I must have been showing my frustration on my face because he casually grabbed my hand and started rubbing his thumb over my skin in a soothing manner, not seeming to care that I hadn't answered his question. I laid my head back against my seat and stared back out at the ocean, trying to ignore the ever present tingles flowing up my body from where we touched, the same feeling I always got when I was near any of the guys.

We drove for at least an hour, chatting back and forth about nothing in particular, when he pulled off to the side of the highway that opened up into a scenic lookout.

"We're here!" said Beckham excitedly as he popped the trunk and hopped out of the car.

He grabbed a basket and a blanket that I hadn't seen him put in the car, and then came around to my side and held out his hand for me to grab.

Beckham led me down a set of steep stairs that I hadn't noticed descending from a break in the guardrail. I gripped the railing and Beckham's hand tightly, and picked my way down the metal stairs, not looking up at the views until we had reached the bottom. When I did look, I gasped in amazement. We were standing in a gorgeous, little beach that was completely deserted. It was like Beckham had transported us to a private paradise where we were the only two people who existed.

The water was a perfect deep blue with waves that crested softly against the gilded sand. There were white shells scattered along the shore with the occasional strands of seaweed. Beckham had set down the basket and blanket and was now watching me keenly, with that same amused smile he always seemed to be wearing.

I couldn't help but give him a sudden, huge hug in delight. Of course a hug wasn't enough for him, he immediately used the close proximity to scoop me up in his arms and start to run towards the waves.

"Beckham, no!" I screeched, alarmed at the fact that I was pretty sure he was about to dump me in the water.

He was sweeter than I had given him credit for though. When we got to the water's edge he put me down, sliding me down his body slowly as he did so, staring into my eyes. His gaze was so intense, so filled with unspoken words, that I couldn't even be distracted by the touch of the icy water against my toes.

"Angel," he whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of my hair from off my face.

"Beckham, stop!" I squealed with laughter as he continued to chase me through the trees. He kept up his pursuit, letting me stay far enough in front for it to still be fun. I burst through a break in the trees suddenly and found myself at the edge of the lake. I stopped before I hit the water and admired the view in front of me while I waited for Beckham to catch up. It was a gorgeous day, the sky a glistening blue that reminded me of Beckham's eyes. There was a breeze floating off the lake, carrying with it the scent of fresh honeysuckles from across the way.

All of a sudden hands grabbed me, and I yelped in surprise. It was Beckham of course, and I sighed with delight when he scooped me up in his arms and twirled me around before setting me down. As he slowly slid me to the ground, our eyes met. The years of sly flirting, and stolen touches seemed to bubble up between us in that moment. He stared at my lips, momentarily entranced by them.

Would this be the moment, the moment that carried us beyond the best friends we had been for years? The moment that fulfilled the fate's promise that we were a soul match… Beckham slowly leaned towards me, his supple lips softly caressing mine. That seemed to be enough to spark a fire in him however, as he suddenly crashed his lips into mine with a fervor I hadn't seen from him before. I melted into the kiss, feverishly tasting him back. His hands softly caressed me, holding my head in place as he kissed me deeply. This was surely love…

"Eva," Beckham said sharply, slightly shaking me at the same time.

I just stared at him, my mind whirling over what I had just seen. What was happening to me?

"Eva are you all right? You've been out of it for a full minute!" he said.

At least I hadn't fainted this time as we appeared to be in the same position we were in a moment before.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," I assured him. "I don't know where my head's been at lately," I lamented.

He looked at me suspiciously.

"Are you sure you alright?" he asked.

I suddenly wondered if he had seen the same thing as me.

"Have you noticed anything strange since we met?" I asked him cautiously.

"You mean besides the fact that you seem to have trouble not fainting around me?" he asked, finally relaxing and letting out a laugh. His laugh was belied by a nervous twitch at the corner of his eye. I frowned, frustrated at all the mysteries in my life at the moment, and the fact that neither he nor Mason seemed to want to volunteer what they knew. Although I couldn't really talk since I hadn't mentioned Damon to either of them…

Beckham turned and began leading me towards where he had dropped the picnic basket and the blanket, his arm draped around my waist. He pulled his arm back to spread out the blanket and I immediately felt the loss of it. I sat down and pulled my knees up to my chest, going over what I had seen.

Was I dreaming about another life? Was this one of those things I had read about where people were reincarnated or something and I was seeing one of my former lives? It was either something like that or I was going crazy because the feeling that I had known Beckham for perhaps forever was growing stronger.

I idly watched Beckham begin to pull out strawberries, fancy looking cheese, and some cut up French bread, wondering when he had time to put such a nice basket together. We picked at the food in silence, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, just a distracted one. I played with the sand next to the blanket, going over everything I had seen in the last few days. First things first though…I needed to ask Beckham about the conversation I had heard this morning between him and Mason. But how did you go about asking about vampires and succubi... with a straight face?

"I heard you this morning," I blurted out.

Beckham's eyes bugged out, and he choked on the strawberry he had just put in his mouth.

"What exactly did you hear?" he asked, seeming to be trying to choose his words carefully.

"This sounds crazy coming out of my mouth…but I heard you talking about how I wasn't exactly human…and that you weren't either."

Beckham stared at me for a moment.

"You're taking this awfully calm considering most people would think you were in the presence of a lunatic after hearing something like that," he finally answered in a measured tone, the slight shake in his hands the only way to tell he was caught off guard by my statement.

"There's always been something off about me," I said reluctantly.

I really didn't want to get in to what had happened to me at the Anderson's, but I at least had to explain some of it for him to understand what I meant.

"Where I lived before," I began. "They weren't exactly kind to me. The woman, Mrs. Anderson, she actually seemed to hate me. She learned early on in my stay there that I seemed to recover very quickly, actually much more quickly than anyone else I have heard of."

Beckham's face had turned a pale ashy color and he looked sick at what I was telling him. I hurried on before I lost my courage.

"It started small, with just basic bruises disappearing quickly after she gripped me too tightly. Then I think she started to experiment. In the end she liked to burn me more than other things."

He opened his mouth, but I continued on, wanting to finally get it all out.

"It wasn't just healing though. It was things like my hair too. She hated it for some reason and one of my first nights there she hacked at it, practically tearing it off rather than cutting it."

I stared off into the water now, remembering the feeling of dread I had looking in the bathroom mirror after she had cut all of my hair off.

"I remember running my hands through my hair. It was cut so short that I just knew it would take years to grow back. I went to bed that night distraught, but when I awoke in the morning, it was all back."

I took a deep breath.

"Strange things like that have happened throughout my life. I suppose it's a relief to have something to attribute it to, rather than just thinking I am some kind of freak."

I finally glanced away from the water and dared to look at Beckham. His face was one of rapt attention.

"You said that she…that she burned you. I assume then that she also made you bleed?" he said inquiringly.

I wondered why he would ask that specific question, but answered anyway.

"Well actually, no. I have a condition. I think its fairly mild, but it must have scared them enough the first time they cut me that they were careful to never make me bleed again."

"A condition? What kind of condition?" Beckham asked me quickly.

"My file says that it's some kind of hemophilia. But I apparently eventually stop bleeding since I'm still here," I answered, laughing a bit self deprecatingly.

"You don't have hemophilia, Eva," he stated emphatically.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"For a supernatural, our blood holds a great deal of power. Did you see anything strange when they cut you? Can you not think of any other time when you have bled?"

I wracked my brain and realized I really couldn't think of any other time where I had bled. I couldn't even think of a time when I had fallen and scraped my knee.

"I passed out when they cut me after the blood started falling," I said slowly. "And no, I can't remember ever bleeding before. That can't be normal," I said, starting to feel a bit hysterical.

Beckham pushed the food aside and moved closer to me, stroking my arm reassuringly.

"Everything is okay, Eva," he said sweetly. "Supernaturals are not exactly known for being clumsy, so it would make sense that you couldn't remember having any sort of accident that would make you bleed. If that woman…" he paused, seeming to need to get ahold of his emotions for a moment. "If that woman cutting you was truly the first time that you had been cut, then the rush of power released from your blood could very easily have caused you to faint. I'm sure it scared those monsters to death."

He paused, seemed to be lost in thought.

"I do wonder why your file would have said you had hemophilia though."

He shook his head and tipped up my chin so that I was looking at him.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I will try to answer whatever you want to know," he told me, seeming so earnest that I felt like I could trust him with anything in that moment.

"So obviously you and Mason are also…supernatural," I said, the word supernatural feeling awkward in my mouth.

"Yes, we both are," he answered, looking concerned that I was going to bolt at this.

"But you don't know exactly what you are?" I asked hesitantly.

"You were listening to quite a bit this morning weren't you, angel?" Beckham said with a smirk.

I blushed and looked down, a little bit ashamed for having eavesdropped so much.

"But yes, my background is a little bit of a mystery. I seem to remember back for at least a thousand or so years it seems, but I have no idea where I came from, or what I am."

"And Mason thinks that we could be the same?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Mason has the ability to read energies to a certain extent. Every living thing emits some kind of energy, but those of supernatural origin emit energy on a different frequency. Mason can tell the difference between all of us."

"What is Mason?" I asked. "Does he know?"

At my question Beckham tensed up a bit.

"That's not really my story to tell," he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

I wondered what Mason could be that would be a big enough deal that Beckham didn't feel comfortable telling me himself. I decided to let the matter drop since I had about a million other awkward questions I wanted to ask.

"Do you have any special skills?" I asked, wondering if I had something similar since I could be the same thing as him. Beckham again looked uncomfortable.

"My gift seems to be that I can be…persuasive," he answered, looking away from my gaze.

"Persuasive. What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked uncertainly.

"I mean that I haven't met a single person…or supernatural, who doesn't do exactly what I tell them," he answered, with a very serious face.

I thought about what that meant for a moment. I couldn't imagine that kind of power. If I had something like that I could have avoided so much of what had happened in my life. I pulled my knees up closer to me and wrapped my arms around them. So far it seemed the only "superpower" I had was the ability to heal from extreme abuse. A rush of jealousy flooded me.

"I don't have anything like that," I said, a little bit of pain leaking through my voice. Beckham again stroked my face and leaned in close.

"You haven't turned 18 yet have you?" he asked.

"No," I said, confused at the question. "I turn 18 in three weeks."

"For most supernaturals, their powers don't truly come in until they turn 18," he explained.

Immediately a rush of hope flowed through me. Not that I had ever dreamed of having superpowers or anything like that, but the idea that I could have something to make me not so vulnerable and weak was infinitely appealing to me after everything that had happened in my life. 

Beckham's phone went off suddenly, causing me to jump a little bit. He picked it up and read whatever text had come in.

"I'm sorry to end this conversation, but Mason is back at the house waiting for us. Your flight is going to leave soon."

I looked around at the beautiful place Beckham had brought us to and felt a rush of sadness at the thought of leaving it…and Beckham.

Beckham helped me stand up, and we picked up the food and blanket and started to walk towards the stairs that led up to the car.

"We need to actually go swimming next time," he said, grasping my hand as he led me up the stairs.

"Next time?" I asked.

I couldn't help but feel a little hope at his words. Beckham didn't say anything until we finished climbing the stairs. He turned to me.

"Eva, I feel like you are everything I've ever been looking for in my life and didn't know that I needed. It wouldn't be possible for me to let you go."

I felt tears glistening in my eyes at his statement. I felt the same way. That he was somehow my "home." My thoughts turned to Mason and Damon. Although my feelings for Beckham felt more familiar for some reason, what I felt for them was just as strong. Beckham must have read the indecision in my face.

"I'm not asking you to make a choice now, I'm just telling you that if there's a race for your heart, I'm all in and I'll never not be all in."

He took one last step towards me, and softly grazed my lips with his. It didn't feel like a first kiss I realized. It felt like he had been doing that for all my life. Beckham's phone went off again with a text from Mason asking if we were on our way yet. Beckham finally led me to the car. We were both silent on the way back to his house.