Part 15 (1/2)
Melanie's heart stopped.
Bastien grunted, then flew into motion.
As Melanie watched, eyes wide, mouth gaping, artwork crashed to the floor, along with piles of drywall. The warring vampire and immortal were indistinguishable as they zigzagged with astonis.h.i.+ng speed around the living room, smas.h.i.+ng furniture and tras.h.i.+ng the apartment to a chorus of grunts, thuds, and curses.
Melanie looked around frantically for some way to stop this. She couldn't alert the guards. Though, if this racket continued, she wouldn't have to. As much as they loathed Bastien, they would probably just yank her out of the way and open fire, not caring who they hit or how many times they hit them. And Melanie didn't want either man hurt.
She jumped out of the way when the sofa splintered.
Had the vampires been allowed fully functional kitchens (too many sharp and blunt objects that could be used as weapons), she would've gone old school, grabbed a frying pan, and knocked some sense into the two. Aside from that . . .
Her gaze fell upon the bar stools. The vampires were allowed snacks and cereal and the makings for sandwiches, as well as a bar at which they could eat them.
Melanie ducked as the battling duo flew past overhead. Racing over to the bar, she picked up a stool-wooden with a black padded seat-and headed for the center of the room. The next time the writhing, growling, nebulous ma.s.s neared her, she concentrated on antic.i.p.ating their direction and swung. Hard.
Thud! The seat went flying as the wooden stool broke apart, leaving one long leg in her hand.
Bastien slowed to a halt, bent over, and grabbed his head. ”Ahh! s.h.i.+t, that hurt!”
Cliff halted, too, then ducked as Melanie swung the last leg. ”Wait! Don't stake me!”
”Get back, Cliff,” she warned, heart racing, hands clutching the wooden leg so tightly she was surprised splinters didn't break off and pierce her skin. ”Just stay back.”
She eased between the two men, her back to Bastien.
Cliff 's eyes glowed bright amber. Holding out his hands in a take it easy gesture, he retreated. ”Don't hit me. I'm not crazed.”
She shook her head, not taking her eyes off him. ”Your eyes are glowing.” She would have to swing as soon as he blurred. And as close as he was, she still might not be able to hit him.
”If my eyes are glowing, it's because I'm having fun.”
”I bet you are.”
”Not like that. Not like you're thinking. This is the most exercise I've had since you performed all of those strength and endurance tests on me a couple of years ago. It just felt good to be active again.”
”Active? You attacked Bastien!”
”I told him to,” Bastien spoke behind her.
She risked looking at him over her shoulder. A large red lump graced the center of his forehead. ”What?”
”I told him to attack me.”
She lowered the wooden leg and stared at him. The lump in his forehead darkened with a bruise, then began to heal and fade. The fear that had sent adrenaline coursing through Melanie's veins turned to icy fury. ”You what?” she roared.
Uncertainty furrowing his brow, Bastien looked at Cliff. ”Should I tell her again?”
”I wouldn't,” the vampire advised and wisely took another step backward.
Bastien met her gaze. ”I needed to know if I could hold my own in a fight after using the antidote. If my breathing would be affected or my heart . . . how long it would take to regain my strength and speed.”
Unbelievable! Melanie threw the wooden leg down. ”So you planned all of this?”
”Yes,” Bastien answered.
”Both of you.”
”Yes.”
”Without consulting me.”
He shared another look with Cliff. ”Yes.”
”Well, next time send me a f.u.c.king memo first!” Melanie shouted, incensed. Here she stood, shaking, thinking Cliff had experienced one of the sudden violent episodes that had begun to afflict Joe, that Bastien would hurt him or even destroy him, or that Cliff would hurt or destroy Bastien while he was still weakened from the drug . . . and the two men in question looked like a couple of kids who had been wrestling on the floor in front of the TV while watching Sat.u.r.day morning cartoons!
Cliff 's eyes widened.
”What?” she growled.
”Nothing,” he said quickly. ”I've just . . . never heard you drop the F-bomb before.”
”Well get used to it because now that I'll be spending more time with him”-she jerked a thumb in Bastien's direction-”you'll probably be hearing it a lot more.”
”Now wait a minute,” Bastien said, all levity fleeing. ”I thought we agreed we wouldn't see each oth-”
”You just blew any chance you had of ditching me by injecting yourself three times with an experimental drug I thought would kill you,” she snapped. ”Now I have to monitor your a.s.s for at least twenty-four hours. So congratulations! You're stuck with me!”
Chapter 6.
Bastien really should be more upset about being stuck with Melanie than he was-which was not at all-but, d.a.m.n it, he liked her. And with her face flushed with fury, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths beneath her long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt, and every word emerging a shout . . .
”She's hot when she's p.i.s.sed, isn't she?” Cliff asked in a voice too soft for her to hear.
Bastien flung daggers at him with his eyes. ”Watch it.”
”Oh, please. As if you weren't already thinking it yourself.”
”That doesn't mean I want you thinking it,” he grumbled.
”And that,” Melanie said, pointing at the two of them, ”stops right now. No more whispering. No more secrets.”
”Sorry,” Cliff said sheepishly. ”Bastien was just saying he thinks you're hot when you're p.i.s.sed.”
Bastien swore.
”I don't care what he-” Melanie began, then cut her own rant short. Her face went blank with surprise. ”What?”