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 ass 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, damn it, he liked her. And with her face flushed with fury, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths beneath her long-sleeved shirt, and every word emerging a shout . . .

“She’s hot when she’s pissed, 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 pissed.”

Bastien swore.

“I don’t care what he—” Melanie began, then cut her own rant short. Her face went blank with surprise. “What?”

“Cliff—” Bastien warned too late.

Cliff was already saying with a broad I’m-lovin’-this grin, “He thinks you’re hot when you’re angry.”

She squinted her eyes at Bastien as though trying to peer into his thoughts.

“What?” he bluffed. “You can’t take this guy’s word for anything. He’s insane.”

Cliff laughed. “You can’t use that excuse yet, dude.”

Melanie frowned. “Don’t joke about that.”

Cliff shrugged. “If I don’t joke about it, I’ll . . .”

“What?” Bastien posed. “Go crazy?”

Both men grinned.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible. Both of you.”

The door buzzed, then opened. Several of the guards out in the hallway peered inside.

“Everything okay, Doc?” one with short blond hair asked, face full of suspicion as he took in the damage.

“Everything’s fine, Mark. Just . . . a little experiment.”

Bastien scowled at the man. “It took you this long to check on her?”

Granted, he wouldn’t have wanted an interruption earlier. Such would have no doubt resulted in both Bastien and Cliff being riddled with bullet holes and Melanie could have been caught in the crossfire. But if Joe or Cliff had had a psychotic break and attacked Melanie, a response this slow would not have saved her. She could have been drained before they even punched in the security code.

Mark stiffened. “Look, we hear all kinds of weird shit coming from these rooms. It’s hard to determine what’s harmless and what might be a problem.”

“Then don’t waste time guessing. As soon as you hear something that might signify violence, open the damned door and see what’s going on. Cliff and Joe may be annoyed by the intrusion, but both understand the necessity of it.”

Cliff nodded.

Bastien knew from his visits that Cliff ’s biggest fear now was that he might lose it and hurt Melanie. He hadn’t had any violent outbursts thus far, but none knew when those might begin.

And Bastien was finding it harder and harder to read Joe. As his madness had progressed, he had withdrawn into himself, rarely interacting anymore with Cliff, keeping his distance from Bastien and Melanie.

Bastien would never have asked Joe’s aid in tonight’s experiment for just that reason.

Mark looked at Cliff. Bastien was surprised there didn’t seem to be any animosity in his expression. The security staff here at the network apparently liked the vampires in residence a hell of a lot more than they did Bastien.

“The invasion of privacy is annoying,” Cliff said, “but I would rather deal with that than risk your not being here if I . . . if something happens and Dr. Lipton needs you.”

Mark nodded, his gaze full of both respect and compassion.

Good guy. Bastien almost regretted having broken both of the man’s arms and giving him a concussion a few weeks ago.

The security team withdrew and closed the door.

“I’m surprised Chris didn’t tell them to barge in at every little sound,” Bastien told Melanie.

“He did,” she admitted. “I asked them to back off. I thought the constant interruptions were increasing the stress Vince, Joe, and Cliff were feeling too much.” Looking around at the debris that surrounded them, she sighed. “I’m not cleaning this up.”

Cliff laughed. “I’ll do it. I’ve been bored as hell lately. It’ll give me something to do.”

Stepping over what was left of the coffee table, a shredded sofa cushion, and—Ah, hell. Was that the flat-screen TV?—Melanie crossed to Cliff and drew him into a hug.

Cliff wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. The two seemed close.

Melanie drew back and reached up to tweak one of Cliff ’s dreadlocks. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He smiled. “I’m fine.”

“The fighting didn’t . . .”

“Spark a flare of insanity? No. It actually felt good. Like a release.”

“Hmm.” Stepping back, she nearly tripped over more crap on the floor.

Bastien darted forward and grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” she said. And he felt the spark of attraction that whipped through her and sped her pulse at his touch despite her fading irritation. “I wonder if sparring might help Joe?”

Bastien and Cliff both turned toward the wall bordering Joe’s apartment when his voice floated through it.

“He’s willing to give it a try,” Bastien told her. “But only if he spars with me. He doesn’t want to risk sparring with Cliff.”

He didn’t have to state the obvious: Bastien was the only one of the two who would be able to stop him if the fight triggered an episode and Joe attacked in earnest.

“Seth and David might be willing to spar with him, too,” she said.

Joe nixed that one in short order. Hell, no. I don’t like those guys.

Bastien shook his head. “Joe doesn’t feel comfortable around them.”

The other vampire didn’t trust them. The violent outbursts may not be too bad yet, but the paranoia had kicked in fully. Joe told Bastien through the wall that he was afraid the two powerful healers were making his madness worse instead of trying to heal him when they visited. They’re trying to steal my thoughts. Taking my memories. Planting new ones. Fake ones.

Bastien eyed Cliff. “Is that what you think?”

Regret colored his youthful features. “No. But I am uncomfortable around them.”

Melanie bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Cliff. I’d ask them not to come anymore, but their healing sessions are helping you.”

No they’re not! Joe practically screeched in the next room. They’re just fucking with us!

A sick feeling sank into Sebastien’s gut. Joe was farther gone than he had realized.

He met Cliff ’s somber gaze. “How long has Joe . . . felt this way?” he asked, trying to word it in a way Joe might not fully grasp.

“A while.”

Melanie looked back and forth between them. “What way? What’s he saying?”

He felt her concern spike.

“Perhaps Seth and David should only treat Cliff from now on,” he suggested.

She stared up at him for a long moment.

He mouthed, Later.

She nodded. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

A dark pall blanketed them.

“Well . . .” she said, and Bastien felt her need to lighten the atmosphere and raise Cliff ’s spirits once more. “Cliff, why don’t I go get my laptop and you and I can order you some cool new furniture and a new flat-screen TV while Bastien cleans up this mess?”

As Bastien started to protest, Cliff laughed and said, “Sounds good to me.”

Closing his mouth, Bastien bent and picked up half a sofa arm.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Richart commented.

Melanie glanced at the French immortal sitting on her left.

He was fiddling with his cell phone, perhaps checking for messages from his lady love.

She looked to her right.

Bastien said nothing, just stared down at the mostly deserted college campus below.

The three of them sat on Davis Library’s roof, feet dangling over the edge. Not the front. The front was too well lit. They sat instead on one side, facing away from UNC’s campus-lighting corridor, in the shadows cast by trees that blocked the campus lights.

Melanie had been serious when she had told Bastien he was stuck with her. For millennia, immortals had believed no drug would affect them and had acted accordingly. In other words, with no concern for anything someone might try to dose them with. They thought themselves utterly impervious.

Emrys had demonstrated they were not with the tranquilizer he had manufactured to immobilize Ami during his torture and experimentation. But instead of viewing this as something of a wake-up call and thinking there might be other drugs out there now that could affect them, they seemed to assume Emrys’s sedative was the only one.

Melanie had proven them wrong again when the stimulant she had concocted had worked earlier tonight. Yet Bastien had still objected to her joining him and Richart on tonight’s hunt. He thought that, since he hadn’t keeled over from the stimulant when he had injected himself with it, he was fine. That there could be no lasting damage. No delayed side effects.