Phantom Shadows (Immortal Guardians #3)

Phantom Shadows (Immortal Guardians #3) Page 16

“Nothing.”

“You’re not going to give me a reason?”

“If you need one, I’m not looking to enter into a relationship just now.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be with the immortals. He would only be able to tolerate so much crap before he would have to move on to avoid killing someone. And, for all he knew, if he did move on, they might hunt him down and finally execute him for killing Ewen. Why the hell would he bring a woman into his life now?

“Blunt,” she said. “I can respect that.”

“I’m too old to play games.”

“Some men are never too old to play games.”

“The same could be said of some women.”

“That’s true, though I wish I could say otherwise.” Sighing, she looked around the clearing, then down at the daggers in her hand. She held them out to him.

His fingers brushed hers when he took the weapons, allowing him to feel her emotions. No embarrassment. Mainly frustration and disappointment.

He felt a healthy dose of that himself.

Some men were only interested in physical beauty. Bastien needed a brain to go along with that. Without wit and intelligence to intrigue him, after two hundred years a hot body just became the same old same old to the extreme. And no sex was better than sex with someone who bored him.

Melanie would never bore him. She was smart and funny and so damned sexy . . .

“Did you feel anything else when you touched me?” she asked.

“Irritation,” he mentioned. Thinking of her aggravation with him during the meeting, he smiled. “Which reminds me . . . You kicked me.”

She shrugged, lips tilting up just a bit. “You were being an ass. Didn’t anyone ever tell you you can catch more flies with honey?”

“Sure. But who wants to catch flies?”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“So everyone keeps telling me, but in far less pleasant terms.”

Melanie’s Chevy Volt suddenly appeared in the clearing. Richart stood next to it with his hand on the hood.

She jumped, then looked at Bastien. “Doesn’t it startle you when he does that?”

“It did at first, but I’ve spent so much time around him lately that it no longer phases me.”

Richart lifted his hand off the car, took a step, then sank to his knees.

Bastien zipped over and caught him before he could fall forward and hit the ground face-first. “What is it? Have you been tranqed?”

“No.” Richart gripped Bastien’s arm and used it as leverage to gain his feet. “I’ve never teleported a car before and was curious to see if I could do it.”

Bastien released him as soon as he stood, but prepared to throw a hand out as the Frenchman swayed.

Beige grasses and weeds crackled and crunched as Melanie joined them. “Does teleporting weaken you?”

“Teleporting cars does, apparently.”

“What about people?”

Bastien could see her slipping into her physician mode. Odd that even when she was clinical and impersonal he found her utterly alluring.

“Not if I only teleport one person at a time.”

“Do you need blood afterward?”

He sent her a flirtatious smile. “Are you offering?”

Bastien’s fist slammed into Richart’s jaw.

Richart’s head snapped back. Blood sprayed from his lips.

Melanie gasped.

Bastien stared. He really hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t he just told Melanie he didn’t want a relationship with her? Behaving like a jealous moron wouldn’t go very far in helping him convince her of that.

Richart staggered back against the car and raised a hand to cup his cracked jaw. “What the hell, man?”

Bastien risked a glance at Melanie, then swore.

Though her eyes were wide, the look in them was too knowing.

“Dr. Lipton is under my protection.”

Richart leaned over and spat blood. “I wasn’t going to bite her, you horse’s ass! It was a joke!”

A harmless joke that every immortal on the planet, himself included, had probably spouted dozens of times. Except tonight it had sent a storm of jealousy thundering through him. “Well, it wasn’t funny.”

Richart grunted as his jaw began to heal. “If you’d just told me you wanted her for yourself, I wouldn’t have opened my mouth. Asshole.”

“He doesn’t want me for himself,” Melanie said. “He isn’t looking for a relationship.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s looking,” Richart grumbled. “He’s found one. The two of you can’t take your eyes off each other. And in the rare moments you do, you usually touch.”

“What?” Bastien said the same time Melanie did.

Was she as appalled that her feelings were so transparent as he was?

“Don’t worry.” Richart drew out a handkerchief and wiped his crimson lips. “I doubt anyone else has noticed. Bastien is usually too busy pissing them all off.”

“He doesn’t piss you off?” Melanie asked.

“Other than just now”—Richart glared at Bastien—“no. I’ve spent enough time in his company that I’ve become immune to his bullshit.” He tucked the stained cloth away. “We’ll have to either drop by my place or return to the network because now I need blood.”

“The network,” Bastien chose. “I want to run our plan by Cliff and Joe and seek their advice. And we need to drop these guys”—he motioned to the unconscious vampires—“off in the holding room.”

Chapter 5

Once at the network, Bastien and Melanie helped Richart chain the vamps up in the holding room and notified Chris. Then they accompanied Richart to the infirmary, where he drained a couple of bags of blood. As he finished the second one, “Monster” imbued the stark, hospital-like environment with a bit of life.

Richart pulled out his phone, looked at the caller ID, and donned the dopey smile Bastien had come to think of as her smile. “Excuse me.” He turned away and took the call. “Hi.” His voice always softened when he spoke to his mystery lover.

“Hi,” Bastien heard her say, her voice a little flat. He didn’t know if Richart was so smitten that he forgot Bastien could hear both sides of the conversation or if Richart simply trusted Bastien not to run to Chris with any information he overheard, but the immortal rarely sought privacy during the calls unless their talk turned amorous. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all.”

“You aren’t fighting vampires?” she asked, a teasing lilt entering her voice.

“No. No vampires,” Richart said with a light laugh. “How are you feeling?”

“Not that great. That’s actually why I was calling. I wanted to let you know I’m playing hooky from work again. I think I may have done too much too fast. My fever went back up today and I pretty much feel like crap.”

“I’m sorry, darling. Can I bring you anything? Some soup, perhaps?”

Melanie looked at Bastien.

“His girlfriend,” he murmured. “She’s fighting that flu that’s been going around.”

Melanie grimaced in sympathy. “It’s a nasty one. The network employees who have come down with it have been missing up to two weeks of work and come back noticeably thinner.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Richart asked.

Melanie spoke up. “Orange juice and club soda.”

Richart turned around. “What?”

“Take her some orange juice and mix it with club soda. It will help settle her stomach and give her some vitamin C at the same time.”

Richart nodded. “Thank you.”

“And crackers,” Bastien added. “Saltines.” He had heard Sarah mention that crackers had helped curb her nausea during her transformation. She hadn’t had the flu, but . . . nausea was nausea, wasn’t it?

Richart’s face reflected his surprise at Bastien’s input. “Thank you.”

Bastien consulted his watch. “If you’re going to get her the organic stuff, you need to go now. Whole Foods closes in fifteen minutes.”

“Right,” Richart acknowledged, then spoke into the phone. “I’m going to pick up a few things at the store, then come by, if that’s all right.”

“You know it is,” she said. “But I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me, Richart. You have enough on your plate.”

“It’s no trouble, sweetheart. Try to get some rest. I shall be there shortly.”

Melanie couldn’t help but be curious about the woman who had stolen the French Immortal Guardian’s heart. Everything about him softened when he spoke to her. His voice. His features. His body language. He clearly adored her.

Richart tucked his phone away. “Well. This is awkward. Dr. Lipton . . .” He paused. “Let me think how to word this . . .”

Bastien rolled his eyes. “He isn’t supposed to leave me unsupervised and wants your discretion.”

“Oh.” Really? Bastien was supposed to be watched every minute? “Yes, of course.” She wondered how much of that was distrust on Seth’s part and how much was wanting a bit of protection for the heavily disliked newcomer. Did Seth and David worry that one of the other immortals might try to avenge Ewen’s death?

Richart pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, then tucked it away and combed his fingers through his hair. “How do I look?”

Melanie grinned. “Very handsome.”

Bastien eyed Richart balefully. “If you ask me to check your breath, I’m going to hit you again.”

Richart flipped him off with a grin and vanished into thin air.

Melanie looked up at Bastien. “I know, as a doctor and a researcher, I should find a more clinical way to say this, but that is so cool.”

He laughed. “Yes, it is.”