Phantom Shadows ig-3

by Dianne Duvall

  Bastien had lived with vampires with vicious mentalities and violent tempers that could explode at any moment for two centuries. He was confident he could best the other immortal in a fight, but frankly had no interest in doing so. Richart had just done him a solid. Bastien may be the asshole others thought him, but he didn’t forget things like that.

  “I don’t abuse children.”

  Giving him an abrupt nod, Richart vanished.

  Silence descended upon the room.

  “So,” Melanie said.

  Bastien raised one eyebrow. “So?”

  “You picture me naked?”

  He had hoped she had forgotten about that—damn Étienne and his prying—but, since she hadn’t, he saw no reason to deny it. “Yes, I do.” He didn’t feel any embarrassment. He was a man with healthy sexual appetites and she was a very appealing woman. He did experience some confusion, however, when she exhibited no anger over the admission.

  She didn’t call him a swine or a dog or whatever animal women currently called men who did something inappropriate.

  She merely eyed him speculatively, making him feel as if she were trying to imagine him naked, then said, “I should warn you that I probably won’t live up to your expectations.”

  Every muscle in his body tightened. He swallowed. Hard. “What?”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that I don’t look nearly as good naked as you think I do.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “I’m just saying . . . I didn’t exercise regularly until I underwent training by the network and . . . I’ve lost weight since then and . . .”

  “And?”

  She pursed her lips. “Even though I’m in shape now, certain body parts aren’t what I would like them to be.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to respond to that.”

  She grinned. “You don’t have to respond at all. I just wanted to make sure you knew that clothing can hide a lot of flaws.”

  Said the flawless woman who made his body harden even when she tried to convince him she was unattractive. Or that she wasn’t as attractive as he might imagine. Or . . .

  Actually he wasn’t sure. “I’m certain you’re just being overly critical of yourself.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Could be. The media does condition women to believe they should look a certain way. But, just to be on the safe side, you might want to imagine me with smaller breasts when you fantasize about me.”

  Again he remained silent for a moment. “Could I just say that this is the most peculiar conversation I’ve ever had?”

  She laughed. “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, you seem convinced that I am laboring under certain delusions concerning your appearance. I’m not.”

  “My breasts aren’t this big. I’m wearing a push-up bra.”

  “I know.”

  The look of surprise on her face was too adorable. “What?”

  “I know you’re wearing a push-up bra.”

  Now she was silent. “If you tell me you have two gifts and that one of them is X-ray vision, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  He laughed. “I don’t have X-ray vision. But, as you know, all of our senses are heightened. I can hear the faint rustle of the padding that humans can’t. And your breasts don’t move the way they would in a bra without the padding.”

  “Wow. You guys really notice the little details, huh?”

  “With you, yes.”

  A teasing smile curved her lips. “So you stare at my breasts?”

  “Yes,” he said, returning her smile, and shook his head in bafflement. “And for some reason, admitting that makes me feel like a naughty schoolboy caught peeking up his teacher’s skirt.”

  “Cool.”

  Again he laughed.

  “So what’s the other reason?”

  He tried to recall what they had been talking about but now could only think of her breasts.

  Her smile widened into a grin. “The other reason this is the oddest conversation you’ve ever had,” she prodded.

  Ah. “You seem to believe I’m going to see you naked at some point in the future. That’s never going to happen.”

  “Says you.”

  He grinned. “Are you trying to make me laugh again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t seem to laugh very often. And I like it when you laugh. It makes me happy.”

  Hell. He was in so much trouble. There was only so much a man could withstand.

  “I like you, Sebastien.”

  “I don’t know why,” he murmured.

  “I see what the others don’t.”

  Once more, he found himself at a loss for words, because the desperation with which he wanted her to see something good in him—something he could never seem to find himself—was terrifying.

  “Now, I know you don’t like to be touched,” she began.

  What nit told her that? his inner voice screamed.

  “But brace yourself.” She took a step closer. “Because I’m going to give you a hug.”

  He stiffened.

  Don’t let her touch you! Not now! Not after that weird-ass conversation that left you fixated on her body and feeling all soft and mushy inside because she likes to see you laugh!

  Stepping closer, she slipped her arms around his waist, pressed the front of her delectable body to the front of his, leaned her weight into him, and rested her cheek on his chest.

  He closed his eyes. It felt wonderful. She felt wonderful.

  Though he willed himself not to give in to temptation, he found himself wrapping his arms around her slight form and holding her tight.

  “Thank you for saving my life tonight,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t. Richart and Roland did.”

  She shook her head. “I remember what you did now. You put yourself between me and the shooter.”

  “It made no difference. The bullet just went through me and hit you anyway.”

  “For all you know, he may have been aiming that third bullet at my head. When you stepped between us, you blocked his view and he couldn’t do anything but a body shot. Then you whisked me to safety behind the building.”

  He hadn’t thought of that, but knew it to be standard practice. How many times had he heard Darnell tell the Seconds he trained to hit the body first to disable, then follow up with a head shot?

  The idea left him cold.

  But not cold enough to keep him from getting hard at the feel of her. The scent of her. The sheer seduction of her.

  How he wanted to let his hands wander down and see if that hospital gown gaped in the back the way some did.

  “Okay, I’m going to say something now and don’t want you to take offense,” she said then, voice changing.

  “Okay,” he agreed warily.

  “E wwww. Gross. I forgot you were covered with blood.” She leaned back. Sure enough, her face and hair were now sticky with some of the gore that coated his clothing. And the hospital gown looked as if someone had dipped a sponge in red paint and dabbed it repeatedly.

  “Sorry.” He reached under his coat and into one of his back pockets to draw out a pristinely clean white kerchief.

  Gently clasping her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he wiped the blood from her cheeks and nose and forehead.

  Her brown eyes stared up at him so intently he felt her gaze like a touch.

  “There,” he murmured when her face was clean, and stuffed the kerchief back in his pocket.

  Her gaze didn’t waver. “You know what?” she said, voice equally hushed. “Screw it. In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  Reaching up, she clasped his face in both hands and drew his lips down to meet hers.

  Electricity seized him, sizzling his blood and stiffening every muscle in his body.

  She tasted as good as she looked. As good as she smelled. So good no force on Earth could have kept him fr
om deepening the kiss. Teasing her lips apart, he slipped his tongue inside to seek hers.

  Melanie thought if her heart pounded any harder it might burst right out of her chest.

  The man could kiss.

  Heat consumed her as his soft, warm lips moved against hers. And when his tongue stole inside . . .

  She rose onto her toes and slid her arms around his neck. Their bodies came into alignment, breasts to chest, abs to abs, hips to hips. His erection strained against his zipper. His strong arms locked around her and pressed her so close she almost couldn’t breathe.

  Bastien had fantasized about her naked form, imagined what she looked like. Well, Melanie hadn’t had to imagine. She had seen Bastien naked when she had tended his wounds after he was drugged. Every firm, delectable inch of him from that gorgeous mane of hair, down muscle and sinew, to his large feet.

  She had wanted to know Bastien the man for weeks. Now she wanted to know his body. Wanted to taste and touch and—

  One of his big hands slid down and cupped her ass over the gown, grinding her against him.

  Her breath caught. Sparks shot through her.

  “Dude, did you hear me? I said stop—Whoa!”

  Melanie cursed the interruption when Bastien relinquished her lips and glared over her head at Richart’s Second.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had Jenna with—Holy crap! It’s you!”

  Jenna? That must be the name of Richart’s girlfriend.

  Melanie raised her head.

  Bastien’s eyes glowed a vibrant amber, the passion in them swiftly replaced by irritation.

  Sighing—talk about spoiling the moment—she unglued her front from Bastien’s and turned to face the intruder.

  The man who stood gaping at them was unusually young for a Second. He had attended the meeting at David’s, but she hadn’t paid that much attention to him because she had been so distracted by Bastien.

  As she studied Sheldon’s smooth face and red hair, she guessed he was no more than twenty years old. Most—if not all—other Seconds were over twenty-five. She had once heard Chris say he liked to make sure his recruits had made it past the I’m-going-to-party-my-ass-off-and-go-wild-now-that-I’m-out-of-my-parents’-house phase and were ready to get down to business. Immortals needed their Seconds to be on call and ready to rush to their aid and fight, if necessary, twenty-four hours a day. If the Seconds were drunk off their asses from partying with their friends, they could get their immortals killed instead of helping them.

  And there was also the matter of discretion. Seconds were forbidden to speak of their profession to anyone. (Melanie didn’t know what Chris did to those who spilled the beans and didn’t want to know.) Seconds who spent their weekends partying could not be counted on to keep their mouths shut. And those young enough to still succumb to peer pressure would be more likely to brag about their cool gig in order to get attention or to increase their chances of getting laid.

  So Sheldon was a real rarity.

  Richart’s Second stared at Bastien for what felt like five minutes. “Um . . . would you excuse me for a moment?” Taking three slow steps backward, he leaned out into the hallway. “Richart?” The bellow vibrated with nervous tension.

  Behind her, Bastien sighed heavily. “You don’t have to shout. If he were standing outside on the lawn, he could hear you whisper.”

  “Oh. Right.” A moment passed. “Richart?” he said in a normal voice.

  Melanie tried not to laugh. “He isn’t here.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “So. Did he, ah . . .” His gaze returned to Bastien. “Did you . . . force him to bring you here?”

  “Oh, for shit’s sake!” Bastien snapped. “No!”

  She did laugh then. She couldn’t help it. “I assume you’re Sheldon?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m Dr. Lipton.” She held out her hand. “You can call me Melanie.”

  Much to her surprise, Sheldon strode forward and clasped her hand. “Nice to meet you, Melanie.”

  Bastien moved to her side. “You can call her Dr. Lipton.”

  She expected the young Second to fall victim to Bastien’s stern warning and acquiesce.

  Instead, he said, “So . . . Melanie . . . what brings you to our humble home?”

  “I was wounded earlier tonight by some of Emrys’s soldiers.”

  “Son of a bitch!” He frowned at Bastien. “Did you get ’em?”

  “All of them,” he answered, some of the harshness leaving his expression.

  “Good.”

  There was more to Sheldon than met the eye. “That’s why Richart brought us here. He knew Mr. Reordon would go on a rampage and want to lock Bastien up for not leaving any of them alive.”

  Sheldon tilted his head to one side as he studied Bastien. “Well, you did kinda deviate from the plan. The whole point was to catch some of them and interrogate them. But I get why you killed them instead. I would’ve offed the fuckers, too.” He nodded to Melanie. “How are you doing? Do you need anything? Should I get the med kit? I aced field medicine during my training, so if you—”

  “I’m fine, thank you. Roland healed me.”

  “Roland Warbrook?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. You really have a knack for making friends with antisocial bastards, don’t you?”

  Bastien’s lips curled up. “Yes, she does.”

  Sheldon clapped his hands together. “Well, I assume Richart will be back once things cool down. What can I do for you in the meantime?” He eyed Bastien. “No offense, dude, but you look like shit. You need some blood?”

  “I do actually.”

  “Follow me.” He led the way out of the living room and into a spacious kitchen. “Melanie, can I fix you something to eat? I suck as a cook, but can warm you up some of the vegetarian pot pie Richart made earlier.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He crossed to the refrigerator, opened it, and bent down to retrieve bags of blood from the meat compartment. He handed them to Bastien. “Are you sure? It’s better than it sounds. I mean, I thought any pot pie that was all organic and didn’t contain meat would taste like whale snot, but the shit is delicious.”

  Melanie laughed. She could sort of see why Richart was willing to put up with Sheldon. “I don’t—”

  “You should eat something,” Bastien interrupted. “We both should. It’s been a long night. And it may not be over yet. We don’t know what’s going to happen once Chris burns Seth’s ears with his interpretation of what went down.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Sheldon. We’d appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure. Would you guys like to shower and change first?”

  Melanie glanced down at her now-sticky hospital gown. “I’d love to, but I don’t have anything to change into.” Anything in Richart’s size would swallow her.

  “No problem. One of the guest rooms is reserved for Richart’s sister. Lisette doesn’t stay the day often, but she keeps several changes of clothes here for when she does. I don’t think she’d mind you borrowing something.”

  Lisette was close to her size, so Melanie fervently hoped she’d find something that would fit. She wasn’t sure how much the back of her hospital gown exposed, but it felt pretty breezy back there. And, while she wouldn’t mind Bastien catching a glimpse of her butt, she would rather not flash Sheldon.

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  He led them out of the kitchen. “I’m sure. Lisette’s great. Let me show you to the guest rooms.” Stopping, Sheldon turned around and eyed them speculatively. “Or guest room. Are you guys together? Because when I walked in on you a minute ago, you were—”

  “No.”

  Sheldon’s eyebrows rose at Bastien’s clipped response. “It was a momentary . . . digression.”

  Now Melanie raised her eyebrows. “Says you.”

  Bastien smiled. “Would you stop saying that?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”
<
br />   “Because it makes you smile.”

  Sheldon started walking again. “Momentary digression, my ass,” he mumbled.

  “I can hear you,” Bastien reminded him.

  “I know.” Sheldon guided them to guest bedrooms that were next to each other. “I’ll be back in a minute with some clothes, Melanie.”

  Once the Second was gone, Bastien stared down at her in silence.

  He was thinking again. Or, she should say, he was thinking too much again. She could almost see the thoughts swirling around behind those gorgeous brown eyes and knew what he would say before he said it.

  “About what happened . . .”

  Yep. She had figured he was obsessing over that. Poor guy. The immortals had really done a number on him, convincing him he was the evil monster they seemed to think him. Now he probably thought kissing her would taint her somehow. She was going to have to do something about that. She just needed a little time to decide what.

  “I assume you mean the kiss?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes.”

  “The warm, wet, pulse-racing, make-me-want-to-strip-you-naked-and-rub-every-inch-of-my-body-against-yours kiss?”

  His eyes flared, an involuntary reflection of his arousal. “That’s the one.”

  “What about it?”

  “It shouldn’t happen again.”

  “You didn’t like it?” Okay, teasing him was mean, but she couldn’t resist.

  “You know I did,” he admitted, voice deepening in a way that sent a sensual shiver through her. “If my eyes didn’t clue you in, I’m sure other body parts did.”

  “Very impressively,” she agreed.

  “Even so, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “You’ve said something similar before.”

  “I meant it. I care about you, Melanie. A lot. And . . . I don’t want to sound condescending . . . I just don’t think you understand how bad things will get for you if you’re associated with me romantically. We’re not just talking dirty looks or snide comments. We’re talking the possible destruction of your career. Chris Reordon doesn’t trust me and never will. Give him even the tiniest reason and he will lock me up. We’re here right now because he wants to chain me up in the holding room.”