Three times? Hell. She only remembered the first one. “How did—”
“Richart brought Roland to you.”
She frowned. “That’s what Linda said, but . . . You mean, the Roland?”
“Yes.”
“Roland Warbrook?”
“Yes.”
“And he just . . . touched me with his hands—”
Bastien’s eyes flared brightly. Was he jealous?
“—and now I’m fine?” she finished.
“We had to give you blood,” Linda threw in.
Bastien nodded. “Roland can heal your wounds, but he can’t replace the blood you lost.”
“Well, technically, he can,” Richart corrected. “He could have transfused you with his own blood, but you lost so much that—had he done so—the virus would have inundated your system and you would have been transformed.”
Knowing she had come so close to dying was frightening.
Her gaze strayed to Bastien’s chest. “Did the soldiers shoot you, too, or are all of those from the guards here?”
“I took a few from the soldiers.”
Étienne drew her attention. “And he was tranqed again.”
She looked at Bastien. “How many times?”
“Three or four. I think.”
He had been unconscious for hours the last time he had been tranqed. Without the antidote . . .
“How long have I been out?” she asked. She shouldn’t have lost a lot of time if Roland healed her swiftly. No wonder Linda had feared she’d suffered brain damage.
“Not long,” Bastien said, increasing her confusion. “I didn’t lose consciousness this time. I was tired afterward. A little woozy, perhaps—”
“Insane, perhaps,” Étienne muttered.
“But I think the antidote you’ve concocted may do more than we thought. It didn’t just alleviate the weakness after I had been tranqed. It seemed to have a preventative effect as well and acted as a buffer when I was tranqed again later, keeping me from feeling the full effects.”
“That’s . . .”
“Fantastic,” he said, his praise warming her.
“Yes. But it’s also worrisome. I didn’t expect it to do that, so I have to wonder what else it might do that I didn’t anticipate.”
He shrugged off her concern. “It worked perfectly. I feel a bit tired, but otherwise am myself.”
Étienne raised his eyebrows. “What you did at UNC is normal for you?”
Uh-oh. “What did you do?” Melanie asked.
Bastien shot the Frenchman a warning glare. “Only what needed to be done.”
“Could you be a little more specific?”
“No.”
When no more was forthcoming, Melanie shook her head. “I’m going to hear about it eventually.” She pushed the covers back, revealing a standard hospital gown that covered her to her knees. “If not from the network rumor mill than from Cliff or Joe. Those guys hear everything around here. If Mr. Reordon bitches about it—and I’m guessing from the looks you’re getting from the d’Alençons that he will—then Cliff and Joe will hear it.”
Bastien shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glanced at the French immortals, and looked for all the world like a little boy not wanting to cop to hitting a baseball through the window. “I . . . brought your shooter to justice.”
“Thank you.” She had no problem with his killing the man who would’ve succeeded in killing her had Roland not been available to aid her. That shooter had known nothing of Roland and his healing ability. So when he had shot her, he had meant for her to die. “Was there just the one?”
Bastien had been attacked by a dozen or more last night. A lone gunman seemed odd. Unless Emrys’s operation was smaller than they had guessed.
“No. There were others,” Bastien said, seeming to steel himself.
“How many?”
“I lost count.”
She eyed his bloody clothing. What exactly had he done?
“I killed them,” he stated.
“All of them?”
She let that sink in as he stood stoically before her.
Did he think she would condemn him? This was war. She knew well what this group was capable of, what they would do if they got their hands on any of the immortals or on Ami. Clearly they believed human Seconds, which they must have thought her, were expendable.
Bastien looked so grim.
If the others weren’t here, she’d put her arms around him and comfort him. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed the killing.
“He did tonight,” Étienne said darkly.
Bastien frowned at him. “Who did what?”
“Because they hurt me,” she said.
Bastien’s expression darkened as his gaze ping-ponged between them. “Stop reading her thoughts.”
You would defend him?
The unfamiliar voice in her head startled her. Yes. Wouldn’t you?
I saw the bodies.
I assume you’ve also seen his thoughts.
A look of unease passed over the immortal’s attractive face.
When Bastien took a menacing step toward Étienne, Melanie swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward to snag Bastien’s hand.
He glanced back.
She met Étienne’s gaze squarely. You’ve seen his thoughts? she repeated.
Yes.
Did he kill for the hell of it? Did he kill for the fun of it? Or did he kill them because they tried to kill me?
Bastien gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Dr. Lipton?”
Étienne sighed. “You may as well drop the formality. One, I’ve heard your thoughts and know your concern for her extends beyond that of a work colleague. And two, I’ve seen your thoughts and keep coming across her naked.”
Richart tried without success to choke back a laugh. “Nothing to say?”
A muscle in Bastien’s cheek jumped. “I’m debating over whether or not I should kick Étienne’s ass for seeing Melanie naked.”
Richart burst into laughter.
“It wasn’t real! It was fantasy!” his brother protested.
“I don’t care. She was naked.”
Melanie felt heat bloom in her cheeks and didn’t know why the hell she should feel embarrassed. It wasn’t as if she really were naked. As Étienne had said, they were talking about fantasies he had seen in Bastien’s head.
How hot was it that Bastien was picturing her naked?
I was naked in his thoughts? she asked, unsure if Étienne was still tuning in.
A lot.
And we were doing . . . ?
Things that would make you blush even more than you are now.
I don’t suppose you could show me, could you?
It doesn’t work that way.
Damn.
His lips twitched.
Bastien tugged her hand. “I can’t hear what he’s saying to you. Should I kick his ass?”
“As if you could,” Étienne murmured.
“No.” Melanie said, “It’s fine.”
All three immortals suddenly looked at the ceiling.
“What is it?”
“Reordon,” Bastien grunted.
“And he’s pissed,” Richart said needlessly.
If Bastien had once more plowed through Chris’s guards, she was surprised it had taken Chris this long to join them.
She looked to the twins. “He’ll chain Bastien up.”
Étienne frowned. Easing farther into the room, he closed the door behind him. “For being shot by the guards?”
Surprised, Melanie stood and stared up at Bastien. “You didn’t hurt any of them?”
He shrugged and watched her carefully. “I was in a hurry. Perhaps next time.”
She smiled and shook her head.
Richart turned to his brother. “It’s true. Chris will order the guards to restrain him and chain him up.”
“But he didn’t hurt anyone.”
“He didn’t hurt anyone the night he was drugged either. Not here, anyway. He was unconscious when I brought him in, but Chris wanted to restrain him in the holding room.”
Étienne’s brow creased as he swore and glared at Bastien. “I can’t believe you’ve put me in a position where I’ll actually have to defend your sorry ass.”