Текст книги "Bite Club"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

I twisted his arms tighter and felt something tear. This time, Jester screamed.

“Enough,” Vassily barked, and ducked under the ropes. He grabbed hold of my shoulder to pull me off. “I need him more than I need you, boy.”

I let go, because you didn’t fight Vassily. You just didn’t. It was the rule, one of the only rules left now. Glory and Vassily, they were off-limits.

Otherwise, though…it was just freedom. Fight until they said stop.

“Ah,” Vassily said. “He’s watching.” He didn’t sound especially happy about it. I looked up and I thought I saw a shadow upstairs, behind thick glass. A drawn, thin face, old and pale, that almost looked familiar, but it was gone in a blur of motion. Vassily sighed. “Did you see that, Shane?”

I nodded.

“I was afraid of that. Glory, if you would?”

It all blurred away, all the sharp edges and the surfacing memories. Gone. Whatever it was I was supposed to remember…Well, I didn’t.

I looked up at the window reflexively, but I couldn’t see anything. Probably just a reflection. I’d seen a reflection.

“This is too public,” Glory said to Vassily. “We need to move operations sooner than we’d planned—for the bout, at least.”

“Yes,” he said. “And we’d better have a third option, in case. I don’t want anyone crashing our party. You’ve got lists of people we can trust to fill seats?”

“By the time I’m finished in this town, you’ll be able to trust almost everyone.” She laughed. “But yes. Reliable sources. We are very close.”

“Good,” Vassily said, and clapped me on the shoulder. “Hit the showers, Shane. You’re ready.”

It was on Thursday when things started crashing down. To start with, Shane was late, reallylate. When he finally got home, he came bearing food—barbecue again, but with all the veggies and everything. Which made him popular, of course.

But as she set the table, Claire watched him wandering around the living room. He was pacing, and Shane usually didn’t pace—he was more inclined to drape himself over the couch and look like he was asleep, even when he wasn’t. Tonight, though, he was moving like he was pumped up and distracted, and when she touched him on the shoulder, he spun around so fast, she took a step back. It was easy to forget how big Shane was and how strong, until she saw him in action. He was usually so gentle with her.

“What?” he snapped, and then some of the shadows left his expression. “Oh. Sorry, Claire. Didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I know. What’s up with you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Restless, I guess. Been like this all day. I think after dinner I’ll hit the gym, burn off some energy.” That was notlike Shane. He was usually all about lazing around on the couch, maybe putting some energy into a video game. He wasn’t the nervous type.

“Okay,” she said doubtfully. “Maybe play a game first? I’ve hardly seen you at all. We could spend some time together.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who runs off to High Wizard Crazy Pants every time he snaps his fingers. Don’t blame me if you never see me. I’ve got a life, too. It sucks, but I’ve got one.” Shane’s words were blunt, and his tone—it was almost mean.Claire felt it like a slap, and it shocked her—why, she didn’t know. He’d been angry enough over the Myrnin incident, but she’d thought…Well, she’d thought he’d gotten over it, that it was safe to talk to him again.

Clearly he hadn’t moved past it. She decided not to say anything at all, which was probably wrong, but she didn’t trust her voice. She didn’t want him to hear how much he’d hurt her.

After another second of silence, he looked away. “Sorry. Game sounds good. I’m just in a mood, I guess. Maybe a little unnatural-creature killing is just what I need.” Not zombies. Unnatural creatures.That might be nothing, but Claire’s instincts told her it was a very bad sign.

Michael was putting out the food. Claire knew he was listening, but he didn’t say anything, just shot her a glance. From that, she got that he was worried, too. Something was off. Definitely off.

“Hey, bro, you’d better play me first,” Michael said. “Been a week since I got to beat your punk ass. Time for you to step up.”

Shane bared his teeth. It wasn’t a smile. “You want to play? Let’s play. We’ll see who gets bloody this time.” That was Shane, but it wasn’t.All the subtext was wrong—the body language, the tone, everything but the words.

Michael knew it, too. He locked eyes with Shane, frowned, and said, “Maybe you’d better lay off the caffeine.”

“Maybe you’d better mind your own damn business.” He said something under his breath. It sounded like bloodsucker.

“Hey,” Claire said, and put her hand on his arm. “We’re all friends here.”

He flinched and shook her off. “Are we?” Shane asked. “You sure about that?”

“Hey!” Eve had come in, and now she thumped plates down on the table. She looked furious. Michael, on the other hand, was silent, watching Shane with a wariness that made Claire’s skin prickle. “Hey, Van Helsing Junior, back off. How many times do we have to play this? What crawled up your ass again? Michael is one of us; you know that.”

“He’s one of them,” Shane said. “Like my dad. Like Oliver and Amelie and all of those others. He usedto be one of us. Now he just looks like us. You’d better stop drinking the suicide juice, Eve, before you wake up without a pulse, just like him.”

“What are you talkingabout? What the hell happened? Michael? Did you say anything?” Eve looked to him, but Michael shook his head.

“Oh, come on. Stop pretending,” Shane said, and took a step toward Michael. Michael tensed up. “I can feel it, man. I can feel you watching me. Watching Claire.Hell, Eve, too. We’re all just walking snacks to you now. You think I don’t know that?”

“Seriously,” Michael said. “You need to check yourself. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I wouldn’t hurt you or Claire or Eve. Never.”

“Never?” Shane laughed, high and tense. His eyes had a feverish kind of glitter. He crossed to Eve, and she shrank back, but too late. He grabbed her arm, and she dropped a handful of knives and forks with a clatter to the table.

She was wearing a black velvet choker with a skull and crossbones printed on it. He reached up and ripped it off her neck.

And on her throat were healing bite marks. Eve clapped a hand over them, eyes wide, but it was too late. They’d all seen it.

“You want to tell me that again?” Shane said. He was almost whispering now, face close to Eve’s, but it wasn’t kind. It was cruel. “You want to lie to me again about how you’d never hurt her, Mikey?”

Eve gave a little sound of distress and tried to pull free. His hand closed around her arm even tighter, holding her there.

“Shane, stop it. You’re going to break my arm….”

Maybe he would have let go—Claire didn’t know—but Shane didn’t get the chance.

Michael totally snapped, and sent Shane flying.

Shane hit the wall with a heavy thump, knocking over a table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor, which sizzled out with a frying sound as the bulb smashed. Claire was too shocked to move—it had happened too fast—but Shane rolled out of it and back to his feet in seconds. Michael was standing between him and Eve now, staring at Shane like he’d never seen him before. And Shane was glaring back, looking as angry and dangerous as Claire had ever seen him—chin down, head thrust forward.

Michael said, “Back off. You don’t get to push Eve around. Or Claire, either. Not in my house. Are you drunk? Because you’re damn sure channeling the ghost of Frank Collins.”

That should have slapped Shane out of it; Claire winced, and it wasn’t even directed at her. But Shane didn’t react as if he’d heard at all. He took a step toward Michael, then another one, and then all of a sudden he rushed him.

Fast as he was, Michael missed the wind-up. Shane hit him and had him down on the floor in less than a second, kneeling on his chest to hold him down, fist pulled back for a second blow.

Claire ran forward and grabbed Shane’s forearm, trying to hold him back, but he shook her off. She delayed him only by a second or two, but it was enough time for Eve to throw herself forward, over Michael, and look up at Shane with defiance and shock.

“No!” she yelled, right in his face. “Don’t you dare start this, Shane!”

“I’m trying to helpyou, you crazy bitch! You can’t trust him. Don’t you understand? He’s biting you! He’s going to hurt you worse than—”

“We’re getting married!”

Shane froze in place and his arm sagged. His fist opened and dropped to his side. He just stared at her for a couple of heartbeats, and then shook his head so violently, his shaggy dark hair lashed his face. “You’re what?”

“We’re getting married. And if I want to let him bite me, it’s none of your damn business. And, anyway, you don’t know what happened or why, so just shut your mouth, Shane.” Her voice was trembling now, but she was trying to look sure of herself. “No, never mind. Open it and congratulate us. You owe us that.”

“No.”

“Why not? Because you don’t approve? You asshole!” Eve shoved him, and Shane let her push him back, off Michael. He sat on the floor, suddenly limp, staring down at his open hands. His knuckles were bruised—they’d been bruised a lot lately, and cut and swollen. Claire had assumed at first that it had been martial arts practice, but now she was thinking…it was fights. Real fights.

Like this one.

Michael sat up, putting his arm around Eve. She touched his face where he’d been hit and said, “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”

“It stings,” he said. “Shane packs a hell of a punch these days.” He looked into her eyes for a long few seconds. “I didn’t think you wanted to tell anybody yet.”

“I didn’t,” Eve said. “But it just—it just kind of came out. Sorry. I wanted to have a big party for the announcement, you know, but…I had to say something to make him stop.”

“He wasn’t going to hurt me. Not much, anyway.”

“Maybe not, but you were going to have to hurt himif he didn’t back off. And I didn’t want that.”

Claire didn’t know how she felt about all this. Sure, she loved Michael and Eve, and she knew they were together, but this…this seemed fast and final and odd. Like they were rushing into something.

She felt anxious about it, and she had no idea why.

Michael pulled Eve close again and kissed her with authority. Eve sighed and snuggled against his chest, and both of them looked at Shane and Claire, who was kneeling beside him. She wanted to ask Shane if he was all right, but it would sound stupid under the circumstances. Of coursehe wasn’t all right. This was sonot all right.

None of it was right.

She reached out, placed her fingers under his chin, and tipped his face up. His eyes were shimmering with tears, and he looked young and terribly frightened.

Lost.

“What’s happening to me?” he asked. “God, Claire, why did I dothat? I don’t do that. I don’t get angry for—for nothing. I didn’t used to, anyway.” He swallowed. “Do you think…? Is it…? Maybe it’s because…my dad…He wasn’t always an abusive asshole, you know; he just got that way. He’d get in these moods and he’d…he’d…” He gulped for air, as if he was drowning, and the misery and pain in his voice made her ache inside. She didn’t think; she just put her arms around him and held him, fiercely loving him, afraid for him, afraid for allof them. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. I don’t want to be like him. I don’t. I can’t. Please help me.”

“You’re not,” she whispered, lips close to his ear. “I swear you’re not.”

“Then why did I dothat? I wanted to kill him, and it’s like I couldn’t stop myself.”

She didn’t know, either. She held him and they talked in soft, almost wordless murmurs, and his arms around her were strong but shaking, and she pretended not to feel it when his tears soaked through her shirt.

Michael and Eve left sometime during all that. The food sat cold on the table when Claire raised her head to check. Shane’s skin felt cold and damp to the touch. “You should eat,” she said. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”

He laughed wretchedly. “You think if I eat I’ll stop being a complete dick?”

“You’re not.”

“Only because I’m not good at anything. Including that.”

God, he was just falling apart, and she didn’t know what to say. Claire got him to stand up and then sit down at the table. She carried the food back into the kitchen to warm it in the microwave and found that Eve and Michael were in there, engaged in a quiet, intense discussion themselves. They stopped when they saw her.

“We should eat,” she said, and pushed microwave buttons.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Eve said. “You saw. You know.”

“Let’s eat,” Claire said. “We’re all tired and hungry and nervous.”

“Claire—”

“Please.”Her voice broke when she said it, and she had to wipe her eyes to keep tears from falling. “Just sit down and eat!”

But when she carried the food out, Shane’s seat at the table was empty. She checked his room, but he wasn’t there, either.

He was gone.

And she didn’t know where.

SHANE

I sat there alone at the table, looking at the house that had meant so much to me. Myhome. And it didn’t feel like home anymore. Nothing felt right—least of all me. I didn’t fit here anymore. I was dangerous. Something was wrong with me, and I couldn’t take the risk I’d hurt Claire. I couldn’t stop thinking about Eve’s face as I’d been about to punch her, about the shocked, furious, haunted look she’d given me.

About how I’d seen my dad’s face in that reflection.

I hated Michael now,hated him, and I didn’t want to. He was my best friend, my buddy, my rock, but that didn’t matter inside me now. He was just one of them.

It hurt. Bad.

Hearing Eve say she was marrying him…It tore everything apart. I hated him, and I couldn’t hate him. I loved her, and I couldn’t not hate her, too, because she’d made that choice. None of it made any sense anymore. I hated the people I was supposed to love. Not Claire—that was pure; it was perfect. I couldn’t hate her.

Not until I thought about Myrnin. Not until I remembered what Jester had said…She’s marked. I can smell the bite on her. Not her fault, but I hated that Myrnin had that claim on her. That I couldn’t make it go away, no matter how much I tried.

Vassily had promised me money, and he’d delivered. He’d also promised me and Claire a way out.

And I had to take it soon, because there wasn’t going to be anything left to save.

Claire was in the kitchen, talking to Michael and Eve, and a sensation swept over me…paranoia, probably. I just knew that she was trying to make it all okay, that we would all have to sit together and pretend, just pretend that the cracks weren’t big enough to fall through.

And I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

I got up and left, closing the door quietly behind me.

Out in the dark, no Protection, no vampires who would snap their fingers and make sure I could walk around in safety—not that it worked that way, no matter what they promised. I had gotten a letter in today’s mail; I was overdrawn at the blood bank again, and if I didn’t show up to pay my taxes soon, the Bloodmobile would come calling. They weren’t gentle when that happened. They came in, grabbed you, strapped you down, and stuck a needle in your vein, whether you liked it or not.

Sometimes they forgot to take it out when you filled up your pint. Or two. Or three.

Sometimes people just didn’t come out again.

No way I was going to do that anymore. I wasn’t part of this. I was going to get out and take Claire with me.

I walked to the gym. If there were vampires out there in the dark, stalking me, they’d be sorry, and they must have sensed it, because I made it there without anybody touching me. I was sweating, even in the cold wind; there was steam coming off my skin. I felt shaky, though. Empty again. Not hungry, but thirsty.

When I got inside the gym and behind the private door, the first thing I did was pop open a sports bottle from the common fridge and down the protein drink. Then another one. Then another. By the third one I was feeling steady again. In control. Focused.

Strong.

“Hey, man,” said Greg, another human who was training. He was a juicer, bulked up with fake muscles, but he was cool, anyway. ’Roid rage was an advantage in the ring. We high-fived as I passed him, and then I went to sit on the bench with five others waiting for a chance at the ring. Shiemaa was the only girl—buzz cut, tougher than her weight in iron. She gave me a fist bump, and so did the others. All crazy together.

“I heard Stinky Doug got his ass killed,” Shiemaa said over my head, talking to Keith, another juicer with arms as big around as Shiemaa’s whole head. “Somebody said it was because he talked. True?”

“Guess so,” Keith said. “Crazy little bastard. He wasn’t going to last—didn’t have the fire, anyway—but he could take a punch. I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, you gave him plenty of those,” Shiemaa said. She and Keith tapped fists in front of me. “Not like I miss him, but what did he say?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Doug,” I repeated. Some of the fog cleared for me, even though I kept clenching my fists, burning off excess energy. “College guy? Got his throat cut?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Stinky Doug. ’Cause, man, he had some hygiene issues.”

“Which is a lot, coming from you,” Shiemaa said. Keith threw a punch at her, behind my back. She blocked it without any effort. “Why? Did you know him?”

“My girl found the body,” I said. “She knew him. I didn’t know he was in this.”

“Yeah, he was one of the first they asked in,” Shiemaa said. “Probably because he was crazy and a loner and cracked out half the time. Wasn’t even a Morganville kid. Guess they cut their losses.”

Funny, but the idea that Vassily and Glory would kill one of us to protect their little messed-up fight club…that didn’t surprise me. Didn’t alarm me, either. Stinky Doug had brought it on himself.

Shiemaa tapped me on the back of the head, not gently. “Yo, pretty boy, you want to go a few?” The ring was empty now. The vamps were disappearing now, heading out to do whatever it was they did during the midnight hours.

“Nah,” I said. I didn’t feel like hitting anybody right now, not even Shiemaa, who could take it. “I’m going out to hit some bags.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, and tapped Keith. “Let’s go, big guy.”

I went outside, into the public area. Didn’t matter at this time of the night, because there were few people who ventured in, and when the vamps cleared out—which they did nightly to go hit the blood bank or date or do whatever it was—we had the place mostly to ourselves. I waded into the heavy bag.

And pretty soon, the rest of them came out to join me.

Like a pack.

I hit the bag and felt better, because finally, I knew what I was doing.

I was leading the pack.

And that was okay.

TEN

He wasn’t answering his cell, but it was a damn good bet that he had gone where he said he was going—to the gym.

In the end, they all went to find him, because Michael wasn’t letting Claire go alone, and Eve wasn’t letting Michael go without her. They took Eve’s big, black hearse, which had a big enough front bench seat to hold three across. Claire ended up in the middle.

“Hey,” she said as Eve navigated the giant Deathmobile down the dark streets of Morganville. “So…what is this about getting married? Did I even actually hear that? Because I’m pretty sure I would have been told about that by my best friend.” She accompanied it with an elbow into Eve’s side. Eve made a choked sound that wasn’t quite a cry.

Claire was trying to keep it light, because she was feeling anxious now, not just about Shane, but about the two of them. It was tough being a vampire/human couple; there had been plenty of problems already. It would only get harder, and Eve—Eve was strong, but she was also fragile.

Michael was looking out the window at the passing houses, and he didn’t turn his head. “It was kind of an impulse thing,” he said. “Eve wanted to wait and have a big announcement and an engagement party. I just didn’t expect her to blurt it out like that.”

“Well, I had to stop Terminator Shane from punching your face off,” Eve said. “I like your face. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Back on topic,” Claire interrupted. “When exactly did this happen?”

“He asked me at the party. You know, Gloriana’s big party.” That had been one of those weird vampire welcome-to-town shindigs where they’d been basically the only people with pulses invited. Claire hadn’t felt comfortable. She and Shane had ducked out as soon as they could, although later she wished she hadn’t, because she’d heard that crazy things had happened, and the spectacle of Evedancing with Olivermust have been, according to all the gossip, pretty compelling. Because Oliver apparently could dance.

That still seemed bizarre.

She hadn’t known what happened after, because Eve hadn’t said. Claire had assumed nothing had happened of any real notice. Obviously, she’d been way, way wrong.

“So where’s the ring?” Claire asked. She was staring at Eve’s left hand. Nothing shiny on the third finger.

“I didn’t want to wear it until we told people,” Eve said. “I guess I can now. Right?”

“Right,” Michael said. He started to say something else, but fell silent.

It felt strangely awkward, suddenly. And Claire’s mixed feelings got even more mixed. She wantedto believe this was the right thing, but why wasn’t Michael more excited about it? Was that a guy thing? Or…God, was he having second thoughts?

Claire tried to fill the silence. “Any date yet or anything? And can I be a bridesmaid? Please let me be a bridesmaid! I’ve never been one.”

“My bridesmaids are totally wearing black,” Eve said. “Are you down with that? Because I’m wearing red.”

“Yes!” Claire gave her an awkward, one-armed hug, and then did the same to Michael. “This is great. This is…Well, it’s great. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Michael said. He was smiling again, but she saw his reflection in the glass, and what struck her, in a dreadful rush, was that it wasn’t the right kind of smile. It was sad and brave, not happy and proud. Like he was doing what he thought he should do, but deep down he wasn’t sure.

Oh, no. No.

Claire looked down at her lap. She said, “Well, let me know, okay? When you guys are ready. Because I’ll be there, you know. All the way.”

“I know you will,” Eve said. She wasn’t just smiling; she was glowing with delight. “Thanks, sweetie.”

She turned the car again and pulled it into a parking space. The neon lights of the gym were on, and a sign glowing near the door said open 24 hrs.

They sat in the car as the engine died. Michael and Eve exchanged glances over Claire’s head. “So, we should do this,” Eve said. “Right?”

“Right,” Michael said. “We all go together. If he starts something, get out of the way, both of you. Let him take it out on me. I’m not as breakable.”

Maybe not, but Shane had managed to land a punch on him, which had been unpleasantly surprising. Claire didn’t want to see anybody get hit or hurt, not even a vampire who could bounce back. The sound of Miranda getting punched still haunted her, no matter how it had turned out later.

She’d always admired Shane’s ability to defend himself—and her and his friends—but at the same time, she worried. Maybe there wassomething to his fear. Maybe his dad’s legacy of abuse was tough to shake; she knew there was a dark core of anger inside of him, and guilt.

But she also knew that Gloriana was in it somehow. She had to be. No matter how much everybody swore she couldn’t be interested in Shane, there was some reason this was happening, and Claire had seen firsthand how easy it was for Gloriana to twist people around.

Like Shane was being twisted.

I saw her,Claire thought. Up in his room, that first night. That was her. It had to be Gloriana.

That was when it had all started. When Shane’s anger had started coming to the surface.

That bitch.

“We stay together,” Claire said. “And I promise, I’ll duck if anybody throws a punch.”

The parking lot was—oddly, for Morganville—spacious and well lit. They didn’t see anyone else on the way in. The same bouncer was at the desk. He looked the three of them over without saying anything. The lights buzzed softly, and Claire felt nerves start tingling right with them.

“We’re looking for Shane Collins,” Michael said. “Is he here?”

The counter guy checked a list, flipping pages. “Yeah, he signed in about half an hour ago. Hasn’t left.”

“We need to see him,” Claire said.

“Ten bucks.”

“We’re not exercising,” Eve said. “Really, you see these clothes? These are not made for sweating.”

“Not my problem. It’s ten bucks to go in that door, whether you exercise or not. Unless you want to buy a membership. Then it’s five hundred.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“No, you look like a dick who wants thirty dollars to let us talk to our friend,” Michael said, and opened up his wallet. “Here’s forty. The extra ten’s not a tip, so give it back.”

The guy counted out ten ones—even though there was a ten-dollar bill sitting right there in the cash drawer—and slid them over. “Knock yourselves out, kids,” he said.

The buzzer went off, signaling that the door was open. Michael held it for the girls; Claire went first, heading past the busy weight-and exercise-machine area. Everything was full, which was shocking, considering the time of night. The weirdest thing was that Claire didn’t see a single vampire here tonight…just humans. She’d have expected just the opposite.

Shane was in the corner, near the boxing stuff. That wasn’t a surprise; Claire had known in her gut that he’d be here somewhere.

He was punching a heavy bag, which swung back and forth in slow, ponderous arcs as he danced around it, hitting with vicious intensity. He’d taken off his shirt, and he was sweating so much it looked like he’d just come out of the pool, his hair lank and plastered around his face. His skin shone and dripped.

And he was covered with bruises. Covered.She was shocked; she hadn’t seen him like this, not ever. Some were just red spots—fresh ones—and others were old and blue and faded around the edges. The nastiest ones looked black and green. What the hellhad he been doing?

Claire started to walk over to him, but Michael stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “No,” he said. “Let me, okay?”

“Okay.” There was something very off about the way Shane was going after that bag, like it had personally tried to kill him. And she could tell that he’d been at it for a while now, ever since he’d walked in, probably.

As Michael came over, Shane grabbed the swinging bag in both gloved hands and stilled it. He was panting for breath, but his wide eyes were fixed on his friend.

Not in a friendly kind of way.

“Hey,” Michael said. “We got worried when you blew out of the house. We wanted to be sure you were okay.”

Shane didn’t say anything. He clung to the bag and panted and watched Michael with that strangely blank stare.

“So,” Michael continued, still moving toward him, more slowly now. More carefully, like he’d have approached a wild animal. “What do you say we blow this off and go get a pizza or something? You must be hungry.”

He must have crossed some kind of invisible line, because Shane bared his teeth, and Michael stopped in his tracks. That was one crazy look, and Claire felt sick inside; it didn’t look like Shane at all. He kept on grinning—if you could call it that—and reached down for a sports bottle sitting off to the side. He guzzled most of it in broad, thirsty gulps, but he still never took his eyes off Michael. Not for a second.

“I’m not hungry,” Shane finally said. “Vassily’s got me on a new diet. Protein shakes.”

Michael tried again. “Bro, this is some unsettling crap going on. What the hell is up with you?”

“Can’t you tell?” Shane asked. His voice sounded lower than normal—deeper in his throat. “Thought you knew everything, being part of the master race and all. Thought we mere mortals could never put anything over on you.”

Claire had thought it was a private conversation, but behind her, she heard laughter—laughter in name only. It was bully laughter, meant to unsettle. There was no real amusement behind it, other than the anticipation of pulling some wings off particularly interesting flies. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Shane had workout buddies all around them. She’d ignored them at first, thinking they were just people in proximity, but now they were all stopping what they were hitting or lifting or doing, and paying attention.

Big men. Tough. Sweating. A girl, too, but even she looked solid and muscular and ready to kick ass at a second’s notice.

Claire realized that she was holding Eve’s hand, and holding it tightly. She glanced over and saw that Eve, too, was riveted by Shane’s behavior. She looked spooked and very worried.

Claire pulled her fingers free and walked over to stand next to Michael. “Shane, what are you doing here? Let’s just go home, okay?”

Shane focused on her, but that didn’t make it better. If anything, it made it worse, because there was none of the love and gentleness in him that she expected to see—that she’d seen only an hour ago. He stared at her, then at Michael.

She reached for Michael’s arm for support. Something flared hot in Shane’s eyes. “That how it is? You and Claire?” Shane asked. “Not surprised, man. Every girl I ever knew ended up liking you better than me. It’s almost like you set out to make it happen.”

“That’s sonot true!” Claire said, shocked—shocked he would even thinkit, much less sayit—and stepped away from Michael. “You think—You think me and Michael…?”

“Why not? He’s cooler, right? He’s rocking that whole guitar hero thing. Oh, and he’s a vampire—I know how much all you chicks dig that. He could snap his fingers and pull any girl he wanted. Including you. Don’t kid yourself thinking you’ve got a choice.”

He didn’t even say her name. Somehow, that hurt worse than anything else—and it made her angrier, too, which probably wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help it. “No, he couldn’t get me, because I don’t love him. I love you, Shane.”

He gave her a cynical smile. “You don’t have to love somebody to screw them.”

“Shane!” Now she was embarrassed and horrified and sick, and she wished he would just shut up.