Staggering, he threw out a hand and leaned against the wall.

Melanie grabbed his other arm to steady him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked down at her. “You’re irritated.”

She shrugged. “You don’t exactly make it easy for them to like you.”

“I don’t care if they like me.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why should I? They judged me and condemned me before they even knew me.”

“Well, you have to admit your past is a little . . . dark.”

He emitted a humorless laugh. “And my present isn’t?”

Melanie didn’t know what to say to that.

When the elevator pinged, letting them know the five-story climb to the ground floor was over, Bastien straightened. Melanie’s pulse jumped when he removed her hand from his arm and gave it a squeeze before releasing her.

The doors opened.

Melanie swallowed.

John Wendleck, head of security at the network, waited for them in the lobby with at least two dozen men. “Dr. Lipton,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Hi, John.” She had known him ever since she had come to work for the network right out of medical school and had tried numerous times to coax him into calling her Melanie or Lanie. But he insisted on calling her by her title, telling her merrily that she had earned it.

Well, he wasn’t merry now. He was all business.

Melanie stepped off the elevator, Bastien beside her.

Before Bastien could muscle his way through the guards or do something else to rile them, she asked, “Did Todd by any chance call you?”

“He did. These men”—he motioned to the soldiers standing at attention behind him, fingers on the triggers of their automatic weapons—“are going to accompany you wherever you choose to take Mr. Newcombe.”

Not a good idea. Bastien was bound to say or do something to set them off and she really didn’t want to end up digging more bullets out of him.

“I’mmmmm pretty sure my Chevy Volt won’t hold this many,” she commented.

Beside her, Bastien laughed. It was the first time she had heard him do so, the deep rumble warming her insides like hot cocoa.

John’s lips twitched. “I’m sure it won’t,” he agreed. “Two men will ride with you. The others will follow in separate vehicles.”

“That really isn’t necessary—”

“I believe it is. You’re an important member of our family.” Chris worked hard to make the network feel like a family. “We just want to make sure nothing happens to you.” His eyes shot Bastien a warning.

Bastien stiffened. “I didn’t harm her when I breeched the network. What reason would I have for harming her now?”

“You threatened her life and forced her to allow you access to Vincent.”

Guilt rose up inside Melanie, souring her stomach. Bastien had done no such thing, but had told Chris he had when interrogated. To protect her. Melanie had freely and willingly aided Bastien in seeing Vince that last time. But Bastien had feared she would lose her job and all credibility if she admitted as much.

“That was then. This is now,” Bastien gritted.

“I have no way of knowing what motivates you from one moment to the next,” John spoke evenly. “If you mean her no harm, you shouldn’t object to the added security.”

Melanie could have sworn she actually heard Bastien’s teeth grind together.

“So be it,” he said again and headed for the back doors.

The tension in her Chevy as they left the network was about a twenty-one on a scale of one to ten. Bastien sat beside Melanie in the passenger seat, large and powerful even when not in motion. Two soldiers sat in the backseat, automatic weapons in hand.

“I’m going to have to ask you to take your fingers off the triggers, gentlemen,” Bastien said after several long minutes, his gaze on the darkened scenery that zipped past outside his window. “There are a lot of bumps in North Carolina’s roads that could precipitate an accidental discharge.”

In the rearview mirror, Lanie saw the men exchange smug glances.

“If it happens, it happens,” one drawled.

Bastien continued to stare out the window. “If you should accidentally shoot me, I’ll merely break your arms and all of your fingers to prevent such stupidity from happening a second time,” he said blandly. “But if you accidentally shoot Dr. Lipton, I’ll rip your throats out so swiftly you’ll bleed to death before the men in the vehicles behind us even realize something has gone wrong. Just something for you to consider.”

Again the men exchanged a look, this one neither smug nor confident. Both shifted, removing their fingers from the triggers she assumed.

“A wise decision,” Bastien commented.

Thanks to an unusual amount of traffic on the road, they were late arriving at David’s sprawling one-story estate.

Bastien opened and exited his door before Melanie could remove the key from the ignition. Grabbing her purse, she reached for the door handle only to have it slide from her grasp as Bastien opened the door for her.

He held out a hand.

Surprised, she took it and exited the car. “Thank you.” Her pulse picked up, doing jumping jacks as though she were a girl out on her first date.

Nodding, he released her hand and eyed the soldiers clambering out of the back. “Your services are no longer needed. A number of immortals and their Seconds are inside. I’m sure they can keep my violent impulses in check.”

“Our orders are to stay close until Dr. Lipton leaves your company,” one said, then met Melanie’s exasperated gaze. “We’ll be out here if you need us.”

She doubted they would listen if she tried to send them on their way, so she nodded and headed for David’s front door.

David maintained an open-door policy in all of his residences. Anyone with the access code—human, gifted one, or immortal—was welcome to enter and make him- or herself at home no matter the hour.

Bastien guided Melanie up to the front door with a hand on the small of her back. If anyone asked, he would say he did so to provoke the soldiers currently glaring holes in him. But he really just wanted to touch her again.

When he had taken her hand and helped her from the vehicle . . . the emotions that had flooded him where they had touched had taken his breath away. Excitement. Attraction. A touch of shyness. All of the things he felt himself when he looked at her. At Melanie.

He only allowed himself to speak her first name in his thoughts, hoping verbal formality would help him remember to keep his distance.

Bastien punched the code into the electronic keypad beside the door.

The high-tech security system wasn’t for David’s benefit. The second eldest immortal in existence was incredibly powerful. He could hear the approach of even the quietest vampires long before they reached his door and dispatch them if necessary. The Seconds and human employees of the network, however, could not. Nor could younger immortals. Not to the extent that David could. And David wished to keep those he considered family safe.

Melanie entered the house before Bastien, her scent enchanting him. She didn’t wear perfume. No doubt her close work with the vampires had taught her that any strong fragrance—no matter how sweet—could offend rather than please.

Male voices filled the house with a constant hum. The meeting must not have begun yet, because the bits and pieces of conversation Bastien picked up were fairly frivolous.

The living room ahead of them was empty. But the dining room to the left bustled with activity.

A table long enough to seat twenty-four dominated the space. David sat at one end, thin dreadlocks drawn back from his face and falling down to his hips. At his elbow, Darnell spoke softly to him, asking if they shouldn’t try one more time to convince Ami to leave the country.

Bastien may not like Darnell, may have even wanted to shove the Second’s smoothly shaven head through the wall a time or two, but he had to give the man credit for watching over Ami and putting her safety above everything else.

Ami and Marcus were just taking their seats on David’s other side. Ami seemed oblivious to Darnell’s comments, but Marcus listened closely as he drew his wife closer and wrapped a possessive arm around her narrow shoulders.

Roland and Sarah sat beside Darnell. Bastien still felt nothing but animosity whenever he encountered the nearly millennium-old immortal. Old habits were hard to break, and the hatred Bastien had nursed in his heart for Roland had lasted two hundred years.

Sarah smiled at Ami and engaged her in conversation. If Bastien hadn’t already liked the newly transformed immortal before, he would now just for befriending Ami. Ami had endured so much pain, so much torture since her arrival in their world . . .

She deserved as much kindness as she could find.

The other immortals stationed in the area filled most of the remaining seats: Lisette d’Alençon and her twin brothers, Richart and Étienne, all roughly Bastien’s age of two centuries. Their Seconds: Tracy, Sheldon, and Cameron. Yuri and Stanislov. Bastien knew little of those two immortals, nor of their Seconds, who were also present. Ethan, an American immortal barely a century old, and Edward, a Brit like himself, were present, too.

Chris Reordon circled the table, distributing more of his precious files and handing out friendly comments with each.

Melanie strode forward. Bastien followed.

With the exception of Ami—who viewed all doctors and scientists with a fear that bordered on absolute terror—those present greeted Melanie with smiles that morphed into scowls and tight-lipped rejection when their gazes shifted to Bastien.

Fuck you, too.

The frowns on Lisette’s and Étienne’s faces deepened, telling him they were once more prying into his thoughts and didn’t like what they heard.

What did he care? He didn’t need their friendship or acceptance. He didn’t need anything from them at all.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Chris demanded.