“Get the hell away from her,” I snarled, stalking toward them, tearing Jill off his lap and hauling Flick to his feet.
“Get off me, Hyde,” he snapped, pulling away. “This is none of your business.” He jabbed a thick finger at Jill. “She hit on me, dude!”
I was all too conscious of the fact that I’d played a role in driving her to Flick, and I was fully aware that Jill was not really even in the room, yet his assertion nearly knocked the wind out of me. I’d never been jealous before, but this was Jill.
“I’m going to kill you,” I growled, advancing toward him, grabbing his shirt, and shaking him hard. “Did you kiss her? Did you touch her?”
Flick laughed. Actually laughed up into my face. “You ruined my season,” he spat. “And now I’m going to do your girlfriend. Tonight.” He pried at my fingers. “So let me go and get the hell out of here.”
I did let him go—just long enough to haul back my fist and smash it into the side of his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. But he caught himself, regained his balance, and charged me, using his shorter stature to advantage by ramming me with his shoulder as if I were a tackling dummy on the practice field.
We both fell to the ground, Flick on top of me. I was so furious, though, that I easily rolled him off and pinned him to the floor. I was kneeling over his chest, not quite sure what I planned to do next—both of us regarding each other warily as we struggled for breath—when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
“You dropped this,” a throaty, seductive, feminine voice said. “And I thought you might want it.”
I dared to look sideways and saw that my knife—blade open—was being offered to me by a delicate familiar hand.
And me . . . I accepted the weapon.
Chapter 80
Tristen
“DUDE!” FLICK’S EYES DARTED between the knife and my face. “What the . . . ?”
“The knife’s not for you,” I advised him, hurling the weapon across the floor so it spun under the couch. Then I rose off Flick, who scuttled backwards like a crab. “Get out of here,” I ordered him. “And never mention this—unless you want me to tell Darcy what you were doing. And trust me, she really would kill you.”
“You two are nuts,” he said, dragging himself upright and starting for the door, keeping a good distance between me and the incarnation of Jill, whom I caught in my arms as she lunged toward the knife.
“Tristen, hurt him,” she demanded, writhing against me. “Do it!”
Flick was almost at the door. “Something’s wrong with both of you!”
“Remember that and consider yourself warned,” I told him, fighting against Jill, who threatened to break free. The formula had made her strong. “Now go!”
Flick hauled open the door and darted into the night, and although Jill was powerful, I was still stronger, and I spun her to face me. Suddenly she went soft in my arms, accepting my hold. I looked into her eyes, desperate to see the girl I loved. But she was gone. In her place was a creature who looked like Jill Jekel if she were to wear tighter clothes, mess up her usually sleek hair, and—What had happened to her ears? The lobes were red and bloody. “Jill, you hurt yourself,” I said with dismay, forgetting for a moment that Jill was absent. “You’re bleeding.”
“Oh, god, Tristen.” She scowled at me with eyes that were dead as a shark’s. “You’re such a coward. It’s just a little blood. And there should be a lot more on the floor right now! If you loved me, you would have killed him!” She hit my chest, hard. “But you don’t love me, do you?”
“I love Jill,” I said. “I want her back.”
“Jill is a coward, too,” the creature snapped. “She lets people bully her! I had to take revenge!”
“Jill saved my life,” I said. “She’s strong, and sweet, and beautiful.”
“She’s pathetic.”
“Where is the formula?” I demanded. “Where did you get it?”
“Jill stole it, that first night in the lab,” she said, smiling at the shock on my face. “Jill—not me. Because she wanted to be me. She tasted it on your lips, Tristen. And after that she craved that side of herself.”
Suddenly it all made sense. Jill’s crazy behavior in the classroom: I had been responsible for that. I hadn’t even thought about the formula that lingered on my tongue. “No,” I said, choking on my guilt. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
“Don’t sound so guilty,” she groaned. “It’s good, what happened. The formula is good for all of us.”
“That’s not true.”
In my shock and remorse I had loosened my grip, and she abruptly tore free of me and stalked to the piano, hips swinging. Standing next to the upright, she hit a note. “Why don’t you play, Tristen? Compose something?”
I froze in place. “How did you know . . . ?”
“Because I understand that side of you,” she said. “Jill didn’t understand it, but I recognize the music you made. I know where that came from. And now it’s gone, isn’t it, Tristen?”
Seeing Jill’s body on top of Flick had been like a punch to the gut. But to hear the pity in her voice as she spoke of the way I’d been diminished—that ripped out my soul. I couldn’t even reply, and she walked away from the piano, drawing close to me, raising her hand to stroke my cheek. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look into hers.
“Tristen,” she tempted me, “you could play again, tonight. Just kiss me. Taste the formula on my tongue, and you could play. Then we could play.”
I shook my head, fighting rising desire. Dual desires, actually. “No, never.”
She slipped her hands around my neck, and I felt her rise up, her chest brushing mine. “It would be so good, Tristen,” she promised, digging her fingers into my hair. “We could be
