“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 amazing together. You could have your nice girl sometimes. And you could have me, too. We have the formula, Tristen. We could have it all.”
Oh, god, I wanted it all, right then. The creature in my arms was promising me everything that a man could possibly wish for. We could be saints all day and sinners all night. I could have my talent back, and play the world’s greatest concert halls, have power and prestige. I would be able to control it. I wouldn’t lose control . . .
“Do it, Tristen,” she urged. Her breath was warm against my lips, and I could smell the potent mix of chemicals. “Just kiss me.”
My talent . . . power . . . sex . . .
“Oh, Jill,” I groaned, losing my fight with temptation, “don’t do this to me.”
I muttered that protest—yet I bent my head to meet her mouth.