Bite clube by non (books not by me ) (i can read with my eyes shut txt) 📖

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 youkidding ?"

"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 thehell had 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'sso not true!" Claire said, shocked--shocked he would eventhink it, much lesssay it--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 achoice. "

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 loveyou , 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 justshut up.

"I saw how he looked at you. C'mon, Michael, tell her. Tell her I'm wrong. Tell her you never think about it."

Michael didn't say anything. There was an odd light in his eyes, one Claire couldn't remember seeing before. She punched him in the arm. "Well?" she demanded. "Tell him!"

"Won't do any good," Michael said. "He's not listening to anything I have to say. Or you, for that matter. Come on, Claire. We should go."

"No! I'm not leaving him here like this, thinking that I'm--"

Shane lunged forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and put his face very close to hers. Close enough to kiss, but that didn't seem to be on his mind at all. It was Shane, but...not. Not the Shane she'd always known. Even when he'd lost his memory, there'd been this core of gentleness, of control...and now that was gone.

It was like part of him had died. The best part.

"Let me make itreal clear," he said. "I don't date fang-bangers. If it's not him, then it's that crazy-ass, bloodsucking boss of yours. So, go on. Do what you know you want to do. None of my business anymore. We're done."

And he pushed her away, hard. She banged against a steel post, which knocked the breath out of her and brought tears to her eyes from the instant, white-hot pain of bone ringing on metal.

Through the tears, she saw Michael grab Shane's arm and yank him away from her, unbelievably fast and strong. But Shane had strength and quickness of his own, more than he should have, more than she'd ever seen any human have, and he swung around inside Michael's defenses and slammed a fist into his stomach, then his chin, snapping Michael's head back. Then again and again and again, so fast it was a blur.

And Michael went down flat on his back. He rolled over, blinking, and got back to his feet, but his

mouth was bleeding, and Eve was yelling and trying to get between him and Shane, and it was all just insane how this was happening. How could it possibly be--

Claire caught sight of a figure standing at a metal railing upstairs, looking down at them. A petite woman, masses of honey-colored wavy hair, a sweet face.

Gloriana. The vampire.

She was smiling--not an evil smile, which Claire could have understood, but a smile of childlike delight. A smile that should have been reserved for puppies and rainbows and true love.

Not for seeing Shane kick Michael in the side with enough force to shatter bone.

The onlookers watched with a kind of strange, hungry approval, and nobody moved in to stop it until a tattooed, muscled guy--Rad, from the car and motorcycle shops--grabbed Shane from behind, winding his arms through and locking his fingers together behind Shane's neck in a unbreakable restraining hold. He kicked the joints of Shane's legs and got him down on his knees.

Eve was down next to Michael, helping him sit up, wiping the slightly too-pale blood from his face with a lacy black handkerchief. "My God," she was saying numbly. "My God, my God...Oh, sweetie..."

Shane was trying to throw off Rad's hold, but his buddies were moving in now. As if he realized it was useless to try to break Rad's hold on him, Shane went still.

Eve must have decided Michael was okay, because she looked at Claire and asked her if she was hurt, at increasingly worried volumes. Claire shook off her daze and said, "No, I'm fine. Michael?"

He didn't answer. He was sitting up and all his attention was on Shane. Just Shane. "Let him go, Rad," he said.

"Dude," Rad said. "Don't think that's too good an idea. He ain't givin' up. He's just waiting. I can feel it."

"I said let him go."

"Your funeral." Rad released Shane, who turned and shoved him back. Rad held up his hands, signaling surrender.

And Shane turned back toward Michael, who wasn't showing anything like that. In fact, he was on his feet again, moving Eve--gently--and facing Shane squarely.

"This isn't you, man. What is causing this?" Michael asked.

"It's her," Claire said, and looked up at the railing above them. "She's screwing with him."

Only Gloriana was gone. No sign she'd ever been there. Claire looked around, but there were no vampires in view. Not one.

Just Michael.

Shane turned a scorching look on her. "Herwho?"

"Gloriana," Claire said. "She's doing this to you."

He laughed. "I don't do vamps. You ought to remember that."

"It's a glamour."

"No, it's not," Michael said, very quietly.