Page 12 of Bad Moon Rising
“I dropped my glamour, which keeps people from jumping straight to peeing themselves in flight-mode terror. You put up one most of the time, too, or aren’t you aware?”
“Glamour? Like something vampires do to compel people to do their bidding?” He didn’t seem as certifiably crazy as that sounded. “I think you’ve watched one too many episodes ofTrue Blood.”
He just smirked. “You want me to look at your head and see if you have an injury or not?”
She nodded.
This time when his broad fingers reached into her hair, she didn’t duck away. He probed around the sensitized skin of her skull, which didn’t hurt. He removed her hands away from shielding against the light to examine her eyes. “No obvious trauma, but your eyes are dilated, which is why the light bothers you. I think you were drugged.”
“I thought so. Maybe when it wears off, I’ll remember?”
“Maybe.” That didn’t sound reassuring.
“When I woke up, I was given information on a drug called Blackout. You think it could be that?”
“Never heard of it.”
“Word online says it’s some sort of new military-grade amnesia drug, and there might be an antidote.”
“Who gave you that information?” With a single finger, he touched her jaw, tracing its edge with a fine tremor in his digit. “Was it the person who drugged you and sent you to the club?”
She stopped breathing, hypnotized by the slow-moving touch. Lips parted and mouth parched, she barely managed a small nod in reply. No words came to her as she envisioned him easing the throbbing that pulsated between her legs for him.
“The website is probably bogus.” His finger trekked down her neck toward— He fisted his hand and pulled it away. He tugged in a rough breath. “Where’d you get the lighter?”
“I woke up with it.”
“You flicked it twice. How did you know to do that?”
She pressed her fingers against her eyelids, which did a bit to alleviate the renewed head pain when she thought of the lighter. “The message said if you tried to kill me to flick it twice.”
“A message? It said twice?” His eyebrows rose. His face seemed to lose color.
“Twice.” She patted the cell phone in her top. “It said to get you out of the subbasement before the timer hit zero, or I’d never remember anything. Maybe I didn’t get my memories back because I didn’t get you out in time. I suspect they wanted you to leave the club before all that chaos broke out, which means either someone saw into the future—impossible—or someone initiated the whole thing.”
She pulled the phone out of her top and caught his gaze lingering on the bustier. Her eyebrows shot up.
He looked away.
Last text message from Unknown.
You were too slow.
Did that mean she was stuck with amnesia? Her stomach twisted, threatening a vomit. A few good swallows got it back under control.
“Let me see the message.” He examined the texts and returned the phone. “Give me the lighter.”
She handed it over.
“You need to leave,” he said as he tucked the lighter into a pocket. “You got me out and returned the lighter. You did what you were told. You and me… Just go. You need to get far away from me.”
“Seriously? You’re going to dump me in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Berlin, without a coat in the snow, while I’m bleeding from a bullet would that I got saving your life?”
“You’ll heal. Might already be healed.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Nova, you have to rememberwhatyou are, which is why you have to go. Please, we can’t…you can’t… You have to get out of the car and leave.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Get. Out.”
