Page 41 of Bad Moon Rising
“The curse happened before I was smart enough to wear one all the time. I’m also pretty sure it wouldn’t have been powerful enough to protect against this particular curse.”
“Why do you think all of this happening?”
He stared at her as if looking into her soul then reached up and moved his thumb across her cheek. “I don’t know. We need to understand more about you to figure this out. For starters, who trained you? The fighting skills you have aren’t typical for a female of our species. Most are closeted under heavy guard and coddled. There aren’t very many of you left, which makes the entire species paranoid of extinction if they don’t impose lockdown at all times. According to the Council, it’s blasphemy to consider training you to fight. I don’t agree with them. It’s machismo horseshit on their part, at least from my perspective.”
“So I’m an anomaly?”
“On many levels. Magic. Fighting skills. Being alone without your family. I suspect your family probably isn’t plugged in to the Council or regular lycan society.”
“For whatever I did in the past, do you think I deserve to die? That I might revert to that?”
He sucked in a startled breath. His body bowed over and he massaged his wrist while gritting out, “No. Fuck, I hate this curse.” He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. As if talking to some deity in the heavens, he said, “She can see the tattoo. That’s got to mean something.”
His suffering tore at her with desperation to help him. She could tell this was a guy who’d grit and bear most pain without any outward sign. So this had to be serious hurt.
“What’s it doing to you?” she asked.
He rubbed his wrist harder and breathed short choppy breaths. His dark hair fell over his brow.
She said, “When you go against your orders the curse punishes you?”
Roman’s eyelids squeezed shut as he gulped as if he couldn’t breathe. Between gasps, he said, “Have to do what the Crown orders.”
Maybe talking would distract him from the pain. She moved toward him on instinct to comfort him but stopped before she touched him. What if her touch hurt him worse? “Can I do anything?”
He shook his head and clasped his trembling hands together. He bowed his head and breathed shallowly. “It’s their way of controlling me. If I don’t do what they order…”
“I’m sorry. Would it help if I left?”
“I’d be forced to chase you.”
“I don’t know what to do.” She hated this for him.
“Are you going to kill the king?”
“I don’t have any terrorist or assassination plans right now that I know of. Maybe the old me was evil. You tell me. Did you find out something?”
He shook his head. Color returned to his face. “Nothing solid yet.”
They sat in silence while his breathing slowly improved.
She waved at the TV. “You mind if I watch the news? To see if the wreck made headlines?”
“Sure.” He said it tentatively, as if not sure what to expect next.
She flipped on the TV. They watched various news channels in silence. Nothing about her as an international wanted person. “Why do you think someone tried to kidnap me?”
“Might’ve been a contract killer the king hired.”
A contract killer? That meant there’d be more. Not good.
She fidgeted, too aware of him next to her. “I can feel you staring at me.” She didn’t look his way.
“Did you really go through the windshield?”
“I don’t recommend it. The bastard also shot me in the arm. The one opposite yesterday.” She clasped her hands in her lap to hold them steady and hide their tremble. A side-glance confirmed he still stared.
“Let me see.” He leaned toward her.
