Page 22 of Bad Moon Rising
He texted back:Did he say 4 a.m. or p.m.? I’m still waiting…
Flynn:a.m. I can call again.
Roman:Don’t. He might get grumpy.
Roman wondered if Nova might prefer his brother’s brazenness over him.
What was this idiotic insecurity? He hadn’t experienced this complexity of jealousy in ages.
…
Nova twisted her hands together while Roman texted. Roman being off-kilter about something amped up her anxiety. Since she’d found him, she’d relied on the certainty of his strength and confidence. Although most of the plane ride here he’d been brusque, unfriendly, even surly to the point of annoyed about everything, he remained resolute on his plan to help her. He just kept himself walled off and remote.
Right now, he stared at her. His face had gone stoic. On purpose. Wheels were turning hard inside his head. But he wasn’t giving anything away. Had he figured something out about her past? Something bad?
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
He worked his jaw back and forth, a muscle ticking on rapid fire. She picked up vulnerability in his eyes as if he wanted to say something but thought he shouldn’t. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to speak. Whatever was coming was important. Critical.
Her gut said this wasn’t about her identity crisis. It was personal.
She needed something from him to help her understand the breakdown she just witnessed.
He opened his mouth. “Nova, I—”
A gray-haired, dark-skinned female nurse in pink scrubs cleared her throat in front of them. In a thick accent, she asked him, “Are you Roman?”
He nodded.
“Follow me, please.” The nurse turned and waved for them to follow.
Nova considered the value of bolting for the front door.
“We’ll get through this,” he whispered. He held her elbow in support.
She glanced up but didn’t yank her arm away. Instead, she removed her arm from his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
He stared at their locked hands, not moving to follow the nurse, and he didn’t remove his from hers when he did take the first step. For an instant, he met her eyes before looking away to pursue the nurse.
Even with her emotions a tangled mess, she memorized each turn through the maze of nondescript hallways and took stock of every human they encountered.
They ended up in a carpeted office with little personalization other than a picture of a family. Was that an image of Dom in the white-striped button-down and pressed black slacks? Strangely disappointing if the thin man with the scraggly, graying facial hair in the picture might be a powerful mage.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s finishing up some notes on an emergency procedure.”
The nurse met Roman’s gaze for a brief instant before dropping her gaze. Nova smelled the nurse’s fear, not that she understood how she recognized that the odors that she processed equaled fright. The nurse might know what they were or at least suspect Roman wasn’t human.Some cultures are more sensitive to awareness of us than others.
Where had that observation come from? It was in a man’s voice inside her head. A memory.
“He wanted me to get a blood sample for testing.” The nurse stopped wringing her hands to pull on latex gloves. She removed needles and blood tubes from her pocket and waved at a metal chair.
“You okay with a blood draw?” Roman asked Nova.
Nope.But, of course, she lied and mentally pulled on her big girl panties. If he thought this was the way it had to be done for her to find her memories, then so be it. She nodded and sat in the designated chair.
“Do you prefer your right or left arm?” the nurse asked in a businesslike tone.
“I…” She stared at the bin of needles on a shelf, her heart racing and lungs not inflating normally. After a finger swipe across Roman’s name on her left wrist, she said, “Right one.” She examined the crease of her arm where the vessels coursed close to the surface. “I don’t know if I’ve had blood taken before or if I bruise.”But I don’t think I like it.
