Watching it as he was, he noticed traces of blood and stilled.
“Jenna,” he said, a strange rushing sound in his ears.
“Hmm...?” she replied, turning to look at him.
He lifted his fingers, where faint traces of blood lingered. As an experienced adult male, he was familiar with women’s bodies and wasn’t squeamish about a bit of blood. As a prospective father, however, he had no sense of the level of danger. Without the requisite knowledge, he was at a loss for what to do, starring at what could be normal or could be disaster, absolutely powerless.
For her part, the color fled Jenna’s face, pale panic chasing the pigment away from even her freckles. He had seen that kind of reaction once before in his life, before his mother had passed out after she had witnessed him fall from a tree and sustain a compound fracture as a child.
Sebastian braced Jenna immediately, though he doubted that was what was happening to her.
She was a royal guard. She couldn’t faint at the sight of a little blood. He refused to believe it.
Instead, she turned frantic, separated from him to twist and face him. Steadying herself with his arm, her grip clawlike in its ferocity, she gingerly probed herself with her other hand. When her fingers came back laced with blood, too, she said, her voice pitched low with fear, “We have to go to the hospital.”