Page 79 of The Union
Heavy footsteps clamored behind me. “Layla?” Worry etched Sam’s tone.
Once inside, I swung the door shut, but Sam plowed in.
“Give me a minute, please,” I said, holding in the urge to scream at the top of my lungs.
Sam leaned against the closed door, clearly petrified as he gnawed on his lip. I’d never seen fear on the snarky vampire before.
I pulled down my leggings. I’d been wearing stretchy fabrics more and more. Then I checked my white panties.
“You’re bleeding.” The color drained from Sam.
And I had to be ghostly white too.
28
LAYLA
From the naval base to the local human emergency room, I was numb from head to toe. Even as I waited in a private room for Dr. Martin while he delivered a baby, my heart wouldn’t stop jackhammering in my chest, and not only because of the blood on my panties, but also because I was on edge after Junior had told me about my grandmother. I wasn’t that surprised she wanted to build me into a creature of the night, but the minute we drove off the base, my heart was on a collision course with an oncoming train.
I didn’t want to think my grandmother was waiting idly in the shadows, but I couldn’t help but sense that she was. I wasn’t saying Junior lured her there, because Rianne knew exactly where I was. Nevertheless, I couldn’t live in fear and lock myself away forever. Besides, I felt protected with Olivia and Ben monitoring the outside perimeter of the hospital. My sister and her bodyguard were in the waiting room, and Lane, my bodyguard, was outside my door, and I had the strongest of them all by my side. Sam would annihilate anyone who he felt was a threat to me.
Though my gorgeous vampire was now glacier solid against a wall just inside the door, if it weren’t for Lane driving us, Sam would’ve probably crashed the Jeep. He’d said nothing since we’d left the base except when he yelled at Dr. Vieira to do something.
But Dr. Vieira’s hands were tied. Without a transvaginal ultrasound machine, he couldn’t do much except assure us that spotting during the first trimester was normal. But to be safe, he’d called his longtime friend, Dr. Martin, who I had yet to meet.
Sam’s hands were glued to the ivory wall as though the structure was his only lifeline. His green eyes glowed in his chiseled face, filled with questions, sadness, and worry as if the world was crashing down around him. Maybe it was. Maybe Sam and I weren’t meant to be happy, build a family, or even be together. But I refused to believe we were doomed, destined to live as the enemies we’d been born to hate.
Sitting on the exam table naked from the waist down with a thin paper sheet covering my lower body, I swung a leg out and back, a nervous tic to keep me from having my own meltdown. We had been impatiently waiting for Dr. Martin since the nurse had collected a tube of blood from me.
“Dr. Martin is in surgery but wanted us to run some tests while he was preoccupied,” a brunette nurse by the name of Louise had said when she’d taken my vitals.
“We might be here into the night,” I mumbled, staring at the collection of gloves, swabs, and tissues neatly placed on the speckled counter next to the sink.
Sam grunted, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
I should call Jordyn to let her know we hadn’t been seen yet. She’d tagged along for moral support but was out in the ER waiting room, probably biting her nails and bouncing her knee, impatiently eager to hear if I was okay.
“Dr. Vieira said it’s probably nothing. Spotting happens during the first trimester,” I said to reassure us both that nothing was wrong.
He finally blinked. “That amount of blood didn’t look like spotting.”
Shuddering, I couldn’t argue with him.
“Where the fuck is the doctor?” His tone was stilted, his words clipped.
I tangled my fingers on my lap. “Sam, I really need you to be the calm one. Otherwise, I might have a panic attack.” I was bordering on one anyway.
He pushed off the wall, softening his hard veneer. “I’m sorry.” He wedged his way between my legs, combed a hand over my hair, and his forehead kissed mine. “I’m trying to keep my shit together.”
His demeanor reminded me of his anxiety over flying. “Then why don’t you tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.” We’d played the same game on the plane, which helped him, so it might help me too. We still had many things to learn about each other. “You don’t like to fly. You were in foster care. What else?”
He brushed his lips over my nose. “I was in jail a few times when I was fourteen.” He inhaled, rubbing his cheek against mine as though he wanted his scent on me or mine on him.
I leaned into him, purring. “Why am I not surprised?”
His nimble fingers danced in my hair. “Your turn. Tell me a favorite place of yours.”
I held onto his waist. “I love the ocean. You spoiled me when you brought me to Jo’s house in Maine.”
