Page 39 of Bad Moon Rising
Wow.Oh wow.She forgot about all external pain. Electricity shot through her.Thiswas a kiss.
He moved his hands to either side of her face. Her heart swelled from how much the move made her feel cherished. This wasn’t the move of a spy-assassin-killer about to ram a knife in her gut. His mouth returned to hers and moved down her neck to her shoulder to lick over one of her wounds. “Your beautiful skin this damaged makes me furious. If that asshole wasn’t dead, I’d rip him to shreds.”
Chills skirted along her skin.
She sifted her fingers through his roguish hair, raking her nails over his scalp and digging in. Her body bowed toward him.
He grabbed his left arm to cradle it into his body, putting a wedge between them. On a sharp hiss, he rolled away from her to have his back against the wall. His breaths came in short, choppy gasps. She could’ve sworn he cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Intuitively, she felt something dark trying to influence him. She scrutinized the tattooed band around his wrist, unclear how it worked. “Who exactly are you cursed to serve and why would they care about me?”
He held up his hand to stop her approach. “Need…gimme a sec.” Two short inhales. “Don’t come close.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m now under orders to kill you.” He groaned and stared heavenward. “Fuck.”
“The curse…it’s punishing you?”She stared, fixated on the tattooed band around the wrist on the arm he held. “Are you going to attack me now that you made good on your promise?”
He dropped his head and tugged in three short breaths while rolling his head back and forth.
Yet, she didn’t move. Her body readied with tension to fight.
He wheezed out, “No. Not now. Promised…swore to help you. Want to keep you safe.” He sucked in a sharp breath and bucked forward.
“How does it work? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
She opened her mouth to speak but bit back the accusation he wasn’t fine.
Dangerflashed over and over in her mind. Her muscles tightened as she strained to be attentive to his every breath, every move. Yet, he remained in place.
“I’m good. Swear,” he said, eyes closed.
“Okay,” she said sarcastically. “I’m going to sit down over there on the sofa. Because I went through a windshield, and I haven’t slept in a long time. And you don’t look like you have it entirely under control.”
She collapsed on the sofa in front of the TV, slumping until she could rest her head against its back. Fatigue hounded her to close her eyes.
He’d been ordered to kill her.Stay awake. Watch him.
Buuut…this was Roman. Who just kissed her. Who had promised to help her. He wasn’t a person who went back on promises.
In the small amount of time she’d spent with him, she realized Dom was right. Honor dictated his life. He promised to help her and he’d live up to it. How much would the curse punish him for doing so, though, since it was at odds with his orders? She watched him out of her peripheral vision. When he sat stiffly on the other side of the sofa in silence, she lolled her head to stare at him. Strain paled the crinkles around his eyes. His gaze turned to meet hers.
“I’m sorry; it’s my fault the curse is hurting you,” she said.
“This isn’t your fault. There’s a lot going on that you’re somehow wrapped up in, but I haven’t figured it all out yet. What I do know is none of this is your doing.” His pupils dilated as his gaze dropped to her lips, likely replaying their kiss in his head just like she was.
Inappropriately, humor bubbled out of her. “Kill order aside, you think I’m hot. It’s okay to admit it. Guys like you who are into clandestine bullshit like girls who can hold their own. I’m an irresistible badass. I got your number.” She reached over to put her hand over his. His entire body tensed. “I think you’re hot as hell, too. What did I do in my past that makes it necessary for me to die?”
He continued to stare at her without responding, but he rotated his wrist to interlace his fingers with hers.
“I’d like some sort of explanation,” she said. “I’d like to understand something about my life. Like how someone found me here and why he tried to abduct me. Why didn’t he simply kill me? Was he transporting me for some reason? Do I know something important?” The memory loss headache blossomed.
Roman’s stoic mask fell, and his brows dropped low. He leaned close to trace the scabbed glass cuts on her face with his index finger. “I like that you’re a fighter and killed the asshole. Do these hurt?”
“Not so much anymore.” She liked that he liked that about her. “You’ve got to knock it off. Stop looking at me like that, or I’ll kiss you again.”
