Page 51 of Bad Moon Rising
“I want to help. This is my fault.”
He held up his hand to keep her away as he stood and stumbled a few feet away. “It’s not your fault. That’s a part of why I despise all of this. Why I hate…” He held up his wrist and glared at it. “This.Don’t help me, Nova. Repeated magic will have a price. I don’t want you to pay for what’s my issue.”
“Maybe, but at least you’ll be in less pain now. Let me try.”
“I’m okay right now.”
“You’re not. I’m sorry I hit you. I made it worse.”
He sifted a hand through his hair and dropped his head. The agony in his huge, tense body called to her.
She moved her legs to dangle over the edge of the bed. “Roman, let me help you. Stop being so freaking stubborn.”
“I’m not used to people wanting to help me. This is all new. I’m not unappreciative. It’s just I’ve never let anyone into my life like this. I don’t take people with me on my missions or involve myself with anyone else. I deceived my handler and the king to keep you safe. I’m disregarding a direct order. Because…” He shifted to look over his shoulder at her. “You matter to me. I don’t know how it’s possible in less than two days, but you do.”
“It’s just because I’m female and lycan, right?”
He cursed and threw a hand against the wall, taking short breaths. She hated watching him like this. Guilt and impotency swamped her. How could she help him?
“Perhaps, at first, but it’s not that simple. You’re mouthy, unpredictable, and a witchy badass who gets magic in a way I never will. You’re unique, and you matter. I’ll handle the pain. I swear we’re going to figure this out.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What’s your mother like?” Nova speed-walked to keep up with Roman. Milan’s ancient stone architecture intrigued her, not that she remembered if she’d ever seen it before. Mattered not. She didn’t have time for art and buildings.
“Wait a second. Would you please slow down?” She dodged three women consulting a map, which caused her to end up farther behind him. The jaw dropped on the one woman while she stared at Roman. She said something in English about Italian men being hot.
Roman paused to allow Nova to catch up, grabbed her hand in a non-romantic keep-up gesture, and resumed his brutal pace.
“Smaller stores are closed today. Got to be something in theQuadrilatero d’Oro,” he muttered.
She grabbed his arm, tugging him to a halt. “Why are we shopping?”
He waved at the jeans, I-love-Milan T-shirt, and the beaded jacket he’d found for her at a tourist trap near the airport. His once-over was far from disparaging, lingering on her chest before dipping downward. His voice came out hoarse. “There’s nothing wrong with your outfit, but I thought you’d prefer to meet my mother for a formal Sunday dinner in a dress.”
“Shopping sounds smart.” Her hand drifted to her face. “I shouldn’t meet anyone looking like this.”
“I can barely tell. The bruising is almost gone. A bit of makeup…” He scanned her face, slightly wincing, before he took off again. He sucked as a liar.
She struggled once more to keep up. “Can’t you dump me somewhere and pick me up after this dinner?”
He glanced around and said as if he hadn’t heard her, “We’ll go to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele. It’s closer.”
Minutes later beneath a high, vaulted glass ceiling, she was surrounded by designer shops—Prada, Versace, Dolce, Valentino. He shuttled her into a coffee shop. The moment the door closed after they entered, her eyes drifted closed as she breathed in the rich smells of coffee and pastry. When she realized he wasn’t yanking her to move and that she’d probably spent a moment too long smelling, she met his gaze, face hot.
He smiled. The upward shift of his lips widened until white teeth showed his genuine amusement. The tips of his sharp canines peeked out.
“What?” She shrugged. No one else in the shop stared at her, and there were a lot of people milling about. “Am I embarrassing you?”
“No. People rarely stop to appreciate the aroma. Of course, it couldn’t be more perfect when one is starving.” He inhaled deeply, obviously enjoying the smell, too. His smile broadened.
She grinned. “Never shop hungry.”
“Cappuccino?”
“Espresso keeps me awake for days. Latte is fine.” She placed a hand on her chest, wide-eyed. “I remembered something. I don’t do espresso.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners with his slight smile.
