by Zoe Forward
Chapter Five
Roman drummed his fingers against the armrest of the Unfallkrankenhaus Nordost emergency room waiting area chair. The sound of the beats on the plastic thudded above the chaos of humans at their worst. The dull, green walls and smell of chemical cleanser in the hospital waiting room made him want to crawl out of his skin.
Nova still had no memory. Which brought them here. To the pit of health care and the cranky mage who moonlighted here.
Thinking about Dom didn’t help settle him. The mage might have patience learned over hundreds of years, but he was moody and preferred to act on the offense when he felt threatened. His attacks hurt. A lot.
Roman had to be calm to protect Nova.
The burner phone Flynn provided for this visit to the hospital vibrated with an incoming text.
Flynn: Nothing in the digital lycan archives about a female named Nova. None reported missing. Used Russian and American facial recognition again—still nothing there. But I found her in one place. It’s bad.
Roman: What kind of bad?
Flynn: Gerard’s computer and MI6. There’s a video. Looks a lot like her. He knows about her, possibly that you have her with you.
Shit.
For an instant, he considered murdering Gerard to keep her safe.
The curse burned a path up his arm from the tattoo straight to his chest. Can’t breathe.
“You okay?” Nova leaned toward him from the seat next to his. She put a hand on his back when he bowed forward against the vise clamping down on his lungs. “Is this a panic attack? I don’t like this place, either. Listen, we can leave.”
I won’t kill him. I swear, he thought to the curse. I know Gerard’s off-limits. Now back off so I can deal with the mage without getting us killed.
Talking to the curse like it was a sentient being didn’t help. Intuitively, he recognized giving magic an identity made it more powerful. But he viewed the curse as a parasite, one he would one day exterminate.
The pain spiked. He gulped in air.
Nova continued to rub circles on his back. She murmured something he could barely hear. It rhymed. “By Earth and air, fire, and water, so shall you hear my call. Peaceful and calm protects us from all.”
At her words, his back warmed and tingled. Everything in his head flatlined out into a relaxed tranquility. She spun magic?
Now he didn’t know if he’d made the curse back off or if whatever spell she conjured had done it.
He craned away from her touch. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“You looked a little green and were falling apart. Is this too emasculating? A macho guy like you can’t handle a backrub in public?”
“I’m not ungrateful, but what was the poem about?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know. It just came to me. Did it help?”
He shrugged, still skeptical.
“Why’d you have a panic attack? You don’t like hospitals or something?” Her hand was back on him, this time softly squeezing his forearm. The warmth of her fingers burned him through his light jacket. Residual magic. That she, apparently, had no clue she wielded.
“It has nothing to do with this place,” he grumbled.
“The text, then? What’d Flynn find out that was so bad?”
He swallowed against the dryness of his mouth. His pulse picked up and muscles tightened. “We’re here to figure out what’s going on. Maybe get your memories back.”
Trust reflected in her eyes. He didn’t deserve her faith in him. Trust also entailed an understanding he’d protect her, which he couldn’t promise.
Gut instinct urged he keep her close. Someone marked her with his name for a reason. Until that reason became clear—which he hoped to find out here—he’d keep her secret. He’d protect her against everyone, even Gerard. His wrist smarted.
I didn’t say I’d go after Gerard. Simply saying I’d keep her safe.
Guess that meant he wasn’t dumping her with his brother to take off for his meeting in England. Aside from the fact Flynn would make a terrible babysitter since he was so easily manipulated or distracted by women and technology, Roman couldn’t stand the thought of her relying on Flynn. He wanted to be the one to figure this out for her, to protect her, and be the one she trusted.
Roman shot to a stand. The itch to ditch the smell of forced sanitization, death, and crisis burned at him. “Want anything to drink? I’m going to grab a soda or something out of the machine.”
Nova evaluated the vending machines. “I don’t think I like soda.”
He strolled to the snack and soda machines in the corner. Nothing inside interested him. He turned and watched her. She seemed anxious, although she tried to hide it. He was glad he’d taken the time to find a clothing store open late so they both could change. The jeans and sweatshirt somehow made her sexier than last night’s leather outfit with her boobs spilling out.
He resumed the seat next to her.
“This seems very…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Human.”
“Dom is an emergency doctor.”
“How’s he going to help me?”
“He moonlights here for kicks. Not sure why. Maybe boredom in his old age.”
“You’re going with me, right? I can’t go do whatever’s going to happen by myself?” She grabbed his hand and squeezed, her eyes wide.
He wished to ease the desperation in her voice. “I’ll stay with you.”
He texted Flynn: Did Dom say he’d be here when you called?
Flynn: Yes.
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 tang
led 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.
The nurse put on the tourniquet and tapped over the vein of her right arm. Sweat gathered on Nova’s forehead. Her focus dropped from Roman to the approaching needle. A moment before the point hit her skin, her eyes flew back to his. She couldn’t do this. A noise of protest worked its way up her throat.
Her left hand fisted and started shaking.
When the nurse stuck her vein, she flinched, which made the stick hurt worse. Suddenly, he was next to her. Startled, she glanced up, expecting support but what she found…
Lips pulled back and teeth bared, Roman growled low in the back of his throat. Her fear did this to him? He was about to go full werewolf—no lycan…whatever it was he became when he fought. He wasn’t supposed to do it in public, right?
The nurse gasped and jumped, tugging the needle, but didn’t lose the vessel, which was a tribute to her skill.
Nova tried to smother a small whimper at the pressure on her arm to avoid aggravating Roman further.
“You’re hurting her.” It came out of him in a harsh rasp. His protectiveness reassured her but did little to diminish the escalating alarm over the needle in her vein.
Even though she felt desperate to be free of the needle, relief spread inside her to know she wasn’t alone in this. She wanted to tell him she could handle it, but the longer that needle remained in her arm, the more she thought she might not be able to get through it.
“I’m just doing my job.” The nurse’s voice quivered.
“Finish it.” His nostrils flared as he gazed death at the nurse as if working through every way he could annihilate her.
With her free hand, the one with his name on her wrist, Nova grabbed his. Her eyelids squeezed shut. She wasn’t sure if she sought comfort for herself or him.
Tension radiated through his muscles, even his hand, to a point she picked up a fine tremor. Did this nurse realize this dangerous creature barely held himself in check? That her life was in danger?
The nurse changed to the second blood tube. Upon inserting the new tube, the needle moved again. It hurt. It burned. Nova tried not to move, not to breathe for fear of setting off Roman.
“That’s it,” Roman rasped out. “Stop.”
“I’m good.” But Nova’s voice wavered.
“Done.” The nurse removed the needle and put some folded gauze over the injection site, but not before she saw it bubble with a blood droplet. After applying pressure for a few seconds, she slapped a bandage over the small hole, then skirted out of the room as if she sensed her peril.
Nova looked up and froze.
He stared transfixed at the bandage. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to bleed without a fight.” He touched over the bandage. “It’s sacrilege to betray our kind like that. To not protect you against…that.”
“You almost ripping the nurse apart seconds ago was over some sort of species righteousness?”
His gaze flicked away from hers. Yeah, it’d been about her specifically. Didn’t that just make her want to grin and hug him? He liked her.
Nova put her hand over his. “I think you scared her.”
“You think?” he said sarcastically. “I made the whole process worse.”
“I realized I don’t like needles.”
“Neither do I.” He paced the room. “I also hate human hospitals. The smell of sanitized death makes me nuts.”
“Something we have in common,” she muttered. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite work.
They waited in silence. Time slowed as he alternated between pacing and sitting.
“I thought we agreed you and I wouldn’t do this anymore,” boomed a voice from the doorway.
“It’s been a while.” Roman stood but didn’t approach the man filling the entryway.
This was not the person in the photo, and most certainly not human. He wasn’t as muscular as Roman, but he was still tall and wide with an aura of authority. Raised tattoos covered his neck and the left side of his face with geometric marks that instinctually she recognized as those that only came about from working powerful magic. Scars from what looked like knife wounds decorated the arms exposed by the short-sleeved green scrubs. Yet, between the clean-cut hair and facial angles, he came off almost elegant.
“Roman sucks at introductions. I’m Domini Tavlin, but you can call me Dom. I assume you’re Nova?” He didn’t offer his hand to shake.
She nodded.
Dom addressed Roman, saying, “Flynn told me little more than she has no memory. If all you two needed was a chemical screening, then your people could’ve done this.”
“True, but it’s complicated.” Roman said to Nova, “Show him the back of your neck.”
“My neck? Why?” She crossed her arms.
“He may have answers.”
“Based on the back of my neck?”
“Yes.”
All right, she’d trust him on this. She turned to face away from Dom and lifted her hair out of the way.
“Ah.” She whirled around in time to catch Dom’s scowl, which contradicted the confidence in his tone. “Did you know you have those marks?”
“What marks?” Her fingers rushed to palpate the back of her head and down her neck, tracing over raised marks that were similar to Dom’s—concentric triangles. Chills skittered through her shoulders.
“Those are dangerous for a lycan to have. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them on one of your kind before. Have you, Roman?”
Roman shook his head.
Dom crossed his arms, appearing lost in thought for a moment. “She awoke hours ago with amnesia and received texted instructions to find you?”
“Don’t read my mind,” Roman said. “It’s rude.”
Dom got close to Nova but didn’t touch her. His demeanor changed to be almost tender. “Have any memories surfaced?”
“None.” She backed a step away from him. Something about the fascination in his dark eyes surpassed sexual interest, even curiosity, and raised her warning flags. She wasn’t about to admit bits and pieces of memo
ry had trickled in. He wanted to read what was in her mind, but if Roman didn’t want him inside his own head, she wasn’t so sure she trusted this guy to muck around in hers. Dom was going to have to ask first, and they needed to set ground rules for a mental scan.
“Do you remember everything that has occurred since you woke up?” Dom asked while shining a penlight into each of her eyes.
“Would I remember if I forgot?” She watched him as closely as he watched her. They played at casual conversation while he invisibly tested her. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but she detected intrusions. Get out of my mind, she thought to him. As much as she wanted the key to her past, she wasn’t sure this guy was the one she wanted to unlock it.
Dom’s eyes widened. “Maybe you’d remember. Maybe not. If Roman hasn’t needed to rewind and get you caught up over and over, then we can hope you won’t have short-term memory loss. But sometimes those with it can remember a day or two before they rewind.” He clicked off the penlight. “Any dizziness or nausea?”
“Some.”
“She thought herself human when she woke up. I think she still does,” Roman said. “How’s it possible to erase the memory of what species you are?”
Dom didn’t reply as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “You okay, Nova, if I touch your head to look for injuries?” He didn’t wait for her permission to examine her head. As he fanned through her hair, he asked, “Any head pain?”
“Only when I try to remember.”
“There’s no bruising or evidence of trauma.” He lifted her wrist and took her pulse, which her gut said was a con. Because he appeared fixated on the tattoo of Roman’s name. Then there was another intrusion, like a little push inside her mind. Really not liking this guy. Without permission, the bastard was reading her, as in using his own mental powers to deep read everything he could off her past, future, and destiny. How do I know he’s doing this?
She yanked her hand out of his hold and glared.
Dom stepped back and cocked his head, staring at her. “It’s too soon to know anything on a standard toxicology blood screening. I’ll email you the results. But this reeks of PKC-zeta.”