DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel by Meg Jackson Page B

small kitchen, bumping into each other, each overcome with their worst nightmares unfolding in their imaginations. Kim poured some water into a glass and handed it to Tula, whose hands were shaking. Tula slid into the counter at the kitchen table; everyone else remained standing.
    “I had a dream,” Tula said. “About Damon.”
    Cristov and Kennick exchanged a glance. Tula was a drabarni , a psychic of sorts. For most people, gypsy fortune-tellers were scam artists. Tula was the real thing, inheriting her powers from the grandmother she shared with the Volanis siblings. Ricky and Kim exchanged a glance, too. Unlike their men, they were less convinced of Tula’s powers. They weren’t raised to respect things they didn’t understand. To the Romani, Tula’s powers weren’t magic mumbo-jumbo. They were a fact of life, a sense as strong as sight or smell, but only granted to some.
    “What happened?” Cristov said.
    “Blood,” Tula said, looking up at the group from her seat at the table. “Damon was speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear any of it. And then blood came; from his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears. More blood than a body can hold. He’s in danger.”
    “Where is he?” Kennick asked, even though that was the exact question Tula had asked when he answered the door. She shook her head, looking down into the glass.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t…I didn’t see that. I’ll try to see it. I’ll do everything I know to do…”
    “Wait,” Ricky said, holding out her hand with her palm out. “It was a dream. I mean, not every dream means something, right?”
    Tula’s glare betrayed her emotions as she looked at Ricky.
    “Do you think I don’t know the difference between dreams that mean and dreams that don’t?” she snapped. Ricky recoiled, knowing that she was in the minority in the room – even Kim had more faith in Tula than Ricky. “I’m telling you, my cousin is in trouble.”
    Tula drank deeply of the water, then looked around.
    “Where’s Mina?” she asked.
    “She’s with Ana,” Cristov said. “At the store.”
    “You’ll need her, when you find him,” Tula said, leaning back, looking exhausted. “You know she’s the only one who can talk to him.”
    Kennick bristled, but Tula shot him a withering look.
    “You might be rom baro , but Damon…”
    “Is Damon,” Kennick finished, shoulders slumping.
    “Well, what the hell is it that we have to stop him from doing?” Cristov said, and Ricky could tell how hard he was working to keep his voice from rising to a yell. Cristov had no patience, not like his brothers. If it were up to Cristov, they would jump in their cars and drive in random directions – chasing their tails.
    “Hurting himself,” Tula said, voice flat. “Your brother, our Damon, is a violent man. But he’s most dangerous to himself.”
    “He’s not a violent man,” Kim said softly, drawing all the attention in the room to her. “He’s not violent.”
    “You don’t know him like we do…” Kennick started to say, a gentle correction.
    “No, I don’t,” Kim said. “But I know him. He may be a fighter. He may have done violent things. But he’s not a violent man.”
    Kennick held his wife in his gaze, trying to seek out her meaning. She wouldn’t make such a claim, especially in the company of those who knew Damon as intimately as they, without a reason. She met his eyes.
    “He’s a protector,” she said. “He wants to keep everyone safe.”
    “What the fuck are you talking about, Kim?” Cristov erupted, tearing the charged moment in two. “You and Nick need to stop staring at each other like you’re in the middle of a tantric fuck marathon. Who gives a shit whether Damon’s violent or protective or whatever. He can be a secret Nazi for all I care, I’m not letting him get hurt or killed! Not before he…”
    Now, it was Ricky’s turn to look at Cristov, wordless meaning passing between them.
    “Not before he lets me