A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(79)

“Have you tried to do it again?”

“Of course not.”

“You should. The next time your life is threatened, try, bella. What have you to lose?” He watched her, understanding in his eyes. “It scares you.”

“What if I can’t stop it? For years, I had nightmares that everyone I touched fell down dead. Sometimes, I still do.”

“That will not happen. You must want someone dead very badly to call the life from him like that. And I suspect, if you could remember what happened that day, you felt his life force coming to your call.”

“I don’t remember.”

“It is never an easy thing when you first learn how to kill. Harder still, I imagine, when you are a child.”

He rose and came around the table, holding his hand out to her. When she placed her hand in his, he helped her to her feet and pulled her into his arms, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, offering acceptance and understanding. He stroked her head, and she let him, needing this. Needing him.

“You are powerful, carissima, and that is a wonderful thing. You must not be ashamed or sorry for the gifts you’ve been given. Instead, you must learn to control them so that you use them only when you intend, and so that you never again inadvertently hurt someone.”

“I can’t exactly go around practicing that.” Pulling back, she looked at him. “Unless you’re volunteering?”

She said it with a smile, and humor lit his eyes. “No. That I will not volunteer for. But if ever again you are caught by someone who means you harm, do not hesitate to use everything you have against him, Quinn. Even that.”

“I know. You’re right.”

He smiled and kissed her temple. “I usually am.”

She lifted a brow.

He shrugged in a charming, self-deprecating fashion. “When you are six hundred years old, usually leaves a lot of room for error.”

Quinn snorted and pulled away. “Shall I throw around some more chairs?”

“I would rather you try to make a bubble.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to catch you in it. And I don’t want to get trapped in it myself.” She cocked her head, considering. “Vampires can come and go from the Vamp City bubble at will. But not werewolves or humans. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps because Phineas Blackstone wove that into the magic. Or possibly because that is the way bubbles . . . and vampires . . . are made. I would experience this bubble with you, cara. We shall see, together, whether or not a vampire can leave it easily.”

“What if I use up all of my power, then can’t access it when I need it tomorrow?”

“A legitimate concern, certainly. But I suspect that the more you practice, the more you’ll be able to do. Try it?”

She released a hard sigh and rose. “Okay.”

Arturo came to stand behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Create your bubble, tesoro.”

“Right.” Taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the hard male pressed against her back, she lifted her hands . . . and dropped them again. How had she done this last time? Lifting her hands again, she closed her eyes, found again that river of power running beneath her skin and imagined it flowing into her hands as she created a bubble around them. On the count of three. One, two, three.

Power blasted from her hands, obliterating the card table, picnic basket, and half the wall behind it.

“Shit,” she cried, pulling away from him, raking her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”

She heard his low chuckle. “Apparently not.”

Whirling on him, she pointed a finger at his chest. “You laugh. You could have been sitting in that chair.”

“I’ve come to realize that behind you is the safest place to be.”

She huffed, then shook her head in a quick, clarifying burst. “All right, let me try it again.” But after three more tries the sofa was lodged in the wall, one of the recliners upside down on top of it. And still no bubble. Thank God the ceiling hadn’t fallen.

“I was tied to a stake when I called it the first time. And angry.” Terrified. “The ability probably springs from my emotions, as everything else seems to do.”

“It was not that way for Phineas Blackstone.”

“Maybe not, but he was a powerful sorcerer with many years of experience.”

“And you shall be powerful, too.”

From all indications, he was right. And as mixed as her emotions were about being a sorceress at all, with power came strength—the strength to protect herself and others. And she absolutely wanted as much of that as she could get.

Arturo lifted a hand, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose, her eyebrow, his gaze growing more intense, as if he were studying her in minute detail.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“Memorizing your face. I shall miss you, amore mio.”

“Will you really let me go when this is over? Without a fight?”

A smile lit his eyes. “A fight I’m no longer likely to win.” His expression sobered. “Yes, I will let you go. I will insist upon it.” His hand cupped her cheek. “But I will not want to.”