Noah (42 page)

She laughed incredulously at him, her mouth opened in shock.

He couldn’t help but take advantage of the opportunity to prove himself. He caught her mouth up with his and kissed her with an intensity and fervor that left her winded by the time he came away for breath. Sure enough, she glowed like a lightning bug, the entire room now lighted from it.

“Extreme emotion is often a trigger for new power. Ask Bella to tell you about it sometime. She is a classic example.” Noah omitted mentioning the fact that Isabella had almost killed him and Legna during that incident. “That place inside you, where you feel the center of your feelings when we kiss. Spiritual, not physical,” he corrected dryly when she giggled. He didn’t mind her humor. It told him she was becoming calmer and more rational. “This is the same place from which your power will branch to me. Think of it as a kiss, but in energy form.”

“I understand. I feel it now,” she said with no little awe. “It’s just like touching minds, only from my heart rather than my head.”

“Good. You have it.” He knew she did because he felt the draw centralized around his heart, though it was only a physical manifestation of the connection. “Now, I cannot explain this as well for you, only because it is different for each of us. But to expel energy—in fireballs, for example—I draw from the ‘well’ of energy inside me. In your case, the glow indicates an overspill through all of your tissues. Your ‘well’ is your entire body. Be careful only to tap into the glow, and not your personal energy. This will keep you from being drained. Now”—Noah moved his hands in front of her, touching his fingertips together until the joined fingers formed a spherical shape—“to begin with, use two hands. Single-hand spheres are a skill left to later. Shape your hands in a ball, then simply channel the energy into the shape. I am not certain you can form cohesive shapes with whatever type of energy you are generating, but it is worth a shot. Hopefully it will be controlled this way.”

“As opposed to…?”

“Blowing up the bedroom.”

“I had to ask,” she muttered. She inhaled, exhaled hard, then matched the shape of his hands with her own. She imagined the green energy skimming off her skin and limbs to fill the space formed between her fingertips. At the same time, Noah drew together a fireball, showing her at a slow pace what it should look like.

Almost immediately a ball of green swirling energy began to form in the cage of her hands. She was breathing quick and soft, but it was controlled as she concentrated. Noah murmured soft encouragements and guidance against her ear until they each had a sphere of energy slightly larger than a softball within their grasp.

“Okay,” he said easily. “Now be brave, baby. We are going to see what tricks this thing can do.” She nodded trustingly and he took a deep breath. “It feels like a ball to you, with mass and form, so now you can wield it with one hand. It remains connected to your energy source until you throw it, so it cannot be dropped. Transfer it to a single hand…there. Good. Any good at pitching?”

“I throw like a girl,” she said regretfully.

“That does not matter,” he chuckled. “Just aim for the wall across from us. If you blow it up, at least it will only open to the hallway.”

“Did I mention your teaching methods kind of suck?” she asked.

“No.” He laughed. “Do it. No one is around but us. It is safe.”

“Famous last words.”

Instead of pitching the ball forward, underhand or overhand, she sidearmed it, flinging it free of her hand as if she were releasing a Frisbee. It was ingenious, a choice she felt gave her the best control and comfort, and she hit the mark on the money.

The ball struck the wall dead center.

And bounced off it in an arcing return toward them. Instantly they were both in motion, springing away from the unknown threat. Kes rolled over the bed and dropped off the far side, and Noah landed like a cat behind her. They both leaned around to see what the ominous little green ball would do next.

“Odds are, you are immune to your own power,” he whispered, automatically lowering his voice in the face of a threat. “And since this is a form of energy, I am likely able to absorb it.”

“Best to be safe than sorry,” she finished for him. “I know.”

Noah narrowed his gaze on the ball. It had changed. It still was aglow, but it seemed to have distinct mass at its core. It had also begun to pulse, a slow, steady strobe that seemed to have rhythm.

“Odd,” he mused, moving to stand.

But Kestra grabbed his sleeve and jerked him back down beside her, probably not even realizing the impressive strength she’d used to do so.

“Stay,” she commanded him, eliminating any impression of request so he would obey her. She felt him bristle, knowing it rubbed him the wrong way to be on the receiving end of a command. He wasn’t used to it. She would’ve smiled if she weren’t dedicating all of her attention to the sphere sitting in the center of the rug strobing out its strange green light. She was glad that he settled back, though, heeding her demand.

Noah waited while Kes’s eyes narrowed on the orb.

Kestra watched, counting the beat of the swelling and receding light. Noting the speed. Sensing more than seeing that it was picking up in tempo, the time between the bursts of light shortening.

“Oh, shit!”

Kestra hurled herself out of Noah’s reach with lightning speed, twisting into a roll that avoided his grasp and brought her right on top of the ball of energy.

“Kes!”

She reacquired the ball, the green energy instantly blending in with the lighter glow that still clung to her skin. Kestra gained her full height and ran to the nearest window. Noah had barely made it halfway into her wake before she punched her fist and forearm into the thick glass, sending it shattering down around her. Then, this time in a full overhand arc, she hurled the ball out over the crenellations and into the air above the gardens. It was just about to reach tree level when it exploded with violent fury.

By then Noah had hold of Kestra, and he whirled her into the shield of his body as he turned his back to the force of the blast. The energy of it struck them, and he automatically absorbed it. But while he was able to prevent them from being thrown across the room, he wasn’t able to keep the windows in their casements. Glass burst around them, the colored fragments showering them from all sides. He protected Kestra completely, unconcerned about anything else.

When everything had passed over them, they straightened, and now that the danger was passed, both were eager as they hurried to lean out of the empty window frames to see the damage she had wrought.

“Jeepers.”

The softly spoken word of awe was the last thing Noah had expected, and he suddenly found himself laughing.

“I should think so,” he chuckled as he surveyed the small brown crater that had once been a wisteria and willow grove. Now all that was left of the arbors and trees were the burnt stumps of wood and a still-falling shower of debris. “Remind me that all further practice and lessons of your power are to take place out of doors.”

“Mmm,” she agreed with a nod. “Sorry about the windows.”

“Windows can be replaced,” he pointed out with a shrug. Then he pulled back into the room to look at her. “How did you know?”

She laughed and cast him a sidelong look. “Honey, if there is one thing I know, it’s bombs.”

“Of course.” He crossed to her, his boots crunching over metal and glass. Then he scooped her up to protect her bare feet and marched them away from the debris field. His bedroom, and likely every room on that side of the castle, was a disaster. Yet he was grinning like an idiot for some reason. He was ridiculously proud of her, on so many levels. He had known she would be powerful, but he had never suspected anything like this. A manifestation of her best skills, magnified. It would make her training go fast and easy, and he could feel her excitement over all the possibilities. “You realize, of course, that you are officially out of business as a mercenary?”

“Of course,” she agreed, unable to repress a forlorn little sigh. “But—”

“No.” His tone was firm and brooked no arguments. He gained the hallway and crossed the landing, heading for the opposite side of the castle.

“I was only saying—”

“No.”

She sighed with heavy resignation.

“Fine. If you’re going to be all uptight and moral about it.”

“Not to worry,” he placated her with a chuckle. “You will have plenty of things to blow up in our world. Believe me.”

“Promise?” she demanded.

“My word as your King.”

“Ha!” Then, at his look of disdain, she eased his ruffled honor. “You aren’t my King,” she reminded him gently.

“Nevertheless, it does not change the value of my word.”

“No, but you should watch how you put things.”

“Funny,” he mused as he kicked open the door of the bedroom Elijah used to inhabit when he’d spent great amounts of time as Noah’s guest, “but I did not think I had to consider whether or not I was yours, King, man, or otherwise.”

He settled her onto the bed and pulled away to give her a meaningful look. She was already mulling it over.

“I see your point,” she said softly, reaching up to place a warm hand on his stomach as he stood over her.

“Conceding a point? To me? Seems you have just blown me away once again.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” she said dryly as he covered her hand with his own.

Kestra felt him stiffen suddenly and he tore his gaze away from her face. She followed his wide stare to the hand she pressed to his belly. For the first time she realized a red stain was spreading across his shirt. She sat up suddenly, trying to jerk her hand free to see his wound.

“Not mine,” he corrected her softly.

Finally, she noticed the red streaks of blood crisscrossing her palm, forearm, and biceps, sliced from her hasty crash through the stained glass window.

“Wow. I never felt a thing,” she said as he nudged her over and sat beside her so he could better inspect the damage she had done to herself.

“This is my fault,” he muttered, clearly feeling it. “I should never have messed with a new power indoors. I know better than this.”

“You were trying to calm me down,” she reminded him. “I thought I was turning into an alien, for goodness’ sake.”

“Nearly seven centuries of living dictates I should have used my head,” he argued, wincing when he saw there was glass embedded in her skin. “Sit still. I am sure Elijah has first aid equipment in the bathroom.”

She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, breaking her gaze away only briefly to seek strength from the heavens.

“You had to give me a control freak,” she said with mild disgust. “I would have settled for ‘a little bossy,’ or even ‘slightly stubborn,’ but no…” She sighed, sounding very put upon. Then she addressed the man in the next room. “They’re only superficial cuts,” she called out.

“Not the one on your palm,” he argued.

“Regardless, Gideon said I’d heal rapidly on my own. I don’t see why you’re getting your knickers in a twist.”

“Because,” he said heatedly as he approached the bed with a first aid kit in hand, “I damn well hate to see you hurt.”

That was clearly the final word on the matter, mainly because Kestra was busy dealing with the warm and fuzzy feelings his remark had caused to well up inside her. Damn him anyway for turning her into a woman made of marshmallows.

He lifted his head from his inspection of her injured arm long enough to give her a look that told her that her thoughts hadn’t gone unmonitored.

“Well, you are,” she groused good-naturedly.

“Fair return for what you have done to me,” he retorted, a sparkle in his smoky eyes.

She impatiently threw her legs over the side of the bed, fidgeting as he cleaned and dressed the gash in her palm.

“Oh, quit babying it,” she complained when he was taking too long for her satisfaction.

With an exasperated sigh he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at him. “Are you in some kind of hurry I should know about?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d go outside. You know, take these babies out for a spin, see what they can do!” She waggled her fingers in his face even as a stern scowl radiated over his expression. “Oh, come on! It’s like when you get a brand-new gun. A laser-sighted fine-lined semiautomatic with its first full clip. The first thing you need to do is shoot the damn thing! Get the feel. Ride the rush until your arms ache from the recoil. You know?”

Noah had to resist the urge to laugh and get caught up in her enthusiasm. The parallel wasn’t all that far off, actually. In that moment she practically reeked of her military training, and it fascinated him. And yes, she should get familiar with this new power as soon as possible.

“But not tonight,” he said in a concise, no-nonsense tone. “Let us save it for the morrow, Kestra. You need rest, and frankly, I need at least an hour where you are not in danger of losing a limb…or even a healthy strand of hair, for that matter. Now settle down.”

Damn it. She was pulling the pouting thing on him. Did she really think that was going to work on any intelligent man? Women had been pouting at him for six centuries. It didn’t affect him in the least.

Except perhaps to make her look extremely kissable. Her lips had such a sweet pink blush to them, and it darkened considerably when she pushed them out in expression of her consternation. And why in hell was an ex-militia cum mercenary using a feminine wile like pouting, anyway? Women’s activists had to be rolling in their graves.

Noah forced himself to look down at her arm and finish the task of binding her wounds. When she was wrapped in gauze from palm to shoulder, he finally gathered the fortitude to look at her face again. The pout had disappeared, replaced by an expression of abject disappointment and resignation.

“What?” He covered his disturbance with impatience.

“Well, you won’t let me play with this power. You won’t let me play with you. You won’t let me do anything, and I don’t think I like you very much right now.”

“Play with you.” Did she actually just say that?
Noah swallowed hard as that lightning-quick awareness she so easily triggered in him leapt to attention. He was trying to remember why he wouldn’t let her play with him, the issue lost in a jumble of erotic thoughts and confused priorities.