The Healer's Hellion - Miranda Bridges Page 0,15

I say with all honesty.

“It is a good place to start.”

I pull my hand away as a feeling of vulnerability crawls along my spine. “So now what?”

Braxton gets to his feet. “Now you practice.”

Two hours later, I’m sweating more than I would be if I ran ten miles.

“Why is this shit so hard?” I say between clenched teeth. I stare at the bowl, willing it to rise in the air like the plates and utensils did earlier.

“It’s because you are trying to force it,” Braxton says. “The gift is a natural entity, like breathing. The more you concentrate on it, the more difficult it will become. Let’s try this.”

I exhale loudly and turn to look up at him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come here.”

I get to my feet slowly, eyeing Braxton. He hasn’t done anything remotely inappropriate, yet I’m having a hard time ignoring the sensuality of him. He’s touched me on a number of occasions, but that’s been for medical purposes, and even though I’ve grown more used to it, I’m still not entirely comfortable with it. The times he touched me for something that wasn’t medical in nature, it was to protect or comfort me. Although I can clearly see the heat in his gaze, he doesn’t try to hide it. But he doesn’t act on it either.

And he’s had plenty of opportunities to do just that.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs. I give him a skeptical look, but he arches a brow, clearly not in the mood for my shenanigans. “Good,” he says when I obey. “Now imagine your gift is a current of electricity, constantly flowing through you.”

I take a deep breath and really try to concentrate on what he’s saying. The familiar feeling of power ripples underneath my skin as if to confirm its presence. It’s comforting, and I coax it to spread throughout my body, not just my arms and hands where it usually gathers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice close to my ear. I struggle to hold my focus and not open my eyes as his breath skims my cheek. “Your gift is a part of you, but it does not control you. Just as you dictate the speed of your breathing and the pacing of your steps, you will do the same for it.”

I nod. “I feel as if it’s concentrated in my hands, but now I’ve dispersed it through my entire body.”

“Good.” His fingertips brush my knuckles as he speaks. “Our gift is easiest to expel from our hands, whether that be fingers or palms or both. That is why you feel it there most, but you want to be balanced. It should only gather in a central location right before you release it. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” My voice comes out husky, so I clear my throat. “It does.”

“I’m going to touch you know. Do not be frightened.”

I steel myself for the contact, grateful for the warning. It seems silly after the numerous times he’s put his hands on me, but this feels different. It’s more intimate.

He takes one of my wrists before coming to stand behind me and taking the other. His chest brushes my back as he leans forward, lifting my hands. I wait for the cold dread to slam into me and for my heart to seize in terror, but the fear doesn’t come.

Instead, I find my heart fluttering at his nearness.

“Don’t think about any specific object,” he says, his voice low. “Instead, think about your intentions. What are you doing and why?”

I contemplate this for a minute before giving him my response. “On Earth I wanted to protect myself. That was my intent initially. And then…” I don’t want to voice the ugliness, to give it the reality I’ve been avoiding.

He runs a thumb over my wrist in a show of comfort. “Self-defense is one of the most natural responses, which is why your gift surged, but it was brought to life by an emotion even deeper than that.”

“Anger?” I ask.

“Pain.”

I sag in his arms, and Braxton is quick to wrap his arms around me. Instead of panic, there is only relief. I squeeze my eyes shut as images bombard and assault my mind with their horrid tale. A chill works its way through me, yet the heat from his body manages to keep it at bay so I’m barely aware of it.

“Only a strong emotion such as that would trigger the gift,” he says, holding me close and pressing his cheek to mine. “The only