Kara took heart when Hallbjorn spoke. His analogy of learning to read was very accurate, and she felt that he had faith in her that she would learn. Telling her that others who grew up with their kind had mentors that taught them control helped her to feel less like a failed Lorean.<br/><br/>But she couldn't answer his question, because it seemed as though all that had happened to her was hitting her at once. Kara thought that she had been dealing with it, but all the fear and heartache, the uncertainty, and the danger that hung over her head soon had tears spilling down her cheek.<br/><br/>When Hallbjorn sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, Kara pressed her face against his chest. Her silent tears were soaked up by  his shirt. Kara's hands fisted the soft material. She needed him, and the comfort he brought her. When he pulled her up onto his lap, she held onto him more tightly. Her legs draped over one side and her toes couldn't reach the floor. She was more then okay with that, because Kara was right where she needed to be.<br/><br/>Even through her pain, his command that she not fault herself had her lips pulling up in a smile he could not see. A sound escaped her that was half laugh, half sob when he told her that they could be bad kissers together. Kara's tears slowly as he rubbed the back and eased her tension. Slowly she relaxed against him, but she couldn't bring herself to look up at him. Not yet, not when she was a hot mess.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn shifted and curiosity had her looking to see what he was doing. She saw him bring the knife to his wrist. Kara didn't understand what he was doing. Why would he hurt himself? Then he brought his bleeding wrist close to her face, and Kara's fangs grew. She breathed in deeply as her toes curled.<br/><br/>“I can.” She said softly. “It smells like sunshine, and like home.” Everything about Hallbjorn felt like home, especially the way he held her now. “And it smells like...” Her eyes widened with understanding and she tilted her face up. Kara's eyes were glowing amber, her fangs still fully extended, and tears still clung to her cheeks and her eyelashes, though no more fell.<br/><br/>“It was your blood in the cup last night, and this morning.” Her forehead furrowed as she asked him, “Why, Hallbjorn?”<br/><br/>Her gaze locked back on the blood welling from his cut, and Kara finally let go of his shirt. Her hands moved to cover her mouth. Every bit of her yearned to taste his blood, to slip her fangs into his hot flesh. Her voice was muffled behind her hands when she said, “I don't want to hurt you, Hallbjorn. I don't want to be a bad vampire with red eyes.”<br/><br/>There was no hiding the need, the desperate longing in her voice. If she had not just drank a cup of his blood, Kara would already have her fangs buried inside of him.