Hold Me If You Can

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Of course they don’t.” Nigel leaned against the counter. Her voice was beautiful and sexy, and he loved the indignation. Because it wasn’t self-righteous, it wasn’t moral. It was passionate and vulnerable, but there was truth to it. She was mad that her space was being violated, and that was far better than the woman who had been hiding in fear before her death and immediately afterward.

  He wasn’t blind. He could see she was unsettled, but she was searching for ways to manage that fear. Of course, she should be scared. No good could come of deedubs stalking her. “It has to end.”

  She smiled then, the first spark of real life in her eyes. “You think? I don’t know. It seems like rather a good way to spend the day. You know, being attacked by the same creatures that haunted me my whole life.”

  He grinned back, captivated by the way her cheeks curved when she smiled. He hadn’t seen many smiles from her, and he liked it. Liked that he’d caused it. “Well, it was just a thought. I could potentially be convinced to change my mind.” Huh. He hadn’t meant to inject his statement with an undertone of innuendo and sensuality, but from the sudden flush in her cheeks, he was guessing he had.

  Must have been because he’d been visualizing her trying to persuade him with a seductive dance involving silk scarves, black lace, and talented lips.

  “So, yeah. Okay.” Suddenly flustered, Natalie turned away and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  He smiled, appreciating the little gesture that said she was affected by the heat he knew had been blazing in his eyes. “I don’t like the idea of a herd of deedubs crashing your store.” No, he definitely didn’t like it. They’d invaded her sanctum, and that was just not on his list of acceptable activities by demon leprechauns.

  “I don’t either.” She tugged at her hair, and that’s when he noticed a flash of gray on the tip of her fingers.

  “What’s that?” The skin on the back of his neck tightened in warning, and he lifted her hand to inspect the discoloration more closely. The nails were the color of the ash that sloughed off his hands in battle, a stark contrast to the healthy flush of her skin.

  “What is what?” She peered at her finger, and then frowned. “You mean the gray?” At his nod, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I never noticed it before. Maybe it’s residual from when I almost died.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s a living energy.” He ran his thumb over it, and it came away tingling. He knew that tingling. He’d been on the receiving end of it before. “Shit.”

  “Shit?” Worry furrowed her brow. “Tell me that you just remembered you left the oven on or something, because I really don’t have time for any more challenges in my life right now.”

  “Sorry. I don’t cook.” He tapped her fingers. “The gray is black magic residue.” He resisted the instinct to whip out a blade and ready it for self-defense. He didn’t respond well to women who dabbled in black magic, but this was Natalie. He’d watched her until he knew the depths of her soul.

  “Black magic?” She jerked her hand free and wiped it over her thigh, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s it?”

  Black magic made her chill out? Hell, black magic was enough to wake him screaming from a sound sleep. Rhetorically speaking, of course, just to be clear. He was not a screamer. “Do you practice black magic?” He kept his voice impressively casual, completely masking his instincts to plunge into battle right then and there.

  “Of course not.” She set her hands on her hips, clearly not nearly as concerned about black magic as he was. “I must have brushed against it on my way here. I was afraid it was something bad.” She met his gaze and must have seen the darkness on his face. “I don’t practice black magic,” she repeated again, her voice gentle. “I’m not one of those women from the Den.” Her face softened and she touched his hand. “I promise you, Nigel, I’m not one of them.”

  Her touch was gentle and reassuring, and it broke through the tension that had started to build the moment he’d felt that black magic. He concentrated on the warmth of her hand. There was no magic in her skin. It had just been her fingernails. “Okay.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake out his tension. “I believe you.”

  Yeah, he bought that she wasn’t mixing up demon spells in her freezer, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still black magic, and it was on her. Somehow, it had gotten in and that meant it was around. He flexed his hands, shifting the blades into place.

  “Well, good.” She grabbed a tasseled towel and rubbed her fingers, but the taint stayed put. It shouldn’t have. Not unless it was emanating from inside her. She cocked her head. “You know, would you have any interest in working for me?”

  His eyebrows shot up. Well, hell, there were a whole lot of things he could imagine doing for her. All of which would not be a good idea. The only good idea was staying away from her, but he had a bad feeling that that was just not going to happen. But that was okay. He had discipline. He could be in her presence and keep under control. He had to do it, because he needed her. “Doing what?”

  “Enforcing the temporary restraining order.” She glanced at the knife on the floor. “Just for a little bit. I have a big inspection in three days, and I don’t have time to be cleaning up after the deedubs.” She met his gaze. “Or being carted off to the tropics.”

  “Or being eaten by deedubs.”

  Her cheeks paled ever so slightly. Not much, but he knew her well enough to notice. Despite all her bravado, her reaction told him that she understood her vulnerability. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Just for a little while. It’s a better choice than trying to make me leave.”

  “And then I should let them eat you?”

  She almost laughed. “God, no, just until I figure out how to protect myself.”

  “Figure out how to protect yourself?” He cocked his head, trying to picture the delicate Natalie wielding a pickax to take out a deedub in hand-to-hand combat. Nope. Couldn’t see it. Which was good. The women in the Den were very easy to imagine in hard-core violent situations. He liked that he couldn’t picture Natalie with a bloody blade and a gladiator helmet. “I thought you’re going to influence them.”

  “Um…” She squared her shoulders, a defiant stance that was belied by the vulnerability in her green eyes. “Yes, I am.”

  He studied her carefully, trying to ascertain what she wasn’t telling him. “You really can do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Then you don’t need me.” And what an exceedingly easy segue into what he needed from her. He knew she was hiding something, but he didn’t have time to figure it out. “I need you to influence me first.”

  The iPad woman stopped typing and narrowed her eyes, watching him unabashedly. He frowned, realizing that he’d seen that look before. From her, or in general? This woman was trouble, and it wasn’t just because her shirt was covered with blood.

  The woman’s cheeks flushed at his stare, and she ducked her head, shielding herself from his inspection. The reaction of the guilty.

  He would watch her.

  “You need my help? Why would you need my kind of assistance?” Natalie’s gaze flicked to his crotch. “I mean, you seem really quite virile and—”

  “Shit, no! Not that kind of help.” The pitying way Natalie had looked at his crotch made a guy want to get a boner just for bragging rights. To prove he could. “I’m fine there. Trust me, I’m all set with that.” Well, he was the last time he’d tried. He really hadn’t bothered for a long time. “It’s my art.”

  Now Natalie looked surprised. “Your art? What do you mean?”

  He ground his jaw. “I need you to cut the addiction. Like smoking or chocolate or sex or whatever.” Shit. He shouldn’t say “sex” when he was around Natalie. Got him thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking about. “I need to stop drawing.”

  Her brows knitted in concern. “But it makes you whole.”

  “No. I make myself whole.” Or at least, that was the way it needed to be, and fast. He sa
w a red marker on the counter and had to shove his hand in his pocket to keep himself from pilfering it. His hands were suddenly burning with the need to draw, but it wasn’t natural. It made him feel out of control and that was not where a warrior needed to be. “My art has become dangerous. I need to stop drawing and rescue Pascal.”

  She frowned. “Pascal? But you already rescued him.”

  Nigel shook his head. “He’s back in the Den.”

  “Oh.” Natalie’s face contracted with worry and she touched his arm. “I’m so sorry—”

  “Yeah, me too.” He felt her genuine concern. She understood how bad it was, and he appreciated it. Her touch on his arm seemed to ground him, to help him focus. “It’s fine. I’ll get him. I just need my drawing under control.”

  “Um, sorry. I can’t help you.” She grabbed a broom and began sweeping up the purple dust.

  Nigel swore under his breath. “Why? Because it’s not about sex?”

  She finally looked at him, and her green eyes were stricken. “No, I can’t. I can’t influence Magicks.”

  Well, that was a load of crap. “Of course you can. All Mystics can influence Magicks. It’s automatic. Besides, you just said you were going to influence the deedubs not to attack you.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, yes, I did say that, but I can’t do it yet, exactly—”

  “Really, Nat?” iPad woman had stopped typing to listen, her face soft with concern that Nigel didn’t trust. “Even under normal circumstances? You know, when you’ve got your mojo?”

  Natalie’s cheeks turned pink. “No, but it’s not a big deal—”

  “Of course it is. All Mystics can influence anyone,” the woman said. “You’ve never been able to? Ever?” She set the computer aside. “Sweetheart, I had no idea you had that problem. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Hey.” Nigel frowned at the gal. “Who the hell are you? I’m kinda busy here.”

  “My name,” the woman said, sitting up and pulling her shoulders back haughtily, “is Ella Smitweiser, PhD candidate in Hedonism and—”

  “Shit! I knew I’d seen you before.” Nigel stiffened. “You’ve consulted for Angelica.”

  “Angelica?” Natalie whirled around. “You worked for Angelica? In the Den? You didn’t tell me that!”

  “No, no, I didn’t work for Angelica.” Ella suddenly looked ill, but oddly enough, Nigel didn’t feel overwhelmed with pity. “My parents did. There’s a difference.”

  “No, it was you.” Nigel scowled, realizing why her face had looked familiar. She’d been in the room on more than one occasion, muttering things under her breath… yeah… “I remember, very clearly, being locked down with one of the young warriors, and he was supposed to fight me to the death, and neither of us would fight. And then you walked in, whispered something, and then he attacked. He came after me until he died.”

  Ella’s face was ashen. “No, no, no! It wasn’t like that—”

  “I trusted you.” Natalie had her hand over her heart, and she looked stricken. “And you’re one of them? You hurt Nigel? And the others?”

  “You’re a Mystic.” The females who worked for Angelica weren’t women. They were monsters, and too many young warriors had died at their hands before Nigel had finally accepted that the only way to save himself and others was to no longer see them as women, but as despicable creatures who had invited their own destiny upon themselves.

  “Get out of my store,” Natalie snapped, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal, but there was also fury, anger, protectiveness. She moved in front of Nigel, as if guarding him from Ella. “I thought you were my friend, and it was all a ruse just so you could get to Nigel and the others.”

  Oh, now, wasn’t that sweet? Natalie’s defense of him made him grin. Not that he needed defending, of course, but it was still interesting. Women never turned on women to protect a man. That female/female bond was pretty much inviolable. Men came second. Always. But Natalie wasn’t playing by those rules. Damn, but didn’t that just make a man feel like he owned the entire world.

  “I have no designs on any of the men!” Ella rose to her feet and set her hands on her hips. “And I don’t owe anyone explanations for my past. It’s over and done,” she said. “I am your friend. I—”

  “I don’t believe you.” Natalie’s hands were fisted. “How could you sit there and tell me that you understood what it was like to suffer, when you’re the one who hurt other people? How can you live with yourself?”

  Ella pursed her lips as she swept the iPad from the counter and shoved it into her backpack. “I can help you both.” It was a last-ditch attempt, and Nigel didn’t buy it. Nice try, but no cigar.

  “We don’t want your help—” Natalie said.

  “I can teach you how to influence anyone,” Ella interrupted as she swung the bag over her shoulder. “Even Nigel.”

  Nigel stiffened. Of course Ella would know how to influence him. Would he even realize she was messing with him before it was too late?

  “What?” Hope flared in Natalie’s eyes. “You can teach me? I could take down a deedub?”

  “Technically, yes,” Ella said, but Nigel heard the hesitation in her voice.

  “But what?” he demanded, allowing her to hear the anger and aggression in his voice. He wanted her to feel his willingness to do whatever it took to protect himself and Natalie from her, and he wanted her to know that he was now free to do whatever he wanted. He spun the blade between his fingers, letting it catch the light, as he took Natalie’s arm and pulled her closer to him, inside the circle of his protection.

  “How do I do it?” Natalie asked Ella.

  “It’s not easy.” Ella glanced at Nigel’s blade, swallowed, then focused on Natalie. “You have to release your resistance and tap into your power.” Her voice grew more confident, stronger, and Nigel realized she was moving into her comfort zone. The world where she was the expert. “It’s scary, and that’s why you haven’t done it. Because you haven’t let go.”

  Natalie’s cheeks turned pink. “I let go.”

  Ella laughed. “Sweetie, you don’t even come close.”

  He knew Ella was right. He’d felt Natalie’s strict control on her emotions. But there was no way he was letting Ella get her claws into Natalie. “Natalie doesn’t need your help,” he growled.

  Ella’s expression grew shuttered, then she turned and faced him. She looked him right in the eye, and she allowed him to see her self-hate. “I am truly, truly sorry for whatever I did to you,” she said.

  “Whatever you did?” he repeated. “You don’t even remember, do you?” Men had died because of Ella Smitweiser, and she hadn’t even bothered to remember a name or a face. But she thought that an apology would do it?

  No chance.

  “Three hundred and forty-six warriors died while I was there,” he said. “And I can tell you the life story of every single one of them.” And he had pictures to prove it. Portraits he’d made of every single fallen warrior, all of them framed and hanging on his walls. Memories of those who he hadn’t been able to heal, whose souls had been too broken for him to resurrect. Even the greatest healer, which he was, couldn’t save a soul that wanted to die.

  But this time it was different. The men stashed in his condo wanted to heal, including Pascal. And it was time to get the kid back. No more time wasted on Ella and her baggage. He turned to Natalie. “Tell me I don’t need to draw,” he demanded. “Influence me now.”

  “I can’t!” she protested. “It won’t work—”

  “It can.” Ella was leaning forward again. “Let me help. I need to help you.” She glanced at Nigel. “I need to help you both.”

  “No way.” Nigel took Natalie’s arm and pulled her away from the poisonous creature. “Touch Natalie, and you die. Touch me, and you die. Natalie might not be able to kill you, but I can—”

  The cabinet door behind Ella opened, and a scared face peeked out. A young woman looked right at Natalie. “We’re both going to die, a
ren’t we?” Terror was etched into the lines of her young face, and she was staring at Natalie, asking to be told she was wrong. Desperate to be told she had a chance to live.

  Natalie bit her lip. “Maggie—” Then she paused.

  “You can’t save me, can you? Or yourself?” Tears filled Maggie’s eyes. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “You really can’t help me. I’m going to die.”

  Shit. She was an innocent. Another innocent about to die. He didn’t have time for this. He really didn’t.

  Natalie got a stricken look on her face. “No, Maggie! You won’t die! I promise!”

  “How can you promise?” Maggie shoved her way out of the cabinet and lurched to her feet. “You’ve got nothing, do you?”

  “No, I—” Then she stopped, apparently unable to deny the accusation. She looked at Ella, and looked back at Maggie. Then, like the big bad monster coming at him in slow motion, she turned toward Nigel. He saw by the look on her face that she was going to say something he really, really didn’t want to hear.

  Chapter 6

  “We need to let Ella help us.” Natalie knew her idea wasn’t going to be popular with Nigel, but it was the right choice. For both of them.

  “No.” Nigel’s face darkened, and he grabbed Natalie, his words a fierce growl. “She murdered my friends. There can never be trust. Ever.”

  “I know, I know.” She searched his face and understood where he was coming from. “But I’m not ready to die.” The words burned in Natalie’s throat, words acknowledging the true dimness of her future. It wasn’t irrational fear. It was logical and smart, because those deedubs would kill her, they would get her store shut down, they would get her deported to the tropics, and she couldn’t even use her own magic anymore. She didn’t have defenses, but she was putting precautions into place to make sure it ended up the right way this time. “I want to live, and I can’t do it by myself.”

  He swore under his breath, hesitating, and then seemed to make a decision. One that fired him up and made him tense at the same time. “I’ll help you.” He pulled a black felt-tip marker out of his pocket. “You don’t need her.”