I will never let go of you.
Augustus turned toward her, appearing to ignore Nigel, but she knew he was intricately aware of every breath Nigel took, just as Nigel was of him.
“My dear,” Augustus said conversationally. “I am desperate, and I will scale the highest mountains and cross the widest seas and slay thousands of rabid and wealthy vampires for ten minutes of your time. I need to know how you stay so positive! If you do not tell me willingly, I will be compelled to slay your protectors and kidnap you—”
“No!” For God’s sake, she had enough on her plate right now without being stalked by a suicidal assassin or worrying about Nigel snapping because of it. “I already told you! I don’t know anything. I was insane from the deedub curse, and now that it’s over, I’m terrified and miserable and scared and—”
“Oh, no! Warrior-man has stolen your spirit!” Augustus hurled his pink star at Nigel’s face. “My beautiful flower will not be severed at the stalk and left to die! I shall protect you!”
“Oh, for hell’s sake.” Nigel raised his palm, and a dozen blades exploded from his palm and shredded the star into a thousand pieces that sprayed across the cement sidewalk like pulverized dust. “You can’t beat me when you’re healthy,” he said, his voice calm and precise again but loaded with threat. “Why try when you’re injured? Be smart, man.”
“You bastard!” Augustus plunged his hand into his pocket for another star. “I will preserve my fruitcake’s spirit from your beastly influence—”
Nigel swept his boot under the assassin’s rickety legs and upended the assassin into his coach. “Enough.” He slammed the door shut and clucked to the horses. “Take him home.”
The steeds swished their magnificent tails and leapt into the air. The coach lurched off the street, and Augustus rolled against the door, his stumped feet poking out the window. “I will punish you severely,” he shouted.
“Let’s go.” Nigel grabbed Natalie’s arm and propelled her down the street. “Interesting choice of admirers.”
“He’s not an admirer. He just wants to use me.” Natalie looked back as Augustus tried unsuccessfully to right himself, apparently hindered by the lack of functioning appendages. How long until he was fully healed? Even Nigel would have trouble with him once his body was rebuilt.
Augustus might be pathetic, overmatched, and weak right now, but the man was legendary. He’d taken down an entire camp of bloodlust vampires hiding out behind a demon-backed cloaking shield, and he done it in less than five minutes without so much as a nick on his skin. He could find anyone, anywhere, break through any safeguard, and kill anyone. No one had escaped or survived him. Ever. And now he was after her.
Granted, as a woman, it had been kind of endearing to have Nigel step up to protect her.
But she kind of thought the trade-off of manly protection wasn’t going to be an even swap with being stalked by Augustus.
Because they were going to be a little bit busy, fending off deedubs, tracking down Mari, rescuing warriors, cleansing smut, and, of course, doing round two of “seduce Natalie so she can influence Nigel.”
Hmm… One of those just wasn’t quite as scary as it should be. One of those was much more tempting than a smart woman would allow it to be.
She’d always prided herself on being smart.
But now, apparently, Nigel was also turning her into a real woman with a sensual, feminine side, and she just wasn’t sure what she thought about that.
Chapter 13
“Augustus wants you to show him how to embrace life and be happy.” Nigel’s dark tone suggested he wasn’t so impressed with that.
“Yes, I know.” Neither was she. Because it made her think too much about the person Augustus had met before. She’d been on her way to death, but he was correct that she’d been happy. Irreverent. Not worrying about whatever fate might hand her. It had felt good, but it had led her right to her death, so, she wasn’t exactly jonesing to be that out-of-control person again. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but remember what a gift it had been to do exactly what she wanted and love every minute of it.
“Augustus thinks I’m someone else.” She shivered as she hurried along. “Someone different than I really am.”
“Does he?” Nigel stopped in front of an enormous charcoal gray Mercedes sedan and opened the passenger door for her.
It was a luxury vehicle designed for financial gurus wearing three-piece suits, polished black shoes, and monogrammed diamond rings. It was not a car for a blood-drenched warrior. “Shouldn’t you have an Escalade? Or a tank?”
Nigel chuckled and guided her into the opulent machine with a hand on her back. “It has the smoothest, quietest ride in existence. Total peace when I’m in it.”
“Oh.” Well, that made sense. At least relative to the old Nigel, who exuded serenity and peace, even when he was in the middle of battle. It was logical that he’d gravitate toward a car that gave him spiritual harmony, as opposed to a vehicle with a loud engine, jacked up suspension, and too much instability around sharp corners.
And boy, oh boy, was his choice magnificent. The leather was baby-soft-plush as she slid across it, the dove-gray material breathing with life and sensual pleasure. She ran her palm over its lushness, a fabric so rich with texture and depth that she wanted to bury her face against it and breathe it into her soul.
The dashboard was immaculate, a display of high-tech gadgets, gleaming mahogany, and the richest leather. She slipped her shoe off and ran her foot over the wood. It was smooth and cool, not a single ripple, just an endless stream of perfection. No flaw to break up the smoothness. The leather was decadent sensuality, but the wood was cold perfection.
Nigel opened his door and slipped inside, a tattooed warrior in a bloody shirt and torn clothes, behind the wheel of a car that should belong to a bank exec. His woodsy scent filled the car with life, with heat, with the dark smell of man, of warrior, of life, of death. The blood on his clothes, the dirt on his hands, the turbulence of his aura… it upset the tranquility of the car.
There was no more peace in the vehicle. Just two sides opposing each other, each striving to be heard. Violence and harmony.
Nigel shut the door with barely a murmur and the engine whispered to life.
As he pulled out, she could barely sense the car moving, could hardly feel the bumpy roads. It was a car designed for a man who didn’t want to experience anything but a life of emotional quietude. It had not been created for a man who thrived on passion.
Not a car for an artist. Not a car for a warrior. Because both lived with passion. It was the wrong car for Nigel. Wasn’t it?
Nigel looked over at her as he pulled into traffic. “I was present the day Augustus met you. When he got that in his head about your zest for life.”
Natalie tucked her arms against her and leaned her head back against the deliciously tantalizing leather. “It wasn’t me. It’s not who I am.”
“Yes, it was. I was there. It’s still a part of you.”
She bit her lip and looked out the tinted window at the overpriced storefronts rushing past. She didn’t want to be reminded of who she’d been back then. The sex-crazed lunatic willing to trade life for a high. “You don’t know me.”
“I see souls,” he said. “I’ve seen yours. There’s more truth in that than in your words or actions any day.”
She turned her head slightly to look at him. “What do you mean?”
He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, as if he were caressing the splendor. “When I’m sketching, I see my subject’s soul. If their spirit is thriving, I see their passion, both the positive and negative. If there’s no passion, I see nothing. They’re a blank to me. I don’t draw people like that.” He merged onto the highway and unleashed the ride. “You had passion. You had life.”
The wind was silent, the car felt completely still, the interior more like a luxurious spa than a vehicle speeding down the highway. Her only hint that they were moving
was the number on the speedometer. Other than that, the car had stripped them of any sense of movement or energy or life. It was a car without a presence.
“It wasn’t my passion.” She shifted, suddenly not liking the leather anymore. The car was stifling her. She didn’t want to catapult toward her death, but as God was her witness, she didn’t want to feel dead anymore either. She wanted to feel alive and know she wasn’t going to die for it. “When I was under the deedub thrall, I was insane—”
“Your spirit was alive.” He moved into the passing lane and started zooming past other cars as if they were taking a nap on a hot day, and still, the interior of the car was silent and still. “And you were also tortured by being so vibrant, and for your love of how great it felt to have your spirit zinging with life. You were terrified. Exciting. Yearning. Conflicted.” He glanced over at her, his face pensive and thoughtful. The artist creating an image in his mind even as he spoke. He was drawing her in his head, she was sure of it, and the intimacy of that concept made her heart begin to thud.
“You intrigued me,” he said.
Well, hmm. She wasn’t sure she’d ever intrigued anyone before. That didn’t sound bad. And he was exactly correct in his assessment of her. And that was okay with him? He didn’t think she was crazy? It wasn’t a deterrent? “Why did I intrigue you?”
“Because you were life fighting to get out. But at the same time, you were death, fighting to finish your descent.” He grinned and swerved around a car that was impeding his forward progress. “A conundrum that intrigued me.”
“And now?” She hugged her knees to her chest.
“Now you’re only death fighting to stay dead. The life, the light, it’s fading. It’s almost gone.”
She stared at him, startled by his words. “No, no, I’m—”
“Feel it, Natalie. Look inside you and feel it.”
“I’m alive,” she retorted. But as Natalie hugged herself and looked out her window at the cars whizzing past them, she sensed the truth of his words. She had been hiding. Cringing. Buried in fear of herself and of life, in a desperate attempt to stay alive. Suppressing the sensuality that made her who she was. Yes, sure, she’d been committed to getting that Gold Star Michelin-O Rating, but that desire was undercut by the lockdown of her soul. “The truth is, I’ve been dying my whole life,” she admitted quietly. “Except for those few days when I was under the deedub thrall, which is, ironically, when I was closest to actually dying.” And minutes ago, when Nigel was kissing her. She’d come alive then, and it had been beautiful. If only she could be like that all the time—
“That’s why your Mystic talents are on the fritz,” he said. “You gotta let it go, sweetheart. Tap into that inner vixen. You can do it. Just step up and—”
“I don’t want to let go like that.” Well, she did, but she didn’t.
“I can see that.” He swerved around three cars and whipped past them in the breakdown lane. His driving was effortless, calm, and utterly precise. He was using his car as a weapon to get them where they needed to go, and his control over it was mesmerizing. The monstrous vehicle responded to his lightest touch; they were a perfect team. Okay, so yeah, she could kind of see the connection now between Nigel and his car.
Maybe the car wasn’t quite as innocent as it seemed. Just as the artist wasn’t quite as simple as he had seemed.
“You need to get past your need to shut down that fire inside you,” Nigel commanded.
She sighed. “I’m beginning to realize that, but it’s not that easy.” She managed a small laugh. “I have a hefty amount of self-preservation instincts trying to keep that side of me at bay. It’s a little challenging to overcome a lifetime of habits of keeping myself calm, cool, and collected.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not that hard.”
Her cheeks heated at the way his gaze slid over her mouth, reminding them both of the spark that they’d lit together. “Apparently, it is. Remember, it didn’t work?” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it, Nigel.”
“Natalie.” He reached over and lifted her hand. His touch was warm and solid, and she felt a part of her body reach out for his comfort. Her insides released and relaxed. And there was peace. “Look at your hands.”
She saw that her fingers were gray now. It was no longer just her cuticles. The skin on her arms looked taut and strained. “It’s still coming.” She’d lived a lifetime watching her slow march toward death. She’d beaten it, and now it had come again. New format, same fate. She fisted her hand in frustration. “Dammit.”
“Hey, you’ve got me on your team now. It’s not the same as it was.” He folded his hand around hers and squeezed lightly. “I’m a phenomenal warrior.”
“I’d assumed that.” He was still holding her hand. On purpose, or by accident? “You all are.”
He got a smug look on his face, the kind of arrogant expression worn by a man who knew that he was the best, and he would never be kept from his goals. “But I’m different.”
“You’re the only artist?” She curled her grayish fingers into ball. Her fist looked so small and delicate next to Nigel’s. In good way, like the big, strong man could protect her. But also like, what chance did she have of defeating the monsters coming for her?
“I’m phenomenal because of my rigid mental control and my ability to focus so intently.”
“Really?” She thought of his explosion in the back of her store. “You’re losing that edge, though, aren’t you?”
“My art is my source of control.” He stroked his thumb over her hand. “I have to get it back.” His grip tightened, and his voice became lower. More fierce. More focused. “We need to take Mari, and it’s got to be now. If we go into the Den and screw it up, we’re never coming out, dead or alive.” His jaw was hard, and she thought of the stories her sister had told her about the torture that the men had endured at Angelica’s hands.
They’d all been through hell, and Nigel was going back in to save his friends, and he needed her to make it okay? Hello, pressure? “Nigel. I’m not sure it’s the best idea to count on me—”
“That’s it.” He swerved across four lanes, skidded up onto the grass on the side of the road, slammed on the brakes so fast the car spun out, whipping in six circles before it skidded to a stop halfway up the embankment. He ripped off his seat belt, grabbed her, and pulled her across the seat. “Natalie. There is no room for can’t. I felt the power pouring from you just before you died three weeks ago. I felt it again in your store. You’re the most sensual woman I’ve ever encountered in my life. It burns in you, and you’ve got to stop castrating yourself. Let it go, dammit.”
“That power killed me! It took me over, ruled me, and eviscerated any sense of self-preservation!” She shoved at his unyielding strength. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be running toward your death and to not be able to stop yourself? For God’s sake, Nigel, I never want to feel like that again!”
“All you need to do is channel it—”
“Channel it!” She ripped out his grasp. “It was an orgasm, Nigel! An orgasm! I was going to die because it felt so damn good to have an orgasm! With a man I didn’t know and didn’t care about! A man who had killed hundreds of women like me, women who were sucked into his spell! And I didn’t care enough to stop myself from doing it.” Her stomach churned, and she clutched her arms around her belly. “I was a monster. I couldn’t stop. I was so terrified of death, but I got so caught up in the high that I didn’t care. If my sister hadn’t been there at the end, if she hadn’t interfered, I would be dead. Dead!”
“Who the hell cares?” Nigel grabbed her again, but his grip was less desperate. More understanding. But still forceful. “The moment you let fear of death control you is the moment you stop living. I can’t even see anyone who doesn’t have passion. Because they’re dead, even when they’re living.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to die, Nigel. I don’t want to spiral out of contr
ol like I did. It wasn’t what I wanted, and I did it anyway—”
“Maybe it was what you wanted.” He leaned closer, his hands softening on her shoulders. “Maybe your soul wanted to live, and once you got hit with the deedub poison, you lost the ability to destroy your own spirit.” He thumbed the back of her neck. “Did it feel good? In that moment? When you let go?”
Natalie sighed. She knew the truth. “Yes, it felt good. So good I was willing to die for it. Like a drug addict—”
“No.” He rubbed his palm over the front of her neck. “Like a soul that wanted to live. Your whole life has been an exercise in terror, because you were afraid that if you unleashed your passion, then the deedub poison would take root. Then your soul finally said no, and it wouldn’t let you suppress it anymore.”
“And it triggered the deedub poison. It killed me.”
“You’re here now, aren’t you? That’s not dead, is it?” He put his hand over her heart, and warmth filled her. “We are nothing without passion, Natalie. Whether it’s love or sex or art or whatever. The minute we let it all go and follow our souls, that’s when life becomes good.”
Her heart began to thud. “I don’t know how to make it good. I’m afraid to let it go.”
“I know.” He cupped her chin. “Trust me for a second?”
She shook her head at the sudden sensuality in his gaze. “No more kissing. It didn’t work and—”
“If you want to save yourself, and Maggie, and one desperate warrior, you need to trust me for one minute.”
Maggie. Dear God, she couldn’t become the monster that would steal life from her. She clenched her hands in her lap. She had all this power inside her, and she was crippling herself from accessing it. And because of that, people who needed her help, including herself, were all in danger.
Castrating her own power gave the deedubs the victory, even if they never touched her again.
And she was tired of losing. So, she took a breath, squared her shoulders, and met the gaze of the one man in this world she could possibly trust. “Okay. You have one minute.”
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