Hold Me If You Can (14 page)

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.”

“Good.” A satisfied expression flashed across his face. “No resistance allowed. Just total capitulation.” He brushed his finger over her cheek. “Close your eyes.”

Oh, um… that felt a little defenseless. She shook her head. “Nigel—”

“No, babe. No words.” Nigel brushed his lips over her jaw. “I’m going to show you how good a kiss can be when you trust it. How good your soul can feel when you let it celebrate being alive. How you can tap into that power and still be entirely the woman you want to be.”

“But—”

“I’m not the Godfather,” he interrupted. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to save that pretty little ass of yours, and a few others along the way.” He grinned. “Besides, as good as I am at sex, I’ve never killed a woman with an orgasm, and I don’t think I ever will. So you can trust me.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. “That’s a good point.” She knew the honor by which he lived. He was tortured and desperate, being haunted by his own demons, and he needed her. She could trust him, but more importantly, she needed to trust herself.

And a part of her wanted so desperately to tap into that side of her that she’d denied. To know she could let down her barriers, allow her spirit to soar, and to know she wouldn’t destroy herself in the process.

Maybe Nigel could show her that. Even that chance would be worth another try. She could trust Nigel not to kill her, but it was herself that she needed to trust. Right now, he would keep her safe. This moment, in the car, with no enemies bearing down on them, was her moment. This was her chance to try. “Okay.”

He smiled. “Now, close your eyes.”

And this time, she did.

***

A century and a half of seduction training had seemed like pure hell at the time, but as Nigel gazed down into the trusting face of Natalie Fleming, he was damn glad he knew exactly how to woo a woman.

Not that he’d be sending Angelica thank you notes anytime soon, but maybe he would grant her a shorter suffering before she died, when he finally got that chance. Or maybe not.

Nigel traced his index finger along Natalie’s jaw. Shit, her skin was soft. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He followed the curve of her neck, along her tendon, and around the front of her throat. He watched her swallow nervously.

That was the cutest damn thing. She was skittish about being kissed?

Protectiveness swelled inside him, and he cupped her throat. No woman he’d ever been with had been nervous. They’d been minions, trained to torture him into giving them what they wanted. Every woman, again and again, had critiqued his approach, punished him for not doing what her specific requirements entailed. There had been no nervousness, no vulnerability, just brutal demand that was so far from sensual it couldn’t even qualify as sex.

But now… he bent forward and brushed his lips over Natalie’s neck.

Natalie sucked in her breath in a quivering awkwardness. “Nigel—”

“I like hearing you say my name.” And he did. She wasn’t issuing a command. It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t a condemnation. It was a request for reassurance. It was a whisper of intimacy. And it brought out a side of him that felt good. Empowering. Worthy.

She made him feel like a man.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed his cheek against hers, so his mouth was by her ear. “I will keep you safe,” he whispered. “Forever and always. Do you understand?”

She nodded once, and a feeling of power surged through him. Was this what being a man felt like? Because damn, he felt like he could rule the world.

And he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

Slowly, his body twitching in anticipation, he pulled back until his mouth was a whisper from hers. He could feel her breath on his face, taste her nervousness, and feel the tiniest hint of desire pulsing at her. “I want you to release all judgment, all thought,” he said, gently massaging her neck. “I want you to simply open yourself to the sensations. To the feel of my mouth on yours.”

Her breath quickened, but she didn’t pull away.

“Like this.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth.

Sweet Jesus, her lips were like angel’s breath, like the softest silk, so delicate, so tender, so female. Her mouth was a woman’s mouth, just like he’d dreamed about, just like he’d painted so many times, creating a magical image that he’d never experienced in real life. Until now. Her mouth was a decadence of sensation, of wanting, of shyness…

Desire surged through him, and his body responded with a ferocity that made him feel like a load of his blades had just been unleashed in his pants.
Jesus.
This was what it was supposed to be like?

Mother of God.

He wanted more.

Then he realized she had tensed, and tenderness consumed him. The need to protect. To keep safe. To fend off her fear.

He thumbed her cheek with a softness he’d practiced a thousand times that, for the first time, felt natural. “Feel the tenderness of my lips,” he whispered. “Focus only on that. Let yourself bask in the sensation.”

Then he kissed the right corner of her mouth. The brief touch was like a moment of utter stillness in his mind, in his soul, a pause in the turmoil constantly racing around inside him. It was pure beauty.

She swallowed again, but her eyes were still closed, and she didn’t pull away.

She was trusting him.

Triumph made his muscles bunch, and he lightly spanned her waist with his hands. “Let yourself want to be kissed. It’s okay, Natalie. It really is.”

Then he kissed her full on her mouth.

Her lips were softer than he could have imagined, like the rose petals on the flowers he painted. Like velvet, only alive with tenderness and vulnerability. He kissed her again, and she tentatively kissed him back with a fragility that made him want to erect a barrier around her and protect her from the world.

He could feel her response to the kiss.

Right now, her body was soft and pliant, her lips were tentative and real. She was kissing him with her soul, with trust, with delicate exploration.

“I’ll never let you down,” he whispered against her mouth.

She didn’t answer, but she laid her hand on his shoulder. Gently. Tentatively.

Desire surged suddenly to life and he gripped her neck a little harder. Deepened the kiss. Explored with his tongue.

She allowed him access, and he framed her face with his hands, striving to be gentle and protective. He concentrated on allowing her the freedom to pull away. He prayed, God did he pray, that she wouldn’t, but he knew he had to give her that choice.

She didn’t shut him down.

She kissed him back.

A small noise of pleasure emerged from the back of her throat, and her other hand went to his shoulder. Holding tighter now. As if she didn’t want to let him go but was afraid to grip too tight.

“Lose yourself in the kiss,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you take it too far.”

He kissed her again, deeply, and she met him with all he gave her. He felt her body respond, felt the heat burning beneath her skin. And he felt right. It felt good. She was putting herself in his hands, in his kiss, in his protection, trusting him. There was no manipulation by her. No agenda. Just tentative, hopeful trust.

And damn if that wasn’t the biggest turn-on he’d ever felt.

He wanted to be the man who she could entrust with her safety. He’d never felt that way. Never really gave a shit about women, because, well, when all they were good for was hellfire and damnation, it didn’t create a whole lot of incentive to be nurturing.

And he’d thought that was fine.

But now, feeling that burning need to protect her… He finally understood what it meant to be a man.

“I’ve got you, babe.” He gripped her hair and coaxed her head back so she could see his expression and
feel
the truth of his words. He searched her face, those deep green eyes of hers. “I’m trained in battle. And I grant you my protection. You don’t need to protect yourself anymore.”

He fought to make her comprehend, needing her to know, needing her to trust him. He didn’t know why he needed it, but he did. It felt like his very core was screaming to be given the role of protector.

Her face softened, and a tentative, fragile smile curved her lips.

And that was all the feedback he needed. He tightened his grip on her hair, pulled her against him, and he did what he’d been wanting to do since the first time he’d met her, and she’d made him realize he was damn glad he was a man.

Nigel kissed Natalie again, and this time, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t nurturing. It was the kiss of a man who had just learned what it was like to feel like a man, who had the woman who’d validated him in his arms.

He gave of his passion, he took of her vulnerability, he took of her soul and gave his own, he wrapped his being around hers and gave her his protection.

He cupped her breasts, he palmed her hips, and he groaned when she kissed him back. When she moved against him. When she began to stop fighting her own desires and give into his, into hers, into the heat driving them both.

The kiss turned frantic. Carnal. Deep. Hot. Wet. Until there was nothing between them but the need for more, for skin, for intimacy, for passion. He had no idea how much time had passed, or how long he’d kissed her, but he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t break away from the connection. He cupped the front of her jeans, thumbed over her sensitive parts. She shuddered, and he caught her in his arms. “I’ve got you, babe. You can let it go. You’re safe with me.”

She opened her eyes, her lids heavy with passion and heat. “Nigel,” she whispered. “You don’t need your art. You’re in complete control of your weapons and your mind. You feel powerful. You feel mentally calm. You are focused, and it is easy to be so. You are all you strive to be.”

The words plunged into his chest like blades, they hit his brain like hot wind, and they raced through his body like electric shock rippling and rippling and rippling. His muscles went rigid, and for a moment he couldn’t move. All he could do was feel her words shooting through him, eviscerating his own thoughts, his own needs, his own identity.

He tried to stop it, he tried to resist the flood, but it was relentless, streaking through him. He saw art in his head, pictures he’d drawn. They were falling off the walls, burning up in white-hot flames. He envisioned the blades in his own body shriveling up. He felt the metal disappearing from his own flesh, felt the coolness of the metal vanish, replaced by burning heat, by fire.

“Stop!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Make it stop!”

She caught his face and held tight, her expression confident and calm. “Let it in, Nigel. It hurts only because you have resistance. It’s what you want. You asked for it. Stop fighting.”

But he couldn’t. He could feel her words stripping away at his own mind, at his own emotions, trying to inject themselves over his. He didn’t want to lose who he was. Didn’t want to put himself in someone else’s hands. “No!” He shoved her off his lap and stumbled out of the car onto the embankment.

“Nigel!”

He heard her voice, a female voice, and he swore. A blade came out and he spun around. Ready to attack. To protect himself.

She stopped, her palms up in surrender. “Nigel,” she said. “It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m not one of them. You’re not in the Den.”

The cars were whizzing by on the highway. He heard the hum of the engines. The high-pitched whine of the tires careening past. The click of the gravel flicking up to the undercarriages. Noises of action. Of the real world. Of life outside the Den.

He saw Natalie, then. Really saw her. The brown hair. Those haunted green eyes so wide with worry. Not aggression. Not threat. Not satisfaction. Concern. For him.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I helped you. I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t take away your will. It’s all okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. He knew it wasn’t. She’d stolen something from him. “No. It’s gone—”

“It’s just temporary, I promise. You’re still you.”

It’s just temporary
. He saw the truth in her expression, heard the honesty of her tone.
It’s just temporary.
Like all the other hell he’d been through. Each had been a blip in his lifeline, even the worst moments. It had all passed. Like this would pass… oh,
shit.
This would pass? “You mean, we’re going to have to do it again?”

She stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing.

Laughing?
Laughing?

“Oh, Nigel.” She walked over to him and set her hands on her shoulders. “You’re afraid of me? I’m a nothing.”

“Shit, woman.” He realized he was on his knees and started laughing too, relief breaking through the tension that had strung them both so tight. “You rocked me back on my ass. You could bring down the world if you wanted to.”

Her eyes were still sparkling with laughter. “I have to admit, seeing a big, mighty warrior like you run away from me like that is really good for my ego.”

“Run away? I was practicing my footwork for a scrimmage I’m playing in tomorrow.” He caught himself grinning like a school kid in response to her amusement. “You are one gorgeous woman when you’re smiling like that, Natalie Fleming.”

Her smile widened. “You don’t have to compliment me to get a kiss. Just threaten me with deedubs and I’m all yours.”

“That’s all it takes?” At her amused nod, he snapped his fingers. “I knew Angelica left out some key things in Seduction 101. She said it was all about flowers and poetry. Threat of death was never mentioned.”

“Yes, well, if all you know about women is what she taught you, you’re in trouble.” Natalie was still laughing as she held out her hand. “Need a hand, big guy?”

As if he was going to turn down that offer. She was captivating as hell with that levity in her spirit. He grasped her hand and let her assist him to his feet. But once he was vertical, instead of letting her go, he swept his arm behind her and pulled her up against him. “Woman, if all it takes to get that gorgeous smile on your face is for me to fall on my ass, I would do it every day for the rest of my damn life.”

Her eyes danced. “Now that is something I’d like to see. Wouldn’t that damage your reputation?”

“Hell, no. My reputation as a badass is completely intact.” Then, because he just couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again.

Her laughter bubbled up in the kiss, turning it into a playful exploration of fun and levity dancing on top of the desire. He was grinning as he pulled away. “That’s the first time laughter has ever been involved in a kiss for me.”

She raised her brows. “And how was it?”

He paused, trying to think of the right word. “Exhilarating.”

She smiled again, but this time there was more tenderness than mischief. “Sex shouldn’t be a torturous experience, Nigel.”

“And it shouldn’t be scary, Miss Natalie.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “Seems like we both could use some new experiences in that category.”

She leaned into his touch. “Probably.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, surprised by his desire to simply cart her off and do nothing but lose himself in her. No art. No battle. No weapons. Just exploration, laughter, and passion. In a moment like this, he could almost convince himself that he had the ability to get close to her and not put her in danger of him snapping.

Almost, but not quite.

He wasn’t the man she deserved to have.

Not yet, anyway. He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Do you think it worked?” he asked quietly. “Your suggestion?”

“I don’t know.” She laughed softly. “I’ve never knocked a man over before, so that’s got to be something.”

“You have the tools, that’s for sure.” He flexed his hand and called forth a blade, just to make sure he could still do it. A razor-edged dagger slipped free of his hands, and dark embers began sloughing off his palms. Yeah, okay, he still had his blades, so she hadn’t taken that away from him. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the blade, checking the sharpness.

Natalie lifted her head away from his to look at his weapons. “Do they feel any different?”

“No.” He tossed the blade aside. “I’ll you tell you, though, Angelica and Mari would love to have you working for them.”

Natalie cocked her head. “Is that why you freaked? Because you thought I was them?” She wasn’t joking anymore. She was actually serious.

“I didn’t freak out.” Nigel palmed her back to guide her to the car. “I was engaging strategic, evasive moves.”

She raised her eyebrows at him as she stepped into the vehicle. “No man has ever reacted like that to me before.”

He suddenly wasn’t all that happy with the thought of her delving into the souls of other men to try to bone up their sex life. “Had you kissed them first?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked amused again as she slipped into his car. “No, you’re the first.”

“Well, then, that’s probably why.” He slammed the door shut. End that conversation now. Yes, granted, he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he was going to endanger her by keeping her, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be getting up close and personal with other guys. What if she’d said he wasn’t the first? He already knew. The metal was stirring beneath the skin at the mere idea of it.

Yeah, any wonder why he wanted to ship her off to the tropics? It was going to be a severe test of his control to keep her around and not trigger another episode like the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee drawing fiasco.

But when he opened his car door, he discovered she wasn’t finished. “You know, I think the reason you’re different from the other men I’ve influenced is because you’re so tough,” Natalie said.

“Well, that’s true. I am tough.” He started up the car, sort of wishing he was driving some big rig with a really loud engine. The whisper-quiet of his ride didn’t quite feel like the message he felt like sending. “Much more manly than any of those other… men.” Did he have to call them men? Couldn’t he call them spineless wimps not worth noticing?

“I’ve only influenced Dullets before, and they tend to be men who are weak, and they want to feel like a man. So, when they feel my power, they like it, because it’s more than they’ve ever felt before. But with you…”

Okay, that was a better slant. The other men were weak who couldn’t feel like a man on their own. “But I’m not like them.”

“No.” She tilted her head. “You felt like I was stealing your power.”

Shit. She was dead right. He had felt like that. “Wow. Did you see that move?” He gestured randomly at a car that had just whizzed by, trying to distract her with traffic. What? Like he was going to admit that she’d scared the crap out of him? That might even put him lower on the manly scale than the wusses she’d empowered.

“So, that’s why you wouldn’t let Ella talk to you,” she observed. “You’re afraid—”

“I’m not afraid,” he growled. There were some things a man simply had to defend himself against, and being classified as “afraid” was one of them. “Here’s the deal. For the last one hundred and fifty years, the one thing I’ve been able to claim for my own is my mind. They fucked with my body, they stole my freedom, they manipulated my powers, and still are apparently, but they never got to my mind.” He pulled out onto the highway, and then gunned the engine.

He needed to get fast, get out, feel the speed.

“But I did.” Her voice was quiet with understanding, with empathy. “I got into your mind.”

He rubbed his hand over his whiskers. Yeah, still had them. He was still a man. “You got close.” Had she actually gotten there? It felt like she had.

“I felt it. We were connected.”

He heard the concern in her voice, yeah, but there was also a hint of awe. Of amazement. She had her feet up on the dash and was hugging her knees, a thoughtful expression on her face. She wasn’t one of the women from the Den, and she had no desire or intention to hurt him. The only reason she’d been able to get to him was because he’d empowered her, and he’d made the conscious choice to let her in. It had been a team effort. Yeah, he’d been unprepared for the sensation of her in his head, but it was okay. He was still who he was. And she was still Natalie.

She’d done exactly what he’d asked of her, despite her deep fear of tapping into her sensuality. And what had he done? Panicked instead of taking advantage and encouraging her to raise her weapons to an even higher level. She was his partner, and she’d done something extraordinary that just might save their asses, and it was time for him to act like it. He touched her hand. “What you did back there was good. Really good.”

She set her hand over his and smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

She laughed then, a sound that was relief and happiness. “I will direct all my powers of suggestion toward other hapless souls.” She grinned. “Seriously, if I could command you, then I could tell a deedub not to attack me. Think of the freedom!”

“You were impressive,” he agreed. Enough to defeat Mari? Who the hell knew what it would take to defeat Mari? If she’d become as powerful as Angelica, it would take luck, the alignment of the universe, and some damned good fortune on his part. Translation: killing Mari would be impossible.

But to shut her down enough to rescue Pascal and Blaine, and cut off the delivery of smut into Natalie’s soul?

Well, he was sane now. Able to avoid art and still keep his head clear enough for battle. Even if Natalie didn’t repeat what she’d just done, it would be enough.

Mari was going down.

Together, they were going to do it.

And when she squeezed his hand, he knew that she was feeling the same optimism.

For the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, they both had a chance to control their own destiny. And damn, it felt good.

***

The dream genie was back, and he was rocking this world!

“Charlie? You awake?’

Charles Morgan straightened his new suit jacket and turned toward the door as the knob turned and in strolled the magnificent female that was feeding him powers in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Mari was followed by a young woman pushing a wheeled chair in which was strapped a massive male of the warrior persuasion. The male was alert, and smoke was rising from his skin where the stainless steel chains were locked down on his bare skin.

Not a grimace of pain from the stoic hero.

“Right here, Danielle.” Mari gestured her assistant to a stop. “Charlie, this is Pascal. He’s the one you’re going to practice dream-purging on today.”

Danielle set her hands on her hips. “Mari, this isn’t right. You have no right to steal dreams from these men.” She shot an accusing look at Mari as she grabbed a napkin from Charlie’s dinner tray and wedged it under one of the chains to protect Pascal’s forearm from the steel. “You said that the torture was over. It was all lies?”