Hold Me If You Can (4 page)

“You can’t go in there by yourself.” Christian gripped Pascal’s footboard, his skin undulating with metal as Christian fought to keep control. “I’m going with you.” There was agony, fury, fire, and a deep, deep terror on Christian’s face. What could bring that level of fear to a man so immortal and so fierce that even the demons ran from him?

“No. You can’t go back in.” Nigel knew Christian was in bad shape. No way could he ask his teammate to return to the Den. It was too much, too soon. “It’s my responsibility.” Hell, yeah, it was his responsibility. He’d committed one of their own back to hell.
Shit!
His job was to take care of everyone, not bring them down!

Christian shook his head. “Blaine and Jarvis won’t be back from their cruise for two weeks. You need backup, and I’m going in with you. We’re getting him back.”

“I can handle it.” Nigel grabbed a Sharpie and a paper off the table and began to sketch Christian’s torment. He was so pissed and frustrated he couldn’t focus. Two minutes with the pen and he’d be able to create a strategy.

“What are you doing?” Christian demanded.

“I’m drawing. Need to clear my head.” He added the lines of strain around his teammate’s mouth—

“Stop!” Christian ripped the sketchpad out of his hand. “I won’t let you send me back to the Den, too. Draw something else.” The tip of Christian’s sword touched his jaw. “Not me.”

Nigel stared at Christian. “You think I drew him back into the Den.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Shit. Was that possible? Of course it was. Better not to take the chance. They all knew what Mari would do to have another chance at Christian. “Yeah, okay. I’ll draw something else.” Natalie’s face flashed in his mind and he smiled. Oh, yes, he knew who to draw. The delicate visage of a woman with haunted green eyes, living with a fear so deep she didn’t sleep. The passion in her eyes, the sensual way her body moved when she was doing something as simple as getting milk out of the fridge.

A sense of peace settled over him as he began to sketch. That delicate upturned nose, those full lips—

“Look at what you’re drawing,” Christian said quietly.

Nigel saw that he’d drawn Christian’s face again. Not Natalie. “What the hell?” He flipped the page again, his soul getting restless. He needed to draw to pull himself together. He envisioned Natalie’s lovely energy, the sparkle in her eye when she’d been in the moment of joy, the anguish in her face when she realized she was dying. The flush of her cheeks, the way she would watch him across the room, so aware of his every move—

Christian ripped the paper out of his hand. “Look.”

He’d drawn Christian again. “Son of a bitch.”

“Mari wants me, and somehow she’s compelling you to draw me, just like she did with Pascal.”

Draw
Christian.

It was the same voice in his head as before.

Holy shit. Christian was right. Mari was manipulating his drawing. He had to stop. But even as he thought it, a burning need seared through him at the thought of not drawing. It was his salvation. It was how he cleared his mind enough to go into battle. It was how he summoned his healing arts. He needed a clear mind to rescue Pascal, and he wouldn’t get there without his art. It was exactly as Natalie had said, that his art was a part of his soul.

But she had no idea how truly important it was. He absolutely could not afford to be without the respite that his art gave him. But as he looked at Christian’s eyes staring at him from the paper on the floor, he knew he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t draw. Sweat beaded on his brow at the thought of being without it. “No, I can handle this. She can’t control me—”

“Hell, man!” Christian ripped the pen out of his hand, and Nigel saw he’d started to draw Christian on his own palm.

Christian raised his sword to Nigel’s throat. “I love you, man, but I can’t go back. Not on her terms.” Tension rippled his body. “It’ll haunt me for centuries to do it, but if you try to draw me again, I’ll cut off your hands and pray you figure out how to regrow them.”

Nigel swore and bunched his fist. Was he that weak that he couldn’t stop himself from drawing Christian? And who would be his victim after that? Blaine? Jarvis? He was a danger to them all. But without his art, he was an even greater danger. To them, to Natalie, to anyone he cared about. “I can do it. I need to draw—”

“I don’t trust Mari.” Christian’s face was hard, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “You’ve got no chance if she’s decided to use you.”

Nigel swore. A hundred and fifty years had taught them very clearly the limitations of their power against Mari and Angelica. Christian was right.

Christian nodded. “We have to preempt her now.” He tapped his sword against Nigel’s wrists. “Give me permission.”

“No.” He shoved Christian’s blade aside. “She wins if you take away my weapons.”

Christian hesitated, then slowly lowered his sword. “Get help, then. Someone who can be louder in your head than Mari.”

They didn’t have time for this. They needed to get Pascal back fast. Every minute he spent there was hell. “I can outtalk Mari—”

“You really want to take that chance?”

Nigel swore. Pascal was already gone. Christian was next. Did he dare risk it? His soul needed to draw anyway, and with Mari pushing at him… “Shit.”

Christian nodded. “That about sums it up.”

Who the hell could shut down Mari’s voice in his head? Alleviate his need to draw? He needed to focus his mind so he could strategize and think of a solution. To give him the peace that art gave him without actually picking up the pen. Natalie’s face flashed in his mind, and Nigel itched with the need to draw her. If he could have five minutes with her image, he could clear his head enough to find an answer. Natalie could help him, she could… Holy shit.
Natalie
could
really
help
him.
And not just by being an image he drew to calm himself.

Natalie Fleming had a gift, a special gift that was exactly what he needed. But hell, he couldn’t ask her for help. She was the last person he dared to think about even when he had his art to keep him calm. Without it? Shit. She would be in such danger.

He couldn’t risk her.

But without her, he couldn’t save his team. He swore and lunged for the door. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”

Christian frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I gotta go see about a girl.” A girl who should be on her way to a safe haven in the tropics. A woman he’d sworn not to endanger by getting close to her. A beautiful soul that he would put in jeopardy with every second in her presence.

He couldn’t afford to turn to her for help. Not for her sake. Not for his.

But he couldn’t afford not to.
God
keep
you
safe
from
me, Natalie.

But he knew that God couldn’t keep anyone safe. Not from him.

Especially not Natalie Fleming.

Still reeling from her failure with Dick Small and his flaccid rod-o-love, Natalie shuffled numbly across the store and flipped the sign on the door to Closed just as a police officer reached for the door handle. She met his gaze, and she saw the hopelessness in his eyes, the broken visage of a man who couldn’t figure out how to be a man on his own.

“Please don’t close,” he said quietly. “Please.”

She hated feeling useless. But she wasn’t going to humiliate anyone else until she could figure out what was wrong with her. “I’m so sorry.”

“But I need your help—”

“I can’t.” She forced the door shut on him and leaned her back against the glass, steeling herself against his pleading requests. Her soul was screaming at her to help him. She was supposed to be his angel of virility. And she had to let him down.

Ella cocked her head, her gaze sympathetic. “Girl, you’re in bad shape, aren’t you?”

Natalie eyed the iPad sitting on Ella’s lap and thought of her life being splayed out for public consumption in Ella’s dissertation. “This really isn’t the time for an interview. I have to figure some things out. I—”

“I’ve been there.”

Natalie frowned. “Been where? Unable to give a man erection assistance?”

Ella smiled. “Oh, no, I can’t say I’ve ever been fortunate enough to affect men’s sexual performance on a regular basis. But I’ve been in a pretty bad place.”

Yeah, sure. This PhD candidate looked like she was far above such mundane things as failure to deliver the big boner or being stalked by demons with eating disorders. “You mean you were about to die ahead of your time? Failed to live up to your destiny? Unable to do what your soul is screaming at you to do?”

Ella nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Only I was praying to die and couldn’t make it happen.”

Well, that wasn’t an answer she heard every day. “Really?” Natalie looked more carefully at Ella. The prim and proper schoolmarm outfit, the straight brown hair in a pristine bun, the elegant and subdued makeup weren’t what Natalie would expect a hedonism professor to wear. Maybe a flamboyant grass skirt. Or a scarlet red body suit. Platinum blond hair. Not this tightly wrapped example of how to suppress every piece of passion in your soul.

“Really.” Ella set the computer aside. “Listen, Nat… Can I call you Nat?”

“Yeah, sure.” Natalie moved closer, lured by the friendly lean to Ella’s shoulders. By the welcoming warmth in her eyes. With her only remaining sister now spending most of her time with her new man, Natalie missed the companionship of another woman. “What happened?”

Ella shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t want to hear my story.” She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But I just wanted to tell you that sometimes life seems to be more than we can handle, but it’s really not. There’s always a way, even when it seems like there isn’t.” She picked up a chocolate bar and sniffed it. “The key thing is not to give up. Take action, even if it’s little steps. It helps, it really does.”

Natalie perched on the chair next to Ella. “I don’t even know who I am right now. I feel like I’m floundering.” Yes, she was alive, but after twenty-five years of being haunted by her curse, waiting to die, now that she had a chance to start over, she almost felt like she didn’t know where to begin. She was envious of Nigel, who always seemed to be so at peace as long as he had a pen in his hand.

“You?” Ella raised her brows. “You’re one of the most powerful Mystics I’ve ever run across. You’re this amazing talent with this great business. Don’t forget that.”

“But I’m not powerful!” But it did feel good to have someone telling her she wasn’t a total loser. “I couldn’t even influence a human just now.”

Ella squeezed Natalie’s hand, genuine, urgent concern in her voice. “Play with your chocolate. Try to influence an ant. Anything it takes to keep moving forward. Action begets action.” She balanced the chocolate bar on the tip of her index finger and began to spin it. “Watch.”

It whirled around in a dizzy circle. “Never abandon forward motion,” Ella said. “If you do, that’s when you crash. So much harder to get going, to find hope again. Even if you feel like you’re spinning in circles at least you’re moving.” Ella flicked the end of the spinning bar and it flew off her finger, spiraling through the air as it soared across the store, landing on the floor and sliding another ten feet before it came to a rest beside a vintage candy machine. “See? Even running in circles can launch you forward. Always keep moving. Always.”

“I’m not giving up.” Natalie fisted her hand. “I’m just a little out of ideas for how to move forward.” How could she influence a deedub not to kill her if she couldn’t even give Dick Small an erection? Nigel would come back for her, and she would have no defenses when he pointed out her inability to defend herself.

But if she couldn’t heal men sexually, then what did she have anyway? Without it, her soul would die.

Ella smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Just do something. Anything.” She grinned and gestured at the store. “You have enough chocolate in here to combat the PMS of all the women in Boston. Start with a chocolate binge, then go from there. Doesn’t chocolate always help?”

Natalie couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Chocolate bingeing is the answer to all of a woman’s problems.”

“Always and always.” Ella grinned back. Then her smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “Just know that I’ve been where you are, and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.” She winked. “Off the record, of course.”

Natalie smiled, feeling like she had an ally. Ella had come in waving a bloody knife. Who knew? Maybe the woman had talents beyond wielding an iPad and writing dissertations. “Well, as long as it’s off the record—”

“Natalie Fleming? It’s really you?” A young woman in cut-off jeans and a torn T-shirt shoved open the front door, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Natalie groaned. “Listen, I’m not open right now. I—”

“My name is Maggie Valtese.” The visitor shoved her tangled brown hair out of her face. Her face was peaked and drawn, her eyes worried. “I’m here about your job posting for an assistant chef. I have my resume with me.” She began to rifle through her purse. “I’m a Sweet, so I’m really good with chocolate. You don’t even have to pay me. I just need a place to sleep and maybe some food. Please. I really need this job.”

Natalie felt a tinge of empathy for Maggie. She knew what it felt like to be desperate. “Listen, I’m not sure when I’m going to reopen. I’ve got some things I need to address first.” Like how to get her mojo back in time for the inspection. A gleaming store wasn’t the only thing she’d need to show them to get her rating.

Natalie began to pull out some ingredients to make another batch of virility balls. Maybe she’d failed with Dick because the chocolate had gone bad. Maybe fresh ones would do it.

But even as she set a mixing bowl on the counter, a dark dread pulsed inside her. One that said maybe it hadn’t been the chocolate. It had been her.

Ella patted her shoulder and started to clear off the counter to make more room for cooking. “Good girl, Nat. Taking action is the first step.”

“My ex-boyfriend is hunting me.” Maggie inched closer to the counter, like a furtive puppy dog hoping to snatch a steak off the counter. “I didn’t know he was a deedub until he lost it one night and tried to have me for dessert.”

“What?” A bowl slipped out of Natalie’s hand, and Ella barely caught it before it crashed to the floor. “Has he bitten you?”

“No.” Maggie picked up a piece of chocolate and turned it over in her hand, her fingers caressing it with a reverence Natalie had seen only in her family, only in other Sweets.

“Good.” Natalie let her breath out and took the bowl back from Ella.
She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay.
Maggie was not destined to the same fate as Natalie and her family. As long as she could get Maggie out of there, the girl would be safe. “You need to hide from him. We can’t defeat deedubs.”

“I’ve been on the run for almost two years, but he keeps finding me.” Maggie shoved up her sleeve and held out her arm. Dark red claw marks raked across her arm, making Natalie’s stomach lurch. “So, then I heard about you, and how you dodged death, and so I hoped you could help.”

“Me?” Natalie looked more carefully at Maggie. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two. She looked worn out and scared, scattered. Exactly how Natalie had felt her whole life, waiting for the deedub poison to kick in and take her out, watching each member of her family die off, one by one as the deedub poison took them. “I’m not a warrior. I can’t protect you against
that
—”

“But you have to!” Maggie picked up the chocolate again and began shaving fine pieces off it, almost frantically, as if she needed the comfort of manipulating chocolate. Which, as a Sweet, she probably did. “If you put me out, I’ll be dead.”

Crap! She knew Maggie wasn’t exaggerating. Now that she’d been scented, she would be hunted until they found her. But how could Natalie possibly keep her safe? “I want to, but—”

“And here is our newest attraction on our tour.” The door opened and in strode a woman in a black suit jacket and a cute little skirt, wearing a large white name tag that said Marjorie Stevens, All World Tours, Inc.

Maggie froze, Ella graced them with a curious inspection, and Natalie stared in confusion. A tour? Of her store? Holy cow. She’d become so famous that she’d made it onto a walking tour of Boston. “This is fantastic!”

“This is great data,” Ella said, typing furiously on her iPad. “That’s so interesting to know that the city of Boston places such a high value on great sex that your store has made it onto a tour.”

A man in plaid pants and suspenders eyed the broken front window. “What happened to that?”

Oh, right. Granted, it was great to have made it onto the tour, but she and the store weren’t exactly in show condition. Natalie hopped up, tucking her disheveled hair behind her ear and hoping she didn’t have too much dust on her face. “Welcome to Scrumptious.”

Marjorie beamed at her. “Why thank you, my dear. It’s lovely to be here. Would you like to do a presentation? Maybe tell us a little bit about how you achieved such success?”

Such success? Warmth spilled through Natalie and she smiled. “I’m so delighted that my store is on your tour.” She beamed at the half dozen potential customers with ball caps and sweater vests spreading out in her lobby, posing next to her display cabinet and snapping pictures. “I’ll be thrilled to welcome you back next week when we’re officially open. Right now we’re doing construction and prep work for a very exciting, very elite opportunity to be considered for a Michelin-O Gold Star of Love.” She picked up some of her gold-embossed napkins. “You are all welcome to take one of these with you as a souvenir as you leave—”

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Marjorie said, waving her hands in dismissal. “You don’t need to entertain us. We don’t mind invading your privacy.” She pointed at Natalie. “And this is Natalie Fleming, the only Sweet in history to survive a deedub bite.”

The only deedub survivor? Cameras began to click again, and Natalie became aware of the scent of chocolate thickening in the air. Of a sense of restlessness building among her guests. The skin on the back of her neck began to crawl. Holy crap. This wasn’t a regular tour. This was something else. She knew with sudden certainty that she needed to get them out of her building. Immediately. “Leave my store. Now.” She moved in front of Maggie. “Get out of here, Maggie,” she whispered. “The back door.”

Maggie dropped the chocolate and began to edge toward the rear of the store.

“Everyone take your pictures,” Marjorie chimed. “She won’t be here for long, so this is a very exciting time—”

Maggie tripped on a barrel and a bronze candlestick clattered to the ground, its echo loud in the store. The entire tourist group jumped, and a man in red-and-white plaid shorts, a white polo shirt, and knee-high white socks snarled.

“Oh, yes,” Ella said. “Men who snarl are generally not the boyfriend type. Maggie, let’s go.” She slipped behind the counter to help Maggie untangle herself from the upturned barrel and candlestick.

While the queen of hedonism helped the Sweet to her feet, incisors began to stretch past checkered short man’s lips. He had fangs? And they were coming out in a chocolate shop? Natalie’s grip tightened desperately on the knife. “Tell me he’s not a deedub.”
Please, God, tell me he’s not a deedub.

Marjorie smiled. “Of course he is.” She gave a cheerful, all-inclusive swing of her arm. “We all are.”

“You all are?” Natalie realized everyone in the group was getting a little pointy-toothed. Oh, dear Lord almighty—

“I must have her!” Checkered shorts guy ripped his camera aside and leapt at her, teeth bared.

“No, no, no! Not permitted!” Tour guide Marjorie unleashed a deafening catcall and tackled the tourist. She sideswiped him into one of the bar stools, but one of the other tourists leapt over her and charged Natalie.

Ella started shouting, and then Maggie screamed. Knee sock guy hit Natalie hard in the chest, his claws sank into her shoulders, and a little old granny grabbed her ankle.

Natalie blocked his first bite with the knife, and then someone jerked her down from behind, and two tourists landed on top of her. She caught sight of Maggie disappearing under a load of plaid and Ella slamming her iPad into one of their heads, uselessly—

“Enough!” Marjorie bellowed in outrage. She sprayed purple dust across the store, and all the deedubs vanished.

Natalie stared in shock as the room went silent. Behind her, Ella and Maggie struggled to sit up, covered in purple dust. “You guys okay? Did you get bitten?”

Maggie shook her head. “No, no. Did you?”

“No, I’m fine.” Dear God, that had been so close. A whole room full of deedubs? And Maggie, poor Maggie! The girl would be traumatized for life.

Marjorie curtsied. “My deepest apologizes, Ms. Fleming. I will do my best to avert such behavior next time.”

“Next time?” Natalie shook her head. “No, no, no next time. My store is off limits—”