Hold Me If You Can (7 page)

Something tightened in her belly at the raw need on his face, at his admission, at the idea that this warrior, this vision of passion and heat and strength, needed her. The thought that she could help him made her feel strong and powerful, and she clung to it, needing that illusion. She could not let Nigel suffer, not when she knew what it was like. “Okay.”

Nigel nodded and turned to Ella. “You will teach Natalie how to influence me.”

Ella’s cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with sudden tears that she blinked away almost instantly. “Yes, yes. I will.”

Nigel put his hand on the back of Natalie’s neck and pulled her close. “You hurt Natalie, and you die. For her, and for all the others.”

Natalie didn’t pull away. She liked his protective stance. He was going to keep her safe, and that felt good. She hadn’t felt safe for a very, very long time, and his firm grip on her was a gift.

Ella’s cheeks grew redder. “I won’t hurt her. I promise.” She met his gaze. “Or you.”

“I don’t need assurances for myself. I can defend myself from you, and now I’m free to do it.” He turned Natalie toward him. “How long do your suggestions last?”

Oh… wait a second. What was she promising? She couldn’t even influence a Dullet anymore. What made her think she could suddenly do what she hadn’t ever been able to do before? “I think Ella should influence you.”

“Ella?” His grip tightened on her. “No chance,” he growled. “I will never permit her near me.
Ever.
It has to be you. I won’t trust anyone else.”

Okay, so it was incredibly sweet and touching that a man who had no reason to trust anyone in this world trusted her, and it made her want to help him so much. But she wouldn’t promise something she couldn’t deliver. Regretfully, wishing she could be the woman who would help him, she shook her head. “I already told you I can’t do it anymore. Even if I figure out how to do it, there’s no way to know how successful I’ll be. You can’t count on me for something that important—”

“I don’t have time for a can’t. I only have time for cans. You can. I can. Pascal lives. You live. That’s the end of it.” He looked past her at Ella. “How long will it take to teach her?”

“Five minutes or never. Depends on her.”

“Make it three minutes.” He ignored Natalie’s protest. “How long will her suggestions last?”

“Thirty seconds to a few days. It’s different for everyone.” Ella cocked her head. “You’ll be a challenge. It won’t last for days with you. You’ll push it away.”

He nodded and turned to Natalie. “Then you’re coming with me. In case you need to do a second round.”

She blinked. “To the Den?”

“Don’t be afraid.” He grabbed her hand. “No one else under my care dies. Starting with you.”

No one else? People had died while under his protection? Like her sisters and her mom. Dying while she tried to make them live. God, he understood, didn’t he? “Oh, Nigel.” She laid her hand on his cheek.

“I swear on the soul of every warrior who died in my care that you’ll survive.” His fingers dug in.

All she needed was a chance. An opening. And she could do the rest. “Okay.”

He nodded once, relief evident in his eyes. “Okay.”

And with that short exchange, she was bound.

***

Well, hellfire and damnation, when had he turned back into a man?

Charles Morgan, former dream genie of subpar reputation, peered carefully around the corner of the couch. He examined his reflection in the stainless steel toilet he’d been drinking out of for the last three weeks, since he’d been so rudely lured into imprisonment by an attractive young woman wielding a ham bone.

It didn’t seem possible, but as he double and triple-checked his reflection, it was undeniable. He was no longer a smut-infested dog. He was a man. And not a demon-infused-smut-monster loaded with taint.

It was his own visage, one he hadn’t seen in far too many decades.

Stunned, he touched his face. Whiskers, and not the canine kind. The manly kind that women swooned for. Cheekbones. Lips.

“Hot damn,” he whispered. After three hundred years of being contaminated from the smut of a certain witch’s black magic spells, he was finally clean again! “I’m really back!”

“How do you like it?” Standing in the doorway was the sensual beauty who’d waved that tasty bone and promptly locked him up. In the three weeks since she’d deprived him of his freedom, she’d been scratching his butt and delivering white standard poodle girlies to him. Poodles with pink bows who had been very friendly to a big, black, shaggy dog that stank of smut, black magic, and death.

Yes, yes, he appreciated the thought and all, but inside that canine body had been a man’s awareness, and he’d been thoroughly horrified by his furry side’s amorous designs on the poodles.

His captor’s auburn hair and blue eyes looked much better in color than in dog-vision black and white, and the man was more appreciative of her curves than the dog had been, but that hardly snagged her absolution for what she’d done to him with the poodles. “You should be tortured—”

Stunned, he stopped and pressed his hand to his throat. Holy crap. That was his real voice. Not some smutted up raspy voice that had been haunting him for the last three hundred years. That was his own beautiful tenor, the one that had wooed women, calmed frenzied patrons, and whispered words of advice into the sleeping ears of his hopelessly misguided clients. “My name is Charles Morgan,” he said, just to test it.

His voice. His name. His body. He was back. Truly, truly back.

Without another thought, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord of All Genies, for bringing me back. I will remain true to our creed and will never deviate from our mission again. I honor you—”

“It was me that cleared the smut from you, not a genie lord. But I’m glad to know it makes you happy.” The Bone Queen stepped inside the door, carefully closing it behind her as she had done every day for the last three weeks.

He lifted his head. “You freed me from that smut-ridden existence?” Well, hell, that was a lot better than bringing the dogs. He might even forgive her for that.

“Of course I did.” In her right hand was the fuchsia curling iron that she used to shoot poisoned bobby pins into his family jewels and nipples. The razor-sharp bastards burned like hell and left behind deformed red lumps that itched like crazy. It had taken only one escape attempt to realize it wasn’t worth it. “You’re a much better looking man than I thought you’d be,” she said, cocking her head at him. “You have a nice smile.”

“A nice smile?” Well, granted, it was a far cry from being adored, sought after, and idolized, but he’d take it as a first step. And he always had had a particularly devastating smile. So, at least she was insightful.

“Oh, yes.” She gave him a warm grin, and he noticed that her eyes were an interesting shade of violet. Not pure blue.

He pulled himself straighter, trying to remember how to appear appropriately arrogant, even though, quite frankly, all he wanted to do was sit down and stare at himself in the toilet, and maybe kiss her toes in sobbing appreciation for a day or so.

But after a three-hundred-year sabbatical, the dream genie had a reputation to rebuild, and it started now. What had his reputation been? Oh, yes. Devastatingly handsome, a great lover, and one of the most powerful mythical beings in all creation.

He let out his breath. God, that felt like an effort to rebuild, but he could start with his amorous reputation, he supposed. His captor was a significant improvement over the poodles. Maybe she would cleanse the residual taint. “You want me, don’t you? Fortunately, I’m already naked, so we can just—”

“Get naked with you?” She shook her head quickly and held up her hand as if to ward him off. “No, I’m in love with someone else.”

“You are?” Her angled face was haunted and miserable. None of that glow of love. Charles sighed. Oh, yes, he’d seen that look before on so many of his clients’ faces.

“He doesn’t love you, does he?”

Raw agony flashed across her face, the kind of soul-deep pain that could be caused only by the evisceration of one’s heart. Then the vulnerability was gone, replaced by the cold mask of survival. “My love life is none of your business.”

Oh, yes. He remembered now why he’d gone AWOL from respectable genie behavior. Because it was just too frustrating to try to help people like her. That’s why he’d gone on his mission—

Hellfire and damnation! How had he forgotten his mission?

He leapt to his feet. It was time for his vision to come back to life, for the sake of women like this sweet young thing. “My darling, listen to me, and listen carefully.” It had been over three centuries since he’d had to face down some besotted lovelorn who didn’t know how to manage her dreams. Turns out, it still got to him as much as it used to. “You’re destroying yourself by dreaming of something you can’t have. Unless you can clear your aura, it will eat away at your soul like acid on beautiful, fragile silk.”

She blinked, her face softening until it was almost pretty. “You think I’m like beautiful silk?”

“Of course I do.” He touched her cheek and was surprised by how soft her skin was. Who said poodles were soft? Not even in the same ballpark as this.

“But that’s not my point.” He could not afford to be wooed by a pretty girl. His mission was too important to be derailed by the need to help a single young woman in distress. He had bigger plans than that! “You obviously can’t manage dreaming successfully, so you have to let it go or you’ll torture yourself into a miserable and early death, like my sweet Prunella.” Ah, Prunella. How many moons since he’d been sane enough to remember her. He laid his hand over his heart and looked to the heavens.
I
will
never
forget
you, my love.

The woman blinked. “Prunella? Who’s Prunella?”

“My daughter.” He sighed, remembering her bright blue eyes looking at her papa with adoration for so many years. “Some bastard put dreams in her head and she fell in love, and he did not love her back—” Anger surged through Charles, anger he hadn’t felt in so long. “She couldn’t let go of her dreams, and I couldn’t make them come true for her. And she died, torn apart by a soul broken by unfulfilled dreams.” Oh, hell, how awful that had been! It had to stop! How many people had died from broken souls in the three centuries since he’d gone canine? Charles grabbed his captor’s shoulders and shook them. “Ditch the dreams, woman! Ditch the—”

She shot him in his golf balls of love.

“Hell!” He grabbed for his nuts and dove behind the couch, out of range of the weapon from hell. It had hurt like shit when he’d had shaggy dog hair covering his balls, but now that he was naked with fragile human skin? Words were inadequate to describe the living hell he was currently experiencing.

“I’m so sorry!” She ran over and leaned over the couch, her face crumpled in dismay. “I didn’t mean to do it, but you were getting violent and I sort of panicked.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! You just shot my nuts!”

“I’m sorry!”

He glared at her. “Then hand me that damn curling iron.”

“Oh.” She glanced at her hand, and then glanced back at him. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Sure you can. Just hand it over.”

“No, no, no.” She scrambled back to her feet. “See, I looked you up in Angelica’s files, and I think you’d try to keep me from doing what I need to do. I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, but I
have
to get this fixed. Too many people were hurt when Angelica was running this place, and I helped. I have to make it right. And I need you to do it.”

“Angelica?” The name knifed through him like a hot fork through a melted marshmallow.

Angelica was the witch he’d tried to assist when she’d been suffering from tortuous dreams of unrequited love. Had she appreciated it? Hell no. She’d turned him into her black magic garbage disposal, rending him an insane, homicidal maniac, right when he’d been on the verge of saving the world, starting with her. “Where is that bitch?”

“She’s gone. I’m in charge of the Den now. And I’m changing the rules.” The new Queen of Hell leaned over the couch to peer at him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. And hope. She wanted something from him.

No chance. He clenched his teeth and shoved a couch pillow between his legs, fighting not to cry like a baby. “I don’t play by rules.”

“Don’t rules suck?” Mari grinned and holstered her curling iron, but he already knew how fast she could get to it. “I like you already, dream genie.”

Charles tensed at the salutation. “Dream genie?” She knew what he was? Oh, hellfire and damnation, no wonder she was threatening him. Everyone wanted something from dream genies.

Seriously. Was it hard to figure out why dream genies protected their anonymity so ruthlessly? Because if their identity was known, desperadoes like the woman before him would harass, torture, and abuse the genies in a misguided attempt to force the dream gods to grant the nearest and dearest yearnings of their hearts. And then blame them when the dream genie couldn’t perform.

The one time he’d revealed his true self was to Angelica, and she’d promptly smutted him. And now her sex-providing replacement was in on the game? Time for the Caution Dance. “I used to be a dream genie,” he said conversationally while he assessed the odds of being able to disarm her before she shot his nuts into a state of utterly debilitating pain.

“Oh, good. That is so fantastic.” She smiled and held out her right hand, and he noticed that she had her nails painted in the softest pink. A color of vulnerability and femininity. Not what he’d expect from a protégé of Angelica of the silver-and-scarlet manicure.

“Hello, Charlie,” she said. “My name is Mari Hansen, and I’m here to offer you a deal.”

Somehow, sitting in close proximity to a pile of garbage that had gone ripe during her three-week siesta didn��t seem an appropriate venue for tapping into an inner strength and talent that had eluded Natalie for a lifetime.

Seriously. Years from now, she would look back on this defining moment, when her life changed forever, and instead of sunshine and glory, she would smell rotted bananas, mouse poop, and the sound of a garbage truck doing its morning collection, all of which were drifting in through the open window. The front side of Newbury Street was ooo-la-la galore, but the alley behind? Not so much. Granted, she’d moved the trash outside this morning, but the stench still owned the joint. “I really feel like we should go somewhere else—”

“No time.” Nigel was crouched in front of her. His neck muscles were rigid, his face in turmoil she’d never seen before. “Ella needs privacy, and I need air. We don’t have much time, so the back of your store wins. Deal with it.”

Natalie raised her brows at his uncharacteristically abrupt dismissal of her concerns. “Deal with it? You’ve never been that crass in your whole life, have you?” Nigel was the most mellow dude ever, a warrior who never got worked up about anything enough to order someone to “deal with it.” She frowned. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Awareness flashed over his face, as if he had just noticed he’d snapped at her. “Sorry.” Then his jaw tightened. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus.”

“Okay, so I’ve got the front shut down.” Ella hurried into the back room of Natalie’s store. Her skin was pale, and she looked worried. “Nigel, you need to go out there and fend off anyone who tries to come in.” She pulled up a step stool, dusted the flour off it, and sat down in front of Natalie.

Nigel didn’t move.

“Nigel, please.” Ella looked at him imploringly. Her hands were trembling. “If someone saw me do this and realized who I was, it would have very bad repercussions for me. You need to make sure no one comes in.”

“There’s no chance I’m leaving you alone with Natalie. And I can’t say I’m overly concerned about repercussions for you.” A tendril of smoke began to drift up from Nigel’s palm, and the tip of a metal blade poked out at the end of his fingers. “Teach her, now.”

He sounded desperate, and Natalie touched his arm. “You’re going to be okay,” she said quietly.

He squeezed her hand, his grip warm and reassuring, but his face was grim, as if some dark future was chasing him, and she was the only one who could stop it. Oy. What if she couldn’t? How bad was the hell chasing him?

“I can’t be discovered.” The hedonism student looked like she was about to keel over. “No one can know that Ella Smitweiser knows about mysticism. It’s imperative.”

Natalie saw the fear in Ella’s eyes, and her heart tightened for her. She knew what it was like to have a past you didn’t want. She also understood that it was possible that the choices of Ella’s past maybe hadn’t really been Ella’s choice. “Who is after you, Ella?”

But the woman shook her head. “No.”

Nigel looked back and forth between them, and she saw him quickly analyze the situation, sift through the facts, and assess what he was going to have to do to make things happen the way he wanted. “I’m monitoring,” he finally said, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t feeling the love for the fact he had to give Ella comfort. “I’ve got it covered. No one’s going to come in that store without me knowing about it.” There was such finality in his voice, such raw assurance, that Natalie immediately relaxed.

Some of Ella’s tension eased also. She clearly realized that one of Angelica’s warriors in battle mode was a force worthy of reckoning. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do my best.” She shook out her arms to loosen her muscles, then took Natalie’s hands.

Her fingers were ice cold. Too cold for a living being. “Are you okay?”

Ella laughed quietly. “Sweetie, I haven’t been okay for a long time, but I’m working on it.” Her gaze flicked to Nigel. “Assisting you guys will help.”

Natalie sensed a huge weight on the woman’s soul, and she squeezed Ella’s hands. “It’ll be okay, Ella.”

“Maybe.” Ella leaned forward. “But this is your time.” She smiled lightly. “Stop worrying about me. I’m fine. Really. Just haven’t done the mysticism thing for a while.” She tapped the back of Natalie’s hand. “I need you to concentrate on you, not me. Can you do that?”

Natalie noticed that there were little gray circles on the back of her hand where Ella had tapped them. They faded quickly, but why had they been there at all? She would have to ask Nigel later. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Ella nodded. “Suggest something to Nigel. Something easy.”

Natalie looked over at Nigel, and something twitched in her belly. He was entirely focused on her, and she could almost feel his energy pulsing at her. “You will blink twice.”

He didn’t blink.

“Oh, I forgot. You need chocolate.” Natalie pointed at the tray near him. She’d brought in the last of the virility balls. “Have a virility ball.”

Nigel eyed the chocolate spheres like they were noxious beasts of hell about to attack him. “Got anything that doesn’t have to do with sex? I don’t want anything messing with my manhood.”

“You don’t need to worry about your manliness.” Natalie exchanged knowing looks with Ella. Men were so sensitive about their masculinity. It was sort of endearing. That’s why she loved her job so much, because she had insight into the one thing that made men vulnerable. “It increases your sexual performance, so you can only benefit.”

“I got that covered, sweet cheeks.” Nigel’s gaze swept over her with piercing intensity, as if daring her to find out exactly how much he did have it covered. Such a guy!

But his look worked. Heat pulsed in her belly, and she tried to hide her reaction by gesturing at a box on one of the shelves. “That’s some raw chocolate. You could go with that.” Yeah, playing with fire wasn’t a good idea when Nigel was concerned. She needed to be over the sex thing, thank you so much. If a man she didn’t even like could get her worked up so much that she couldn’t stay away from certain death by orgasm, then what would a man like Nigel do to her self-control?

She didn’t want to know.

She just wanted to be safe, in control, and a force to be reckoned with, thank you so much.

“I’ll get it.” He shoved himself to his feet, hauled a box down, ripped it open with a knife that appeared out of nowhere, and then resumed his position. He bit off a large chunk and swallowed it. Nothing sexy in his approach. He was all business right now. And the fact he was in warrior mode was just as mouthwatering as the sensual perusals. Dear God. What was wrong with her? Could she get her mind out of the gutter for one minute? She wasn’t that kind of girl, remember?

It was too dangerous.

“Try again,” Ella said.

“Okay.” Natalie leaned toward Nigel, cleared her mind, and concentrated all her energy on him. “Blink your eyes twice.”

No blinkage.

“See?” She sat back and threw up her hands in frustration. “I can’t do it! I can’t even influence a Dullet. Why would I be able to influence him?”

“No.” Nigel grabbed her arms and hauled her over to him. “Ella said every Mystic can influence Magicks. You can do it.”

“I can’t—”

He put his hand over her mouth. “You’re blocking your powers. You gotta let it go.”

“He’s right.” Ella leaned around him. She was focused now, her face calm and confident as she allowed herself to be consumed by this world she knew so well. “Every Mystic has a power source, an inner passion, that drives their ability to influence others. It’s what fuels you.” She nodded at the virility balls. “Yours is sex, and you’ve got to tap into that.”

“Sex?” Oh, Natalie was so not liking the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“It means you need to unveil the sensuality within your soul and let it soar,” Ella said. “Feel the eroticism deep in your belly, allow it caress your soul and seduce your own body.”

Natalie became aware of Nigel’s intense scrutiny. She peeked at him, and her breath caught at the expression of raw lust on his face. He met her gaze, then his attention dropped to her mouth. She swallowed and licked her lips before she could stop herself.

Nigel let out a faint growl, and her entire body tightened. “Oh. God.” She turned away from him and focused desperately on Ella. “I can’t go there right now.”

“You have to.” Ella made a noise of exasperation. “It’s your path. It’s how you do it.”

“Well, yeah, I know, but I’m not doing it. There has to be another way.”

Ella scowled at her. “You’re not frigid, but you’re sure acting like it.”

“Frigid? I’m not frigid!” Oh, well, this was certainly fantastic. Nothing like being completely embarrassed in front of Nigel. “I just want to maintain complete and utter control of all hints of passion or sexual need within me. That is completely different from being frigid!”

Nigel coughed, a pathetically inadequate attempt to hide his amusement at her protest. Perfect. Just perfect.

“You’re blocking your sensuality.” Ella nodded at Nigel. “Use him to tap into your inner vixen.”

Nigel raised his brows. “Yeah, feel free to use me however you want.”

Something began to pulse deep in her abdomen at his dark and hooded look. “I—”

“He’s sexy, he’s masculine, he’s got so much testosterone that he’d turn a nunnery into a lusty den of iniquity, for God’s sake,” Ella said. “With all his sexuality and yours, you should be able to get him to give you a naked lap dance by only thinking about it.”

Oh, God. She was thinking about it. She was really thinking about it. Nigel, his torso bare, his decadently soft leather pants low across his hips. His abs flexing as he moved his hips in a suggestive invitation, his hand reaching for her breast—

“All she needs to do is ask,” Nigel said, his deep voice rippling through her. “No influencing necessary for that.”

“Yes, yes. Can you feel that sensuous current building between the two of you?” Ella’s voice was quiet, almost husky. “Feed upon it, Nat. Let it wrap around your belly. Allow it to crawl up your thighs, caress your belly. Feel the delicious pulse of desire and awareness. Close your eyes and imagine Nigel’s hands on your body. Starting with your hips, moving over your butt.”

“Oh, lordy.” The throbbing inside Natalie’s belly was deep and penetrating. Her skin was hot and prickly. And then she felt it. A stab of uncontrollable
need
for Nigel’s touch. For intimacy. For connection.

She’d been here before. Felt this same deep, dark sexual attraction when she’d been under the deedub thrall and drawn so lethally to the Godfather. But this was worse, more powerful, because she
knew
Nigel and she liked him. She took a step toward him, and his hands lifted, reaching for her—

“No!” She leapt back, tripping over the crate. “God, no, no, no. I can’t do that!”

Nigel caught her arm just before she fell. His grip was solid, warm, and reassuring. Secure. Not threatening or scary. “Hey, babe,” he said quietly. “It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

“No.” Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry. It was too close, too vivid. She was panicked, scared, and back in that hell when she’d been staring into the eyes of the Godfather, knowing that to go with him would mean she would die, and yet she’d been unable to stop. He’d been a stranger, she’d hadn’t even liked him, but she’d been willing to trade her life for his kiss.

Yes, yes, she knew that it had been because of the deedub curse, but the curse only tapped into that which was already there. It had been
her
that had been so drawn to the high of letting herself go, of indulging in her dreams and fantasies, of allowing herself to fly without fear of repercussions—it had been too much to resist, especially after a lifetime of living in fear.

God, how many times in her life had she fought down euphoria, forced herself to remember to be serious, to fight, to stay in control? Afraid that any sign of ebullience or physical well-being was an indicator that the deedub poison was going active?

Her rigid self-control had allowed her to stave off the onset of the deedub symptoms for years longer than her sister, and then it had been sex that had pulled her out of her safe zone. Sex! There was nothing like orgasming yourself to death to make you realize that you have an addiction to the high that will fast-track you toward your own demise. “I can’t open that door.” She pulled her arm free, and Nigel allowed her to go. “There has to be another way.”

“Ella.” Nigel didn’t take his gaze off Natalie. “Is there another way for Natalie to tap into her powers?”

“No.” Ella stood up. “We all have our power base, and Natalie’s is sensuality.” She gave Natalie an encouraging smile. “Nat, sexual passion and desire are the strongest power sources in existence. The fact you can tap into them means you have practically limitless influence.”

“Well, that’s great news.” Natalie bit her lip and hugged herself. Limitless power? It was her dream. But through sex? It put it out of her reach.

Ella looked at Nigel. “She would be powerful enough to help you, and not many would be able to get through your will. She’s enough for you, Nigel. I can feel it in her.”

Brief hope flickered through her, and then Natalie’s stomach turned. She was all too aware of the ruthless allure of sensuality. She knew how powerful it was. How destructive it was. “There
has
to be something else for me to tap into.”

“No, there isn’t, so you need to access your tools.” Nigel grasped her shoulders, his thumbs caressing small circles. “Don’t disempower yourself, Natalie. You’re a warrior.”

“I am not a warrior!” She pulled herself free. “I just want to find a way to stay alive and run my store. That’s it! I don’t want to go jumping naked all over furniture just to tap into some inner power.” Oh, God. Had she jumped naked over the furniture when she’d been under the deedub thrall? She couldn’t even remember—

Sudden pain congealed in her belly and she grabbed for her stomach. “Oh, no. Not again.”

Ella and Nigel were suddenly in front of her, concern etched on their faces. “What’s wrong?” Ella asked.