Hold Me If You Can

by Stephanie Rowe

“Because I could help. I owe you. I owe all of you.” She gasped, holding her side. “Forgive me, Nigel. Forgive me for all I’ve done.”

  Nigel shoved her under the desk, trying to get her out of range. His vision was already returning. Self-healing at its finest. “When I come back, I’m going to heal you. Don’t you dare die, do you hear me?”

  “I’ll be fine. It just nicked me.” She huddled back against the wall as he stood up. “Paper’s in the printer to the right.”

  “Got it.” He began to draw. Not fast. Precise. With utter care. Because this time, he was going in on his terms, and he was going to get it exactly, exactly right.

  ***

  Natalie had never been to that field before last night. She had no clue where it was or the right roads to take to get there. But she didn’t need to know. Her sniffer took her right to where she wanted to be.

  She drove onto the yard of a three-story, multifamily red house, her Hummer careening over a flower bed in a nauseating display of reckless power. She had a vague thought that she was disgustingly similar to the last time she’d snapped, believing she was above the laws of life and society.

  The thought made her smile. Because this is the moment that felt good. When she felt above all the crap.

  She stepped out of the car and slammed the door. Breathed in the flowers. The freshly cut grass. And chocolate. Living, breathing chocolate.

  She noticed that her side was still bleeding from Nigel’s knife, the poison turning her skin green as it tried to combat the demon immortality. Hah. It couldn’t stop her. Excitement rippled through her, and she strode powerfully up the walk. She owned this house, she owned this street, she owned her life. No fear. No submission. No victim.

  Just power.

  Glee.

  Delight in who she was.

  She reached the door and decided it would be a fun bit of irony to ring the doorbell. Like she was some guest for tea. She tapped her finger to the bell and delighted in the cheerful chimes.

  “Just a moment,” a woman called out.

  “No problem,” she replied gaily.

  Now that she was here, and that she was following her soul, she was at peace. Basking in the enjoyment of the process. Savoring the anticipation. She felt lovely. Just like before.

  Yes, yes, yes, she was now a murderer and would have many bodies to her credit, but there was no judgment in her mind. Simply acceptance, just like she’d accepted herself before as a sex-crazed orgasm junkie.

  And it felt good to accept herself. To allow herself to simply feel the joy of being alive, of loving herself no matter who she was. Of not being afraid of her true self.

  The door opened, and Natalie found herself staring down at two curly-haired little cherubs. Twins. She breathed deeply and delighted in the scent of chocolate.

  “Mommy will be right down,” one of them said. “She’s brushing her teeth.”

  Natalie smiled. “That’s okay. How about if I wait inside?” She imbued her voice with her power, and the two girl’s smiles became wooden, no longer their own.

  “Yes, okay.” They stepped back and gestured to the front hall. “Mommy tells us not to let strangers in, but you seem okay.”

  For a split second, she hesitated. Grabbed the door frame. Tried to turn away. Heard a voice screaming in her head not to do it. And then it was gone, and she stepped across the threshold.

  Chapter 24

  Nigel’s pen was going faster now as he sketched every little detail. His own face, his weapons. He drew himself as a warrior hopped up on adrenaline, with a clarity of mind that would make him unstoppable. It was how he needed to be when he got sucked back into that hell.

  Another tremor wracked his body, and he gripped the pen as he tried to fight it off, tried to hold back the blades, the rage in his mind. He fought for focus and saw that he’d drawn the wrong boots. He hadn’t drawn the boots he liked to wear for battle.

  He had to go in right. Had to go into the Den with everything in order. His fingers clenched the pen and it snapped under his strength. He yanked open a drawer, then another. “I need a pen.”

  “Here.” Ella reached up and opened the middle drawer. Her hand was ashen and pale, and it was shaking.

  “Woman, don’t you dare die, or I will not be happy with you.” He found another pencil and began reworking the boots. He finished them off, and swore, realizing that he’d almost finished off the drawing of himself. Not yet.

  He broke off from his own image and began to sketch Natalie on the same paper, tucking her right up against him. He didn’t know if it would work. If it would pull her in if Mari wasn’t looking for her.

  No. He would make it work.

  He sketched Natalie’s hand grabbing onto his shirt. Her legs around his waist. Redrew his arms around her. One anchored on the back of her neck. His other clamped around her hips. His leg over hers. His body against hers. So tight. So close. One body. One soul. He brought the connection to life. He opened his mind to the connection that he’d felt when she’d reached into him and plucked his hell right out of his body.

  He drew her hair drifting down over his face. He could feel the silkiness of it against his skin as he drew it waving gently in a soft wind. He could feel the heat from her thighs where she was wrapped around him. He knew the curve of her hip beneath his hand. He could smell the scent of her body, redrew his own nose while he breathed the scent of honeysuckle and cocoa, the scent that was beneath the smell of sulfur. He knew her real scent. He knew the real her.

  Her hands were tangled in his hair. He closed his eyes, reliving the sensation of her gentle touch on his head, her tentative exploration, that moment when her grip had tightened, when she’d no longer been afraid. When they’d been connected. On fire. Aware of nothing but each other.

  He erased his shirt, drew his bare torso against hers. Had to feel skin to skin. Bound them so tightly in the drawing that it would impossible to pull him into the Den without bringing Natalie with him. He had to make them one unit, one soul, one being, so that Natalie would come with him.

  He could feel her breasts against his chest, could feel his erection pressing into the seam of her jeans.

  No, not jeans. Needed more contact. Couldn’t make her naked. Didn’t know where they’d land. He drew a skirt, a long, loose flowing skirt. Hitched it up around her hips with one of his hands hidden beneath it. He didn’t draw it, but he knew where his hand was, felt the warmth of her body. The connection in the most intimate way.

  No, no, not enough. Mari was too smart.

  He tossed the sheet, grabbed a new one. His mind was clearer now. The act of drawing already soothed him, helping him focus. He knew what he wanted. How he needed to format it. This time, he drew a different position. Natalie on his lap, skirt shrouding them, but he drew their connection in their faces, in the passion in their eyes, in the way they held each other. Anyone looking at it would know that beneath that skirt was the most intimate passion and connection. They were one, in their souls, in their bodies, in their spirits.

  He felt his own body harden, felt the desire pulsing though him, his need for connection with Natalie, the intimate weaving of two souls that happened whenever they were together, whenever they made love. He poured those emotions into the drawing. One of his hands was anchored around her waist, holding her tight, ready to toss her to the side, behind him where he could protect her. His other hand was fully armed, poison blades sliding out of his fingertips. Ready to show up fighting.

  He drew his eyes again, shrouded in passion, but with fierce determination, clarity of mind. He drew Natalie’s skin vibrant and flush with humanity. He drew her teeth perfectly white and flat. He drew her eyes alive and passionate, filled with courage and power.

  He drew them both the way they wanted to be, except the final line on both their jaws. He’d planned the drawing so one line would complete both images at the same moment. And it would take them to the Den, or else everyone who mattered to them would die.

  He
swept his pen through the line and completed the picture.

  ***

  Natalie shut the front door of the Sweet’s home and leaned against it. Her heart was pounding, her head was starting to ache. She had to stop. Had to run. Had to find Nigel. Nigel. Tears burned as she thought of Nigel dying, destroyed, all because of her. Her spirit screamed at her to go back and help him, but her body wouldn’t turn away from the temptation before her, like she was some pathetic chocolate addict in need of one more fix.

  Oh, wait. She was.

  One of the girls flipped her ponytail out of her face, and the decadent scent of chocolate drifted toward Natalie. Cravings rippled through her body, and she knew she was gone.

  Her mind screaming in protest, Natalie levered herself off the door and took a step toward them.

  The blue-eyed girls went still, their eyes widening, sensing danger.

  The air became heavy.

  The room descended into silence.

  No one moved.

  No, I am not this person.

  Then, in rude and utter disregard of her deepest desires, Natalie promptly launched herself at the cherubs, fangs bared and all. Her claws reached for the cupcake twins, and—

  No! This was unacceptable! She would not do this! She would not. And then, for the first time in her life, she took control, and she stopped fighting Nigel’s poison and allowed it to rush through her. Yeah, baby, bring me down.

  Debilitating, numbing, paralyzing pain was instantaneous, and she crashed to the hardwood floor inches from her prey. Fantastic! For the first time in her life, she was no longer afraid of dying. Dying was the ultimate statement of her own power that even a deedub couldn’t decide who she was going to be.

  Death was hers, and so was victory.

  But she really, really wished there could have been another way—

  Her hand vanished. Natalie gaped as her entire arm disappeared, and then her other hand. Her legs. Was she dying? Getting sucked over to the deedub party? Or had Nigel done it? Had he managed to draw them? Please let this be Nigel!

  Granted, being fêted at a ball was every girl’s dream, but in this particular case… not so much.

  Then raging heat rocketed through her body. Especially between her thighs.

  Now, what was a girl to make of that?

  ***

  Nigel had never been one for extensive fantasizing about interesting and unusual places and ways to make love, because getting personal with women hadn’t generally led to the most positive results for him.

  But when he felt the heat of Natalie’s body crackling on his lap and he had confirmation that she was on her way, he couldn’t quite manage to contain the rush of sheer, raw anticipation. Intimacy with Natalie, on the other hand, was so worth fantasizing about. I’m waiting for you, sweetheart.

  His arms were already around her when Natalie appeared, exactly as he’d drawn her. He was deep inside her, her hot warmth was wrapped around him, and her body pressed against his. Connected so intimately that not even Mari had been able to pry them apart. Success. But as hell was his witness, those seconds that had passed after he’d been taken and before Natalie had arrived had nearly scared him shitless. For a moment, he thought he’d blown it.

  But he hadn’t. His woman was right here in his arms, on his lap, holding onto him as if the world would stop turning if she let go. As it should be.

  Natalie’s eyes were slitted with passion, just as he’d drawn, and she was wearing the same white peasant skirt he’d sketched. It was draped over his lap, concealing the intimacy below. Her head was tipped back, leaning up for his kiss.

  “Welcome to hell, my dear.” He kissed her.

  Natalie tensed in his arms, and she pulled back in startled surprise. “Nigel?”

  He nodded. “You got it, babe.”

  She touched his face, as if she couldn’t believe he hadn’t melted into a pile of rubble. “You’re okay?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Understatement. His weapons were quiet but humming with energy. His mind was focused and clear. He was in the exact state he’d draw in his art. Hell, yeah. He was the man.

  Natalie flung her arms around him and hugged him. She said nothing, but the strength of her hold on him made him want to cart her off and spend the rest of his life thanking her for making him feel that important. She just held him so tight, as if afraid she’d lose him again, and buried her face in his neck.

  “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.” He moved her hair to the side and lightly rubbed the nape of her neck. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.”

  “I know.” She sighed and snuggled into him. “I’ve just had a tough day and it’s really good to be with you.”

  Nigel laughed softly and pulled back, gently lifting her face out of his neck. Her green eyes were shimmering, her skin was tinged with bronze, and he was absolutely certain he had never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.

  She smiled. “When you look at me like that, I feel like an angel.”

  “You are. My angel.” He traced his finger lightly over her jaw and kissed her. Slowly. Taking the time to savor every moment of connection between them. They had so little time before the battles would begin, but this moment, this precious, beautiful moment, was a gift he would always cherish.

  He kissed down her jaw, and Natalie turned her head to give him access. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “In a jail cell in the Den.” Nigel tunneled his fingers in her silken hair as Natalie tensed.

  “We are?” She pulled back. “We can’t sit here like this—”

  He grabbed her hips, moving her back onto him, closing his eyes at the amazing sensation of sinking deep inside her. “No one realizes we’re here,” he said. “I’ll know if someone’s coming.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll keep watch. We’ll have plenty of warning.” He smiled into her worried face and rubbed his thumb over the silken softness of her cheek. “I need to kiss you,” he said. “I need you in my soul.”

  Her expression softened. “I need you too.”

  “Simpatico, as always.” He kissed her again, slowly, needing her touch. They were in a prison cell, alone with magically enhanced stainless steel bars. Mari had been anticipating his arrival, that was clear.

  The witch had spliced allergic reactions to stainless steel into all her warriors, and being surrounded by so much was already weakening Nigel. Having Natalie on his lap eased him. Grounded him. Gave him a sense of balance. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

  She looked around again, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to relax. Then she smiled at him, and he saw trust shining in her eyes, trust that made warmth soar through him. “I could never disappoint my warrior.” Then she buried her hands in his hair and kissed him.

  Yes. The kiss quickly turned into more than a gentle moment. The adrenaline firing both of them roared to life, and they channeled it into each other. Together, they connected, their souls reaching for each other as their bodies began to move in rhythm, drawing strength from the passion rising between them.

  He held her hips and moved her, shifting inside her. He thrust deeply, and she grabbed onto him. No words needed, none spoken. The connection was exactly as he’d drawn it, and he felt it all the way to his soul. This warmth growing and expanding until he felt like his spirit was going to burst.

  He didn’t hold back, and neither did Natalie, and the release was almost instant, simultaneous, and with a blinding force that nearly knocked him off his feet.

  Natalie hung onto him, her body trembling as the final shocks hit her.

  He held her tightly, not wanting to let go. She was holding just as tightly, her body trembling against his. “I want to stay here like this forever,” she whispered. Her green eyes were luminescent, her face radiating with a beauty that awed him. It was her spirit that he was seeing, freed from the constraints she’d had it under for so long.

  “I do, too.” He kissed her forehead. “Promise me something?”

  She n
odded. “What is it?”

  “Promise me that when this is over, you’ll give me a chance.”

  She frowned. “A chance to do what?”

  “To make love to you and not have to leave.”

  She blinked, and she looked confused, and adorably hopeful. “What do you mean?”

  “This is it,” he whispered, stroking her hair. Her silken, soft hair that he could touch for hours and still not get enough of.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her demonized bronze glowing. “This is what?” she asked.

  “This is the peace I’ve been searching for my whole life.” This moment. With her. This was the elusive answer he’d been chasing for a hundred and fifty years. He smiled down into her flushed face. “I—”

  Then Christian bellowed.

  ***

  Christian’s shout still reverberating in the air, Natalie jumped off Nigel, clothes were replaced at an impressive rate, and then he raced to the entrance of the cell. He grabbed the steel bars, then jerked his hand off them, but not before his palms had burst into flames and blistered.

  “We’re going to have to work on your hypersensitivity to steel,” Natalie said as she hurried over. “You’re so lucky you have a woman who can talk that kind of thing out of you.” She clasped the metal rods. She could feel the hum of energy racing through her, and she recognized the answering energy in the bars. “I’m carrying the smut from that spell. Can I do something with that?”

  “Sweetie, you’re carrying the smut from almost all the spells in this place, I’d guess.” Nigel blew on his hand as he assessed their options. “It’ll get you a free pass to the Christmas party, but I’m not sure how we can work that in our favor. Stand back.” He pulled her out of the way, then a long, dangerous looking blade slid out of his fingertips. It was the size of a pirate sword, long and thick, with a blade that was red hot.

  He gripped it tightly, and then raked it across the bars. The bars glowed orange and then his blade turned black as if it were poisoned. He dropped it with a clang on the floor. “The blight travels up the blade. I can’t let it touch me.”