Hold Me If You Can (27 page)

She felt her heart warm as the artist began to reemerge from the warrior shell. She loved this side of him. “Because you were conflict. An artist and a monster?”

“Exactly. But now the beast is simply an extension of who I am, and it’s good. Everything is in alignment. Once I accepted all levels of myself, the conflict ended.” He kissed her softly. “And I look into your eyes and I see a woman with courage, and strength, with incredible power, with a heart that is so strong and so loving that it transcends it all.”

She could feel the fullness of his love, and it felt so wonderful. “You made me come alive. You took away my fear.”

“Team effort.” He kissed her palm. “Natalie, I don’t need to draw, but I want to. I want to draw you, because I want to capture your beauty on the page. May I draw you? After I heal everyone?”

She smiled. “All day long.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And I will even pose naked for you.”

A lascivious grin curved his wicked mouth. “A woman who is not afraid of her own sexuality. I love it.”

She grinned, feeling so delightfully powerful. “Never, ever again.”

“My kind of woman.” And then he kissed her, and it was perfect.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Natalie sighed as she placed the diamond-crusted Gold Star on the center of her counter.

“It is.” Ella grinned. “You and Maggie blew that inspector away with your desserts.” She winked. “I still love the thank-you note from his wife the next day. It was so cute how she said it was the most romantic evening of her life, wasn’t it?”

Natalie chuckled softly as she thought of the whispered plea that the inspector had offered while she’d been showing him the newly fixed freezer. “He was a good man.”

“A man who will now be loyal to you forever.” Ella laughed softly. “You did good, girl.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Natalie smiled as she looked around her. She, the girls, and Nigel had worked like fiends for two days getting the place in shape for her inspection, and she and Nigel had easily kept at bay the assorted deedubs who had tried to stop by for a snack. The store was beautiful, the displays nearly overflowing with new and delicious treats, and the air was positively crackling with the power flowing from her.

Her dream, her beautiful dream, had come true in every way. Her store, her friends, and���

“So, how about these double Dutch chocolate raspberry torts?” Maggie held a tray of still warm delicacies as she walked into the front section of Scrumptious. She was grinning with delight, and her cheeks were flushed with glee. “I think you’ll find they’re quite fantastic.”

Natalie smiled at the girl. “Your talent is amazing, Maggie.”

“It’s getting better and better.” Maggie set the tray down. “It’s amazing how creativity can expand when I’m not afraid of getting eaten—”

Natalie’s deedub walked in the front door of the store, a cocky grin on his face. “Well, hello, Sweets. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d pop in for a snack—”

“Down on all fours!” Natalie ordered. “Bark like a dog!”

The shocked murderer’s face registered surprise, and then he dropped to his knees and began yapping like a poodle.

Maggie’s grin grew wider. “I love that he can’t keep himself away from here, and he keeps coming back for more.”

Ella chuckled. “He is a great source of amusement.” She beamed at the other women. “That’s what life is about. Making yourself happy. You girls are great examples for my dissertation.” They’d finally finished the interview, and Ella had been thrilled at how her dissertation was turning out. A few more days, and she’d be turning it in. Fingers crossed by everyone!

“I have to admit, it feels brilliant to be happy instead of afraid of who I am.” Natalie grabbed a stick of chocolate off the counter and walked to the front door. “Fetch this, crazy boy.” She waited until a taxicab was speeding down the street, then she tossed the chocolate into its path.

The deedub cavorted out the door on all fours, tongue hanging out to the side, and promptly got himself squashed by the cab. He disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke that dissipated almost immediately into the afternoon air. Natalie grinned. “It’s sort of fun that he’s immortal, I must admit. How many times have we killed him so far this week?”

“Seventeen,” Ella said. “Gets more delightful each time.”

The front door opened, and Nigel strode inside. “Good afternoon, my lovelies.”

Excitement and awareness pulsed over Natalie as she watched his broad shoulders fill the doorway. He nodded at the others, then walked directly across the room, gathered Natalie in his arms, and kissed her.

His body was lean and hard, his skin hot and magnificently strong, and it was marvelous to be buried in his arms. The kiss was decadent and sweet, and hot, and—

“Did you find Mari?” Maggie asked.

Nigel broke the kiss, tucking Natalie under his arm as he smiled affectionately at the young woman. “I have to admit that it’s damn fun going after her when she’s too lizarded up to cast any spells.”

Natalie smiled at Maggie’s nervous face. “Don’t worry, Maggie. As soon as we find her, we’ll switch your soul in her body, and hers into yours. The deedub poison stays with the body, so you’ll leave your curse behind, and Mari will get it. As soon as we find her, we’ll have my sister switch your souls and you’ll be free.”

“Giving Mari the smut in her new body, right?” Maggie asked. “I don’t want to be a lizard.”

“Absolutely. She’ll be a lizard with a deedub curse, and you’ll be free.” Nigel grinned. “Let her wiggle her way out of that one.”

The door flew open, and in walked Blaine and Pascal. Blaine looked the same as ever, a towering warrior with a raw intensity. She’d never actually seen Pascal upright before, because he’d been on the verge of death ever since he’d been rescued. His white-blond hair was short and askew, and he was grinning. “She’s a slippery little thing,” he said. “I think she’s finally in the form she is supposed to be in.”

“You found her?” Nigel asked.

“Found her in the rubble after we destroyed the Den. Seems like she had nowhere else to go.”

“So, where is she?”

Pascal nodded. “Christian’s got her. He’s on his way.”

Maggie clapped her hands. “Really?”

Natalie put her arm around Maggie’s shoulder. “It’ll be only a few minutes, and then you’ll be free.” Yay! Everything was working out perfectly—

And then Christian walked in. Natalie was shocked by how gaunt he was. His body was nothing but muscle and skin, his face was sunken, and his body was tense. He was carrying a metal carrying case, and in it was a black, slithering lizard that was hissing with displeasure. His face was rigid, and he looked so tense he was about to snap. He held up the cage, and his grip was white knuckled. “She’s in here—”

He stopped mid-sentence, and his face went white as he stared across the room.

Everyone turned to see what he was staring at, and Natalie saw Ella had gone equally pale. Her hand was over her heart, and she looked stricken as she stared at Christian.

“Christian,” Nigel said slowly. “This is Ella—”

“I have to go.” Ella grabbed her computer and backpack, then turned and sprinted out the back door. She knocked over three boxes on her way, and there was a loud clatter as she crashed into something in the back room.

“Ella!” Natalie started to run after her. “Wait—

Christian caught Natalie’s arm and forced her to stop. “She’s your friend?”

“Yes, she’s—”

Christian released Natalie’s arm as if she’d shocked him. He dropped the cage, and it landed with a clatter on the marble floor. He looked at Nigel. “Take care of Mari.”

Nigel nodded. “Of course, but don’t you want to do it—”

Christian turned and walked out.

“Christian!” Blaine strode after him. “What’s going on?”

“Back off.” Christian held up his hand and a steam of molten metal shot out and slammed Blaine in the chest before he strode out the door. He leapt into the Blaine’s Escalade and then peeled out.

“Dude,” Pascal said. “He’s got some serious PTSD going on. You should have heard him howling last night during his sleep. For him to not want to deal the final blow to Mari? He’s got issues, man.”

Blaine and Nigel looked at each other. “Ideas?” Blaine asked.

But Natalie wasn’t surprised when Nigel shook his head. It had been a team effort by all the warriors and a nearly debilitating healing effort by Nigel to pull Christian back from death. Christian had fought hard to die, and even though his body was living, he’d succeeded with his soul.

“I’m really worried about him,” she said.

Nigel took her hand and squeezed it. “So am I.” Then he pulled her into his arms, and she felt the safety of his embrace and knew that even though she was worried about Christian and Ella, she no longer had to fear herself, because Nigel had taught her not to fear herself. The artist, the conflicted, tortured artist, had taught her about inner peace, about embracing the excitement of life.

And he’d done it by giving her the greatest gift of all: love.

When the black skull and crossbones carved into Alexander Blaine Underhill III’s left pec began to smoke, he knew tonight wasn’t the night he was going to get his newest cross-stitching tapestry finished. His escape from the Den of Womanly Pursuits, the hellhole he’d been imprisoned in by a black witch for the last hundred and fifty years, was about to get complicated. “Look pretty, boys, we’re going to be entertaining.”

“Shaved two days ago. Good enough?” Nigel Aquarian was sprinting beside Blaine, his shitkickers thudding on the stainless steel floor of the Hall of Embroidery. He was wearing only dark leather pants and a pale pink rose tattooed on his left cheek. His palms had turned to blackened charcoal, and burning embers were sloughing off onto the floor. “Forgot the cologne, though. Never remember to smell nice after I party with starving piranhas.” He held up the pinkie finger he’d had time to grow back only halfway. “I hate fish.”

Blaine leapt over a breeding pit for vipers that was blocking his path. “Spiders are worse.”

Nigel grimaced. “Bet the witch is good with spiders.”

Blaine refused to revisit that particular hell in his mind. “Toughened me up. It was fun.”

Nigel shot him a knowing look. “Yeah, I bet it was.”

One hundred and fifty years at the nonexistent mercy of Death’s grandma, Angelica, had given new meaning to the definition of hell. The black witch was diabolical in her quest to become the most powerful practitioner in history, and she wasn’t exactly the nurturing type when it came to her experiments. Ruthless evil bitch from hell was probably a better way to describe her. But after a century of planning their escape, it was finally
hasta la vista
time for Blaine and his boys.

Blaine flipped a grin at one of the security cameras he’d disabled only moments before. “Hope you miss us.” He was so jonesing for a little
mano a mano
to make her pay for all she’d done, but his brain was the one thing she hadn’t managed to mess with, so he was hitting the road instead of gunning for a battle he couldn’t win. Embarrassing as hell that one grandma could kick the shit out of four badass warriors. Not going to be posting that on his online dating profile when he got out.

Green and pink disco lights began to flash, and the screams of men being tortured filled the air.

“The fire alarm? Come on, guys. Can’t you two keep the smoke in your pants for five minutes?” Jarvis Swain sprinted up beside them. A checkered headband was keeping his light brown hair off his face, and he was streaked with sweat and blood from the spar he’d been winning when Blaine had pulled the trigger on the escape. For Jarvis, a practice session ended only when his opponent was on the bleeding edge of death. He was clenching his samurai sword in his fist.

“Nice pants.” Nigel nodded at the yellow tulip cross-stitched on the hip of Jarvis’s badass martial arts outfit. He raised an eyebrow at Blaine. “Is that your delicate touch, Trio?” His question smacked with friendly insult.

Blaine ignored Nigel’s sarcastic reference to his pedigree. Far as he was concerned, everyone he was related to could go to hell. Hoped they already had, in fact.

He looked over his shoulder to check on the progress of the most important member of their team, Christian Slayer, but the Hall of Embroidery was empty. “Where’s lover boy?”

“He detoured for his girlfriend when we passed through Flower Appreciation.” Jarvis hurled his sword at a small black box tacked onto the seventeen-foot high ceiling. “He caught her scent, said she was nearby, and took off to get her.” The blade hit cleanly, sparks exploded, and the alarm went silent.

Without breaking stride, Blaine leapt up and grabbed the sword. “We’re in the middle of a daring escape from our own personal torture chamber, and he’s taking time to get a girl?”

“That’s what he claimed,” Nigel said. “He can’t lie worth shit, so I tend to believe him.”

They continued to haul ass toward the door at the end of the hallway. Freedom was less than fifty yards away. “Well, damn.” Blaine hurled the sword blade-first at Jarvis’s heart. “That’s really sweet of him.”

Jarvis snatched the sword out of the air easily, his hand unerringly finding the handle. “You think?”

“Sure. It’s not every man who will strand his team in a war zone so he can go rescue a girl.” Still running hard, Blaine pulled out a pair of small blue balls from a sack strapped to his hip. “Of course, I’m going to have to kick the hell out of him for doing it, and there’s no way he’s going on future missions with us, but I admire that kind of choice.”

The three men he’d handpicked to escape with were the only residents of the Den of Womanly Pursuits he’d trust with his life. He didn’t take loyalty lightly, and neither did his team. Yeah, Christian’s detour showed that honor could be a liability, but Blaine was down with that kind of cost. Anyone who refused to leave someone behind had his vote, no matter what the repercussions were.

He heard the muted pitter-patter of little feet skittering around the corner behind them, and he swung around to face their pursuers, spinning the blue balls in his hand. Instinctively, one hand went to the long tube he’d strapped to his hip. Just checking to make sure the one cross-stitching project he was taking with him was still secure.

It was.

“Personally, I think he’s lost his sense of perspective.” Nigel planted himself at Blaine’s right shoulder and extended the burning embers of his hands toward their oncoming pursuer. “Getting laid has completely compromised his ability to think clearly. I’m thinking celibacy is the way to go. You boys in?”

Blaine snorted. “Sex can be good for the brain. Depends on the situation.” Blaine’s blue balls caught fire, and he swiveled them in his palm. He wanted to toss those suckers at the bastards on their tail, but he’d blow Christian to hell if he were in the middle of the pack. Where was the slacker?

“How would you know whether a man’s brain gets fried when he gets laid?” Jarvis asked. “When was the last time you got some, Trio?”

“A real man doesn’t discuss his conquests.” Blaine caught the faint scent of kibble and he stiffened, hoping he was wrong about what was after them. Yeah, a good battle was fantastic for achieving inner peace, but some things really were the stuff of nightmares.

Jarvis barked with laughter. “A real man keeps a journal and reads it to his sex-deprived buddies. Last action we got was the stick figures Nigel painted on the bathroom wall with toothpaste.”

They’d all agreed long ago that the forced intimacy with Angelica didn’t count as sex. Some things had to stay sacred.

Nigel shot Jarvis an annoyed look. “Don’t knock my artistic talents. You’re just jealous because you can’t knit your way out of a weekend of torture with the witch.”

“I choose to suck at knitting. Being subjected to another of her experiments makes me tougher.” Jarvis began to whip his sword over his head in a circle. The air crackled with the energy he was generating. “You’re the pansy, choosing to make beautiful pictures so she’s happy with you and lets you skip out on the torture.”

“I like to paint.” Nigel’s unapologetic tone was a truth that Blaine knew they all felt. Anything they could do to get through another hour, another day, under the blonde despot’s reign was a victory. Nigel was lucky she’d chosen painting for him, because the lightweight actually dug it.

Counted cross-stitch hadn’t exactly been a mental haven for Blaine.

His team was comprised of the only four men left from the batch of thirty boys kidnapped and brought to her realm that night a hundred and fifty years ago. Most had died. A few had been rescued. Jarvis and Nigel had hoped to be saved for a while, but Blaine had never bothered.

Even as a four-year-old, he’d known no one would come for him. He’d heard his own parents make the deal with the sorceress. Still remembered sitting there at the top of the stairs, clutching the wolf he’d just finished carving for his mom’s birthday. The clunk of the animal hitting the wood floor, the snap of its leg breaking off, as he’d sat there in stunned silence, listening to his own mother hand his soul over to the devil.

He’d been no match for Angelica when she’d come to get him, and the thick scar down the length of his forearm was proof. He rubbed his hand over the mark, the last injury he’d gotten before he became her plaything and developed the ability to heal from anything.

That scar was his reminder never to trust a soul with anything that mattered to him. The day she’d dropped him on his ass in that cellar was the day he’d decided to save himself. There were times when his thirst for freedom had been the only thing keeping him going. Lying there, his life bleeding out, the witch standing over him… his refusal to die a prisoner had often been the only thing strong enough to pull him back from the edge of death.

His resilience had made him one of Angelica’s favorite playthings.

And now he got to win. Rock on.

“I hate knitting. My hands are too damn big for all those little knit/purl things.” Jarvis flexed his fingers as he moved beside Blaine. Shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, in strict formation. The witch tried to emasculate them with womanly pursuits so she could control them, but she’d also wanted her warriors to be tough as hell. She had no idea how far they’d taken it.

Today was her lucky day. She was about to find out.

“Knitting is about finesse, not the size of your hands.” Thick black smoke flowed out of Nigel’s palms. “It seems to me that you have a mental block about it.”

“Nigel does have a point, Jarvis.” Blaine focused his energy into his chest. The skull and crossbones mark burst into flames, and he opened himself to the pain.
Bring it on
. “I’ve seen you do some good detail work with the knitting needles when you’re in the zone.” The flames licking at his chest were orange. Not hot enough. He thought of the last time he’d been alone with Angelica, and what she’d done to him. Fury rose hard, and the flame turned blue-white. Now that’s what he was talking about.

Then their assailant arrived. The first of the schnoodles rounded the corner, teeth bared, ears pinned. Blaine tensed as it erupted into frantic yapping.
Dammit.
He’d wanted to be wrong.

It could have been the demons.

It could have been the pit vipers.

But no. She’d sent the schnoodles.

Their odds of making it to freedom had just gone to hell.