Hold Me If You Can Page 8

  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.”

  Chapter 7

  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 sensua
l 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.”