Chapter 20
She was nervous. She really didn't know why. She just was, that's all. The hands in her coat pockets worked the gloves she'd stuffed there only a few seconds ago, clenching and unclenching the soft wool. Yes, she was just a little nervous. But was her heart beating faster because of her nerves or her fear? Was there more to her fluttering pulse and fidgeting hands than simply raw, jumbled nerves?
Natalie took a deep breath as she looked at the elevator door. The noisy contraption seemed to be taking an awfully long time getting to the second floor. A cynical grin crossed her mouth. Maybe that was a good thing. Yes, there was fear. She loathed admitting it, but it was there, waiting to sabotage her determination, to hijack her resolve. It hovered like an ominous shadow in the corner of her mind, threatening to blanket her thoughts in a dark paralysis that would strangle her courage.
It was a fear of the battle that stretched before her. Was she up to the challenge? Did she have what it took to fight Nick's all-consuming guilt? Was she strong enough to pull him back from the lure of his former life? Could she make him believe in himself again? All these debilitating questions lurked in that dark corner of her mind, culminating in one overwhelming dread. Failure. It wasn't the battle itself that frightened her. She would fight with all she had to keep Nick in her life. But, in the end, would it be enough? She was marching toward another skirmish after losing the first one. Could she win the war? Would she be able to keep Nick here, with her, or would he walk out of her life forever?
Damn it, no! Nat stubbornly shook her head. She wasn't going to think like that. This was a war she had to win. She had to.
The elevator finally stopped, and as the doors slid open, she squared her shoulders and prepared for the evening's confrontation. She tried to ignore the growling in her stomach as she stepped into the dimly-lit loft. She had decided to forfeit her lunch hour and come here. Elizabeth's phone call had her worried.
As she took stock of the dusky room, the eerie stillness almost fooled her. It might have deceived someone else. The place appeared to be empty, but it wasn't. He was here. She wasn't sure how, but she knew. Even through the unnatural quiet, or, perhaps, because of it, she could...feel him, sense him.
Walking farther into the room, Natalie removed her coat and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. Hesitating a moment, she listened. Nothing. The loft was as silent as a tomb. An icy ripple of dread lapped at her spine with the thought.
Come on, Lambert! Nat silently tried to shake off the creeping apprehension. Don't do this to yourself.
Closing her eyes, she gathered her strength around her. She wasn't going to give up on him, to let him go, without one hell of a fight. That fight started now.
Focusing on the couch, she started toward it. It was the easiest place to begin looking. She stopped to stand at the back of the long piece of furniture, and was startled to find piercing, blue eyes staring up at her.
As she looked down on him, the uneasy rhythm of Nat's heart fell into a more normal beat, her initial surprise dwindling. He lay on his back, one arm settled at his side while the other rested across his forehead. His mouth was drawn into a firm line that matched the rest of the granite mask he wore over his handsome features. There was a subtle cruelty in that mouth, and Natalie once again beat back the cloud of misgiving that endangered her conviction.
Her gaze moved back to his eyes, and she was again confronted with an unsettling harshness. But more disturbing than the stinging severity was the curtain of cool indifference that hung over the shadowy depths. The lazy, almost bored, look he gave her made her heart sink. The wall appeared to be back in place and stronger than ever. It loomed before her like some giant, medieval fortress.
Well.... Giving herself a mental shake, she grabbed tightly onto her determination. Better get started. The towering monstrosity was going to be tough to overcome. She didn't have much time.
Forcing a smile to her lips, Natalie walked around to the front of the couch. She stood at Nick's feet and noticed the nearly-empty bottle sitting on the coffee table, the white label standing out against the dark green glass, a grim reminder of what she was up against. Biting her tongue, she chose not to mention the human blood. She'd promised him she wouldn't push, and she wouldn't, yet.
"Hi, Nick." The cheerful note she had intended on injecting into the greeting didn't quite come through, but she held on to the smile.
"Nat." His mouth barely moved as he spoke, the cold eyes never leaving her face. "What brings you to the lion's den?"
The sensual menace that tinted his voice sent a warm shudder through Natalie, and she cursed her body's irrational reaction to this vampire, this man. How could he frighten the daylights out of her and kindle a hungry longing at the same time? Her jaw tightened with the infuriating question. It was nuts. Was she really so fickle?
She continued to search Nick's steely face while his intimidating reference echoed in her head. Its significance wasn't lost on her, and another sliver of fear sliced through her mind. Would she one day become an offering to this exceptional being?
Watch it, Lambert, Nat chided herself. You're slipping again.
Stifling the debilitating panic, Natalie refused to rise to the bait. "I just wanted to check on you. Beth called me about an hour into my shift. She told me about your visit earlier tonight. She tried getting a hold of you a couple of time with no luck. She's pretty worried about you, Nick."
A triumphant satisfaction spread over Nat as she watched Nick's casual aloofness waver slightly. The pain seeped back into his eyes while a pensive frown softened the sharp line of his mouth. The glimpse of his suffering drew a tender sympathy from Natalie, but she didn't regret seeing the sorrow. On the contrary, she needed to see it. She needed to know that the gentle, caring man she loved was still in there somewhere, and that she could reach him. To her relief, he wasn't lost to her, at least, not yet. The knowledge shored up her unsteady conviction.
"Well," Nick swung his feet off the couch and sat up, the rigid edge returning to his features as he grabbed the bottle from the table. The container hovered at his lips as he continued. "She should worry about herself and quit wasting her time on me. I don't want her concern. I don't need her pity." With the unpleasant statement, he made quick work of the blood remaining in the bottle.
His callous response hit Natalie like a violent hand across the face. So much so that she flinched when she heard it. Some of that newfound determination deserted her again as she digested the harsh words. She stood rooted in place by the unkind reaction and watched him finish the blood, a frown of dismay tugging at her mouth. However, the stunned numbness only lasted a few seconds before the bristle of an impetuous anger crept over her. She looked on, wide-eyed, as Nick got up from the couch and took the bottle into the kitchen, depositing it in the trash and retrieving another one from the refrigerator.
Pulling the cork, he raised the new bottle to his lips. As Natalie viewed the insufferable move, and absorbed his easy indifference, her growing fury bubbled to the surface. In the next instant, she felt her own cork pop, the anger and intolerance spewing forth in a heated accusation. "Pity?! How dare you!" Fists of rage formed at her sides before she strode into the kitchen. Stopping directly in front of Nick, she focused her incensed gaze on his bewildered face. He lowered the untouched bottle just as she forged ahead. "Pity has nothing to do with it, and you know it! How dare you throw away someone's concern for you! A concern born of friendship and love! How dare you dismiss such precious feelings! How dare you!"
Natalie was shaking. She couldn't remember ever being so mad. Just who in the heck did he think he was, discarding Beth's feelings so brutally? She only wanted to help him, to offer him support. Why couldn't he see that?
The doctor's heart rate had once again jumped a level or two, her breaths coming in short, steady huffs over slightly parted lips. Small hands remained tense at her sides as she stared daggers at the vampire. She didn't care how guilty or undeserving he felt. He couldn't treat people like that. He couldn't treat...her...like that.
Some of Nat's anger cooled as she made the disturbing recognition. Damn, she condemned her weakness. She'd let him get to her, let it get to her--the hazy apprehension. And she hadn't even realized it. The tension left her hands. That ever-lurking fear of rejection, of failure, hadn't stayed banished to the shadows as she'd hoped. It had escaped its dark corner to fog her mind. Was her rage as much for Beth as it was for herself? A touch of heat prickled across Natalie's cheeks. No, she quietly admitted. The other woman wasn't foremost in her thoughts. The hurt hadn't surfaced this fiercely only because of Beth. The reason went deeper than that, hit closer to home.
A steadying sigh slowed Nat's breathing. Not only was Nick rejecting Elizabeth's feelings, but he was rejecting, belittling, hers as well. The idea sent another jolt of dread running through her. The cruelty was a dismal sign of defeat that Natalie's taut nerves just couldn't take. He wasn't giving her a chance. Even as she was gaining control of her sudden anger, the thought of Nick's willfulness sparked another flash of indignation. He had to listen. He had to try.
"And what if the feelings are misplaced?" The frosty words pulled Nat away from her upsetting reflections. Nick's puzzled expression disappeared only to be replaced by the now-familiar mask of stone. Her heart sank a little lower at the sight, her earlier triumph taking a subtle beating. He re-corked the blood and shoved it into the refrigerator. Leveling his eyes back on Natalie, he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low and dangerous as he continued the questions. "What if the affection is given under false pretenses? Bestowed in ignorance? How precious is it then?"
The cold challenge in his eyes only served to stoke Natalie's as yet extinguished irritation. Straightening her back and standing as tall as her shorter frame would allow, she matched Nick's intolerable stubbornness with some of her own. If he wasn't going to back down, neither was she. Her voice mirrored that conviction. "Tender emotions are precious no matter what, Nick. They should never be taken for granted. Never. You're Beth's friend, and you're hurting. She knows all she needs to know."
"No!" Nick's impassioned response made Nat jump, but she didn't relinquish any ground as he continued. "No, she doesn't! She has no idea!" Running a rough hand through his hair, he stalked over to stand with his back to the fireplace, his stony facade showing sighs of wear. A thin shaft of encouragement brightened Natalie's spirit as she watched the ice melt from his eyes, and the emotion, the pain, cloud them once again. His words, however, weren't as reassuring. "I'm the one who should be comforting her, supporting her and Jacob. Their son is dead, murdered. And I'm to blame."
"No!" The building frustration exploded from Natalie. God, was there a more obstinate man on earth? She didn't want to hear this. It wasn't true. How could she make him see? How could she get it into his thick head that it wasn't true?
"Yes, Nat." A cynical smile played across his lips and sparkled in his sad eyes as he contradicted her. Shaking his head, he turned to look into the glow of the fire, a bitter bark of laughter filling the air. "I went over there tonight to try and help, but I couldn't. I was a miserable failure. I came face to face with the destruction I'd caused and couldn't handle it."
"Nick, please. Their pain isn't your doing." Nat's anger and frustration collapsed under the helpless sympathy that washed over her as she heard the utter defeat in Nick's voice. The dread had returned too, and she tried to push it back into its dim corner. Tears welled up in her eyes as she joined him at the fireplace. Gazing at his profile, she watched a black shadow of anguish taint his expression. The need to pull him close hounded her as she suffered through more of his self-reproach.
"How does a murderer comfort his victims? How does he tell them he's sorry when they don't know he's responsible? When they can never know he's responsible?"
With the last sentence, Nick turned his head and looked at Natalie. The torture she witnessed in his face sent a hovering tear sliding down her cheek. God, what can I do? What can I say to ease the ache?
Swallowing hard, she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But...." She fought the growing sense of loss. She wouldn't, couldn't lose him to this chasm of guilt and sorrow. "But that's the whole point, Nick. You're not responsible."
A sad smile softened Nick's solemn features as he lifted a tender finger to Natalie's cheek and wiped away the tear. "I wish I could believe that."
His touch sent a shiver of longing shooting through Nat, and she couldn't stop herself from taking one step closer to him. "I wish you could too. Because it's the truth. You're not responsible for Elliot's death. Antonio Caproni is, no one else." One more step, the cool proximity of his body causing a sharp craving down deep inside her. His fingers rested softly on her face as her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Beth's caring isn't misplaced, Nick." Natalie's hand left his arm and cupped a stubble-roughened cheek. "And neither is mine."
She was lost, floating in the ocean of Nick's eyes as they stood in the charged silence. She watched with wonder as the torment gave way to a smoldering hunger that would consume her if she let it, but the sensual threat barely registered. At this moment in time, she didn't care if the need completely engulfed her. It was crazy, but she wanted to lose herself in the passion. She wanted to forget about the pain and misery, to abandon everything except the love and desire she held for this man. It would be so easy to just let go, to...
"Well, well, well. What a cozy little scene. Am I interrupting something, Nicholas?"
The all-too-familiar voice oozed with caustic sarcasm, and it hit Natalie like an icy bucket of water. Her startled eyes left Nick's to settle on LaCroix as he stood next to the couch, his arms smugly crossed over his chest. The casual disdain she read in his expression made her bristle. Her embarrassment, and she wasn't really sure that there was any, got lost in the surge of contempt that flowed through her.
Nick's hand slowly left Natalie's face, but he made no attempt to move away from her as he looked in LaCroix's direction. Nat couldn't help but draw a bold sort of comfort from the show of fortitude. Apparently, the older vampire's inopportune arrival hadn't intimidated him in the least.
Lowering her hand from Nick's cheek, she once more gazed at his handsome profile. There was no sign of shame, no sheepish look of being caught. All she saw was a settled calm, his chin raised slightly in what seemed to her a subtle defiance. Again, she felt the thrill of inspiration dart up her back as she recognized the attitude. LaCroix hadn't won, yet. There was still some fight in Nick. She just had to tap into it someway. But...how?
"No, LaCroix." Nick's deep, steady voice rumbled above Natalie's head. "You're not interrupting anything."
His attention moved back to Nat's face. The pain had returned to his eyes, but she was glad to see the rebellion sparkling there too. He flashed her a sad, yet somehow, reassuring smile before stepping back and putting a little distance between them.
"Good evening, Dr. Lambert. What an unexpected pleasure."
The patronizing tone crawled down Nat's spine as she faced the elder immortal. Anger boiled just beneath the surface, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Two could play at this game.
"Is it?" Natalie was quietly pleased with the light, unconcerned note she heard in her voice.
"Why, yes." LaCroix stepped around the couch to stand next to the coffee table. "But I have to admit, under the circumstances, I thought you would have seen no reason to come here anymore."
His gracious smile did little to hide the dangerous gleam in his eyes. He was furious to find her here. A reverent stab of fear registered in Nat's head as he warned her away. She knew what a powerful creature she was going up against. She'd felt the amazing strength the last time they'd butted heads, during Nick's bout with amnesia. If he wanted to, LaCroix could snuff her out like a candle. Maybe he would before it was all said and done. But the stalwart need to attain her goal gave her the courage to look past the intimidating obstacle. Nick was what she wanted. She wouldn't shy away from the challenge of this formidable rival. She would fight him with everything she had.
Trying to ignore the foreboding chill radiating from LaCroix, Natalie straightened her shoulders and offered him a brave smile. "And what circumstances would those be?"
The intruder took another step toward the couple standing by the fireplace. "Well, Nicholas' recent decision, of course." The frigid menace became more palpable as he narrowed his clear, blue eyes, his soft voice suddenly barbed with the threat. "I can't see why he would require your...services any longer, can you?"
"Leave it alone, LaCroix."
Nick's defensive words rang in Nat's ears as she stared into the forbidding features of the master vampire. An uneasy flutter churned her stomach while a crippling doubt poisoned her mind. Could she really best this dynamic creature?
A satisfied smirk curved LaCroix's lips. "It seems as though the good doctor is the one having a difficult time leaving things alone. It would appear that she just doesn't know when she's been beaten."
"Stop it, LaCroix!"
Again, Nick's voice echoed in Natalie's ears. But something else, something alarming, reverberated in her head, loud and clear--beaten. 'She just doesn't know when she's been beaten.' The sheer gratification she read into those words yanked her back from the bleak pit of misgiving into which she'd just fallen. Beaten. Oh, no. She wasn't beaten, not by a long shot.
"It's okay, Nick." Nat's intense gaze never left LaCroix. "He's right." She watched a happy surprise lift his brow. "I don't know when I've been beaten. And from what I can see, I haven't been...yet." The delighted expression fell, and a sensation of victory surged through Natalie. "I guess you'll just have to put up with me for the next month, and hopefully, longer."
A malicious frown darkened LaCroix's face. "A pity."
The simple statement was loaded with venom, but Nat wasn't going to fall prey to it. Instead, she chose to look at it as another small victory. Casting LaCroix a sickly, sweet smile, she issued her own challenge. "I don't, I won't, admit defeat easily."
Not waiting to see the reaction to her words, Natalie looked quickly at her watch and then at Nick. A profound worry shrouded his eyes as he gazed at her, and seeing it gave her an odd sense of joy, knowing that he cared. "Well," she forced a contented sigh. She at least wanted to appear content even though the idea of leaving Nick alone with LaCroix was anything but pleasing. "My lunch hour's over. I'd better be getting back. Goodnight, LaCroix." She didn't bother looking at him. "Goodnight, Nick." Raising up on her toes, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing full well the display would further irritate their visitor. Turning, she made her way into the kitchen. She could feel LaCroix's eyes burning a hole in her back, but she refused to look at him. Pulling on her coat, she walked to the elevator and pushed open the door. Flashing each of the vampires a smile, she left the loft.
"Good-bye, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix was seething, the words more of a curse than a farewell as he stared at the elevator door.
Insufferable woman.
Lucien turned to look at Nicholas. His son's gaze was locked on the closed door, a troubled reverence lurking in his mournful eyes. LaCroix's frown deepened. He could feel the concern flowing across their link. But more annoying than the worry was the longing, the need, the...love he felt burning in Nicholas for the bothersome mortal. The recognition should have surprised him, angered him, but it didn't. He'd suspected as much for a very long time. Maybe he'd known it all along. Even back on that fateful Valentine's day, he felt Nicholas had lied to him, telling him he had no feelings for the woman. Why he'd chosen to believe the boy's words instead of the fierce emotion that ran through him, LaCroix still wasn't sure.
Dr. Natalie Lambert was going to be a problem. What a shock, the Roman scoffed to himself. She was always a problem. Had there really been any doubt that things would be different this time? This little confrontation only confirmed the fact. He didn't like problems. He was too close to the grail to allow an insignificant mortal to steal it out from under his nose. Nicholas belonged to him. The boy's rightful place was by his maker's side, living as a vampire. LaCroix's jaw tightened with ruthless purpose. He would see it happen.
Continuing to look at Nicholas, the elder vampire let out a frustrated sigh. It really was a shame about the good doctor, he supposed. She possessed a will, a determination, the likes of which he hadn't seen since...well, since his own. But it was wasted in mortality. Still, he couldn't help but admire her for it. However, he would never tolerate it, especially where his favorite creation was concerned. Her interference would have to stop.
"What was that all about?"
The heated question shot from Nicholas as LaCroix faced the angry, blue eyes of his son. The ancient immortal shook off his musings and concentrated on the boy. The accusation in both Nicholas' words and tone stirred an irritation of its own, but LaCroix bit his tongue. Fighting with his protege wouldn't get him anywhere. It hadn't in the past. He was finally learning that lesson. Calm reason was his best weapon against Nicholas' still chaotic emotions. And...a touch of manipulation wouldn't hurt either. Although he wasn't particularly proud of the devious strategy, he was never so appalled by it that he thought twice about using it when he felt the maneuvering would get him what he wanted. In this instance, his son's own words would be the tools of LaCroix's contrivance, and would serve him well in his cause. With that in mind, he calmly walked to stand in front of his defiant child and addressed the question. "She's stubborn. She has to be made to understand that her...association with you is over. It must end, mustn't it, Nicholas? You said so yourself. It must end for her sake."
The anger drained quickly from Nicholas, his expression softening as a surprised hesitation entered his eyes.
A victorious smile tugged at a corner of LaCroix's mouth when he saw the reaction. Bull's-eye. The words had hit their target--hard.
"Yes. It has to end." The whisper left the younger vampire as he closed his eyes.
A storm of emotion cascaded over the connection as LaCroix sensed his son struggle with what he knew must be done. The weakness the silent battle revealed was still a great concern to the Roman, but he was pleased when a healthy certitude seemed to win out in the end.
After a few seconds, and with a ragged deep breath, Nicholas finally opened his eyes. The newly-forged resolve shown in the blue depths as did a subtle apology, a silent plea for forgiveness for his momentary lapse. "Yes," he solemnly repeated. "You're right."
LaCroix's smile broadened as heard the quiet admission, the charge of another small triumph running through him.
"But she's a part of my life, not yours." The protege continued, his modest attitude suddenly gone. "I'll make her understand." His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head. "I won't tolerate any threats from you."
"Threats?" Lucien's eyebrows rose in an exaggerated show of surprise as he injected a note of innocence into his voice. He really wasn't denying the allegation. He just wasn't going to come right out and admit to it.
"Oh, come on, LaCroix." The exasperation in Nicholas' voice was unmistakable, a shadow of blatant disbelief also evident in his face. "The insinuation couldn't have been more clear. Your interference is neither wanted or needed." He pointed to himself. "I'll deal with her."
Nicholas' renewed display of indignation sent a swift bolt of resentment shooting through LaCroix. He was as much as being told to mind his own business, and he didn't appreciate it in the least. Whether or not the boy wanted to believe it, this was his business, very much his business. Family was always his business, never more so than when its stability was at stake. Natalie Lambert was a danger to the healing relationship he had begun to share with his precious child. That most certainly was his business.
With more than a small amount of effort, the Roman held the wave of anger at bay. He had to remember his chosen plan of persuasion. Sighing, he placed a tolerant hand on his son's arm. "She's mortal, Nicholas, fragile, vulnerable. Can you afford the risk? Can you afford to continue to allow her so close, even for a short time?"
Again, LaCroix played on his creation's fears, mercilessly trying to sabotage the younger vampire's continued resistance. Nicholas' anxiety over disrupting more human lives through his mere association was great, so great that Lucien's skillful hint at the constant danger seemed to have the desired, cooling effect. He watched the reminder sink in as a veil of anguished guilt fell across Nicholas' features, his mouth forming a grim line. LaCroix hated seeing, and feeling, the unbearable pain. A frustrated sympathy hit the master vampire. It didn't have to be like this. If Nicholas would only free himself, release the misguided grief, banish the destructive pain. If he would only forget. If only....
Nicholas, you've got to let this life go.
"I know." The choked words escaped his son before he blinked away the red mist that had pooled in his eyes. Turning, he looked back into the flames dancing in the hearth. "I know that I no longer belong in her world. That I never did belong in her world, her life. But...." His attention once again focused on LaCroix, a firmness returning to his husky voice. "I want you to stay out of this. Please. I can handle it."
Can you? Lucien had his doubts.
He dropped his hand from his son's arm, a faint disgust coloring his tone. "You should have made a clean break, Nicholas. I still insist that this month-long reprieve is ill-advised."
"Perhaps, but it's done." The protege's back stiffened as the condemning words seemed to strengthen his purpose. "I made the promise, and I'm going to keep it. And when it's over, I know what must be done." Walking to the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of blood before looking back at LaCroix. "Was there a reason for your visit?"
"No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you're doing."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine."
Oh, yes. I can see. 'Fine' would not have been his choice of word. 'Shaky' perhaps, but not 'fine'.
Nicholas indicated the bottle in his hand. "Would you care for some?"
"No." LaCroix shook his head. "I must be getting back to the club. I've got some paperwork to catch up on." He walked over to his son and captured the younger vampire's sad eyes with his own. "Take care, Nicholas."
The words were a wish, but they were also a warning. As LaCroix studied the boy's face, he knew Nicholas understood. However, understanding was one thing; strength of resolve was quite another. With Dr. Lambert hovering like a mother hen, would Nicholas be able to maintain his determination? Recalling the scene he'd witnessed when he entered the loft a few minutes ago, the Roman's answer was a swift, disappointing no. Lucien felt his earlier anger return. If allowed a free rein, the mortal would jeopardize Nicholas' return to the family. He couldn't allow that to happen. There was still some persuading to be done, but his energies might be more effective if placed elsewhere.
"Good night, LaCroix," Nicholas quietly answered the farewell.
Bowing his head in a silent acknowledgment, Lucien took his leave.
Nick took a long drink from the bottle, a gratified shiver sliding down his body. The human blood tasted good, very good, too good. An unwelcome spark of guilt rose with the admission, but he quietly pushed it into hiding as he carried the bottle back into the living room. Once again, he stood by the fireplace staring into the flames.
LaCroix was right. He had to keep himself focused. There was too much at stake. Mortal lives. Nat's life. He had to keep her at a distance. He had to make her understand. It was for her own good, for his own good.
The vampire closed his eyes against the memory of her lovely face, against the recollection of her warm, inviting touch. God, she felt so good, so right. No! Opening his eyes, he took another swallow of the blood, the craving for Natalie stoking his hunger.
"No." This time the desperate denial was a whisper as he tried to steel himself against the need she stirred deep inside him. Again, he had let her too close, just as LaCroix had said. He'd allowed himself to be drawn to her loving comfort, to be swayed by her encouraging words, to get lost in her calming sweetness. It was dangerous, much too dangerous. She was wrong about him. He was responsible for Elliot. As much as it hurt, he could never forget that one unforgivable fact. He had to remember it, and she had to accept it. She had to let go. She had to give up the fight. It was no use. He was a lost cause. She had to be made to see that.
A sad smile tugged at a corner of his mouth as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. 'I don't know when I've been beaten.' Nick recalled Natalie's words. She was stubborn all right, too stubborn. It was a trait he found infuriating and intriguing at the same time. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever known. But.... The smile faded. That strength could be a curse as well as a blessing. LaCroix saw her as nothing more than a meddler. The ancient vampire did not tolerate meddlers.
Nick walked back into the kitchen and put the remaining blood in the refrigerator. Turning, he moved to sit on the couch. A book of short stories by Edger Allen Poe sat on an end table. Opening it to his bookmarked place, he stared into the fire. LaCroix didn't need to concern himself with Natalie. She wouldn't change his mind. Nick blinked away a sudden rush of emotion. After what had happened to Elliot, no one would change his mind. He couldn't be completely sure, but he thought he'd convinced his immortal father of that. Natalie was his concern. He would make her understand.
The detective looked down at the book in his lap, a sliver of dread cutting into his mind as a reservation crept from the shadows. He would make her understand, convince her of the futility, the danger. He had to. He was poison, death. He would bring her nothing but pain. She had to be made to realize that one, inescapable truth. It would save her life. He loved her. He would do anything to keep her from harm. For her sake, he had to find the strength to push her away.
End Chapter 20