Make Me Believe Read online

  “Where is my son?”

  Like a voice from a well, Nikolai’s voice came echoing and rippling, caressing her ears. “Here…with me…healing. Your mortal doctors cannot save him. We can.”

  “Bring him back.” Her voice was a furious, snapping hiss and Chelly’s hands clenched in fury as rage coursed through her. He had just taken him, like Nate. Even to save him…why didn’t you take me, too? A soft little voice whispered inside her head. And the more rational part of her added, Nikolai is nothing like Nate.

  But she had been separated from her son for too long, and rationality had never been one of her finer points.

  Nikolai smiled. “There is no coming back. He is here—here he stays. Come and join him or stay there, but he will live, know that, Chantelle.”

  No coming back?

  “Um, excuse me, ma’am, are you all right in there?” a soft voice asked from outside.

  “I’m fine!” Chelly bellowed, tossing the door a dirty look before glaring at Nik.

  He smiled beatifically.

  Chelly could have throttled him. From one kidnapper to another. “You can’t just take a woman’s child, Nikolai, without… well, period. You just don’t do it!”

  “You would prefer I wait and ask and waste his time? He had precious little, Chantelle. His body was broken, and he was fading. Da, you know this is true. You felt it.”

  Chelly’s heart stuttered and her mouth quivered before she firmed it. Yes, she had…frustration went shrieking through her and she reached out, intending to slam her fist against the mirror before demanding he take her to Bryan. She’d find a way back, damn it, from wherever here was. But darkness swarmed up and caught her, and she fell screaming into it, feeling warm, strong arms come around her and hold her.

  And that familiar voice purring in her ear, “At last…you are here. At last. And you will not be finding a way back.”

  * * * * *

  Chelly could smell Bryan, the familiar scent of baby lotion, flannel pajamas and fabric softener. And pine, musk, the rich, delicious scent of male—familiar. Nikolai.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Nikolai sat in a chair across from her, staring at her with dark, brooding eyes. Hungry eyes. A small smile curved his mouth as he studied her, watching her as she pushed up on to one elbow, staring at him with wide eyes. His gaze moved from hers down to her mouth, the line of her neck, to linger on the curve of her breasts, following the covered lines of her body beneath the silk blankets. Chelly felt a hot, slow pulse in her loins and a sigh shuddered through her, her nipples stiffening as her sex started to heat.

  A soft, muffled sighing sound came to her ears and Chelly tore her eyes away from Nikolai. With a cry, Chelly threw back the blankets and stared down at Bryan, who lay in the bed beside her, curled up on his side, knees drawn up to his chest, his face cuddled into the pillow as he sighed in his sleep. And he held his beloved bear, a ragged, much repaired little stuffed creature she had received from her mother when she was born. The bear she had left at home. “Bryan…” she whispered raggedly.

  Though he couldn’t hear her, it never stopped her from talking to him, even as he slept. Bryan had been born deaf, and he would die deaf, but he was a smart, precocious little boy and he was learning at the same rate as other kids his age, he just needed other tools to help him learn. Chelly started to reach for him and pull him to her, but her hands faltered and slowed and she settled for just stroking his brow after she remembered his injuries. “You can’t keep him here. He needs—”

  “Your boy is fine, healing quite well. Pick him up, hold him. You need it.” Nikolai rose in a slow, fluid motion from his sprawl and lifted Bryan in strong, gentle arms, placing him in her lap even as Chelly stared at him, sputtering blankly.

  “He is fine.” He covered her lips with two fingers and whispered, “Da, he is fine. Look at him, as he is now, not what you last saw.” As Chelly watched, Nikolai unbuttoned the small one’s pajama top, revealing his plump little body, free of all bruises, scrapes and scars. Which was impossible.

  Bryan had a punctured lung, broken ribs, a broken leg, a concussion, internal bleeding, so many cuts and lacerations, and bruises, so much trauma on such a small body…how?

  They were all gone.

  “How?” Chelly asked, running her hands over Bryan’s smooth skin, reaching back to probe the back of his scalp where a four-inch gash had been sutured closed. No sutures. No gash. No scar. Nothing. Like it had never happened. “This isn’t possible. What in the hell is going on?”

  “We healed him. Well, Ganessa did. She is a Healer among us.” Nikolai’s gaze lingered on Bryan’s face, a soft, loving look, and then it fell away and Chelly felt her belly sink to her knees. Something wasn’t right.

  But then, a soft, muffled little voice whispered against her neck, “Mama?”

  “Oh, baby…”

  “Mama, I can hear, they fixed me all better,” and Bryan lifted his head away from her neck and smiled up at her with eyes that glowed, just barely.

  Chapter Four

  Chantelle stood staring woodenly at Nikolai and Bryan as they played in the middle of the room. It was too opulent to call it a living room, a sea of golden gleaming wood, covered with jewel-colored rugs and white furniture that hugged and cuddled your body as you sat down. Her little boy could hear, for the first time in his life. She should have been ecstatic. She was, in a way. But he wasn’t just Bryan anymore…was he? His eyes gleamed at her in the dark, and he had asked Nikolai if he’d learned how to make magic rainbows. Bryan knew about the magic rainbows. Nikolai had been paying visits to her son. It brought a bittersweet smile to her mouth before she recalled the man’s answer.

  “Da. Magic rainbows and more. You will be able to bring much joy to many, many people.”

  Chelly had little doubt of that. Bryan had a gift for bringing joy to all around him. But he wouldn’t be going home with her. How could she take home a boy whose eyes glowed in the dark? A boy who would learn how to make magic rainbows and spin little snowstorms in his hands…a boy who would grow into a man that would never age. So she was staying here—with Nik. If he had asked her, or if she had asked to come here, or anything other than having her choice taken away…

  Chelly hated not having the choice.

  The traitor. A little voice whispered in her head, He saved Bryan.

  I know that… She felt like a petulant child, but she also felt as though she was losing her son as she watched Nikolai patiently draw a lacy pattern of ice in the air, only to have it disintegrate the minute Bryan touched it. And then they started all over again.

  Jeans clung lovingly to Nikolai’s muscled thighs and cupped the bulge at his crotch, while the cotton of his shirt stretched over his flat belly and the taut wall of his chest as he laughed at Bryan’s squeals of delight. The masculine laughter faded as Bryan launched himself through the misty wall of pseudo-ice and wrapped his arms around Nikolai’s neck, laughing and chortling with glee. Nikolai’s face softened and his lids lowered as he wrapped his arms around the boy’s little body, cuddling him close.

  And the picture hit Chelly right in the solar plexus, bringing tears to her eyes, and knot to her throat. Bryan had never thrown himself, like that, at his father. Not once. And from the look of sheer awe on Nikolai’s face, it was a rare pleasure for this man, and one he realized he liked too much.

  He kidnapped us. He didn’t give me a chance to say yes or no to any of this.

  This bizarre change had been forced on Bryan, and Chelly would have welcomed it. All he would have had to have done was say it before he had done it. But he had done it, and left her in the dark.

  Turning on her heel, she walked away.

  “So Bryan is what now? Magic?”

  “Elf-kin.” Nikolai entered the room slowly, feeling the tension in the air, tempted to reach out and touch her mind, but refusing to trespass. He had already taken her away from her home, her life. Even though he knew she would have gladly come to save her son
, he had not asked. He wouldn’t take anything else.

  He knew, da, he knew good and well why she was so angry with him. And truly, Nikolai couldn’t blame her. But what was he to do?

  “Elf-kin,” she repeated drolly, rolling the words over her tongue, then pursing her lips and staring at him over the rim of her coffee cup. French vanilla cappuccino. He had recreated it just for her, like the recipe for French onion soup and guacamole. And he had learned to make grilled cheese sandwiches for Bryan. And chocolate chip cookies. Of course, those were rather tasty—no wonder Alisdair was so fond of them. “Exactly what is elf-kin?”

  “A mortal with an open mind, a gifted channel, that we choose to make a blood bond with. Our blood mingles, mixes with his, reproduces with his, and in time, changes his. And since he is so young the changes will be quite…thorough. The younger a child is when he is made kin, the more complete the change.

  “He would have had some gifts anyway, Chantelle. You already knew he is a special boy. How special, I cannot even begin to tell you. A deaf child who can already speak, and he is only three years old? But the gifted channels in his mind are wide open now and his potential in unknown, vast, limitless. He—”

  “You look the same as you did twenty years ago,” she spoke softly, interrupting him, staring pensively over his shoulder. “Elves…they really exist. And they don’t age. At least not the way humans do, huh?”

  “Da, not the way humans do.” Nikolai moved closer, cupping her face in his hand, stroking his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip. Threading his hand through her golden brown curls, he stared down into her eyes, absorbing the feel of her skin, the scent of her. “So pretty, so soft. Been wanting you, I have, for several years. How long will you stay angry with me?” His lids drooped, lashes hanging low over his eyes, as he studied her mouth. His other hand, big and warm, came up to rest on the curve of her hip.

  Chelly’s eyes widened. Her mouth was dry. Other parts were…not. She could feel the hard swell of his cock against her belly, throbbing and pulsing. A deep, aching need opened inside her as her heart started racing a mile a minute, and her nerve endings began sizzling. Blankly, she said the one thing that came to mind. “Are there elves in Russia?”

  “Hmmm. Elves, elf-kin and elf-mate as well.” He cocked his head as he responded and a ribbon of hair fell over one muscled shoulder, thick, black and shining. His eyes moved from her mouth down the line of her neck to focus on the movement of her chest as she sucked a breath in and tried to remember how to breathe again.

  Chelly followed the gleaming lock of hair as it curled over his chest, her mouth watering. The rippling muscles of his belly almost vibrated and as she stared at him, a hungry growl rumbled out of his chest.

  Slowly, unable to keep from touching him as he moved closer, nudging her belly with his sex, she rested her hands on the rock hard, warm wall of his chest, flexing her fingers against the smooth skin there and smiling a cat’s smile as a shudder vibrated through him. Hypnotized, her eyes slid further downward, staring at the bulging swell of his sex under the blue fabric of his jeans.

  Jeans? “Elves wear jeans?”

  “Would you prefer pointy shoes with bells?” he asked blandly, as his eyes started to glow brighter and hotter.

  Her brow creased in confusion and she shook her head. “I always thought of elves wearing…” her hands roamed restlessly and settled on the swell of his biceps without her realizing it and she shrugged her shoulders as pictures of flowing gowns, tunics, and cloaks moved through her mind. “Ummm, bells? Why would you wear bells and pointy shoes?”

  Just then, outside, a bell tolled. And Nikolai rolled his eyes. “Eynou, we know it. Five bleeding days, we have. We will get the work done, have we ever failed him yet?” he grumbled, stalking to the window and jerking the drapes closed.

  Five days…

  What happens in five days?

  Chantelle’s mental clock filled in that blank.

  Christmas.

  “Da, Christmas.”

  Her eyes widened and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She hadn’t said anything out loud. She knew it. So how had he heard her anyway? Could he really read her thoughts the way it had always seemed?

  Yes, he could. His lips curved up in a smile as he stared at her, his head cocked to the side, his black hair falling over his shoulder as he studied her face, following the trail of her thoughts. And as he followed them, the smile slowly fell away and his face grew pensive.

  She turned her eyes back to the sparkling, crystalline vista outside one of the other windows, then back to the outrageously magical, beautiful man in front of her with his gently curved, pointed ears and eyes that glowed. The view reminded her of how, when she had been younger, he had carved little statues and sculptures from what looked and felt like ice. In a low hushed voice, she asked, “What is going on?”

  “You are in my home, the Northern Reach. Mortals have called it the North Pole for many, many years.”

  “And the ‘him’ you haven’t failed?” There was a hysterical giggle building in her throat. Oh, man. If Nate had any clue…

  “You mortals know him as Santa Claus.”

  Chapter Five

  It took the little minx a very long while to stop her giggling.

  A very long while.

  Nikolai finally left her to it while he went about his job. As Head of Interworld Communications, he had many responsibilities. It was his job that had first led him to Chantelle a few short decades ago. Such a sad little child she had been, having her family taken at such a young age. It wasn’t an unusual thing, alas, but it still broke his heart. But she had broken it even more, as she defiantly sobbed out her frustrations against Christmas. Her spunk had endeared her to him, so much so that even after those first few years, he had kept going back to check on her.

  But then, she had grown up.

  And he had fallen in love. The kindly, gentle guidance he had always felt compelled to give to her had turned into a burning, driving desire to own that green- eyed little wonder. Deep inside his soul he knew this woman was the only woman he would ever love. He ached and burned for her, like he had for none other, in all his many centuries.

  Nearly nine centuries he had walked this earth, and so many ladies he had known—fleeting loves—some lasting a few years, others only nights.

  And now he was in love with a mortal.

  Who was even now smothering her laughter and trying to dry her tears while she struggled to accept the truths he had told her.

  And her child—that wide-eyed little boy whose body was changing inside with every rapid beat of his heart—was playing with a toy that the mortal world would not see for another fifteen years.

  Oh, what a wonderful life.

  Nikolai smirked and settled down to work, his long-fingered hands playing over the grid in front of him, his psychic skills connecting him to the children of the world, and then he relayed the needs and wishes back to the workroom. Rhys was in control there, the lunatic. Who would want to be in control of all that chaos?

  Five days.

  Da, more than enough time. Time enough to fill the wishes of the children, but time enough to get his? Ah…that was the question, wasn’t it?

  As they stepped outside, Chantelle braced herself for what was certain to be biting, bracing cold. Though Nikolai assured her it was very mild, she didn’t believe him. Or her mind didn’t. Her heart did, otherwise, she wouldn’t have let him carry her son out that door without a coat, blankets…

  It felt like springtime.

  “How?” she asked, turning around and staring into the distance at the snow- covered landscape outside Nikolai’s house.

  “Environance-dome. The technology for building it will be in your scientists’ hands within a few more years. We keep the temperatures moderated to sixty-five degrees through the majority of the work season. Once December is over, we will allow nature to take its course, but for now, it is much easier for us to work if we do not have to bu
ndle up like bears every time we cross the threshold.” Nik pointed to the myriad reflective lights over each house and explained, “Those provide camouflage on the outside, making it seem as though we are not here, muffling our presence. It’s quite advanced but it is—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Please. Don’t explain it to me.”

  He shrugged, smirking a little at the pained look on her face. She wasn’t really interested in technology. Like some of the elves. Even Alisdair was not fond of technology, though his job required he have a decent understanding of it.

  Nikolai smiled down at the little boy, who cuddled against his chest. Bryan stared around them with huge, wide eyes and a big smile. Unlike his mama, who stared with suspicion and a narrowed gaze, occasionally rolling her eyes at the garb many of the people wore.

  Nik preferred the more comfortable clothing favored by mortals, and over the past few decades, it had disgusted the Northern Council to see some of the younger elves wearing similar clothing—jeans, sweaters. T-shirts. He grinned widely as he recalled the sheer horror in one Councilman’s voice.

  “We will see if he is available, since you continue to giggle and disbelieve,” Nikolai told her drolly. “Do not be too disappointed when you see that he doesn’t have the flowing white beard and hair.”

  Chelly ignored him as she stared with wide eyes at one lady who wore skintight velvet breeches in deep garnet red, a flowing white shirt, and a vest to match the breeches. The woman was lovely, with her upswept hair revealing the lovely arch of her ears, a higher, more curved point than Nikolai’s, and her slightly slanted eyes that twinkled merrily as she caught sight of Nikolai.

  “Are you looking for the boss?” Her lilting voice carried the music of Ireland as she stopped beside them, reaching out absently to caress Bryan’s hair as she spoke to Nikolai. She smiled with friendly curiosity at Chantelle before turning her gaze to the boy and Nikolai, waiting for an answer.

  “We are, da. Brenna, this is Chantelle, and her son, Bryan. They are going to be staying with me for a time,” he said, not glancing at Chantelle as he spoke. He felt her resistance and urge to argue, and the equally strong need to stay some place where her son was safe, loved, able to live a normal life. Her husband hadn’t really wanted the boy—not really. He had just wanted to strike out and hurt her. She had given him a child who was less than perfect.