Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (29 page)

They both climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the house. Aimee finally spoke as she unlocked the front door and went inside. “I’m going upstairs to get cleaned up.”

Roric put his massive forearm in front of her. “Not until I check the house.”

Chapter Seventeen

Roric was furious with himself. He’d lost all sense of reason back in the clearing. It was insanity to enter Hell to try to rescue the Lady on his own. Hades’ realm was not easily breached by those who didn’t belong. If he’d managed to make it there he’d have been just as trapped as his Lady.

Because of his lapse, the carnival and his friends were gone. But worst of all, he’d almost gotten Aimee killed. A sick feeling grew in the pit of his belly whenever he thought about her throwing herself in front of him to keep him from tossing his life away in a useless effort.

He’d played right into the demon’s hands. Allowed emotion to be used against him. He wasn’t proud of that fact.

It was time to make things right. He had only hours to go. If he could keep Aimee alive that long, her part in this would be over. No matter what happened to him, he would not sacrifice her, not allow her to die.

The mental connection he’d managed for a brief second with the Lady had made things abundantly clear. Aimee must survive at all costs. Another innocent life must not fall to Hades.

Aimee, not he, had slain the demon named Sandra. The blood on her hands and face had been a testament to her bravery and an abomination to all that was sacred and good. He had failed to protect her. He would not do so again.

He shackled his hand around her wrist, keeping her close to him. Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers. From fear or anger, he wasn’t sure. It certainly wouldn’t be arousal. After the way he’d let her down, she’d never let him in her bed again, even if there were time for such activities.

He ignored the sense of devastation and loss that surged through him, accepting it as no less than he deserved. He was a warrior, a protector. Yet it was she who’d been forced to protect him.

Never again.

He would not allow her to be put in that position again. She was his to protect and, by the Lady, he would not fail.

Locking his emotions away, he got on with the business at hand. Taking a deep breath, he let his senses flare outward. The tiger within him perceived nothing out of the ordinary. There were no foreign smells or sounds. Still, he moved cautiously through the downstairs, checking every closet and room before heading upstairs.

He could hear her unsteady breathing as she walked up the stairs just behind him. Fear tinged her scent. Roric wanted to throw back his head and roar with anguish. A woman like Aimee should be safe and happy, not bloody and scared.

One by one, he checked every room. When he determined that it was safe, for now, he reluctantly released her wrist. As soon as he’d done so, he missed the connection between them.

“Um, I’m going to get some clean clothes and hit the shower.” She was nervous around him now. He ignored the pain that realization caused.

He nodded, trying desperately not to think about Aimee naked, warm water running over her smooth skin. His cock stirred and his pants became unbearably tight. The muscles in his arms longed to hold her. Crossing his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out and yanking her into his arms, he watched as she gathered clean clothing and headed to the bathroom.

“Don’t close the door.”

She jerked slightly at his command, but nodded. “I’ll leave it cracked a few inches,” she promised.

Roric leaned against the wall and released a pent-up sigh. His entire body, his entire being, ached to hold Aimee in his arms. He shifted restlessly, ignoring the tiger’s desire to be free to hunt his enemies. Her protection was his only goal now. If they could both live past midnight, the curse on him would be broken and his full power restored. No longer would he be bound to the carousel or to Hades. He would be free to fight to release his comrades and the Lady.

It was too easy to picture Phoenix, Stavros and Mordecai and the rest of them sitting around a campfire, sharing food, talking and laughing, enjoying one another’s company. It had been like that forever. The seven of them, brothers-in-arms, serving the Lady they all loved so well.

He couldn’t think about three of them being gone. Raking his fingers through his hair, he stiffened when the water began to run. The spray was broken briefly. He closed his eyes and gave a ragged sigh. That water was now coating Aimee’s sleek curves, caressing her supple flesh.

Aimee was both a gift and a curse. His attraction to her yanked his attention away from the problem at hand. Hades would toy with them, letting them think they might win, might come out of this night alive, before launching an attack. The keeper of the underworld would not surrender their souls easily.

His eyes flew open, and he pushed away from the wall he was leaning on. His sword appeared in his hand. What had he heard? The noise had been low, almost nonexistent, but his acute hearing had picked it up.

Cocking his head to one side, he listened. There it was again. He jerked around, already in motion. It was coming from the bathroom.

The door hit the wall with a smack as he burst into the room. Aimee yelled. He yanked back the shower curtain, sword raised, to face…a naked Aimee.

“What the hell are you doing? You scared me to death.” She glared at him, cheeks rosy, eyes flashing.

Roric tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but couldn’t. His mouth was suddenly too dry. She was a vision of loveliness, totally naked and wet. The blood was gone, washed down the drain, and only sweet-smelling woman remained.

Swearing, she grabbed the edge of the shower curtain and held it against her body. He could have told her it didn’t matter. The fabric might hide some of her, but her image was forever burned into his brain.

It was then he noticed that her eyes were red and not all the water on her face had come from the shower. She’d been crying. That was what he’d heard.

The sword disappeared in a thought, and he reached out to stroke her cheek. He captured some of the moisture there, brought it to his mouth and tasted the salt. “You’ve been crying.” It came out almost as an accusation.

She shrugged, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. “Give a girl a break. It’s been a rough day.” Her gaze slipped away from his.

Capturing her chin between his thumb and index finger, he tipped her face upward. A single tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He swiped at the tear with his thumb. “I’m sorry this happened to you, sorry you’ve become a part of this nightmare.”

Sighing, she nodded. What could she say? There was nothing anyone could say to make this go away. Unable to bear seeing her so sad, he lowered his mouth to hers. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did it anyway. Their lips met, clung briefly before parting.

He never took his eyes from her, watching her reaction. Her breath was warm on his face as she leaned closer. Yearning and need were etched on her face. Roric recognized it because it mirrored the growing need pounding through his blood. He needed to taste this woman one more time. If his life was going to come to an end, he wanted his last thoughts, his last moments, to be with her.

It was crazy. Insane. But he didn’t care.

His fingers went to the tie of his pants and waited. He could have easily willed his clothing away, but he wanted to give Aimee a choice, a chance to object. He hardly dared to breath. After what had happened, he’d never imagined Aimee allowing him to touch her again. The thought that she would let him stroke her delectable curves, take him into the warm heat of her body, had all the blood in his veins surging toward his cock.

The shower curtain slithered over her skin as she released it. Blood pounded in his ears like a raging river, shutting out all other sound. In the blink of an eye, he willed his pants and boots away, leaving him naked.

Her wide-eyed gaze stroked him like a physical caress. His cock jerked, and a pearly bead seeped from the tip when she licked her full, lush lips. He was so ready he knew he’d come fast. There was no time for prolonged foreplay. This was a mating. A claiming.

He stepped into the shower with her, crowding her toward the wall. The water poured over his back, washing the sweat of battle and several spatters of blood from his skin. Placing his hands flat on the tiles, he caged her between the wall and his body.

With her black hair plastered to her skull and her green eyes glowing, she looked like a sexy water nymph. Not even the faint scars on her left cheek could detract from her beauty. But there was an air of sadness around her, as if she too sensed this was their last time together.

He wanted to say something soft and romantic, but what came out was, “I want you.”

Her eyes widened and their color deepened. Even though their bodies weren’t touching, he could feel the heat rolling off her skin. Her nipples were taut buds of desire, straining toward him, and her fingers clenched and unclenched as she shifted from one foot to another.

The sweet perfume of her arousal wafted up to tantalize him. A low, guttural growl broke from his throat as the beast within him reared up, scenting its mate. There was no doubt her body wanted his. Still, he waited. Too much had already been taken from her. It had to be her choice.

Aimee couldn’t take her gaze off Roric. She didn’t think he had any idea that his skin was changing color, striped like a tiger’s one moment and then tanned like the warrior the next. His eyes flashed pale blue, the heat in them scorching her. Even the color of his hair seemed to deepen. The white practically shone, while the black seemed even darker.

The beast within him wanted out.

She should have been afraid. There were demons hunting them who would do their best to kill them both before the midnight deadline. The contract had been clear—if they lived past that time, Hades would forfeit their souls forever. They would both be safe from reprisals. The agreement was binding, even to a god.

Then there was Roric. He was on the verge of losing his humanity to the animal side of his nature. It was both scary and incredibly sexy to watch. He seemed to grow even larger as he loomed over her.

He surrounded her, yet he wasn’t touching her. In spite of what had happened back in the tent, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d lay down his life for her. His honor demanded it.

She didn’t want him to put his life on the line for her because of honor. She didn’t want him to die, period. But if he was going to sacrifice himself, she wanted it to be for a very different reason. She wanted it to be because he loved her.

As she loved him.

Crazy or not, she loved him. There was no denying what was staring her right in the face. Aimee knew she would do anything to keep him out of Hades’ clutches, even if it meant sacrificing her life. This cursed immortal warrior of a past time was the love of her life. And they would probably both be dead in a matter of hours.

This was her last chance to love him.

“This is usually the part of the movie where the heroine would get killed by the villains,” she told him as she unclenched her fingers and placed them on his hard chest. “It’s not smart to make love in the shower when there are demons after you.” His heart beat a steady, heavy rhythm against her palm.

“I’ll sense them before they attack,” he assured her.

She wasn’t so sure of that but didn’t contradict him. He leaned closer, letting his chest brush against the tips of her breasts. All thoughts of reason flew out the window. Her nipples puckered even more as he shifted slowly, rubbing his skin over them.

To hell with reason. Aimee wanted to forget everything that had transpired. She didn’t want to worry about gods or goddesses or demons. She wanted to celebrate life in the most elemental way possible. Roric was a man and she was a woman, and they wanted each other. That was enough. It had to be.

She groaned, letting her hands flow over his hard abs and around to his firm butt. He had the best ass she’d ever seen, firm and full. She squeezed his buns, urging him closer.

He didn’t need a second invitation.

Roric swooped down and captured her mouth. His tongue swept past her lips, caressing her teeth, her tongue. His erection was warm, almost hot, against her belly, and she wiggled, wanting to get even closer. Her sex burned with need. He was a fever in her blood.

Lifting her leg, she hooked it over his thigh, bringing her mound in contact with his swollen cock. She went up on her toes, rubbing his hard length over her swollen clit. Tremors shook her as she did it again. This was what she wanted. What happened between them when they came together like this was real. And it was beautiful.

He slid his hands over the curve of her hip and lower. Long, thick fingers parted her slick folds, testing her readiness. She gasped as he pressed two of them deep. This might be crazy, but she wanted—no, needed—for it to happen.

“You’re always so wet. So ready.” She heard the wonder in his voice as he slid his fingers all the way out and rimmed the opening to her sheath before plunging back.

Aimee was past being embarrassed by her body’s reaction to him. It was what it was. She embraced the heat, the growing need.