It was the tiger from her dreams, the one from the funhouse. The animal she’d ridden on the carousel. None of it was a dream. All of it was real. Either that or she’d completely lost her mind.
Without taking her eyes off the tattoo, Aimee slid off the side of bed. On silent feet, she padded toward him. His back muscles tensed. He knew she was behind him.
Reaching out, she tentatively touched the tattoo and stroked the tiger’s head. Roric tilted his head to one side as if it were his head she’d touched. Butterflies danced in her stomach. What she was thinking was impossible. But she was beginning to believe in the impossible.
Slowly, she raked her nail across the tiger’s belly. Roric groaned. She moved her nail lower. Roric growled and whirled around in a blur of motion. Catching her hand with his, he flattened it against his stomach. Aimee curled her fingers inward, feeling the brush of fine fur-like hair against her fingertips.
“You’re the white tiger, aren’t you?” She held her breath, barely even able to believe what she’d just asked him.
His pale blue eyes stared into her very soul. She could sense the tensing of his muscles beneath her hand. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”
Chapter Seven
Her lips parted and she licked her lower one. It was a nervous gesture, but it made Roric’s cock throb with never-ending ache, a relentless need. He could all too easily imagine her sweet tongue licking his erection, sucking the head into her warm mouth. He barely suppressed a groan.
Her eyes widened as she felt the nudge of his shaft against the edge of her hand. There was no hiding the fact that he was aroused. Nor did he want to. It made him feel alive—a living, breathing man—after being held inanimate for more centuries than he cared to remember.
She moistened her lips again and, when she spoke, her words were little more than a puff of breath. “Show me.”
It took his addled brain a moment to understand what she was asking. He was naked, so he wasn’t exactly hiding anything. The tiger. She wanted to see the tiger, to know it was real.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently moved her away from him. “Maybe you’d better sit down.” He had no idea what effect his changing might have on her. He knew that a part of her didn’t believe a word he was saying about who he was and the fact he was cursed. She’d been forced to accept a lot over the past few hours. She’d handled it with great courage, but a person could only take so much. Seeing her lover morph into a giant white tiger might be more than she could deal with.
“All right.” She shuffled back to the bed, keeping the damn sheet tucked around her body. He wished she’d drop it, even a little. He longed to see her firm, high breasts, her slender torso and her long, lithe legs. Even with her scars, Aimee was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Her hair was a luxurious black, but it was shorter than any he’d ever seen on a woman. His hair was longer than hers. It should have detracted from her femininity, yet somehow it only accentuated it, highlighting her delicate features and her incredible green eyes. A lock of hair fell across her forehead, making her appear vulnerable.
She sat on the edge of the mattress and crossed her legs. The sheet parted slightly, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her trim calves and dainty feet. He wanted to see her sleek thighs spread wide in invitation. His cock flexed in agreement.
“I’m waiting.”
He heard the impatience, the anticipation in her voice. He wished it were an invitation of another sort, a sexual one that would lead to erotic fulfillment for both of them. But her demeanor was not one of a woman open to receiving the attentions of a more-than-willing sexual partner. It was one of expectation, but of a completely different kind.
A part of him was afraid to change into his tiger. After being held in that form for so long, he was enjoying being a man again. What if he couldn’t change back?
No, he wouldn’t accept that. He was a warrior and the tiger was part of him. He needed to embrace his entire self if he had even the smallest chance of coming out of this mess alive.
“Roric?” The concern in her voice was his undoing. Was he a warrior or was he a coward?
He reached deep inside himself and found his tiger waiting patiently. The creature roared and jumped forward, taking control and starting the change. The beast was impatient to be in his natural form. The tiger had been as trapped as the man, frozen and unable to move for five thousand years.
The metamorphosis was upon him now. Roric’s fingers curled, the tips of his fingernails elongating into lethally sharp claws. His face changed, forehead flattening, jaw elongating and teeth sharpening.
Aimee gasped and jerked her legs up onto the bed. She clutched the sheet tight to her chin. He wondered if she thought that would save her. He wasn’t a monster hiding under the bed. He was an ancient warrior of the Lady of the Beasts—a legendary fighter of renown, a killer. There was nothing she could do to stop him if he chose to attack.
He fell forward, his hands morphing into giant paws before they hit the ground. Muscles rippled and elongated. He arched his spine, feeling the bones crack and reform as they settled into their new shape. Hair grew from beneath his skin, covering his body in thick fur.
He threw back his head and roared. The glass in the window rattled. Energy rushed through his veins. By changing, he’d somehow managed to tap into some of his power. Being released from the carousel hadn’t automatically given him back all his strength. But his abilities were growing, changing with each minute he was free.
A low, frightened sound emerged from the bed. Aimee had her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her face was pale, her green eyes huge. He padded toward her, feeling the wooden floor beneath the pads of his paws. It felt good to move as the beast. Powerful. Muscles flexed beneath his flesh as he stalked toward her.
He came to an abrupt halt when the acrid smell of fear surrounded him. It burned his nostrils, sharp and bitter. But beneath it was the unmistakable perfume of her arousal, thick and rich. She still carried his scent on her skin from when they’d had sex. His heavier, muskier smell overlaid her lighter, more feminine one. The tiger chuffed with pleasure. Possessiveness, raw and overwhelming, hit him in the face.
Aimee was his.
He shook his head and his whiskers twitched, but he could not get her intoxicating scent out of his head. The logical man inside the beast knew that such an attachment wasn’t possible. She was mortal. He was immortal. He was a shapeshifter. She was human.
Her function was to release him from the bondage that had held him for more than fifty centuries. His debt to her was to protect her for the next twenty-four hours. He had a mission that would, in all likelihood, lead to his death. There was no place in his life for a woman.
But the beast disagreed. Vehemently. The tiger had chosen her as mate and would not listen to logic.
“You’re gorgeous.”
He jerked up his head, narrowed his eyes. She was still very much afraid of the tiger, but she had extended a hand toward him. Roric was once again taken aback by her courage.
Most women would run, screaming in terror if they’d witnessed what Aimee just had. She’d awakened to find a strange man in her bed, a man she’d had hot, uninhibited sex with in the dark of the night. The carnivals and demons were real. What she’d thought was a nightmare was actual fact. If that wasn’t enough, he’d changed from a man to a tiger in front of her very eyes.
In his tiger form, he was huge, much larger than a normal tiger would be, more powerful and much more dangerous. He snarled, exposing his sharp teeth, unable to hold back as anger took hold and consumed him. Fury rocked him to his core. The tiger roared out his pain, his anguish, unable to hold it in any longer.
Why had Hades attacked the Lady of the Beasts? She’d been no threat to him, content to spend her time among the animals in the wild spaces that dotted this planet. Why hadn’t she listened to his warnings and taken action before the minions of Hell had attacked them
?
He’d asked himself the same questions all those long years ago and had never come up with any viable answers.
Aimee shifted ever so slightly on the bed, drawing his full attention. In his animal form, his senses were even more acute. He could see her more clearly, smell her more keenly and hear her heart as it pounded against her chest. She was sweating now with fear but determined to be brave.
He padded to the end of the bed and sat. He’d been wrong earlier when he’d told himself nothing Aimee could do would stop him if he chose to attack. She could stop him with nothing more than a glance. The tiger didn’t want her frightened of him, and neither did the man.
Roric lowered his head and leaned in close to Aimee. Her scent was almost overwhelming. She smelled of heated female skin, a hint of flowers and sex. He licked his lips, his large, pink tongue rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. He longed to taste her.
He held himself still as she reached out and brushed the top of his broad forehead. She pulled her fingers away immediately. He turned his head so he could see her. Her fingers were curled into her palm.
“You’re so soft.” Tentatively, she reached out to him again. This time her stroke was surer, firmer, as she raked her fingers lightly over his head. Roric gave a low rumble of pleasure, letting her know without words how much he enjoyed her touch.
“I can’t believe your hair is the exact same color as the tiger’s stripes.”
He could have told her they were all like that. Each warrior’s eyes and hair matched that of his animal. They weren’t separate, but one and the same, two creatures sharing one soul, two halves of a whole.
She scratched behind his ear, and he rolled his head to one side to give her better access. Aimee laughed and scratched harder. “You like that, do you?”
He didn’t reply, but closed his eyes and simply enjoyed her gentle caress. During earlier times, people had feared the warriors of the Lady of the Beasts. And rightfully so. They were untamed, unfettered by the rules of mankind. The only thing controlling them was their love and devotion to the Lady. Back in those days, the population had been more accepting of gods and goddesses, understanding the power they and the ones bound to them wielded.
The more she touched him, the faster Aimee’s fear was fading. He lifted his head and in one lithe movement jumped onto the bed beside her. Aimee screamed, jerking back toward the headboard. Her throat rippled as she swallowed. She gave a nervous laugh. “You’re incredibly fast.”
He could have told her that was nothing compared to what he could do. Or what he’d been able to do. He still wasn’t certain of his powers. They did seem to be growing and expanding with each passing moment, but would it be enough to save Aimee and himself?
He flexed his large muscles and sprawled out next to her. He knew time was short, but he wanted a few more minutes with her like this. The fact that she accepted him so easily surprised him. The more he thought about it, the more suspicious he became. Had she known about him all along? Doubts crept back into his brain. Was she a tool of Hades or a gift from the Lady?
Aimee came up on her knees and crept closer. This time she used both hands, digging her fingertips into his fur and finding the flesh beneath. She massaged up and down his supple spine, wringing a yowl of pleasure from him.
She giggled. He jerked his head around but she wasn’t watching his face. Her attention was centered on her hands buried in his fur. Her fascinated delight pleased him even as the sensual joy stamped on her face aroused him.
He surged up and licked her face. Her taste was sweet and salty. Aimee slapped her hand over her cheek and laughed. Delight sparkled in her eyes.
He stared at her. Happiness made her even more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was thready. He could see the tips of her breasts pressing against the thin sheet she wore.
Lust struck him fast and hard. He’d already had her but he wanted her again.
He pounced, rolling her beneath him. His large jaw parted and he clamped down on her shoulder. Not hard enough to break the skin or bruise her, but to remind her, to remind them both, that he was a dangerous beast.
She stilled, the pleasure fading from her face, replaced by fear once again. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He didn’t want her to make him weak with her softness, enslave him with her gentle touch. He could not afford the distraction.
Yet as much as he wanted, needed, her to fear him, he couldn’t bear the thought. He sat back and nudged her shoulder in mute apology. She lifted her hands and cupped his massive jaw. “It’s okay.” She lightly brushed his fur, accidentally touching his sensitive whiskers, sending a jolt of desire rushing through him.
Aimee figured she was either crazy, which she fervently hoped she wasn’t, or this was actually happening. The second choice seemed the more probable one with each passing second. Roric had changed into the tiger from her dreams right before her very eyes.
Maybe it was drugs or hypnosis or possibly even a hallucination. Or maybe it wasn’t. His fur felt so real, a sensual delight as she sifted her fingers through it, brushing the sensitive skin between her fingers and sending a shiver of pleasure rushing through her.
Overwhelming. That was the best word to describe him. The tiger was massive, powerful and intimidating. He’d scared her half to death several times. She sensed that it was on purpose. Roric seemed to be ambivalent about her. One minute he was affectionate, and the next, he was impressing on her just how powerless she was against him. With those wicked-sharp claws and teeth, he could tear her to shreds in a heartbeat.
Her skin was damp beneath the sheet she had wrapped around her, a fragile barrier at best. Her heart raced out of control. Still, as frightened as she was, Aimee hadn’t been able to resist touching him when the opportunity arose. She’d dreamed of the tiger so often. Had touched him in the realm of fantasies. But this was different. This was real.
The tiger and the man were one and the same. Unbelievable. Yet she had no choice but to believe. The proof was overwhelming, and if what he was telling her was true, things were going to get ugly very fast.
But for now, it was the two of them. The fact that Roric had changed in front of her, exposing himself in such a manner, was not something she took lightly.
“I know you’re not tame. I understand what a gift you’ve given me, letting me see you in your tiger form. And I’m not afraid. I can’t be. Not after all the dreams I’ve had about you during my life. I’ve seen you roaming the high mountains of faraway countries. I’ve seen you prowl across windswept plains with snow whipping up around you.”
She sank her fingers deeper into his fur. “I can’t explain it. It’s as though I’ve known you for a long time.” She captured the tiger’s large face between her hands and stared into the familiar, intelligent blue eyes. “There’s a connection between us I can’t explain.”
How could she make him understand? Aimee released him and sat with her legs folded tailor-style, tugging the sheet into place so she remained mostly covered. “Ever since the accident that took my parents and left me with scars, I’ve had dreams. The doctors were surprised I lived. I was locked in a coma for days.”
She’d never talked about this with anyone. Probably wouldn’t have been able to even now if he wasn’t in his tiger form. She still found Roric the man too intimidating. The tiger was familiar. Safe.
As if sensing her unease, the tiger scooted closer, resting his massive jaw against her thigh. She stared down at the beast. The man was still there. She could see Roric in the tiger’s eyes. It was unsettling.
“Ever since that time, I’ve had dreams. Mostly nightmares.” She raked her hand through her damp hair and sighed. “For the first few years it was snatches here and there. I didn’t have them often, but when I did, they were very real.”
The tiger licked her thigh where the sheet had slipped aside as if to comfort her. The heavy rasp of his tongue sent goose bumps racing down her leg.
“The only good dream
s I had were the ones with the white tiger.” Roric grew still next to her. She glanced down at him. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird.”
He chuffed as though to encourage her to keep speaking. She shook her head. Now she was an expert in tiger sounds and body language. Not. “I’d catch glimpses of the tiger in my dreams. I always felt safe then. Like I knew I wouldn’t have any nightmares if he was there.
“Ironic, isn’t it? If what you’re telling me is true, then you’ve brought my worst nightmares straight to my doorstep.” That wasn’t quite true, and she was honest enough to admit it. “Or maybe I’ve been a pawn in this thing since the beginning. Just like you. Mythology shows that most of the ancient gods and goddesses really don’t care much for humans. We’re nothing more than collateral damage in their petty fights and wars.”
The tiger reared back and jumped off the bed, clearly offended by her words. She didn’t care. Somehow, through no fault of her own, she’d become stuck in the middle of some ancient feud between Roric and his fellow warriors and Hades, Lord of the Underworld. Whichever way you looked at it, it wasn’t good for her.
“No one ever said life was fair,” she muttered as she watched the tiger pace from one side of the room to the other. She slid off the bed, anchoring the sheet tighter around her once again. Aimee really wished she had some clothes on. Having this kind of conversation half naked wasn’t the least bit comforting.
The tiger froze her with a stare. His blue eyes mirrored his frustration and anger, but smoldering beneath that, she sensed his arousal. No matter what he felt about what she’d said, he still wanted her.
She could relate. The same madness seemed to be consuming her. “Not good,” she whispered under her breath. She had to remember that Roric had an agenda. This was no time for her to lose her head, or her heart.
The tiger threw back his head and gave a mighty roar before he began to change. His arms and legs shifted, muscles and bones reforming, reshaping. He pushed upward, coming to stand on two legs.
Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) Page 9
