Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival)

by N. J. Walters

  Sandra laughed again, her hips working frantically against Roric. “She can watch all she wants. I’ll spread her thighs and make her come if you want. A lot of men fantasize about watching two women get it on. I can make her like it.”

  Aimee’s stomach did a somersault, and she swallowed hard to keep from retching. This was sick.

  Roric forced Sandra to her knees, her hair still tangled in his left hand, his sword clutched in his right. Instead of acting subdued, Sandra seemed pleased with her new position. And Aimee knew why. It brought her face in line with the impressive bulge in Roric’s pants.

  “Ooh, what do we have here? A present for me.” Sandra’s fingers went straight to the leather ties of Roric’s pants. He thrust her aside, sending her tumbling to the floor. She lay on her back, her legs sprawled wide, her ample breasts exposed. “We can have a quickie on the floor if you want. I’m game.”

  Roric’s brought his blade forward in a flash and rested the tip at Sandra’s throat.

  “No quickie?” Sandra sighed. “Okay, I’ll just give you the message.” Reaching between her thighs, she shoved two fingers inside her cunt and began to thrust them in and out. “But I need an orgasm first. You got me all worked up and then didn’t deliver. I wanted your long, hard sword inside me. The one in your pants, not the one in your hand.” Sandra laughed and groaned, her fingers working faster and faster.

  Aimee could see the flood of cream on Sandra’s spread thighs. She couldn’t believe she was seeing this. It was like a bad porn movie or, at the very least, a very bizarre nightmare. It was so surreal she wasn’t certain she wasn’t dreaming, locked inside an endless nightmare. She looked to Roric for confirmation—of what she wasn’t sure. He was watching her, not Sandra. For some reason that reassured her on some level.

  Not even when Sandra writhed on the floor, her fingers pumping in and out of her pussy, her breasts bouncing, did Roric look away. Sandra screamed her release, and the pungent scent of sex filled the air. Aimee wrinkled her nose, wanting to run to the kitchen for a can of disinfectant. She knew she’d have to scrub the floor for sure. Maybe even have it replaced.

  As if he sensed what she was thinking, Roric gave her a curt nod before turning back to Sandra. She was still sprawled unashamedly on the floor, licking cream from her fingers. “Sure you don’t want some?” She offered herself as easily as though she’d offered someone a stick of gum or a mint.

  “I’m certain.” Roric’s wry reply didn’t dent Sandra’s good humor.

  “Your loss.” She rolled gracefully to her feet and made a show of tugging down her skirt and buttoning her jacket. “Either way, I’m out of this crappy little town in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “The message,” Roric prompted.

  Sandra snapped her fingers and a scroll appeared in her hand. With a quick flick of her wrists, she opened it. Aimee figured it was about three feet long and twelve inches wide. The thick, beige parchment with covered in calligraphy. Aimee couldn’t read the language, but it looked like some kind of ancient script.

  “Hades, King of the Underworld, greatest of all the Olympians, sends his greetings,” Sandra began.

  “Skip the pleasantries.” Roric fisted his free hand on his hip and glared at Sandra.

  “Okay, but you’re no fun. I figured having sex after being cooped up for a few thousand years would mellow you out.”

  Roric just glared at her.

  Sandra shot Aimee a look of fake sympathy. “Guess you’re not that good in bed, sweetie.” She flipped a long lock of blonde hair over her shoulder, cleared her throat and continued. “Yadda, yadda. Okay, here we are. While the other gods from the Greek Parthenon are no longer worshipped, Hades’ power has grown legion. There’s no end of folks willing to pledge themselves to him in order to obtain wealth and power.”

  “If that is the case, what does he want with the warriors of the Lady?”

  Sandra shot him a playful pout. “I’m getting to that. Now where was I?”

  “Hades is all powerful,” Aimee prompted, wanting this over as fast as possible. She had no idea how to get rid of Sandra unless she left on her own. None of her life experiences had given her any skills at banishing unwanted demons.

  “Oh, yes. Because he’s generous, he wants to extend his hand in friendship. He’ll forgo claiming your soul if you’ll do one little thing for him.”

  “And that would be?” Roric sounded almost bored with the entire proceedings. Aimee studied him carefully. His face could have been carved from stone. His lips were set in a thin, almost cruel line. His eyes were filled with the cunning patience of a predator.

  Sandra shrugged as though it was of no importance. “He wants you and your friends to head up his legions so he can defeat Zeus and the rest of them once and for all.”

  “Ah,” Roric drawled slowly. “Attacking the Lady, stripping of her of her power and imprisoning her weren’t enough. Now he turns on his kin, but they are still too much for him to handle.”

  “It’s not like that,” Sandra assured him. “They’re weaklings. Hades just wants someone competent at the head of his armies. Everyone still talks about the war between the Lady of the Beasts and Hades.” Her gaze ran admiringly over Roric’s frame. “For a while there, no one knew who would win. Hades couldn’t break any of you.”

  “Where is my Lady now?” There was pure steel in Roric’s voice now.

  Sandra shrugged. “Hades set her free as part of the bargain. She told him how to free all of you, so he released her from the chains that held her all these years.”

  “Where is she?” Roric repeated.

  “In Hell, of course.” She rewound the scroll and tapped it against his chest. “If she can find her way out, she’s free to leave. Last I saw of the poor dear, she was stumbling around in the dark somewhere on the fifth level. Nasty demons there.”

  Roric swung his sword out in an arc. Blood spurted from Sandra’s neck, but in a movement almost too fast for Aimee to see, the other woman managed to arch backward, barely avoiding losing her head.

  Slapping her hand to her neck, she hissed. The human form seemed to dissolve around Sandra, melting away. In her place stood a six-foot demon covered in thick, leathery skin that was a mottled blue. The blonde hair slowly changed color until it was black as midnight. Her eyes blazed red, promising retribution. “You will pay for that, beast.”

  A second sword appeared in Roric’s left hand and he went on the attack. The demon jumped aside, crashing into the coffee table and reducing it to rubble. The sofa went askew as the demon kicked it aside. Aimee shrieked as the creature hissed again, long fangs flashing beside a double row of teeth. How in the hell did you fight something like that?

  Roric showed no such hesitation, launching himself at the demon. The creature shrieked as both blades cut deep. A black hole seemed to appear out of nowhere, filling the corner of the room. Thick, black smoke roiled outward.

  Aimee slapped her hand over her nose and mouth and ran for the door to open it. The scent of sulfur and fire singed her nostrils. She could taste it on her tongue. It reminded her too much of the stench from her nightmares.

  The demon stepped backward, disappearing into the void. The black hole closed in on itself, leaving the room reeking of burnt flesh and fear. Aimee stared at what was left of her living room. Everything would have to be replaced, including the floor, which had been scorched black where the hole had opened.

  She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “That was…” Aimee didn’t know quite what to say that wouldn’t sound totally crazy. All of this was insane.

  “Are you all right?” Roric strode toward her, the two swords disappearing from his hands in a flash.

  “I’m not sure.” It was suddenly all too much for her. Her vision dimmed and she shook her head to clear it. She sank to the floor beside the door, gulping in the clean, fresh air that flowed in from outside.

  Roric crouched beside her, his bulk blocking most of the carnage behind him, but
nothing could obliterate the stench from Hell.

  Slowly, she raised her head and stared into a pair of concerned, pale blue eyes. “What are we going to do?”

  “Whatever we have to,” came the grim reply.

  Frustration clung to Roric, much like the lingering stink from the smoke. His reflexes were slower than they used to be. He should have been able to destroy the succubus with little problem. He also should have gotten more answers out of her. His attention had been fractured between the demon and Aimee.

  He’d sensed her feelings of betrayal when she discovered exactly what her friend was. Roric had sensed Aimee’s loneliness. Finding out she’d been used had to hurt.

  Then there had been the way she’d reacted when the succubus had tried to tempt him physically. Aimee hadn’t liked that at all. He could have easily reassured her that not even the most skilled sex demon could compare to her natural loveliness, but he didn’t want Sandra or, in turn, Hades to have that kind of information. They would use it against him in a heartbeat.

  Instead, he’d had to watch Aimee withdraw further from him with each passing second. Not physically. After all, there was really nowhere for her to run. But mentally and emotionally, he’d felt her slam the door between them, felt her putting up inner walls to protect herself. The beast within him had roared in displeasure. Roric had barely refrained from doing the same. He worried about what the little human thought of it all.

  Which made no sense at all. He’d never worried about a human woman before. His duty was clear. He had to stay alive until midnight tonight. Once the curse was broken, he was free from Hades forever. After that, he had to find a way to release his fellow warriors and free the Lady from Hell. There was no room in his life for Aimee and the unsettling feelings she stirred within him.

  Sitting on the floor, covered in black soot and sweat, she should have looked unattractive, but instead, she was beautiful to him. Roric’s cock was as hard as stone. Even now, he wanted to take her to the bare floor and bury himself in her heat until the thousands of years of loneliness were nothing but a distant memory.

  He gritted his teeth, ignoring the desire clawing at his insides. The animal within him growled and paced. The tiger recognized its mate and had no problem letting him know it wasn’t pleased with him.

  Mate.

  Impossible. He was an immortal warrior and she was a human. Her lifespan was but a blink in time. No matter what he might feel for her, their being together was not meant to be.

  “Are you all right?” Her soft voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His groin tightened and he swallowed a groan. When it came to his control, this woman was more lethal than a hundred succubae.

  “I’m fine.” His voice was curt, but he couldn’t help it. He was in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He yanked at the tail of the T-shirt he was wearing. It covered some of the evidence of his erection but not all of it.

  He held out his hand and something inside him relaxed when Aimee placed her fingers against his. Her hands were soft and so much smaller than his. Yet there was great talent in them. And not just in the bedroom, although there was no doubt about her talent there. He barely refrained from grinning. She’d want to know what made him smile, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate where his mind had wandered.

  But he’d seen her artwork and was awed by the fluidity and realism she’d captured.

  Her fingers tightened around his, drawing his attention. He stared at their hands, his tanned and hers light. They were very different, yet they fit together perfectly.

  He’d wondered if she would touch him again of her own accord or if the appearance of the demon had made her rethink her earlier friendliness with him. Maybe that had been the point of the succubus coming here this morning—to drive a wedge between him and Aimee. It would certainly make it easier for her to betray him. That kind of manipulation was right up Hades’ alley.

  Tugging, he helped her up from the floor and watched as she glanced around her living room. Beneath the malodorous odor of brimstone was the unmistakable scent of Aimee. He inhaled deep, drawing it into his lungs to help drive out the stench of the demon.

  “That was…” She swallowed hard. “That was impressive.”

  Roric snorted. “All flash, no substance.”

  “If that’s flash, I’m glad there was no substance,” she retorted. “There’s no way this can be cleaned. I’m going to have to toss out everything.”

  “We have bigger problems than that. Sandra was only the first contact. For some reason, Hades wants me on his side. When that doesn’t happen, things are going to get hot around here.”

  “I know.” She whispered her agreement. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to deal with all of this and not lose my mind in the process.” Lifting her face to him, she tried to smile, but he could see the worry etched in her eyes.

  “A few days ago, I was a graphic artist, an illustrator. I lived alone, had a simple life. Sure, I had a few nightmares, but I was dealing with them, using them to fuel my creative spark. Now I’m in the middle of a supposedly ancient war, and I just found out the only friend I thought I had is really a demon.”

  Roric could take the separation between them no longer. He tugged her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. He buried his face in her hair. It smelled of brimstone, but beneath it was her unique perfume, a combination of vanilla and woman. “It will be fine.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight. He swallowed hard, unable to remember a time when someone had just held him. There was nothing sexual in her touch. It was one person offering comfort to another. Roric tried to catalogue everything about the moment, the feel of her soft fingers against the base of his spine, the brush of her hair against his chin, the quiet sound of her breathing.

  An odd feeling crept over him. It was something he hadn’t felt in so long, if indeed ever, he didn’t recognize it at first. Peace. Aimee brought him a sense of peace.

  She let out a deep sigh, her breath brushing against his chest. Even through the fabric of the shirt he wore, he could feel the warmth from it. He barely kept from groaning aloud as the erotic caress made his skin burn. She had no idea of the effect she had on him. No one did. And he had to keep it that way.

  Still, when she pulled away, he wanted to haul her back into his embrace and never let her go. Reluctantly, he lowered his arms to his sides.

  “You can’t promise that.” It took him a second to remember what they’d been talking about. By the time he did, Aimee had resumed talking again. “If Hades wants you to lead his armies, then he must have wanted the same from the three warriors already released.”

  “Yes.” That grim fact had crossed Roric’s mind too.

  “That means they’re either on Hades’ side or dead.”

  “Dead. There is no way they’d turn their back on the rest of us or the Lady.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” Sympathy darkened her eyes, but he ignored it. She’d just been betrayed, so it was natural for her to assume others would betray just as easily. She didn’t know his comrades as he did. Betrayal was not a part of the warriors’ creed. Death before dishonor. It was the foundation of all they’d lived for, everything they’d done. They knew no other way.

  Turning away from her, he began to pace. “Mordecai, Phoenix and Stavros are all dead.” There was no way they’d face imprisonment. Not again. If there was one thing he knew, it was that they would rather die than risk spending another five thousand years or more locked away, unable to move. Death was preferable.

  Roric reached the end of the room, spun on his heel and stalked toward Aimee. “They would not turn.”

  “Of course not.” He could tell by her tone she was trying to placate him. She didn’t understand the bond the warriors shared between them. The seven of them had fought side-by-side since the dawn of time. They’d spent the past several thousand years chained together in one form or another with only each other to tal
k to. There was no way any of them would turn rogue.

  Or was there? Roric hated the insidious voice that whispered in the back of his brain. Mordecai had always been a loner, even within the group. Stavros had pointed out on more than one occasion that the serpent looked out for himself at all costs.

  No! He wouldn’t think that way. That was just a trick of Hades to make him weak. His eyes narrowed and he glared at Aimee. Maybe she was an instrument of the devil, sent to divert his attention.

  “You know them better than me.” She gave a small, forced chuckle and wrapped her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms and shoulders. “I don’t know them at all.”

  “No, you don’t.” His voice was brusque, his tone one of finality. As far as he was concerned, this subject was closed. He would dwell upon it no longer. It only served to weaken him. If he could not trust his fellow warriors then he could trust no one.

  She shut the front door and turned away from him, but not before he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. Roric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. This situation was more complicated than he’d imagined it would be. He was ready for a fight to the death. What he wasn’t prepared for was the tangle of feelings he had for this woman.

  Peering out the window, she kept her back to him as she spoke. “So what’s next? Sandra’s little gambit didn’t work, but obviously nothing has changed. Hades still wants your help, and the demon said something about being out of here in less than twenty-four hours. That means the clock is ticking. What happens if you refuse?”

  He went to stand behind her, wishing he could see her reflection in the glass more clearly. It was faint, but it was there. Barely. He couldn’t make out her features, couldn’t see what emotions clouded her expressive eyes.

  His hands hovered over her shoulders. He wanted to touch her, but knew that would only make things worse for both of them. He needed to keep his head clear and his focus on the task at hand.

  “If I refuse, Hades will try to kill me and steal my soul.” He leaned closer until their bodies were touching. His chest brushed against her back. She tensed but didn’t move away. He savored the heat from her skin, wanted to rub his chin against her shoulder and nip at the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. He didn’t want to tell her what else would happen, but he owed her the truth. “And Aimee, he’ll try to kill you too.”