She stopped at the doorway to her room and stared at the mess that was her bed. It was time to get back to real life. Striding forward, she grabbed a corner of her comforter, yanked it off and dropped it on the floor in a heap. She stripped the bed and gathered all the soiled linens, as well as the wet towels from the bathroom, before trotting downstairs.
Not pausing in the kitchen, Aimee went straight to the laundry room and dumped all the linens on the floor. She sorted through them and stuffed a load of sheets and towels in the washer. After setting it to the proper cycle, she padded to the kitchen.
“Coffee,” she muttered as she dug out the can of dark roast from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. Her stomach growled in protest as she filled the pot with water and scooped out spoonfuls of coffee grounds into the filter. She flicked the switch on the side of the coffeemaker and opened the cupboard door as the machine began to gurgle. Her stomach growled again as she searched the near-empty cupboard.
“I’ve got to go grocery shopping,” she muttered, shoving aside a few bottles of dried spices to get to a box in the back. The cupboards were all but bare. They always got that way before she made herself go to town. She’d grown up just outside the small community of Salvation, North Carolina, but she’d never felt as though she were a part of it, had always felt as though she were on the outside looking in.
Aimee grabbed the box of crackers and set it on the counter before rummaging in the refrigerator. A half-empty bottle of ketchup and some mayonnaise long past the expiry date were not appetizing in the least. She gave a crow of triumph when she came up with a jar of peanut butter. There wasn’t much there, but there was enough to spread on the dozen or so crackers she’d found.
After she’d emptied both the cracker box and peanut butter jar, she poured a cup of coffee and sipped the dark brew as she made a grocery list. Opening the refrigerator, she peered inside. It was almost empty and about as appealing as her cupboards.
She dumped a block of blue cheese that she was almost certain was supposed to be mozzarella into the garbage. Several bottles of condiments followed. Her grocery list grew with each passing second. She’d go to the post office while she was in town and check the mail too. She was expecting some art supplies she’d ordered online a couple weeks ago as well as a check for the last graphic novel she’d illustrated.
The nightmare hovered in the back of her mind, but Aimee shoved it aside. With the sun shining in through the windows and the mundane chores of life surrounding her, it was easy to convince herself the happenings of last night were nothing more than a dream.
Chapter Two
A week later
Wind skittered over the parched ground, pushing dried leaves in front of it. Dust whipped up, swirling in an exotic dance before being dispersed by the cool breeze. A rabbit hopped across the clearing, stopped, lifted its pink nose and sniffed the air. A deer froze at the edge of the woods, sensing everything was not as it should be.
Evil.
On the wind and moving steadily closer. The rabbit bounded quickly into the woods. The deer bolted, racing deep into the forest, not looking back. The birds took flight, while the smaller woodland creatures burrowed into their dens and hidey-holes. Crows cawed raucously, flapping their wings as they soared above the clearing.
The sound of a truck interrupted their chatter. Another quickly followed it. Voices rang out as a convoy of vehicles flanked either side of the large clearing. Metal clanked as equipment was unloaded. Canvas flapped in the wind as tents were raised.
Shade’s Carnival has come to Salvation, North Carolina.
Aimee sighed as she climbed out of the low-slung, vintage red Mustang. This was the last place she wanted to be tonight, but her friend had insisted.
“It’ll be fun,” she muttered, mocking what her friend, Sandra Travers, had said. Aimee would rather have a root canal.
“I heard that.” Sandra closed the car door with a thunk and leaned her arms on top of the roof, peering over it. “I know that you prefer to be a hermit, but honestly, Aimee, even you’ve never been quite this bad before.”
“I know. I’ve just been preoccupied lately. With work,” she added before Sandra could ask.
Aimee knew there was no defense against her friend’s accusations. There was no denying she didn’t like being out in public, much preferred being at home in her art studio. Even as a child, she’d spent all her time with her colored pencils, sketch books and oil paints. In school, she’d constantly doodled when she should have been concentrating on her social studies or math assignments.
Her teachers had predicted she’d never graduate high school or get a job if she didn’t stop scribbling pictures on every available sheet of paper. She’d proved them wrong on both counts. She’d not only graduated from high school, but had managed a year of art school before returning to Salvation. Her doodles, as many had deemed them, not only provided her with a comfortable living, but also allowed her to do something she loved on a daily basis.
Aimee considered herself luckier than most folks she knew, even though her life hadn’t been an easy one. Both her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was seventeen. She’d been in the car with them when the drunk driver of a delivery truck had slammed into them, and she hadn’t escaped unharmed.
Shattered glass had left her face with several scars that had faded to thin white lines over time. Her left arm and both her legs had been broken, but her left leg had been the worst. It had taken several surgeries and months of rehabilitation for Aimee to be able to walk again. She still limped when she was tired, and her left leg would never be as strong as it once was. But she was alive. Her parents hadn’t been as lucky.
By the time she’d been released from the hospital, her eighteenth birthday had come and gone and she was an adult. She’d moved back into her family home on the outskirts of town and adjusted to her new life. Art school had beckoned and she’d gone, but only for a year. Aimee found she missed the mountains and her childhood home, needed the connection with her past to keep her grounded. So she’d moved back to Salvation, lucked into her current job and never looked back.
Even after a decade, the townspeople still called her “that poor Horner girl” in whispers whenever they saw her, recounting her tragic story. It was frustrating, but Aimee had long ago learned to ignore it and to live with the stares that followed her whenever she went into town.
“Aimee.” Sandra’s voice broke through her memories, bringing her back to the present.
She offered her friend a smile. It wasn’t much of one, but it was the best she could do. Sandra Travers couldn’t understand what it was like to be the object of pity and sometimes ridicule. Her friend was tall and slender, with thick blonde hair that fell halfway down her back and framed sultry blue eyes. She had the body of a centerfold model, and men stopped in their tracks whenever they saw her.
The blonde bombshell had unwittingly caused several car accidents just by walking down the sidewalk. Flirting came natural to her and was simply a part of who she was. Sandra was outgoing and vivacious, chatting to everyone. She loved to be out and about among people and drew them to her like flies to honey.
In spite of the protective walls Aimee had built around herself, Sandra had knocked them down one by one when she’d moved to Salvation less than a year ago, and the two of them had become unlikely friends.
It had started with coffee at Kathy’s Kitchen, the local diner. And now they had dinner at least once a week and met for coffee whenever Aimee went to town. They talked often, Sandra regaling Aimee with her stories of dating and all the latest gossip about life in Salvation.
“Aimee, let’s go.” Sandra’s impatient plea got her full attention.
Determined not to spoil their evening out, Aimee hooked her purse strap over her shoulder and started toward the fairgrounds. “Sure.”
Although she felt fine most of the time, she was careful as she walked over the uneven ground. In spite of all the doctors’ best
efforts years ago, her left leg would never be strong. It paid to be cautious. The last thing she wanted to do was take a spill on the uneven ground and end up humiliating herself in front of most of the townspeople who’d come here tonight. They talked about her enough without her giving them something else to set their tongues wagging.
Because she lived alone and never dated, rumors abounded that she was gay. That was the best of them. Other rumors hinted at much darker things, mostly because she made her living doing artwork for graphic novels, most of which were horror or fantasy based. Many of the folks around here figured that must put her in league with the devil.
After the dreams of the past few months, Aimee was beginning to think they might be right. But, for the moment at least, the buzz in town was centered on the traveling carnival. It had raised quite a stir in the small mountain town of Salvation. They hadn’t seen this kind of traveling show here in more than twenty years.
Most carnivals of this sort had died out decades ago, losing out to bigger and better permanent theme parks. At first, the town fathers had been uncertain about having a large group of unknown origins setting up shop nearby. But a quick trip to the fairgrounds and a hefty permit fee had gone a long way toward settling their qualms. The carnival was allowed to stay.
Aimee tilted her head back and peered up at the sky. It was well past dusk, and the stars were starting to twinkle in the night sky. The air was crisp and clean, as it can be only in the fall of the year. It was early October. The time of year she loved the most.
It had been a week since she’d had her last nightmare, for which she was eternally grateful. She’d certainly dreamed since then, but her latest dream had taken on a different tone entirely.
“Come on, Aimee. We don’t want to miss any of the fun.” Sandra was already several steps ahead, leading Aimee toward the bright lights and sounds of the carnival.
Even she had to admit that it was impressive for a traveling show. They’d parked their trucks and vehicles around the perimeter of the field, using the natural barrier of the woods to surround the fairgrounds. A ticket booth stood at the entrance beneath a brightly lit marquee that proclaimed it to be SHADE’S CARNIVAL.
As she watched, the red lights flickered and, for a moment, the lights that made up the first S and the apostrophe went dark. Aimee blinked as she read the sign again. HADES CARNIVAL. A shiver ran down her spine, and she stopped dead in her tracks. People continued to move around her, heading to the ticket booth to purchase tickets for the rides and attractions. The S and apostrophe suddenly lit up again, and the moment was past.
“Must be bad bulbs.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glad she’d worn a heavy sweater over her long-sleeved shirt. Even though the days were still relatively warm, the nights cooled off quickly here in the mountains.
Following the crowd, she tried to ignore the sidelong glances she received from some of the townspeople. Even after all these years, she was self-conscious about the faint scars that traced over the left side of her face. Aimee nodded to some folks and said hello to others. They returned her greeting, but then they all looked away. None of them stopped to speak.
A miracle. That’s what she was. A miracle. Or so the doctors had said. By rights, she should have died in the crash with her parents. She’d been in a coma for several weeks and everyone had given up hope of her ever coming out of it. Then suddenly, one morning she’d opened her eyes and spoken to the nurse hovering over her. She could still remember the poor woman’s cry of surprise.
Maybe the accident had been the catalyst for her nightmares. Not surprising in view of everything she’d been through. Most would say that her bad dreams were normal considering she’d lost both her parents in one split second. But it went much further than that. She’d begun seeing creatures that shouldn’t exist. They haunted her sleeping hours and the dim recesses of her mind.
She supposed she should be grateful. Setting those images on paper had led to her getting a job she loved. Something good had come from something bad. A trade-off of sorts.
Her dreams were almost all sinister, except for the ones with the white tiger. Just the thought of the great beast made her smile. She’d dreamed of the tiger for a long time, starting when she was still in the hospital all those years ago.
Huge and deadly and beautiful, the tiger came to her when she was most afraid, offering silent comfort in her sleep. They couldn’t communicate in words, but Aimee sensed the connection that existed between them, and she was glad for it. It gave her a break from the constant barrage of disturbing images that constantly troubled her sleep. She always awoke after one of her tiger dreams feeling not quite so alone in the world.
The tiger dreams were the only regular dreams she had that weren’t nightmares. That is until last night.
A shiver went down her spine, but this one wasn’t due to fear or unease. No, this one had everything to do with that particular dream. It had been unlike any she’d ever experienced before.
He came to her from out of the darkness, a vision of potent, raw masculinity. Incredibly tall and broad, he strode toward the end of her bed. He did nothing to hide his nudity. In fact, he seemed totally at home with no clothing. He also did nothing to hide the fact that he wanted her. A rather impressive erection jutted out from his body, thick and full and hard.
Aimee knew she should be afraid, but oddly she wasn’t. A sense of knowingness surrounded her, as though she’d met him before, as if she somehow recognized him on some deep level. That was impossible, of course. There was no way she’d ever forget meeting a man like this.
Anticipation welled up within her. Her breasts swelled and grew heavy, her nipples puckered into tight buds. Dampness coated her sex and trickled between her thighs as sexual desire flared to life within her.
She’d had sex before. Once. Just shortly after she’d returned home from the hospital. That had been more than enough for Aimee. She’d known Matt Ames since they were both kids, and they’d been dating for several months before the accident. She’d been half in love with him and thought he’d felt the same about her. But even he’d barely been able to hide his dismay whenever he looked at her scarred face. She should have known it wouldn’t work when he’d insisted they make love in the dark, under the covers. Not that she’d protested at the time. She’d had enough insecurities of her own, and that had suited her just fine. When it was over, he’d jumped out of bed, promising to call her. He’d never contacted her again, and she’d never called him.
But she sensed this man was different. Sex with him would be totally unlike her first experience. It would be raw and elemental. This was a man who knew how to make a woman’s body writhe with pleasure, to draw her to the edge over and over again before letting her reach orgasm.
More than that, Aimee sensed this man could touch the secret parts of her she kept hidden from others. This man could steal her very soul if she let him.
She wasn’t really sure she had a choice.
His biceps rippled as he reached out his hand to her. His impossibly wide shoulders and chest tapered down to a trim waist, emphasizing his washboard abs. But it was his face and unusual hair that captivated her.
His hair was black, with slender stripes of white flowing through it. Or maybe it was white, with black stripes. Not that it mattered. It fell past his shoulders and looked incredibly soft and silky. She curled her fingers inward to keep from reaching out to touch it.
There was no softness to be found in his face. His features were rugged, all planes and angles. He wasn’t handsome in a classical way. He was masculine and compelling and radiated a sense of power that went all the way to the core of the man. He knew who he was and didn’t care what anyone else thought of him.
And his eyes—his eyes were the most incredible shade of blue she’d ever seen. They were clear and pale, yet utterly mesmerizing. Much like the man himself.
Aimee knew she was dreaming. She had trained herself years ago to be aware of what was a dream and w
hat was reality. It was the only way she knew to keep herself sane. Usually it was easy, a simple matter of separating fact from fantasy. If she was seeing demons or the white tiger, she was dreaming. And if a strange man was in her bedroom, it had to be a dream. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a man she trusted enough to let into her room.
If this hadn’t been a dream, she would have been afraid of the stranger. As it was, she allowed herself to fully experience the erotic attraction along with the twinge of fear that refused to subside.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Oh God, his voice was incredible. Deep and compelling and downright sexy, it curled her toes. Aimee wanted him to keep talking so she could sink into the sound of his voice. She didn’t care what he said. The words didn’t matter as long as he kept talking.
He was much nearer now, so close she could touch him if she wanted to. Even though the sheets were still pulled tight to her chest, she felt naked before him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, rubbing her nipples against the fabric of her nightgown. She swallowed hard as her core began to pulse. She wanted this to happen even though she knew it was only a dream.
Aimee slid her hand from beneath the covers. His eyes widened, and she saw the flare of masculine satisfaction as she reached out to him. Mere inches separated their fingers. Closer. She wanted to feel the stroke of his skin against hers.
She licked her lips, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. His erection seemed to swell, growing even larger. Closer. Almost touching. She could feel the heat from his skin. Almost there.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Aimee was jerked back to the present by the sound of her friend’s voice. Heart racing, palms sweating, she could only stare at Sandra. What had just happened? She’d lost all sense of time and place, slipping into a dreamlike state to relive the dream from last night. That had never happened to her before.
“I’m fine,” she managed to get out as she sucked in a deep, calming breath. Her knees felt like jelly, so she stiffened them and prayed her weak leg wouldn’t give out from beneath her. She surreptitiously wiped her palms on her jeans.
Night of the Tiger hc-1 Page 3
