Night of the Tiger hc-1

by N. J. Walters

  “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.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aimee whirled around so fast, she clunked her head against Roric’s chin. It was like hitting a chunk of stone. The man was hard everywhere. “Ouch.” She rubbed the top of her head and glared at him.

  “That’s just great,” she muttered. “Not only is my life a mess, but Hades himself wants me dead.”

  “I’ll protect you,” he promised.

  “Sure.” He’d do his best, certainly, but she never doubted for a moment if it came down to a choice between her and his fellow warriors, she’d be on the losing end. And why not? She was nothing more to him than a way to be released from the carousel and a hot roll between the sheets. She’d do well to remember that.

  His lips were set in a grim line, his dark brows narrowed as he scowled at her. “Do you doubt me?”

  She shook her head, ignoring the headache brewing behind her eyes. “You’ll do your best.” Aimee glanced away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. Those pale blue eyes were like laser beams cutting through every layer of her defenses. She was very afraid he’d sense her growing feelings for him, which were incredibly stupid when she thought about it. Still, there was no accounting for the human heart. Somehow, some way, he’d broken through the ice surrounding her and made her feel again. Deeply.

  Maybe it was his ability to live in the moment. To enjoy their time in bed together, to savor their simple meal, to put Sandra out of his mind the moment she was gone. Perhaps it was because he was immortal and these things really were just a brief second in time to him. Not important in the grand scheme of things

  To her, they were precious moments of a life that would not last more than another fifty or sixty years tops, much less if Hades and his crew had their way. She would always remember the way Roric touched her. The way he made her feel as though she was special. The fierce, yet gentle way he’d made love to her.

  It’s just sex, she reminded herself. You had good sex—no, phenomenal sex—for the first time in your life. Don’t confuse it with love or any other tender emotions. She bit her bottom lip, thankful she wasn’t blurting this stuff out loud.

  Roric was watching her face intently. She stepped away from him, but he caught her arm. “Aimee…”

  She shook her head, not wanting to talk about them. They had bigger problems. “There is a time limit on this, isn’t there?” She was tired of dealing without all the facts.

  Roric nodded. “According to the spell the Lady placed on us, Hades has the turn of one day to kill us and take our souls or bring us over to his side. If neither of those things happens, we’re free from the curse and Hades cannot touch us. Truthfully, I remember little of the last part of the spell. I had begun to change into my tiger form and lost all ability to move. I know little of what she said in the end. Only that there was one day involved. I was too busy fighting to escape.

  “None of us paid much attention to that part of the curse. We never expected to be set free.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Aimee muttered. So short a time to decide so much. “What happens next?”

  He frowned and lifted his hands to her face. Tenderly, he stroked her cheekbones. “Now we figure out Hades’ next move and try to counter it. We need to find out why exactly he needs us. It’s not as though he doesn’t have legions of demons at his disposal. I’m not buying that he simply needs us to lead his troops. There’s got to be more to it than that.”

  His voice was hoarse as he rubbed the pad of his forefinger over her bottom lip. A zing of pleasure shot straight to her core. Her lips parted and he dipped his finger inward. She brushed her tongue against the tip of it, tasting his salty skin.

  A low, purring sound emanated from deep in his chest, reminding her he was more than just a man. He was the white tiger as well. It was exciting and scary as all get out at the same time.

  He angled closer and she took a step away. Her back hit the wall, and he crowded closer until his chest flattened her breasts. Aimee sucked in a deep breath, inadvertently drawing his finger deeper into her mouth. The purring sound grew louder, vibrating up and down her spine before delving deeper into her very core. Her panties grew damp.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The slight movement caused her breasts to slide against his muscular chest. Her nipples tightened and she moaned. Her skin was hot, her clothing uncomfortable. She wanted to strip naked and rub herself all over Roric.

  He pulled his finger away from her lips and leaned closer. His nose brushed against hers. His long, soft hair fell forward, stroking her face in a sensual caress. He dipped hard, callused fingers beneath the band of her sweater and teased the band of flesh above her navel.

  She wrapped her hand around his wrist. They had to stop. The back of her hand brushed against his erection. Even through his pants, she could feel it, hard and hot, pulsing against her skin. Unable to resist, she slowly released her grip on his arm and turned her hand slowly until her palm was pressed against him.

  He growled. The sound was so much like a real tiger it startled her. She jerked her hand away as her eyes flew to his. His nostrils flared and his lips parted slightly. The blue of his eyes were almost swallowed up by the black pupils. His breathing was ragged, his features stark with need.

  Aimee swallowed hard. Every cell in her body responded to him. His need was hers. Her core was soaked with cream and her breasts ached for his touch. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d cast some sort of sexual spell on her.

  The thought gave her pause. She licked her lips. His eyes followed every movement of her tongue. “Is this normal?”

  He leaned down and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Is what normal?” Capturing the lobe between his teeth, he tugged gently.

  Aimee’s legs shook and her knees turned to jelly. She clutched his biceps for support. His skin was warm and supple, but there was no give in him anywhere. “This…this sexual energy between us. Is this something you’re doing so I’ll be more cooperative? Some special power you have?” The thought appalled her. “I’ll help you no matter what.” It was important to her that he understood that.

  He jerked back so fast she stumbled to one side. He clamped his hands around her upper arms to keep her from falling, but held her at arm’s length. She tried to move, but he tight
ened his grip almost imperceptibly. He wasn’t hurting her, but the intent was clear. She was going nowhere until he allowed it.

  Nothing showed on his face. His features were blank again. Only his eyes gave her a clue to what he was thinking. The fire in them was unmistakable. But the lust was gone, replaced by anger.

  “Is that what you think?” His voice was calm and soft, but she wasn’t fooled for one second. Roric was furious with her.

  She shrugged, or tried to. His hold on her made it virtually impossible for her to move her upper body. “It was just a thought.”

  “Well, don’t think it.”

  Her own anger began to bubble up inside her. “What was I supposed to think? I don’t exactly have men beating down my door, you know. I’ve got a scarred face and a bum leg. I’m not exactly a prize.” Her breathing was coming faster and faster. “And you’re this immortal hunk. I’m supposed to believe you just happened to be attracted to me?”

  “Yes.” That one word was little more than a guttural groan as he yanked her closer and slammed his mouth down on hers. Heat suffused her entire body. She stopped trying to get away from Roric and surged toward him.

  His grip changed. Instead of trying to hold her at arm’s length, his hands slid down her arms and over her back until he was cupping her ass. Aimee moaned as he hauled her against him. His cock was hard against her belly. Hitching one leg over his thigh, she rubbed her mound against it. She panted for breath as sexual heat began to well up within her.

  Roric lifted her and she twined her legs around his waist. The motion brought her pussy hard against his straining erection. Even though there were layers of clothing separating them, the heat and force of the movement felt incredible. He was so hard, so hot. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face against the curve of his shoulder as she tried desperately to move her swollen clit against him. She was so close to coming.

  Suddenly, Roric was pushing her legs down and away. She mewled her disappointment, but there was no way to stop him. He was so much stronger than she was. Her feet hit the floor and her back rested against the wall. Roric growled as his fingers went to the waistband of her jeans and tore them open. The zipper came down in a flash.

  He dipped his big hands beneath the fabric and shoved it to her knees. Roric dropped to the floor in front of her, pushing her thighs as wide as they would go. With her jeans and panties caught around her calves, it wasn’t far. Aimee struggled to get her clothing off, but Roric gripped her thighs in his hands, leaned forward and kissed the scars that surrounded her left knee and ran up her thigh.

  Aimee froze. Her chest rose and fell with every breath she sucked into her starving lungs. He was so close a lock of his hair tickled her inner thighs. Raising his head, he stared up at her and growled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the men around here, but I want you. Only you.” Leaning forward, he nipped at her flesh with enough pressure to make her jump, but not enough to hurt her. As always, he carefully controlled his strength.

  “I could have had Sandra if all I wanted was a quick, hard fuck. A succubus will do anything.” He separated the folds of her sex with his thumbs and flicked his tongue over her clit. Lightning bolts of pleasure shot to the rest of her body and she moaned. Not even the mention of Sandra could kill the mood, not when he was touching her like that.

  Roric drew his tongue over her slick folds, delving into every one. “But she left me cold.”

  Okay, maybe it could dim the mood somewhat. “I don’t want to talk about her,” she groaned.

  Then he touched her again and Aimee couldn’t think. Not with his clever tongue making every nerve in her body tingle. And certainly not with his thumbs stroking over her pussy.

  “Do you understand me?”

  She shook her head, not understanding what he wanted from her. He growled, long and low. Aimee shivered at the barely restrained violence she sensed lurking just below the thin veneer of civility that surrounded Roric. He was as elemental and relentless as the ocean tides.

  He pressed two long fingers past her opening. She was tight, but he was unstoppable, not pausing until his fingers were buried in her pussy. He pulled his fingers out slowly, curving them upward as he did so.

  A cry broke from her lips as he hit an incredibly sensitive spot inside her. She was panting hard now, sweat beading on her brow. There wasn’t enough air in the room for her to breathe.

  “You are mine,” he continued. His tone was hard and firm. “Your sweet cream belongs to me.” He lapped at her core, sucking her clit until she was almost blind with pleasure. Sitting back on his heels, he blew over her heated flesh. Aimee gripped his hair in her fists, desperately trying to draw him back to her.

  “Your skin is so soft.” Ignoring her painful grip on his hair, he rubbed his cheek against her thigh. Her inner muscles contracted. Cream trickled down the inside of her left thigh. “Your cunt is hot and wet and mine.”

  “Roric,” she pleaded. She needed to come or she was going to go out of her mind. The man was torturing her with pleasure.

  “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know that I want you.”

  “You want me,” she panted.

  He nodded. “What do you want?”

  “You,” she groaned. “I want you.”

  Stretching out his right hand, he drew his index finger over her clit. Aimee cried out.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” His tone was hard and unrelenting. She knew then that she’d hurt him when she’d suggested he’d slept with her to gain her cooperation. It was an odd feeling to know that she could affect him in such a way. Made her feel not quite so alone with her out-of-control emotions.

  “Yes. Fuck me.”

  Roric stilled. She sensed every muscle within him was coiled and ready to spring. “Are you sure?”

  Even now he was giving her a chance to back away. She tugged on his hair one final time. “Yes,” she cried. She had to have him inside before she went mad.

  He moved so fast he was nothing but a blur. Surging to his feet, he whirled her around until she was facing the wall. “Lean forward.”

  She did as he asked. The motion exposed her pussy to him. She was still wearing her sweater and bra. Her jeans and panties were wrapped around her ankles. Yet she felt more exposed, more vulnerable, than if she’d been totally naked. That’s what Roric was demanding of her—total surrender. She trusted him with her body, trusted him not to hurt her.

  The sound of leather ties being tugged open reached her ears. Then she felt the hard press of his cock head against her opening. With her legs partially hobbled, it was a tight fit. His erection was wide, the girth of it stretching her with every inch he sank into her. Keeping one hand on her belly, he flexed his hips and pushed deeper. When he was seated to the hilt, he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her steady.

  Cool air flowed over her exposed skin. The stark comparison to the heat radiating from her was incredibly erotic. Her fingers stretched over the flat wall to keep herself steady. The thundering of her heart drowned out all other sound. She could smell the musk from Roric’s skin, feel his hands against her body.

  He pulled his shaft almost all the way out before surging inward. Aimee gasped. She was stretched to the point of pain, but it felt amazingly good. Roric set a punishing rhythm, slamming into her over and over again in short, hard strokes.

  Her feet left the floor several times as he pounded his flesh against hers. His balls slapped against her pussy. She pushed back to meet him with every stroke, driving him impossibly deep. Her inner muscles clenched hard. His cock swelled and pulsed.

  She fell forward, unable to hold herself upright any longer. Resting her cheek against the wall, she reached behind with her right hand, desperate to touch him. She gripped his hip, digging her short nails into his flesh

  Roric growled, sliding one hand lower, letting his fingers stroke over her clit, a light whisper, barely a touch. Yet it was like adding gasoline to an already out-of-control inferno.

>   Everything inside her exploded in a flash of light. Aimee cried out as her orgasm overtook her. She heard Roric yell, felt the hot jets of semen spurt deep as he came, pushing her orgasm to another level. She chanted his name over and over. Her body shook uncontrollably, but his strong arms held her as wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through her.

  Aimee plastered her hands against the wall, her breathing coming in hard, sharp gasps. She rested her forehead between her hands and concentrated on recovering from the shockingly powerful orgasm.

  She heard Roric’s heavy breath, felt it against the curve of her neck. His lips grazed her nape. His cock gradually grew less rigid and he finally withdrew, sending an aftershock of pleasure rushing through her.

  Her left leg was quivering, the muscles protesting the unfamiliar activity she’d just put them through. It buckled beneath her, but she transferred her weight to her other leg and remained upright. Roric held her easily, lending her his strength as she awkwardly yanked her jeans back into place.

  Now that the passion was fading, she couldn’t believe she’d had unprotected sex yet again. She mentally shrugged. At this point it didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t have any diseases and neither did she. If she lived past today, she’d worry about the consequences of her actions. Until then, she’d take her pleasure wherever she could get it.

  Taking a deep breath, she plastered what she hoped was a calm expression on her face and turned. Roric was watching her, a solemn expression on his face.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  He gave her a curt nod as he shoved his hand through his hair. The laces of his leather pants were tightened, but not tied. The black T-shirt he wore clung to every inch of his muscled torso. His arms and face were slick with perspiration, making it shimmer. He looked like a cover model for a sexy women’s magazine. Her artist’s eye catalogued every inch of him. She wanted to be able to sketch him when he was gone. Assuming they both survived, that is.