Night of the Tiger hc-1

by N. J. Walters

  “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 wo
uld 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.

  He shoved his hips toward her, grinding his erection against her belly. “I only have to look at you, smell your scent and I’m hard,” he growled.

  She loved the way he did that. His voice got low and raspy, more animal than human. She liked knowing she affected him as deeply as he affected her.

  “I have to have you.” Leaning down, he took the lobe of her ear between his lips and sucked on it. “I want my cock in your pussy.” He nibbled on the sensitive skin just below her ear.

  Aimee arched her neck to give him better access. Her entire body felt over-sensitized. Ripe. Ready.

  “I want to feel you squeezing me as I pump into you.”

  The shower was filled with steam, giving a dreamlike quality to the encounter. Her skin was slick and she was hot, almost feverish with need.

  “Yes.” She dragged her fingernails over his spine, loving the way he arched into her touch. She wanted what he wanted.

  His expression was hard. There was a wild and dangerous air about Roric as he pulled back and spun her around to face the wall. The abrupt shift startled her, but only for a second. She placed her hands against the moist tiles to steady herself as he eased her hips back.

  “Spread your legs and push your ass toward me.”

  His rough command sent shivers down her spine. Cream slipped from her sheath and down her inner thighs. She cried out as he drew one thick finger down the crease of her bottom, rimming the puckered opening of her ass.

  “Do it.”

  Aimee shifted, making room for him. Leaning forward, she pushed her behind toward him. A low purr of pleasure surrounded her as his hands cupped her hips. The thick head of his cock nudged at her slick channel before pressing inside.

  She was breathing hard now, her breasts swaying with every lungful of air she sucked in. Moist heat surrounded her, inside and out. She squirmed, desperately trying to get him to push deeper. She needed more.

  As if he’d read her mind, he shoved forward in one hard stroke, filling her.

  Aimee gasped. He was so big he stretched the delicate tissue of her channel, making a place for himself within her. Roric flexed his hips, pulling out a few inches before driving deep again. Her inner muscles clenched around him as he filled every part of her—body, mind and soul.

  Wrapping one arm around her waist, he flattened his free hand next to one of hers and began to thrust. She bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming. He drove her to the very edge. She was close. She clawed at the tiles for support.

  His hips slapped against her butt over and over. The wet, smacking sound and their gasps and moans were barely audible above the pounding of the shower.

  She wanted it to never end, wanted to feel him inside her forever. But it couldn’t last. Both of them were too close to coming.

  His teeth scraped the back of her neck in an erotic caress. It stopped short of being painful, instead becoming incredibly arousing. He did it again, and she knew it would leave a small bruise. He was marking her as his.

  Aimee moaned as her sheath rippled around his cock. There was no holding back. On the next stroke, she came. He yelled, and she felt the hot flood of his orgasm as he filled her. He continued to drive into her until she couldn’t stand any longer.

  She slumped forward and he caught her before she fell. Leaning against the wet tiles, she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding, and she felt lightheaded. Roric wasn’t in much better shape. He was gasping for air, his lungs working hard.

  The water was much cooler now, verging on cold. She shivered and Roric pushed away, slowly pulling his now semi-erect cock from her. Even though he was no longer fully erect, her sheath was swollen and tender and she winced as he withdrew.

  He turned her gently in his arms. The expression on his face was filled with a tenderness she’d never seen before. He also looked satisfied and pleased with himself in a wholly male way. She supposed she couldn’t begrudge him that. The man certainly knew how to push all her buttons.

  Without a word, he twisted off the taps and shut off the flow of water. The silence was almost deafening. He tugged a towel from the rod just outside the shower and wrapped it around her before reaching for one for himself.

  Holding her arm to steady her, he guided her out of the shower and onto the bathmat. “Get dried off and dressed. They’ll be coming soon.”

  With that, he wound the towel around his waist and left her alone. So much for tender words. Not that she’d really expected them from him, but in the deepest recesses of her mind, she’d hoped.

  Thankfully, the room was steamy enough to help hide the disappointment that had to be plastered on her face. She’d known he didn’t love her. And that was okay. She loved him and that was her problem. He hadn’t promised her anything. Just the opposite, in fact.

  She took her time, slathering on her favorite body cream. Her skin was still sensitive, making it almost a sensual experience. There was no need to spare the expensive cream like she normally did. These would most likely be her last few hours alive. If that was the case, she was determined to make the most of them.

  Her body still hummed from her orgasm, and a new energy filled her. She loved Roric and would do everything in her power to protect him. And if luck was on their side, maybe both of them would survive the night.

  Reaching for her clothing, she put on her bra, panties and socks before sliding into a pair of clean jeans. She was just glad she owned so many pairs. The past day had played havoc with her wardrobe. She pulled on yet another long-sleeved shirt, loving the way the soft cotton hugged her skin.

  She tossed the towel aside. If she survived, she’d worry about the laundry. If not, it would be someone else’s problem. A sen
se of calm descended on her as she padded to her bedroom and pulled on her boots.

  She was as ready as she’d ever be.

  The clock was ticking and the night was waning fast. Leaving her bedroom behind without a final glance, she went down the stairs in search of Roric.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Roric stared out the kitchen window into the shadowy woods beyond the yard. He could sense a disturbance in the air. Their reprieve was over. He’d dressed for battle in leather pants and a fitted vest, leaving his arms free to swing his swords. His boots hugged his calves to just below his knees and gave him sure footing.

  He was as ready as he’d ever be.

  He heard her soft footsteps on the stairs and caught the lush smell of lavender before she entered the room. Aimee. He turned away from the window, his heart clenching as she came into view.

  There was no teasing smile, no knowing glance. Her expression was serious and determined. She knew the end was at hand. One way or another, it would soon be over.

  He held out his hand, and she walked across the room and took it. There was no comfort he could offer her, no promises he could make. “Aimee,” he began, not quite certain what he wanted to say. He wanted her to know that she meant something to him, that she was special.

  Reaching up, she placed two fingers over his lips. “There’s no need to say anything.”

  He frowned at the sadness and resignation in her voice. Fury surged through him. He’d given thousands of years of loyal service, but none of that mattered now. Nothing would stop Hades and his minions from coming to destroy him, to destroy her.

  There was no justice in that. But Roric had learned over the years that it was often that way when dealing with the gods. They were fickle, and everyone else’s fate rested on their whims.

  Even his own goddess, whom he honored and served, had cast a spell on her warriors, twisting their fate into what she wanted it to be. He was glad to be alive, but at what cost? His freedom was not worth the price of Aimee’s life.

  No more.

  He would take his destiny into his own hands. He would fight, and he would protect Aimee to his dying breath. He would never give Hades what he wanted. Roric prized his honor above all things, and if he abandoned that, then he was nothing. Better to die or spend eternity rotting in Hell than to give in to the devil.