Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (11 page)

She felt fully aroused, completely debauched and totally disheveled, her body a sweaty, aching reminder that she hadn’t been dreaming earlier. She’d had sex with a stranger.
Unprotected
sex with a stranger.

“Ohmygod, I can’t believe this is happening.” The phone. She had to get to the phone and call the cops. She inched her way around to the end of the bed. The stranger didn’t move, but his eyes tracked her every movement. He reminded her of someone.

Of course he reminded her of someone. She’d done the mattress dance with him last night. Her skin heated as memories of exactly what she’d done last night came flooding back. She might not know his name but her body was very familiar with his.

Her phone wasn’t on her nightstand, which meant it was in the charger downstairs. She’d have to make a break for the kitchen and pray she got there before he caught her. Although he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to stop her. With the sheet pulled away, he was totally naked and was obviously in no hurry to cover himself. Aimee swallowed hard as she noted he was also fully aroused.

The police
. She shook herself from his sensual spell. She had to call the police.
And tell them what?
He hadn’t raped her. She’d been a willing participant in their earlier sexual escapades. Even though she’d thought it was just a dream, he’d given her a chance to say no.

She nibbled on her lower lip. Her reputation wasn’t the best in this town, and they’d think she was totally nuts if she called them and told them her story. She could just imagine it.
Officer, there’s a naked man in my bed. I thought I was dreaming but, hey, I just had to touch him. All over. And surprise, surprise, we ended up having the most amazing sex of my life. You have to come save me.
Yeah, right. They’d lock her up instead of him.

She brought her attention back to the man still sprawled naked across her bed. “Look, I don’t know who you are or how you got here, but you have to leave.” There, that was forceful and decisive. She’d even managed to say it without drooling over his incredibly hot body.

What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like her to be ogling some guy. Of course, it wasn’t like her to wake up with some strange man in her bed. It hadn’t happened…well, ever.

He shifted slightly, muscles rippling down his arms and across his chest. The movement was small, but there was no mistaking the controlled power behind it. His lips turned down at the corners, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d just disappointed him somehow. Which was absolutely crazy. And seemingly right in line with the rest of this bizarre morning.

“You don’t remember.”

Aimee closed her eyes and said a prayer under her breath. His voice could seduce the coldest of women. Like dark, thick chocolate, it flowed through her veins, tempting her to just crawl back in bed and throw herself at him. She shook her head, refusing to look at him. She had to get him out of her house.

Fingers stroked her cheek. Aimee’s eyes popped open, and she screamed and jumped back. She hadn’t heard him move. The bed hadn’t creaked. The sheet beneath him had made no sound. For such a large man, he was incredibly quiet when he moved. She wished she were half as graceful. Instead, she felt her left foot tangle in the sheet. Her knee began to buckle and she started to go down.

Before she could do more than gasp, the stranger scooped her into his arms, a frown marring his rugged face. “You truly don’t remember.”

He seemed more than a little upset by this. She ignored the heat emanating from his massive chest as he set her back on the bed. He loomed above her, large and naked, his erection heavy and thick. She should be afraid of him, shouldn’t she? He was a total stranger, and he was making himself at home in her house.

The problem was, he didn’t seem like a stranger. With each passing moment, he felt like someone she knew…well. Of course, she’d had sex with the man. Couldn’t get much closer than that.

But it was more than a physical connection. There was some part of her, deep in her soul, that recognized him and yearned to help him. Shaking her head, she struggled to find her voice again. “No. No, I don’t remember.” That wasn’t exactly true. “I don’t remember much.” But the longer she was awake, the more she was remembering. Aimee rubbed her fingertips over her temples, trying to beat back the headache that was starting to brew.

“What do you remember?”

She ignored his demand. She had a few questions of her own. “First things first. Who the heck are you?”

He sat down on the mattress beside her, his hip brushing her thigh. The sheet separated them, but it might as well have not been there for all the protection it offered her. She could feel the heat from his body soaking into her chilled flesh.

“My name is Roric.” He paused, as if waiting for some kind of reaction from her.

The name stirred a memory from deep in her subconscious. She frowned as more details came back to her. That was the word the carnival people had shouted at her while she’d taken the wild ride on the carousel. But had that really happened? Aimee was no longer certain about anything.

“You remember something,” he prompted her. He narrowed his eyes. A muscle rippled in his jaw as he watched and waited. She had a feeling he was very good at waiting.

“I’m not sure of anything.” She could hear the rising hysteria in her voice and struggled to keep calm and composed, which wasn’t easy to do with a naked stranger sitting next to her.

He sighed and raked his hands through his hair. Strand of white and black sifted through his fingers.

It came to her then who he reminded her of. The white tiger from the carnival ride. He was also the same man from a dream she’d had two nights ago. She frowned. Or was it longer? Somewhere along the way she’d lost all sense of time and had no idea what day it was.

How could she dream about a man she’d never met? Had she seen his face somewhere, and her subconscious used that memory to bring him into her dream? Didn’t seem possible. She’d certainly remember seeing a man as striking as Roric.

“I went to a carnival last night and saw some strange things there. At least I think I did. At this point, I’m not sure what’s a dream and what’s reality.” A horrible thought occurred to her. Maybe she was the victim of some sort of scam. Had she been drugged somehow while she’d been touring the sideshows? “Did you drug me?” she blurted out.

His face darkened, his features tightening until he looked as if they’d been carved from stone. “No.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t try to convince her what he said was true. He’d just said no and left it at that. She found herself believing him and relaxed slightly. Okay, she believed that Roric hadn’t drugged her. That didn’t mean someone else hadn’t. At this point, the most important thing to figure out was what the heck had happened to her.

The carnival was very real. She and Sandra had left here last night together. She’d seen the rides and the townspeople and the carousel. The question remained, what had happened? How had she gotten from there to here? And why was Roric with her?

As if sensing her unsettled thoughts, Roric turned and stroked his fingers down the side of her face again. The pads of his fingertips were rough, but his touch was gentle. “What is your name?”

Embarrassment flooded her, and she felt her face growing warmer under his continued appraisal. God, she’d slept with a man who didn’t even know her name. Not that she could point her finger just at him. She hadn’t known his name until he’d told her. “Aimee. Aimee Horner.”

“And where are we, Aimee Horner?”

The way he said her name made her womb clench. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the fact that her nipples were standing at attention. “We’re in my home.”

He shook his head, making his hair sway. Her gaze followed its path as it brushed his shoulders. She curled her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching out to touch the thick strands. She suddenly had a vivid memory of that hair brushing erotically against her breasts.

“No. What place are we?”

Her mouth dropped open, and all thoughts of his sexy hair were forgotten. “You don’t know where you are?”

His eyes narrowed and his face grew grim, but he didn’t respond.

Aimee realized that he truly had no idea. This was getting weirder by the second. “You’re in Salvation. North Carolina,” she added just in case he didn’t know what state he was currently in. “Are you with the carnival?”

“Salvation.” He said the name slowly and his entire body seemed to relax slightly. It was hard to tell for certain because his muscles were still rock hard. It was more an impression she had than any physical change in him.

“The carnival?” she questioned, wanting him back on track. She needed to figure out what was going on.

He came to his feet in one swift movement and slashed his arm out in front of him. She flinched away, scared by the sudden violence she sensed in him. He slowly lowered his arm back to his side. Aimee wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. There was too much sadness, too much desperation mirrored in his eyes.

Roric went to one knee beside the bed and laid his right hand over his heart. “Everything that happened at the carnival was real.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I would never hurt you, Aimee. I am one of seven warriors of an ancient goddess. It is my sworn duty to break the curse that has held me captive for more than five thousand years. You have set me free, and I must protect you from the demons that are coming for us both. Then I must find a way to free the remaining warriors and find my Lady.”

“Demons? Curse? Five thousand years?” Her head was spinning. Roric was obviously confused. She didn’t want to say crazy, but the word was there in the back of her mind, taunting her. Just her luck to bring home a guy who thought he’d been cursed for several thousand years and she’d set him free. He might be gorgeous, but he obviously needed help.

Not that she was in any position to criticize. There were a lot of folks in town who thought she needed help too considering the type of artwork she’d produced over the years for the comic company. No flowers and fuzzy bunnies for her. No, she’d mostly illustrated scenes of the apocalypse, vampires, werewolves and paranormal stuff. Not to mention the hellish stuff she’d been producing lately.

He shifted slightly, drawing her attention once again. “You don’t believe me.” His voice was flat and hard. His muscles tensed and his lips thinned.

She had to keep him calm. “Of course I believe you.”

Roric narrowed his eyes as he stood and placed his hands on his hips. Damn, the man was big. He had to be at least six and a half feet, and all of it solid muscle. He was also crazy. Still, for some strange reason she wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. She could sense the violence and anger swirling within him, but deep in her heart she knew it would never be turned against her.

“No, you don’t.” He turned and strode to the window, bracing one arm on the frame as he peered out into her backyard and the forest beyond.

Aimee sat on bed, unable to move, held captive by the vivid tattoo of a white tiger that covered Roric’s entire back. How she’d missed it last night, she’d never know. Of course, she’d been busy last night. But still. This was incredible.

The beast stared back at her, familiar vivid blue eyes, broad nose and proud bearing. White fur striped with midnight black. Thick muscles and pure power, all controlled by a vast intelligence.

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.