Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (15 page)

Would that be so bad
?

Shut up
, she told that voice in the back of her head. She wasn’t a sex fiend. She had much bigger worries to contend with than whether or not she should fall back into bed with a man who looked like a sex god. Like, what the
hell
was going to happen to her? Bad choice of words. Very bad.

Roric prowled closer, looking even larger in such a small space. Leaning down, he captured her chin in his hand and brushed his lips over her. “Don’t be long.”

When he turned away, she got a perfect view of his first-class butt, cupped lovingly by the soft, leather material. She released a long sigh, wishing her hands could replace his pants. When she realized what she was doing, she shook herself. She slammed the door closed, dropped the soggy towel into the tub and grabbed her big, fluffy bath towel.

“Don’t be stupid,” she admonished herself. “He doesn’t care about you. He woke up in the same bed with you and took advantage of the situation the same as you did.” That’s all it was, two adults taking pleasure from one another.

Why that thought made her sad, she had no idea. It wasn’t as though she’d invested a lot of time in a relationship with him. Aimee snorted. Their so-called relationship could be measured in hours, not days or weeks.

She dragged the towel over her body, wincing when it brushed over her sensitive breasts. Her nipples were puckered into tight buds, and they were more red than pink. She looked closer, groaning when she noticed the slight reddish marks on her flesh. Yup, she’d certainly done more than dream last night. More carefully this time, she patted her skin dry.

A quick glance in the mirror made her moan in dismay. Her hair was standing up on end. Roric had seen her like this. Not that it mattered. They weren’t exactly a couple. But still, she didn’t want to look like something just dragged out of a ragbag. She wanted to look poised and confident.

Grabbing her brush, Aimee dragged it through her hair until it looked fairly normal. She slathered some moisturizer on her face, but decided her skin was too sensitive for her to do the same to her body. Not knowing how much time she had, she tossed the towel into the laundry basket in the corner and pulled on her robe.

She tiptoed down the hallway to her bedroom and gave a sigh of relief when Roric was nowhere in sight. She only hoped he’d taken her up on her offer and had helped himself to one of her father’s old T-shirts.

Aimee deliberately turned her back on the bed. The rumpled covers were too much of a reminder of what she’d done. The heady, musky smell of sex still lingered in the air. She’d had unprotected sex with a stranger.

She headed to the window and shoved it open a crack. A cool breeze drifted in. That should help disperse any lingering reminders of last night. Changing the sheets would be the final step. She’d get to that later, if she was still alive to worry about it.

“Stop being negative. Think positive.” That old adage hadn’t helped much over the years, but it was better than the alternative.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she yanked open dresser drawers and pulled out underwear and socks. “It will be fine,” she assured herself. “It’s not the right time of the month for me to get pregnant. That’s even assuming an immortal warrior can make a human woman pregnant.”

Talking to herself usually helped her sort out her problems, but this morning it wasn’t helping much. “He probably doesn’t have any diseases. After all, he hasn’t had sex for a few thousand years.” She winced. Put that way, it was no wonder he’d jumped her bones in bed. Especially since she’d been very willing to have her bones jumped.

Her favorite pair of faded jeans came next. They fit her like a glove and were even more comfortable than a pair of sweatpants. She wore them when she needed to feel confident. And this morning, she needed the boost more than ever. She topped it with a V-neck cotton sweater that matched the green of her eyes. Not that she was primping or anything.

She stopped and scrubbed her hands over her face. Oh God, she
was
primping. Giving a moan of frustration, she shoved her feet into a pair of canvas sneakers and left the bedroom.

It was time to find Roric and figure out what the heck was going on. Whether she liked it or not, she was caught up in this crazy situation with him. It was time for her to learn what was truly at stake. Her dreams had been terrifying, and if even half of what was in them was reality, she was screwed.

Roric’s comment that her soul was on the line had frightened her worse than any of her nightmares. She didn’t want to believe him, but she was sorely afraid he was telling the truth. Whatever was going on, he knew more about it than she did. Information was power, and she needed whatever extra edge she could get.

She was at the top of the stairs when she paused. She had the sudden feeling that something wasn’t right, someone was here. The sound of paper shuffling reached her ears. Someone was moving around her office.

Should she call out for Roric? No, that would alert whoever was there. Better to take a quick peek and assess the situation. Creeping down the hallway, she kept to the far left, near the wall and away from the floorboards that creaked. Her palms were sweaty, her heart racing as she eased toward the open doorway.

Aimee held her breath as she inched toward the door. Moving slower than she ever had in her life, she peered around the doorjamb, half afraid of what she might see. Had the demons arrived? If Roric could be believed, they already knew where to find them. She figured that was probably the truth. After all, Hades and the gang certainly had no trouble finding her in her dreams.

Her heartbeat spiked as adrenaline shot through her veins. It was quickly followed by anger. Roric stood with his back to the door, staring down at her desk. His back was rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. She absently noted he was wearing a black shirt, whose seams were tested by the width of his shoulders and the sheer size of his biceps. Not that the fact he’d done as she’d asked would save him from her wrath.

He had her portfolio open in front of him. Drawings were strewn across every surface of the room, including the floor. All her work, her nightmares, was on display for him to see.

No one touched her work without permission. No one. “What the hell are you doing?” She stalked into the room, hands fisted on her hips. How dare he go through her stuff without asking? Her world was spinning out of control enough without this invasion. “You have no right to be looking at those.”

This was even worse than waking up in bed with a stranger, knowing she’d made love to him. That was physical. This went much deeper. Her work came from her emotions, her soul.

His pale blue eyes were icy and a chill permeated the room, as though his anger had sucked all the warm air from it. “Where did you get these?”

Roric was intimidating enough when he was relaxed in bed. Angry, he was truly scary. Aimee swallowed back her fear. She was tired of being manipulated. She felt like a bit player in a theatre who didn’t know her lines. Everyone else around her seemed to know what was going on, and she was sick and tired of it.

“I drew them.” She took two more steps, which brought her right in front of him. A quick glance told her these were the drawings of her nightmares, not her current comic illustrations. “I told you I’d had nightmares.”

Just looking at the sketches gave her the willies. Now that she knew a part of her had really been there and actually seen those creatures, it was terrifyingly real. She shoved down her fear and brought herself back to the problem at hand. Namely, Roric.

“Her.” He pointed to the woman with the dirty, matted hair and tattered clothing that she’d briefly seen wandering through the cavern of Hell. “Where did you see her?”

Aimee didn’t need to look at the woman to remember her. She’d only caught a brief glimpse of her, but she knew she’d never forget her eyes. Most of her face had been in shadows, but her eyes had been unforgettable—timeless, kind and wise.

Plus, there was the fact that the woman had helped Aimee escape from her nightmare. She couldn’t be certain, but in her heart, she
knew
this woman had been the one to tell her how to escape, who had offered encouragement.

Aimee had felt guilty leaving her behind, even though she was just part of a dream and not real. Now, she wasn’t sure if any of what she’d seen had been a fantasy or if all of it had been reality. Had she left this woman to suffer? It was all very confusing.

Roric was waiting for an answer, his fury growing with each passing second. She could almost feel the air thickening around her. “I told you I had nightmares. I caught a very brief glimpse of her during my last trip to Hell.”

Aimee was almost afraid to ask her next question, but knew she had no choice. “Why? Who is she?”

His voice was filled with emotion, almost reverent when he spoke. “My Lady.” Just two simple words, but they said so much. They managed to convey everything—awe, respect, possession and even love.

Jealousy, hot and totally irrational, raged through Aimee. She clenched her hands at her sides to keep from tearing the drawing out of his hands and shredding it. Roric was nothing to her, and it was best she remember that fact. He was a one-night stand. His purpose was to free himself from the curse. He was bound to this woman, this goddess, who’d she’d drawn.

“You can’t know for sure it’s her.” Aimee could have bitten off her tongue the moment she’d spoken. The glare Roric sent her was filled with unsuppressed rage.

“She’s gaunt and frail, but it’s her. It’s in her eyes.” His gaze narrowed. “How long ago was this?”

Aimee felt like a small rabbit cornered by a large beast. The urge to run was great, but she knew he’d be on her in a second if she tried. He was, after all, a tiger at heart. And not just any tiger, but a white tiger, the largest of all the big cats. He was a loner and a predator by nature. This was not some domesticated kitty. She’d do well to remember that.

“A week at most.” She held up her hands to stop him from questioning her further. His eyes narrowed to slender slits, but he said nothing as she continued. “I saw her for a brief second. That’s it. She never spoke aloud.” Technically, that was true. She didn’t want to tell Roric she thought she’d heard the woman speak in her mind. What was said was between them. And none of it had any bearing on the situation facing them.

The woman had helped her escape from her nightmare, for which Aimee was eternally grateful. If she’d known it was real, she might have been able to find a way to help the woman escape. But there was no going back.

Roric looked as though he was gearing up to blast her again, but she cut him off before he could even get started. “Look, at this point, I don’t even know what day of the week it is. I’m not sure about anything except the fact that I need a cup of coffee. Look at the drawings if you want. Everything is there. Me, I’m going to the kitchen.” Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the room. He could follow her if he wanted answers.

She didn’t hear any footsteps behind her on the stairs, but she knew he was there, prowling behind her. She could sense his presence behind her as she hit the main floor and headed toward the kitchen.

Her hands were shaking, but she managed to get the coffee in the filter and the water poured into the machine. When the coffeepot was cheerfully perking, she finally turned to face him.

“I’m having breakfast. Do you want anything?” She knew she was putting off the inevitable, but she was suddenly starving. A thought occurred to her. “Do you eat? I mean, if you’re immortal, do you even need food?

He gave a curt nod. “I can survive without it, but I am stronger if I eat.”

That made sense, or about as much sense as any of this did. What could she feed an immortal warrior who hadn’t eaten in several thousand years? That was a challenge. On the other hand, she doubted he’d be picky.

Aimee opened the refrigerator and drew out a carton of eggs and some mushrooms and sweet peppers, deciding she wanted an omelet. The protein would give them extra energy.

Strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm as she placed the last ingredient on the counter. Using her hip, she shut the refrigerator door before facing Roric. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Stunned, she replayed what he’d said in her mind. Those were the last words she’d expected to hear from him. Demands or questions, sure, but not an apology.

He released her and shoved his fingers through his hair. She missed the heat of his hand against her skin. “I haven’t seen my Lady since the final day of fighting with Hades and his minions. I wasn’t even certain she was still alive.”

Suddenly, Aimee felt small and petty. In the scheme of things, her life had been pretty mundane, in spite of the tragedies that had marked it. Roric had spent more than five thousand years locked in a prison of his animal form, not knowing if he’d ever escape, not knowing if this was to be his fate for eternity.

She shook her head. “No, I’m the one who is sorry. It’s just that all of this is a lot for me to take in.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He glanced around the room. “I know much about your world, was able to absorb facts from the air around me even in my animal form, but it is all very strange.”

“I’ll bet.” She couldn’t even imagine the culture shock. “Sit and tell me everything you can.” If she was going to be a part of this fight, she needed to be prepared.