Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (30 page)

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 sense 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.

A sizzle rent the air. Sparks flew, igniting into flames. Roric grabbed Aimee’s arm and shoved her behind him. He manifested two swords and handed one of them to Aimee, wanting her to have something to protect herself with. He only wished there had been more time to train her with the weapon.

The acrid odor of sulfur filled the room as menacing laughter echoed off the walls. “Still fighting, warrior?” The smoke cleared to reveal a tall, dark-haired man with a commanding presence. Power radiated around him. Roric had seen him many times during the war.

Hades himself sauntered forward, wearing a black Armani suit and a tailored shirt, obviously designer. His shoes were black leather and his tie was red. He looked more like the CEO of one of those Fortune 500 companies he’d heard about than Lord of the Underworld. Hades paused and examined several antique dishes in the hutch next to the table.

“I will always fight.”

Hades shook his head, as one might do to a recalcitrant child. “Such surety.” He traced a finger over the edge of the table, leaving a scorch mark on the wood. “The Lady’s time is done. She is free of her prison but not from my domain.” His dark eyes glowed with the fires of the damned. “She will never be free.”

“Perhaps.”

The devil threw back his head and laughed. His amusement with the situation pissed Roric off, but he kept his calm. Hades’ intent was to anger him so he’d do something stupid. And he couldn’t afford any mistakes, not with Aimee’s life hanging in the balance.

He could feel her behind him, her palm resting gently against his lower back. She was afraid, but she was standing strong. Damn, but he was proud of her. Brave men throughout the ages had disintegrated into sobbing heaps in the presence of this particular god, but not his Aimee.

“Because I’m such a generous soul, I’ll give you one last chance.”

Roric snorted. Hades frowned, his brow crinkling with annoyance before he smoothed his features out again.

“It’s true,” Hades continued. “I am generous. It’s not my fault people get themselves tangled in my web.”

“You trapped us with your power games. We were no threat to you.”

“But games are so much fun,” he taunted. “And I play to win.” He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “What would it take for you to join me, I wonder?”

“I will not lead your legions. I will not allow you to bring your realm into this one.” On that point, Roric would not give an inch.

“No?” Hades seemed unconcerned by his refusal. “Everyone has a price. I just need to find yours.” He tapped one long, tapered finger against his chin. “Hmm…let me think. Ah, yes. How about the freedom of your precious Lady?”

Roric’s heart leapt. He could feel Aimee’s tension mounting.

Hades smiled, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. “My, I’m sure she’ll be disappointed when I tell her how ungallant you were.”

“She would not want her freedom at such a price.”

“You think not?” Hades waved his hand in the air in front of him. “No matter. How about the freedom of your fellow warriors?”

“You cannot do that or you would already have done so.” Roric ignored the ache in his heart. His friends were trapped until the curse was broken. There was no shortcut to be had.

Hades’ features tightened, and smoke began to seep from beneath the cuffs and lapels of his tailored jacket. “What about the woman? If you join me, I will spare her life. If you refuse, I will have her tortured in the vilest manner you can imagine for all eternity.”

Roric wanted to howl with anger. Instead, he forced himself to smile. “How about I kick your ass and send you back to Hell where you belong?”

Aimee held her breath as Roric taunted Hades. She didn’t think it was a good thing to anger a god, but she understood the need to fight back. It was hard to stay strong and resolved when the devil presented such a pleasing and reasonable mien. He was like a lawyer, arguing the pros and cons of a case, letting them think that they could change the outcome, when in reality, they couldn’t. There was only one choice.

It would almost be amusing if the stakes weren’t so high.

Roric tensed, his shoulder muscles rippling beneath the leather vest he wore. She knew he wanted her to stay behind him, but she could not. Stepping to the side, she let Hades see her. There was no way she’d let her fear show. It didn’t matter that she was sweating so badly her top was clinging to her body. It didn’t matter that her heart was pounding so loudly it threatened to block out all sound. All that mattered was that Roric knew she stood with him.

He didn’t glance her way, keeping his eyes trained on his adversary, but she knew he sensed her there.

The tension level ratcheted up a notch.

“Well, if it isn’t little Aimee Horner. Your parents send their regards.”

Her stomach lurched, but she swallowed hard and refused to rise to the bait. Over and over, she reassured herself that those had been demons earlier, not her parents.

“Such courage,” Hades mocked. “She is almost worthy of you, warrior. Too bad she has to die because of you.” He focused all his attention on her, his dark eyes almost hypnotic. “Really, my dear, you should look out for yourself more. He’s willing to sacrifice you to get what he wants.”