Night of the Tiger

Chapter Fourteen

They needed a plan. Aimee pulled on her third top of the morning—a long-sleeved cotton jersey. At this rate, she’d need to do a load of laundry soon or buy new clothes. The top was comfortable against her body, which was sore after the intense battle. Her skin was mottled black and blue in places. Her stomach didn’t hurt as such, but the scar was tender. All in all, it was a small price to pay for coming out of the lethal confrontation alive.

Now that she’d washed up and was wearing clean, warm clothing, she felt much better. More in control again. Which was a fallacy really. Her life was so out of control it wasn’t funny. No one would ever believe her if she told them she was locked in mortal combat with the devil himself for her very soul. And that she also needed to buy fabric softener. They’d give her a pitying look and lock her up in a mental ward. And she wouldn’t blame them for it.

Sighing, she gave the room one final glance. All the soiled clothing had been dumped in the garbage or laundry basket, depending on if she thought it was salvageable. She hoped her favorite jeans came clean. She wasn’t sure if her laundry detergent was up to dealing with demon blood.

Not that it really mattered in the scheme of things. But it was normal, and God only knew she needed some normal in her life right now, even if it was only sorting laundry.

Her room looked the same as it always had. She’d made the bed and the drapes were pulled back, letting the sunlight wash over the gleaming hardwood floors. The book she was reading sat on her bedside table. She wondered if she’d get the opportunity to finish it.

But standing here wasting time wasn’t going to change anything. The problems still remained, and Aimee had to deal with them and with Roric.

It had taken some quick talking to make him leave long enough for her to get dressed. He’d insisted on waiting just inside the bathroom door while she’d grabbed another quick shower to wash away the blood and gore. She hadn’t objected. The last thing she wanted was to be taken unawares while she was in the shower. Knowing he was on the other side of the shower curtain had played havoc with her hormones. It didn’t seem to matter that demons from hell wanted to whoop her ass. She still wanted Roric.

She’d taken the fastest shower on record, soaping up and rinsing in under two minutes. A large bath towel had covered her decently, but there was no way she could get dressed with him in the room with her.

It was stupid really, considering he’d seen her totally naked more than once. But that was then. Now they were all business, neither of them really expecting to make it out of this day alive. At least she wasn’t expecting it. It was hard to know what Roric thought or felt about the situation.

She glanced toward the open door to her bedroom. He’d given her two minutes, and she knew he meant it. If she weren’t downstairs by then, he’d come and get her regardless of her state of dress or undress.

She did up the snap on her jeans and pulled on her hiking boots, lacing them tight before leaving her room without a backward glance. Her pocketknife was in her back pocket. Not that it would help much if another one or two or six of those creatures attacked. But it helped her not feel quite so defenseless. Her father’s old shotgun was downstairs in the hall closet, but she didn’t think it would do much to stop one of the demons. She’d have to ask Roric’s opinion.

The smell of burnt wood and fabric assailed her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The living room looked no better than it had earlier. It hurt her in ways she couldn’t explain to see it like that. She felt violated both on a physical and emotional level. This house had always been her safe place, her haven.

That feeling had been destroyed.

Her home had been tainted by demons, and that was something she wasn’t ever going to be able to forget. Yet she knew if she survived this, she would repair and remodel. To do otherwise would be to allow Hades to win. She had no choice. This was her home.

“I made coffee.” Roric’s voice yanked her out of her musings. He stood, tall and handsome as ever, in the kitchen doorway watching her. He was still shirtless. He’d somehow lost the black one during the fight. He’d probably ripped it off to give himself better mobility. The shirt had been tight across the shoulders. Still, she wished he’d find a new one to wear. All that bare flesh was giving her inappropriate ideas.

She brought her focus back to the conversation at hand. “You don’t like coffee.” She noticed that he’d taken one sip this morning and hadn’t drunk any more.

“You do.”

His thoughtful gesture touched her and she smiled. “Thanks.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t know if you should thank me or not until you taste it. I understand how modern machinery should work, but actually making it do so properly is another thing altogether. I wasn’t certain how much of the coffee to put in the filter.”

Aimee stared at him, unable to tear her gaze away from the slight twinkle in his eyes. At this moment, she envied him. Roric lived in the minute, had the rare ability to be in the now. You’d never know he’d just fought and killed three demons. Four, if you counted hers. And she didn’t really. He’d been mostly dead by the time Roric arrived. Still, three and a half demons was quite the feat.

Yet he could make her coffee and offer her a joke, even knowing his very existence could end in a heartbeat, that he could fail his goddess and his fellow warriors and end up in Hades’ clutches forever. She admired him and was determined to act as he did. The moment was all they had.

She walked toward him. At first she didn’t think he would move and let her pass. At the last possible second, he turned sideways, still blocking most of the doorway. Aimee had to angle her body to get by him. Her breasts brushed against his chest and her nipples stood at attention.

Ignoring the jolt of heat that flashed through her, she hurried toward the coffeepot. A cup of the strong brew was just what she needed. Grabbing a mug, she poured. It looked more black than brown in color. She added two teaspoons of sugar and stirred. She studied it and added one more. It looked strong. She eyed the brew before shrugging and taking a sip.

Bitterness coated her tongue. She wanted to spit it out, but she swallowed instead, not wanting to hurt Roric’s feelings.

“Not quite right?” He leaned against the doorjamb and cocked his head to one side, sending thick white and black waves over his shoulder.

Aimee tried to speak, but was afraid the coffee he’d made might have made that permanently impossible. She cleared her throat and coughed. “Not quite,” she managed.

Eyeing the pot, she decided good manners could be damned. She needed coffee. Whisking it off the warming burner, she dumped the coffee down the sink, rinsed the pot and started another pot brewing.

“Sorry about that.” Roric pushed away from the wall, moving closer to watch her.

“No problem. You have to measure the coffee grounds or you’ll make it too strong.”

In a matter of seconds, Aimee had another pot of coffee perking happily. She could feel the heat radiating from Roric as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. It made her feel uncomfortable, sexy and downright hot. And that wasn’t appropriate given the life-and-death situation they found themselves in. Then again, no one ever said hormones were smart.

“We need a plan.” It was what she’d been thinking about all the time she’d showered and dressed.

Roric sighed and stepped away. Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew the moment he moved away from her. She grew colder instantly, both inside and out. Yet she understood that separation was necessary if one or both of them was to have a chance of coming out of this situation alive.

She turned away from the counter. Roric was standing in front of the window, looking out over the yard, his eyes scanning the woods beyond. “The scroll is quite clear. Hades wants me, and the others, to lead his armies to attack the other Olympians. He wants to destroy them all and have total dominion over the world.”

“He doesn’t want much, does he?”

The corner of Roric’s mouth turned up slightly. The sight of that partial smile made Aimee’s toes curl.

He strolled back to the table and sat. “Hades wants it all. Always has. He’s not evil, not really. He’s more manipulative, letting others tangle themselves in his very sticky web. And once he has you, it’s almost impossible to escape.”

She asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d learned about the curse and Hades’ plans. “Why the elaborate setup? Why doesn’t Hades just send a bunch of his demons to kill the Olympians and take over the world?” It seemed to her that the Lord of the Underworld was making this much harder than it needed to be.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Roric’s blue eyes glittered like ice. “Hades can’t upset the balance of energy by sending too many of his minions to the earth. That would alert his fellow Olympians that he’s up to something. They might not be as powerful as he is, but they sure as hell aren’t weak. They’d band together to save themselves and nail his ass to the wall.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “They wouldn’t take much note of us. We’ve been in this realm for several thousand years and haven’t caused any problems. We could make a few hard, fast strikes, and the war would almost be won by the time the Olympians figured out there was anything going on.”

“Scary.” Aimee shivered. “Okay, I get the power thing, but Hades already has demons here. I’ve seen them.”

He smiled grimly. “That’s true, but their power here is limited. They have to return to Hell to recharge after a short period of time. Even the gods are bound by certain laws, and there is a limit to how much Hades can interfere in this realm. Humans have to do the actual deeds themselves. Hades encourages them, tempts them. Granted, the evil of mankind has made it much easier for him to extend his reach and powers, which is part of the problem.

“It wouldn’t take much to turn the tide and sink the world into darkness forever. Kill a few strategic people in power, throw in a drought or disease and the world would tumble into darkness.” He sighed and shook his head. “That kind of despair feeds Hades’ power, making him stronger. Unless someone stops him.”

Aimee shivered at the thought. He was right. The world was closer to the edge of destruction than it realized. Hades wouldn’t have to do much to push it past the point of no return.

She knew when he said someone he meant himself, his fellow warriors and the Lady of the Beasts. “Do you think the goddess is still alive?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation on his part. “I don’t think he would have killed her, not until he knew our final fate. If she were dead, he’d have no possible hold over us if we ever escaped his prison. Hades is nothing if not smart. He plays every angle, never missing any possibilities. It’s his greatest strength. Plus, it’s no small feat to kill a goddess. That would definitely send a ripple through the cosmos, and the last thing Hades wants to do is attract attention. Not until his plan is complete.”

“Why haven’t the other gods realized what he’s up to?”

Roric shrugged. “Who knows? The gods and goddesses spend much time bickering amongst themselves. Hades keeps himself removed from them most of the time so they know little of what he’s truly up to. Plus, he has a long history of doing favors for them when they ask. He’s built a lot of power that way.”

“Smart.” Hades might be the devil, but you couldn’t fault his strategy. She could almost admire him for it. Too bad he didn’t use his powers for good instead of evil.

“Very,” Roric continued. “The others fear him and are happy enough to have him stay away from them.”

“Not smart,” she pointed out. You’d think a bunch of immortal gods and goddesses would be a little sharper than that. “How does the saying go? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

“Exactly.” Roric glanced around the room, ever watchful. “Now that there are few humans worshipping them—although there are still pockets of them around the world—the Olympians don’t spend much time paying attention to this world. Hades knows this. In fact, it’s what he’s counting on.”

“Hmm.” Aimee busied herself pouring up a fresh cup of coffee, adding sugar and stirring before carrying it to the table. “If he’s thought of everything, how do we defeat him?”

“Like all of us, his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.” Roric leaned forward, his pale blue eyes pinning her to her chair. “He thinks he has considered all the possibilities, but he has not. He does not understand concepts such as loyalty and honor. He thinks always of himself and advancing his personal power, never of the greater good. That’s a flaw most of the Greek gods and goddesses possess. They’re selfish and grasping, and it ultimately led to their decline.”

Aimee breathed a sigh of relief when Roric glanced aside. The man was intense, and when all that power was aimed her way it was scary and more than a bit arousing. Her panties were damp and she ached deep in her core. She wanted him.

She supposed it was the animal magnetism he exuded. It was a part of him—primitive and basic and utterly enthralling. She took another mouthful of coffee, doing her best to ignore the little pangs of pleasure jolting through her veins.

Roric looked pensive now as he stared at the scroll that was laid out on the table, studying the foreign words she couldn’t understand. A flash of intuition made her ask her next question. “Does the scroll mention me?”

Muscles flexed and rolled in his shoulders as he tensed. His jaw clenched as he gave her a brief nod. Shivers raced over her skin, but they were no longer due to pleasure. They were solely brought on by fear.

“What does it say?” She had to know.

“Hades says that he will let me talk to my Lady, briefly, if I hand you over to him.”

The few sips of coffee she’d taken felt sour in her stomach. Hades didn’t miss a chance to try to divide and conquer. Roric was watching her intently, but there was no sensual heat behind his gaze, only cold calculation. Once again, she felt like prey being stalked by some great beast. She didn’t like it.

Pushing aside her coffee cup, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “And what have you decided?”

Roric swore in what sounded like several different languages. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, but there was no doubt in her mind he was turning the air blue around them. He stood, braced his hands on the table and loomed over her, looking large and fierce. “I have said I will protect you.”

Aimee shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even though her heart was threatening to burst through her chest. “You also said you’d do whatever it took to rescue the Lady and your friends.”

Whirling away from the table, he paced back to the window. “It’s a trick. It’s always a trick with Hades. A way to taint my honor to make it easier for him to ensnare me.”

Sympathy welled up within Aimee. She could feel Roric’s pain, his anguish, and it hurt her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. His pain was hers. Rising from the table, she walked over to stand behind him. The muscles in his back tensed slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication that he cared she was standing there.

Placing her hands on his back, she leaned in close and kissed his spine. The tattoo seemed to undulate beneath her lips, as though the tiger felt her touch. His skin was warm and salty against her lips. “I’m sorry.” She slid her hands around his sides and linked them together, resting them on his stomach. The movement plastered her breasts against his back. Her nipples ached, and she barely resisted the urge to rub herself against him. This was about comfort, not sex. “What can I do to help?”

Roric’s mind was spinning with possibilities. His anger simmered deep within him, but he kept it banked and under firm control. To let that fury slip its leash would be to allow Hades the upper hand. That’s what the god was hoping for. A warrior did not make wise decisions when he allowed his emotions to rule him.

Cold, hard and calculating were the qualities he needed at the moment, not hot-blooded, wild emotions. Although that was easier said than done with Aimee pressed against his back, her soft breasts pillowed against him, her inviting scent permeating the air around them.

He wanted her again, but it was much more than a physical need. That would have been easy to ignore. It was her generosity of spirit that moved him in a way he’d never thought possible, her willingness to sacrifice herself for a cause that was not hers. She didn’t curse him, even though she had the right. She hadn’t given him up to Hades’ minion to save herself. She was an enigma to him in many ways.

His existence had been about duty. Always. There had been little room for softer emotions. But Aimee made him feel things. Dangerous things.

He wanted endless days with her to find out what she liked and didn’t like, what made her laugh, what made her angry. He wanted to curl himself around her in bed and listen to a cold winter wind blow outside while they remained safe and warm inside.

The tiger within him roared in agreement. Sharp talons of need pierced him. But he would never give in to them. He couldn’t. Time was running out fast. There would never be an opportunity to see what might have been between them.

Anger and disappointment made his voice sharp. “Hades is toying with us.” He wanted to shelter her from the worst of what was to come, but knew it was impossible.

She slid her arms from his body and stepped away. He wanted to drag her back into his arms but kept them by his sides. Turning, he watched as she swallowed hard, her throat moving up and down. “What do you mean?”

He waved his hand toward the yard. Through the window they could see the area where they’d fought for their lives. The only indication that anything out of the ordinary had occurred was the scorched patches of grass and the splitting maul lying on the ground beside the woodpile. “Those demons were lesser ones, physically strong but not too smart. Hades was testing us. Testing you.”

Her face paled, but her gaze never wavered. “Testing? How?”

“He wanted to see if you’d cut and run at the first sign of real trouble, or if you’d stand and fight.” Roric raked his fingers through his hair, wishing Aimee weren’t a part of this. He didn’t mind his own death—expected it in fact—but the thought of Aimee being hurt made him want to roar with anger.

“I see,” she said, her words spaced apart. A shiver racked her body, but she squared her shoulders.

Pride ripped through him. He had no right to feel it, no claim to her in any way, but he couldn’t deny it. Here was a woman worthy to stand by a warrior for all eternity. She would not turn and flee, but stay by his side and fight. It made him all the more determined to protect her.

He had no idea how he was going to manage that. He simply knew he had no choice. Aimee had to survive.

“So what do we do now?” Going over to the counter, she poured what was left of her coffee down the drain. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her hand trembled slightly.

Roric took a mental picture of her. He wanted to remember her this way forever—standing in the middle of her quaint kitchen, the sunshine pouring through the window and the simple white cabinets behind her. Her short black hair was sticking up slightly, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and her eyes were the color of spring grass.

This fragile creature, this human woman, had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. Roric was part animal and didn’t even try to fight his primal instincts, which were screaming that she was his. His mate. His woman. His.

If only they’d met six or seven thousand years ago, he could have shared her lifetime with her. But it was too late. Their time together was measured in hours.

He strode toward her, unable to keep away any longer. She placed her mug on the counter, her eyes widening as he kept on coming. She took a step back and was brought up solid against the counter. Stopping in front of her, he placed his hands on either side of her, caging her between his arms.

He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice what could never be. Instead, he leaned down and touched his lips against hers. They were soft and warm and inviting, parting immediately for him.

With no more than that tiny touch, his body was on fire, burning for her. He wanted to strip her bare, scoop her into his arms and take her to bed until they were both sated. Roric figured that would take at least a week, if not longer.

Every muscle in his arms and chest tensed as he pushed away from her without deepening the caress. Her taste was on his lips—bitter coffee and warm, willing woman. Her eyes were glazed with passion and she swayed toward him.

“Now that he knows we will fight, he’ll be sending stronger, smarter demons to defeat us. If we do not give in to his demands, he will not let us live.”

Aimee shook herself and licked her lips. Roric swallowed back a groan and moved away from temptation. “But there’s a time limit, right?”

Ignoring how sexy and delectable Aimee looked, he picked up the scroll from the table. “Yes. The Lady used the last of her powers to save us, even if it was to lock us into a curse. Hades has twenty-four hours to sway us to his side. After that time, our immortal souls are safe from him. He cannot harm us. Ever. If he tries, whatever power he sends against us will ricochet back on him. That is why it is so dangerous to him if one of us manages to survive. He may be a god, but there are some things not even he can change.”

“What will happen to you then?” Aimee wrapped her arms around herself, as though she were cold. He wanted to warm her but didn’t dare. His thoughts were scattered enough as it was.

“I will continue to try to discover a way to free my fellow warriors and find out the truth about the ones already set free. One or more of them may be alive, maybe imprisoned in Hell. I don’t trust Hades to tell the truth about that. He’d want to divide and conquer us. Once that is done, I will search for a way to rescue the Lady.”

She nodded as if he’d confirmed what she already knew. “Then we need a plan if we hope to survive.” She glanced at the clock hanging on her kitchen wall. “Until about ten o’clock tonight.”

He shook his head. “Midnight. The clock started ticking at midnight.”

“Figures the time would be dramatic, the witching hour. Couldn’t just be plain ten o’clock?” she muttered. “That would mean we’d have two less hours we needed to evade Hades. So what do we do? We can’t run. We can’t hide. Can we?”

Roric wished he could stash Aimee somewhere safe until this was over, but that was impossible. Hades’ minions would find her. “I want to visit the carnival.”

Aimee released her arms slowly, letting them fall back to her sides. She looked at him as if she thought he’d gone mad. Her words confirmed that. “Have you lost your mind?” Her cheeks flushed as her anger grew. “That place is run by demons, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Her tart tongue almost made him smile. “I haven’t forgotten. But my friends are still there. If I can find a way to free them, it will help even the odds.”

“I thought only a chosen woman could free a specific warrior.”

Roric inclined his head. “That is one way we know for certain. Perhaps there is another.”

Aimee began to pace back and forth across the kitchen. “Okay, if we’re going to do this we need to be smart about it. We can park a ways down the road and circle around through the woods.” She nodded to herself. “I can show you the tent where I think the carousel is. Maybe we can sneak in without anyone seeing us.”

It was more likely the demons would be lying in wait. But he didn’t tell her that, didn’t want her more frightened than she already was.

“If we get that far, it will probably be a trap,” she added. He knew she could see the surprise on his face because she snorted. “What? Did you think I was stupid just because I don’t have a penis?”

Roric wisely kept his mouth shut.

Aimee narrowed her gaze and nibbled on her bottom lip. “They know the carousel is a temptation you can’t ignore.”

“And still you will go with me?”

Aimee shrugged. “It’s crazy, but I don’t think we have much choice. It’s better than sitting around here waiting for them to attack.”

Roric agreed. The warrior in him wanted to go on the offensive, to take the fight to the enemy. But the man in him, and the beast, wanted to protect Aimee. “You could stay here…” He trailed off as she shot him a look that wasn’t pleasant. His Aimee had a core of steel within her.

“I repeat—do I look stupid? Everyone knows that if the woman stays behind the bad guys attack and kill her. That’s a given in any bad horror flick. And that’s what my life has become.”

She must have seen his quizzical expression because she gave a frustrated huff. “You know, movies. Made-up stories with actors shown at the local cinema or on television?”

He nodded, even though he wasn’t quite certain what she was referring to. He’d heard of television, but he’d never seen one. He understood the concept of movies. They were much like a play except the people weren’t really in the room to perform. It was quite fascinating actually. He was suddenly filled with the need to experience one of these movies with Aimee.

She stalked toward him. Stopping in front of him, she poked him in the breastbone. “The best chance I have of living through this nightmare is to stay by your side. There’s safety in numbers.”

Roric could hear the fear beneath the bravado. His heart clenched. His chest ached. He made a vow to himself that he would somehow get Aimee out of this alive. No matter what it took.

He captured her index finger, which was currently trying to drill a hole in him. “We will stay together.” He turned her hand so that their palms were touching. Their fingers twined together. It was a bond and a promise.

“Okay then.”

“When this is over, you’ll have to tell me more about these bad horror movies and why you watch them,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Better yet, I’ll show you some. I think you’ll like them.” Aimee grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. For a moment, the worry was driven from her eyes. “It’s a date,” she promised.

Roric tightened his fingers around hers. He searched his mind for the meaning of the word. It was a social engagement between a man and a woman. He’d never actually done anything like that before. In times gone by, if he wanted a woman he simply crooked his finger and she came. He was a warrior of a goddess, and all women had been pleased by his sexual attention. And that was all it had been. He’d never had the time or inclination for anything more.

Now he found he was intrigued by the idea of spending time with Aimee. A date. He wanted it badly, but knew he’d probably never be able to have it. Another grievance to set at Hades’ door. Still, he nodded in agreement. “A date.”