Night of the Tiger

Chapter Five

Aimee moaned and rolled over onto her back, flinging her arms out by her sides. She was falling, flying through the air. There was nothing to stop her from hitting the hard ground. She could break a bone or worse. “No!” she cried, knowing words were useless. Nothing could stop her inevitable fall.

“I’ve got you,” a masculine voice murmured into her ear. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, catching her, anchoring her.

Dreaming. She was dreaming. Sighing, Aimee began to relax, much happier with this turn of events. She shuddered, hating the sensation of falling through the air, the pure helplessness of it.

There was something niggling at the back of her brain. Something important. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch, it irritated her. She could almost remember but the next second it slipped away. It was totally forgotten as he tightened his grip around her and his lips grazed the side of her neck.

His mouth was warm and supple against her skin. Tingles skated down her neck and spread out over her breasts. Her nipples puckered, aching to be touched.

Sighing, Aimee sank deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and not so alone for the first time in years. He was so warm, his skin almost hot next to hers. He was…naked. And so was she.

The sensation jolted her. She always wore a nightgown to bed.

“Just a dream,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t matter that both of them were totally bare. It wasn’t often she had a good dream, so she needed to enjoy this one to the max.

What if it wasn’t a dream? Tension crept up her spine, disturbing her sense of contentment and bringing with it a sense of growing unease.

Of course it’s a dream, she assured herself. It had to be. The only man who’d been near her bed in about a decade was the one in her dream. And even he’d never quite made it into the darn thing.

Still, she knew she would never fully relax if she didn’t test her theory and find out for certain. If this was a dream, she’d be able to open her eyes and he would still be here. Carefully, she turned her head toward him and cracked one eye open. Although it was still night, dawn was breaking in the east, and the pale light illuminated the rather large man in bed with her. When he didn’t disappear, she opened her other eye.

Yup, it was the same man from her previous dream, and he was even more handsome than she remembered. Even half asleep, his features appeared harsh and unforgiving. Tough was the word that described him best. His forehead was wide, his cheekbones high. His nose was broad, yet somehow suited his face. His eyes were closed, emphasizing the long, black lashes that fanned against his cheeks. They should have softened his face, but somehow they just served to call attention to his masculinity even more.

Thick, soft hair tumbled down his shoulders. Unable to resist, she reached out her hand and stroked her fingers through it. It was incredibly soft, the texture different from any other hair she’d ever touched. It felt almost fluffy, like fur. The light parts weren’t blond, but white. And running through it were thin stripes of black. He had the most amazing hair color.

As she continued to stroke his hair, a rumble of pleasure rose from deep in his chest. She felt the vibration against her skin and it warmed her from head to toe. It sounded almost like a purr. She grinned. She didn’t think he’d appreciate being compared to a giant housecat. No, not a housecat—that was much too tame for a man as elemental as this one. He’d be wild, like a giant lion or maybe even a tiger.

She felt a connection to the stranger, felt surprisingly safe with him. But of course, in the end, he was nothing but a figment of her very impressive imagination. She barely stifled a giggle. She felt almost punch-drunk. Well, it was her dream. She could feel any way she wanted to.

Satisfied with her assessment, Aimee continued her perusal. The quilt was tucked around his waist, leaving his impossibly wide chest and shoulders bare. She slid her fingers over the thick cords of his neck down to his immense shoulders.

Continuing her journey, she traced her fingers over his massive biceps. An intricate band was tattooed around it. Aimee had never seen anything like it. The ink was vibrant and it seemed to be ancient writing of some sort, rather than just a symbol.

She peered up at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep.

Emboldened, she shifted again so that she was resting on her side. The perfect specimen of manhood beside her conveniently rolled onto his back, giving her unrestricted access to him. A quick glance reassured her that his eyes were still closed.

He released a slow sigh and his breathing steadied. She waited a moment or two, but thankfully, he seemed to drift back to sleep. Which was fine with her. It gave her the opportunity to explore the bounty laid out before her. Bands of muscle corrugated his torso. She’d never seen a man so ripped, not even in magazines or on television. Yet he wasn’t muscle-bound.

Reaching out, she tentatively touched his chest. Sleek, supple muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as he shifted and settled himself more comfortably against the mattress. Aimee paused in her exploration, waiting until he was still once more.

He was so warm he was almost hot. Aimee flattened her palm against his chest and felt the heavy thud of his heart beating against it. A light dusting of black hair covered his torso before angling downward and disappearing beneath the quilt. It was almost exactly like the hair on his head—smooth and silky. It was ridiculous just how soft his hair was, especially when compared to the rest of him.

Aimee slipped her fingers down the center of his chest and circled his bellybutton. The quilt shifted and something nudged her hand. She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. He was aroused. There was no mistaking the hard, thick bulge for anything else.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the quilt quiver in the predawn light. Should she lift up the covering and take a look? It wasn’t really an invasion of privacy.

Determined, she allowed her hand to rest on the edge of the quilt. Just a quick peek, she promised herself. There was no reason why she shouldn’t and every reason why she should. It was her dream after all. And how often in her life did a woman get to examine such a gorgeous hunk of man, even if he wasn’t real? Tentatively, she lifted the quilt and eased it down to the tops of his thighs.

Her mouth went dry. “Oh my,” she whispered. Now she knew without a doubt that this was definitely a figment of her imagination.

His cock was broad and long as it pushed upward toward his bellybutton. Deep blue veins pulsed up and down the hard length. His erection seemed to thicken before her very eyes. The head was wider than the shaft, plum-shaped and deep red. A bead of liquid pearled at the slit in the crown.

Aimee swallowed and let her gaze shift downward. A heavy sac rode low between his thighs, lightly furred like the rest of his groin. He was magnificent.

She opened and closed her hand reflexively as she reached for him. Her fingers hovered over him momentarily, almost not daring to touch him. Slowly, she lowered her hand and wrapped her fingers around his impressive erection.

Heat pulsed through her skin. His shaft jumped in her hand, flexing and expanding. Blood pounded in her ears and her breathing quickened. Heat flashed through her, and she shivered as her body reacted to his potent masculinity.

A low moan broke the silence of the room. Aimee’s eyes flew upward and met a burning blue gaze. He was awake.

She jerked her hand away, but quick as lightning, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Not hurting her, but as good as an iron shackle. There was no escaping this man.

“Please.” His voice was low, almost hoarse, as he guided her hand back to his throbbing erection. His eyes narrowed and his lips were set in a firm line, almost as if he was steeling himself for disappointment. Her fingers automatically closed around his shaft.

“Perfect,” he moaned.

Touching him was having a definite effect on her body. Her breasts were swollen, heavy with arousal. Her nipples were taut, aching nubs. She felt restless. Unsettled. Cream flowed from her core, dampening her sex and her inner thighs. Aimee shifted her legs against the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position, but there was none to be found.

“Harder.” He covered her hand with his own, almost swallowing her much smaller one. The man was massive. Everywhere. His fingers pressed hers more securely against his erection and she squeezed his shaft, eliciting a groan of pleasure.

He pumped her hand up and down his cock, and she followed his guidance until she established the rhythm he liked. More liquid seeped from the tip of his penis, and Aimee was suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to know what he tasted like. Scooting down, she tentatively licked at the slit with the tip of her tongue. He was hot and musky and slightly salty. She loved it.

His lips parted, and he emitted a low moan as his hips bowed off the bed. She could feel his shaft rippling beneath her fingers. His pleasure filled an empty spot inside her, infusing her with contentment.

She lapped at the head of his cock again, swirling her tongue around it before sucking it into her mouth. A guttural growl came from deep in his chest. Aimee released him with a wet, popping sound and blew on the damp, sensitive flesh. Her fingers skated over his shaft, squeezing and shaping his thick length.

“Enough.” In one fluid motion, he removed her hand from his body and flipped her onto her back. She blinked and found herself staring up at him. He supported himself on his hands and knees as he knelt above her, the planes of his face harsh and unforgiving. She should have been afraid. Instead, a sense of anticipation thrummed through her.

She slid her hands up his massive forearms and biceps, pausing briefly to massage his thick shoulders before linking her fingers behind his neck. “Why? I was having fun.”

Her question seemed to take him off-guard. He frowned and then one corner of his mouth quirked upward. The effect was devastating to her senses. He went from harsh to ruggedly handsome in a split second. She held her breath and prayed that he’d gift her with a real smile.

He shook his head and his mouth returned to its firm line, but his eyes twinkled with humor. “Most do not question me.”

“Why not?” Aimee was totally relaxed as she fingered his thick, touchable hair. After all, this was her dream and she was in charge.

He shook his head again as if uncertain how to answer her question. Instead, he lowered his mouth toward hers. Aimee held her breath as his lips skimmed hers. The touch was so brief she wasn’t sure it had actually happened. Her breasts tingled and her sex pulsed, vividly reminding her of the growing ache between her thighs.

For a man so hard, his lips were incredibly smooth and supple. She arched into the kiss, wanting—no, needing—deeper contact. He skimmed his tongue over her bottom lip before catching it between his teeth and nipping lightly. Aimee shivered, a combination of fear and desire.

This man was strong, elemental and totally unstoppable.

As if he sensed her unease, he pulled back and stared down at her. It took her a second to realize he was waiting. Waiting for her to decide what happened next. In unspoken words, he was letting her know she was in charge. Nothing would happen that she didn’t want.

Her doubts melted away, replaced by a flood of desire so thick she had to gasp for breath. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she dragged his mouth back to hers. As if that was the signal he was waiting for, he let loose.

A low growl vibrated throughout his body as he swooped down and captured her mouth with his. There was no tentative touching this time. No gentle caress. This was a claiming, pure and simple.

His tongue swept inward, raking over her teeth, her tongue and the walls of her mouth. Heat swamped her body as she clung to his shoulders and returned his kiss measure for measure.

He tilted his head, deepening the contact. Aimee couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was he was touching her, tasting her, consuming her.

Her legs parted and he filled the space, his erection cradled against her mound. The shock of his hard, naked flesh against hers was overwhelming and absolutely delicious. Planting her feet on the mattress, she pushed upward, deepening the contact. Her clit brushed against his swollen length, sending bolts of pleasure rocketing throughout her. She was wet and her juices coated his shaft, making him slide more easily with each thrust.

He pulled away and peppered her face with hard, desperate kisses—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and her jawline. No spot was left unattended. Aimee moaned as he nipped at her throat before laving the tender spot with his tongue. There was an untamed quality about her dream lover that reached deep inside her and ignited a part of her that had lain dormant until now. It surprised her that she liked the fact he was slightly rough, untamed and totally unpredictable.

He settled one of his massive hands over her right breast and squeezed. Her nipple stabbed at the center of his palm, a stark testament to her deep desire for him. He shifted lower and his hair brushed her skin, drawing another moan from deep within her. It felt exactly like the brush of fur—soft and decadent against her naked flesh. She longed to feel the sweep of his hair over other sensitive parts of her body.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple before swiping over the puckered nub. His tongue was slightly rough in texture, adding to the erotic sensations rocketing through her body. Every nerve ending in Aimee’s body felt electrically charged, and her toes curled into the sheets. His mouth was warm and moist as it settled over her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled.

“Ohmygod,” she groaned, tunneling her fingers through his hair to keep him close.

She felt his lips curve upward and knew he was smiling against her breast. She didn’t care if he found her amusing. Just so long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

He released her suddenly and blew on her damp flesh. She tried to drag him back, but he resisted. Goose bumps formed on her skin, sending a shiver of pleasure racing across her torso and down between her thighs.

Shifting lower, he nibbled his way down her rib cage. Aimee hated the fact that his erection was no longer pressed against her, but she loved the feel of his mouth and lips and tongue against her skin. The man certainly knew how to press her buttons. She’d never felt this aroused before, every inch of her body on fire. Her skin, indeed, her entire being, cried out for completion, cried out for him.

Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, gripping him tight. Muscles rippled. Once again, she marveled at the sheer size and bulk of her lover. He was solid, something to cling to as a wild maelstrom of emotions and sensations buffeted her.

He stopped at her bellybutton and dipped his tongue inside, swirling it around. His hair tickled the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she giggled and groaned at the same time.

He did it again and Aimee laughed. He raised his head. She froze, pinned by the intensity of his icy blue eyes. But they weren’t cold. No. They were hot, filled with unadulterated lust.

Aimee’s head swam. This incredible-looking man really wanted her. The situation was beyond anything in her experience. Thankfully, it was a dream or she’d have been scared out of her wits and self-conscious about the scars marring her body.

For a moment, she wondered if this dream would turn bad at some point. Her other erotic dream featuring this same lover certainly hadn’t, but then she’d awakened before it had gone too far. She didn’t have many good dreams, normal dreams. Only the ones with her tiger in them ended without fear and terror.

She chuckled. This was simply an old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill erotic dream brought forward by her subconscious to tell her she needed a lover. No surprise there. It had been a long, long time since a flesh-and-blood male had shared her bed, and she hadn’t really missed it until now.

He sat back on his haunches between her spread thighs, letting his hands roam from her knee all the way up to the sensitive juncture of her legs where her torso and thighs met. Breathless, Aimee willed his hands to go higher, to touch her where she ached the most.

A whimper escaped her as she tilted her hips toward him, silently encouraging him. He sifted his fingers through her pubic hair, the short, silken curls. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and did it again.

“Touch me,” she whispered. He had to touch her or she’d go insane. She felt empty inside, and only he could fill her.

He drifted his fingers lower, skimming her slick folds. Aimee cried out, clenching her eyes shut, riding a wave of desire so intense it took her breath away. She was so close to coming.

He settled himself between her legs, his broad shoulders shoving her thighs even wider. Her eyes flew open just as hot breath caressed her tender flesh. He dragged his tongue over her swollen folds, lingering here and there—tasting, tempting, teasing.

Aimee gripped the sheets by her sides, her fingers curling, digging into the fabric. She was on the edge, ready to explode and fly apart at any second. It was too much.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

Two thick fingers pushed past the initial resistance of her body and filled her tight channel. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead as he eased his fingers back to the edge of her opening and pressed them inward once again, stretching her, preparing her. It hurt slightly, but it felt so incredibly good too.

When his fingers sank deep a third time, he captured her swollen clit between his lips and sucked. It was like being struck by lightning. Aimee cried out, muscles tensing. Every cell in her body exploded in a flash of light. She shivered and shook as liquid spilled over his hand and trickled down her thighs.

He made a long, purring sound deep in his throat. The vibration sent her over the edge again. She felt the sheet give way beneath her fingers, the loud rip mixing with her moan of release.

When it was over, Aimee sank deep into the mattress, totally replete from the most intense climax she’d ever experienced. Her eyes fluttered open as he lifted his head. He licked his lips and she knew he tasted her passion. The erotic gesture sent another pulse of pleasure catapulting through her.

He was big and tough and totally aroused.

“Now it’s my turn.” His rough voice sent a shiver down her spine.

The sweet taste of her was more potent than the finest wine, and Roric felt half drunk with pleasure. Hunger roared through him as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, savoring the thick, rich cream that had flowed from her. He had to have more.

His senses were heightened after thousands of years of imprisonment. Sounds were louder, colors were brighter, smells were sharper and the taste of sweet woman was a heady rush.

Being aware of his surroundings, but being unable to really feel, touch, taste or experience for thousands of years had almost driven him mad. He and his companions were all cognizant of the world around them, yet not a part of it. They might not have been imprisoned in Hades’ domain, but they were in Hell nonetheless.

But that was over. Done with. Finished.

He’d die before he’d go back.

The woman staring up at him with expressive, passion-filled green eyes had broken the spell, releasing him from his prison. They’d all been aware of her from the moment she’d entered the tent. Her scent, her mere presence, had surrounded the carousel. He’d been able to sense the pain and hopefulness of his remaining friends, each of them wanting to be the one she was drawn to, the one she chose.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of his fellow warriors who had gone before him. Mordecai had been the first to be released. It had shocked all of them after so many years of imprisonment. Until that moment, they hadn’t known such a thing was possible. They’d all lived with the faint hope that their goddess, the Lady of the Beasts, was still alive and might someday rise up and free them. That hope had faded as the centuries had drifted into millennia, leaving them still locked in their animal forms.

Roric had known something was happening when the demons had first built the carousel and placed them upon it. All of them had felt a ripple of something in the air. Excitement. Expectation. When the first of them was released, they’d realized the demons had been expecting it, were actively searching for the right women to make it happen.

The possibility that they could escape their prison, defeat the curse and regain control of their souls and their power had sent a flood of anticipation through him and his fellow warriors. Whatever Hades’ reasons for actively searching for women to free them mattered not. They had their own agenda—to escape, free the others and find their Lady.

The serpent had risen, released by a woman in Kansas. Mordecai had clutched her in his claws, spread his wings wide and flown off, never to be seen or heard from again. It had been during the time of the Vietnam conflict. Not that it truly mattered to Roric. The ongoing wars of humans were nothing compared to what was coming if someone didn’t stop Hades’ plan of destruction and world domination. But details like that helped him order his memories over the thousands of years he’d been imprisoned.

The Phoenix had risen next, freed by a girl who was barely a woman. He’d disappeared with her in a flash of flames and smoke. That had been in Louisiana if Roric remembered correctly. And that wasn’t a sure thing. Time flowed differently for them, sometimes flowing swiftly, other times dragging on interminably. Sometimes memories mixed together.

Then Stavros had been set free. The jaguar, a proud warrior, had roared with relief when he’d been released. They’d all had such hope, but Stavros and the woman had disappeared. He’d never returned to the carnival, never found a way to contact any of them again.

None of them had.

Expectation and hope had soon turned to bitter despair, and the mutterings of the demons who ran the carnival hadn’t helped. Over the decades, Roric and his fellow warriors had pieced enough together to understand that Hades was seeking to release them for his own gain. Not that any of them expected any different.

There was also a time limit involved with the curse—the turning of one full day. Not nearly enough time to figure out how to defeat the devil and break the curse for good. But it would have to be. Roric had no intentions of losing.

Defeat at the hands of Hades and his legions had burned through his body and soul for thousands of years. The taste was bitter. They had let their Lady down. They were the finest warriors to have ever lived, and they had been defeated. It could not happen again.

If only one of the others had been able to send some word, some sign of what they were up against, it would help give him the edge he needed to win. But he was on his own.

Roric didn’t even know if it was possible to return, to find the carnival again now that he was free. He vowed to be the first to do so. He planned on surviving whatever trials Hades’ demons had in store for him and breaking the curse. Once his soul was no longer in jeopardy, he intended to find a way to help the others and to free the Lady of the Beasts.

The woman on the bed moaned, pulling his attention back to the here and now. She was the key to his freedom, to his eternal soul. Whatever happened in the next twenty-four hours—less than that now—would either bring him freedom or condemn him to the deepest bowels of Hell. Forever.

He was determined not to lose. Not this time.

For now, they were both safe from the demons. Roric had the ability to sense their fiendish presence, and they were nowhere near. For whatever reason, he was alone with this incredible woman, and he planned to make the most of the situation.

All those years of celibacy had left him aching for the softness of a woman—her delicate touch, her soft lips, her enticing scent. But he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted the woman staring up at him with such overwhelming hunger in her gaze, the one who had set him free.

She was so much smaller than him, yet he sensed no fear of him in her. Her skin was incredibly soft, her muscles sleek. She was slender, yet strong, her thighs supple. Her breasts were barely enough to fill his palms, but they were perfectly formed and tipped with tight, pink nipples. He licked his lips, remembering how they felt against his tongue.

Lifting her slightly, he leaned inward, positioning the tip of his cock at the opening of her channel. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest. He let some of his weight fall forward, and his shaft sank into her heated depths. He met with slight resistance, as her sensitive flesh was swollen from her earlier orgasm, but he pressed forward, not stopping until her damp sheath gripped every inch of him.

Roric closed his eyes and chuffed out a breath, trying to maintain control. Her inner muscles squeezed him, rippling up and down his hard length. The urge to just slam into her over and over again until he came was almost overwhelming. He wanted to fuck her until neither of them could stand it any longer, until they both came hard and ended up in a sweaty heap of released lust. Then he wanted to do it again.

He’d been locked away and cold for so long he could barely remember any other existence. She had freed him from that prison. Now she offered him her warmth, her passion. Her generosity threatened to unman him.

It took all his willpower to slide back until only the tip of his shaft was still inside her. Slowly, he pressed inward again. His balls ached and drew close to his body. He’d loved the feel of her hands wrapped around his erection, so tentative at first, then surer and firmer. He longed to have her suck his cock. Wanted her lips around him, wanted to feel her tongue lap at him as she took him deep into her mouth.

His shaft jerked and he sucked in a deep breath. He’d had his chance earlier, but had stopped her. Just the briefest touch of her tongue against the tip of his erection had almost made him come. And he’d wanted to be inside her sweet warmth the first time he orgasmed in so long.

She moaned and the sound vibrated down his spine, making him purr with pleasure. Muscles tensed in his arms and legs as he slid in and out of her body. The urge to pound into her was overwhelming. His control started to slip, and he barely managed to leash it.

Leaning down, he gripped her in his arms and rolled. She shrieked as their positions shifted and he was flat on his back with her above him. “Ride me,” he commanded. This way she was in control and he couldn’t accidentally hurt her. He was on edge after being celibate for so long, and he no longer trusted himself.

Her eyes widened and she smiled. It was a sleepy, siren’s smile that made his gut clench and his balls constrict to the point of pain.

Gripping her hips, he urged her upward. She raised herself above him, placing her hands on his chest for support. She bit her bottom lip and slowly lowered herself again, taking all of him.

Unable to stop himself, he arched his hips upward on her down stroke, driving impossibly deep. She cried out, but didn’t stop. Her cream slid out from between them, coating her tender folds and his thick shaft. The smell of sex and woman permeated the air. Roric took a deep breath, savoring the rich scent. Exquisite.

This was life, this elemental connection between male and female. No matter what period of time in the history of the earth, this bond was the most powerful of all. Sex. Mating. Confirming life.

Roric slid his hands over her slender torso, marveling at the softness of her skin. He cupped her breasts and she leaned into him, offering herself without reservation. He thumbed her nipples, delighting in the way they puckered under his tender ministrations.

They were both close now. Even though it had been a long time, he knew himself well. He felt the familiar tightening of the heavy sac between his legs, the thickening of his shaft and the pressure gathering at the base. He could sense the changes in her body, the way her breathing quickened and her sheath clenched around him with each thrust. Roric pushed into a seated position and clamped his mouth over her breast. He sucked, pulling hard on the taut bud.

She gasped and he felt her inner muscles rippling around him. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he thrust his pelvis upward, driving deep. His balls constricted, and his cock exploded, his seed spurting from the tip to fill her. Growling, he held her close as his shaft spasmed.

Her nails dug into the slick flesh of his chest and she cried out. Her sheath clutched his turgid length, milking him until there was nothing left. Exhausted, he collapsed, his spine hitting the mattress, his head settling on the soft pillows. Such luxury, such comfort had been unheard of the last time he’d walked the earth. He allowed himself to enjoy it, even though he knew it couldn’t last. She fell forward, settling against him, snuggling against his chest as if she belonged there.

Roric ignored the warmth that radiated from his heart. They’d pleasured one another. That was enough. His job was to save her, and himself, from the demons of Hell and free his soul. Once he’d accomplished that, he had to find a way to free his fellow warriors and the Lady to whom he’d pledged his allegiance. He would not believe she was dead.

There was no room in his life for a woman. No matter how soft or tempting she might be.

He wrapped his arms more firmly around her and held her to his chest, feeling the curve of her cheek rest against his heart. He’d lie here until he caught his breath. Then it was time to make plans.