Night of the Tiger(2)

A stone bounced off the wall and smashed into her forehead. Aimee stumbled but didn’t fall. Slivers of rock bit into her bare feet as she staggered slightly before catching herself. Locking her knees, she somehow managed to remain upright. Something trickled down her right temple. She reached up and touched her face, frowning when her fingers encountered something sticky and warm. She was bleeding.

Swiping the blood away with her palm, she prayed the wound wasn’t too bad. She had nothing to clean or bandage it with. And there was no help to be found with the denizens of this cavern. She knew they were waiting for her to falter. If she showed any sign of weakness, they would attack.

Something hissed low and long in the darkness. It was a voice, but it wasn’t even vaguely human. Whatever it was, it sounded as though it was whispering her name. She ignored the stink of fear and sweat that permeated her flesh and the sense of foreboding swamping her senses. She ignored the frantic pounding of her heart and the fact her nightgown was plastered to her body like a second skin. She ignored the pain in her feet and head. There was nothing else she could do. Tilting up her chin, she moved forward.

She knew where she was, but didn’t want to say the word aloud. Didn’t dare to. Didn’t even want to think it.

As if someone or something had been reading her thoughts, a deep, compelling voice emanated from the darkness. “Welcome to Hell.”

Aimee froze. She wanted to turn. Wanted to run. Wanted to be anywhere but where she was. But her limbs were frozen in place. All she could do was blink as the owner of the voice came nearer. His feet made no sound on the rocks, but she knew he was getting closer. The air stirred in front of her. Dust tickled her nose.

A wave of pure, unadulterated evil suddenly struck her, sucking the air from her lungs. She’d thought she was as afraid as a person could get. She’d been wrong. Terror swamped her in waves, threatening to drown her. The strong stink of sulfur stung her nostrils and coated the back of her throat.

The other creatures in the darkness shrank back from whoever, whatever, was moving forward. She tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat were bone dry.

Aimee closed her eyes briefly. Bad analogy. Don’t think about bones. Her eyes shot open again as the hideous creatures surrounding her stirred and crept closer with excitement now. If they were excited, it couldn’t be good for her. She wanted to run, but her limbs refused to cooperate. Her brain and body were disconnected. All she could do was watch and wait and pray.

Flames flickered, seemingly in thin air, before jumping to life all around her. It took her a moment to realize that some of the demonic creatures had lit torches. The light swelled, filling the cavern. There was no longer any darkness to hide the reality of her situation, nothing to blanket or soften her fears.

She watched, both terrified and fascinated, as he glided toward her. It was definitely male, this creature that stalked her from the stygian depths of this cursed place. Power and evil combined in a formidable package. The man was simply gorgeous, so physically perfect he defied the laws of nature. There was something inherently wrong with that. Evil should be ugly.

He threw back his head and laughed, and the deep, seductive sound filled the air. The movement sent his glossy black hair tumbling down his back. His jawline was strong, his nose straight, his cheekbones high. He was tall, so very tall. And strong. Dark leather pants molded to his thighs and calves. His chest was bare, revealing rock-hard abs and smooth, tanned skin.

He looked at her then, and her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were as black as the night. No, they were night. The ultimate darkness from which there is no escape. There was no kindness there, no shadow of mercy. Only cunning and power and expectation.

Reaching out, he tucked one finger under her chin and lifted it higher for his inspection. Her skin burned, scorched by his touch, and she cried out in spite of her resolve to be brave. His thin lips turned up at the corners into a cruel smile. “You’ll do.”

A cacophony of noise erupted around her. A wolf howled, a lion snarled and a bear growled. Other animals joined in, their cries and calls echoing in her ears. Above them all came the roar of a tortured tiger.

Aimee slapped her hands over her ears, desperately trying to block out the yowls of anger and pain that clawed their way to the very depths of her soul, beseeching her to help them. The cries were filled with anguish, but worst of all, with hopelessness.

Somehow, she knew these noble beasts weren’t here in Hell. They were out there somewhere in the world, locked in some kind of unending torture. And she knew who was responsible for their suffering—the man standing before her—Hades, King of the Underworld.