Night of the Tiger(20)

Laughter mocked her as the ride whirled at an impossible speed. A female voice seemed to whisper on the wind, but she couldn’t make out what the woman was saying. Maybe it was hope. Or it could be help. The voice was familiar, like something she’d dreamed once before.

Aimee couldn’t think. The speed and the constant circling were making her dizzy. She was close to passing out, and if that happened she would fall. Memories of the car accident that took her parents’ life assailed her. It was much the same—the feeling of being totally out of control, of being unable to stop what was happening even though you knew it would end badly.

Terror shot through her body and struck her soul. She was going to die.

Her vision began to dim. She closed her eyes and prayed for the madness to stop. In her dreams, the tiger always protected her. With her remaining strength, she pressed her lips against the carved tiger, ignoring the warmth and the brush of fur.

“Protect me, tiger. Take me home.”

The world around her exploded in a mass of lights and screams. A kaleidoscope of color surrounded her. Even with her eyes shut tight, she could see the brilliant flashes of red, orange, yellow, green, sky blue, indigo and violet, as well as a multitude of colors she couldn’t name. She wanted to reach out and touch the colors. They were so beautiful they brought tears to her eyes.

Her grip grew weaker and her body shifted. Her fingers and legs were numb from holding on so tight. She felt herself falling, but there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening. Her strength was gone.

She slipped, her fingers dropping away from the tiger’s neck. A mighty roar split the air, the sound filled with anguish and anger. Aimee wanted to scream but the sound caught in her throat.

The world went black and silent.





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.