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.