Night of the Tiger(39)
She dragged the towel over her body, wincing when it brushed over her sensitive breasts. Her nipples were puckered into tight buds, and they were more red than pink. She looked closer, groaning when she noticed the slight reddish marks on her flesh. Yup, she’d certainly done more than dream last night. More carefully this time, she patted her skin dry.
A quick glance in the mirror made her moan in dismay. Her hair was standing up on end. Roric had seen her like this. Not that it mattered. They weren’t exactly a couple. But still, she didn’t want to look like something just dragged out of a ragbag. She wanted to look poised and confident.
Grabbing her brush, Aimee dragged it through her hair until it looked fairly normal. She slathered some moisturizer on her face, but decided her skin was too sensitive for her to do the same to her body. Not knowing how much time she had, she tossed the towel into the laundry basket in the corner and pulled on her robe.
She tiptoed down the hallway to her bedroom and gave a sigh of relief when Roric was nowhere in sight. She only hoped he’d taken her up on her offer and had helped himself to one of her father’s old T-shirts.
Aimee deliberately turned her back on the bed. The rumpled covers were too much of a reminder of what she’d done. The heady, musky smell of sex still lingered in the air. She’d had unprotected sex with a stranger.
She headed to the window and shoved it open a crack. A cool breeze drifted in. That should help disperse any lingering reminders of last night. Changing the sheets would be the final step. She’d get to that later, if she was still alive to worry about it.
“Stop being negative. Think positive.” That old adage hadn’t helped much over the years, but it was better than the alternative.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she yanked open dresser drawers and pulled out underwear and socks. “It will be fine,” she assured herself. “It’s not the right time of the month for me to get pregnant. That’s even assuming an immortal warrior can make a human woman pregnant.”
Talking to herself usually helped her sort out her problems, but this morning it wasn’t helping much. “He probably doesn’t have any diseases. After all, he hasn’t had sex for a few thousand years.” She winced. Put that way, it was no wonder he’d jumped her bones in bed. Especially since she’d been very willing to have her bones jumped.
Her favorite pair of faded jeans came next. They fit her like a glove and were even more comfortable than a pair of sweatpants. She wore them when she needed to feel confident. And this morning, she needed the boost more than ever. She topped it with a V-neck cotton sweater that matched the green of her eyes. Not that she was primping or anything.
She stopped and scrubbed her hands over her face. Oh God, she was primping. Giving a moan of frustration, she shoved her feet into a pair of canvas sneakers and left the bedroom.
It was time to find Roric and figure out what the heck was going on. Whether she liked it or not, she was caught up in this crazy situation with him. It was time for her to learn what was truly at stake. Her dreams had been terrifying, and if even half of what was in them was reality, she was screwed.
Roric’s comment that her soul was on the line had frightened her worse than any of her nightmares. She didn’t want to believe him, but she was sorely afraid he was telling the truth. Whatever was going on, he knew more about it than she did. Information was power, and she needed whatever extra edge she could get.
She was at the top of the stairs when she paused. She had the sudden feeling that something wasn’t right, someone was here. The sound of paper shuffling reached her ears. Someone was moving around her office.
Should she call out for Roric? No, that would alert whoever was there. Better to take a quick peek and assess the situation. Creeping down the hallway, she kept to the far left, near the wall and away from the floorboards that creaked. Her palms were sweaty, her heart racing as she eased toward the open doorway.
Aimee held her breath as she inched toward the door. Moving slower than she ever had in her life, she peered around the doorjamb, half afraid of what she might see. Had the demons arrived? If Roric could be believed, they already knew where to find them. She figured that was probably the truth. After all, Hades and the gang certainly had no trouble finding her in her dreams.
Her heartbeat spiked as adrenaline shot through her veins. It was quickly followed by anger. Roric stood with his back to the door, staring down at her desk. His back was rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. She absently noted he was wearing a black shirt, whose seams were tested by the width of his shoulders and the sheer size of his biceps. Not that the fact he’d done as she’d asked would save him from her wrath.