Night of the Tiger(47)

Instead, he’d had to watch Aimee withdraw further from him with each passing second. Not physically. After all, there was really nowhere for her to run. But mentally and emotionally, he’d felt her slam the door between them, felt her putting up inner walls to protect herself. The beast within him had roared in displeasure. Roric had barely refrained from doing the same. He worried about what the little human thought of it all.

Which made no sense at all. He’d never worried about a human woman before. His duty was clear. He had to stay alive until midnight tonight. Once the curse was broken, he was free from Hades forever. After that, he had to find a way to release his fellow warriors and free the Lady from Hell. There was no room in his life for Aimee and the unsettling feelings she stirred within him.

Sitting on the floor, covered in black soot and sweat, she should have looked unattractive, but instead, she was beautiful to him. Roric’s cock was as hard as stone. Even now, he wanted to take her to the bare floor and bury himself in her heat until the thousands of years of loneliness were nothing but a distant memory.

He gritted his teeth, ignoring the desire clawing at his insides. The animal within him growled and paced. The tiger recognized its mate and had no problem letting him know it wasn’t pleased with him.

Mate.

Impossible. He was an immortal warrior and she was a human. Her lifespan was but a blink in time. No matter what he might feel for her, their being together was not meant to be.

“Are you all right?” Her soft voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His groin tightened and he swallowed a groan. When it came to his control, this woman was more lethal than a hundred succubae.

“I’m fine.” His voice was curt, but he couldn’t help it. He was in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He yanked at the tail of the T-shirt he was wearing. It covered some of the evidence of his erection but not all of it.

He held out his hand and something inside him relaxed when Aimee placed her fingers against his. Her hands were soft and so much smaller than his. Yet there was great talent in them. And not just in the bedroom, although there was no doubt about her talent there. He barely refrained from grinning. She’d want to know what made him smile, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate where his mind had wandered.

But he’d seen her artwork and was awed by the fluidity and realism she’d captured.

Her fingers tightened around his, drawing his attention. He stared at their hands, his tanned and hers light. They were very different, yet they fit together perfectly.

He’d wondered if she would touch him again of her own accord or if the appearance of the demon had made her rethink her earlier friendliness with him. Maybe that had been the point of the succubus coming here this morning—to drive a wedge between him and Aimee. It would certainly make it easier for her to betray him. That kind of manipulation was right up Hades’ alley.

Tugging, he helped her up from the floor and watched as she glanced around her living room. Beneath the malodorous odor of brimstone was the unmistakable scent of Aimee. He inhaled deep, drawing it into his lungs to help drive out the stench of the demon.

“That was…” She swallowed hard. “That was impressive.”

Roric snorted. “All flash, no substance.”

“If that’s flash, I’m glad there was no substance,” she retorted. “There’s no way this can be cleaned. I’m going to have to toss out everything.”

“We have bigger problems than that. Sandra was only the first contact. For some reason, Hades wants me on his side. When that doesn’t happen, things are going to get hot around here.”

“I know.” She whispered her agreement. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to deal with all of this and not lose my mind in the process.” Lifting her face to him, she tried to smile, but he could see the worry etched in her eyes.

“A few days ago, I was a graphic artist, an illustrator. I lived alone, had a simple life. Sure, I had a few nightmares, but I was dealing with them, using them to fuel my creative spark. Now I’m in the middle of a supposedly ancient war, and I just found out the only friend I thought I had is really a demon.”

Roric could take the separation between them no longer. He tugged her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. He buried his face in her hair. It smelled of brimstone, but beneath it was her unique perfume, a combination of vanilla and woman. “It will be fine.”

She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight. He swallowed hard, unable to remember a time when someone had just held him. There was nothing sexual in her touch. It was one person offering comfort to another. Roric tried to catalogue everything about the moment, the feel of her soft fingers against the base of his spine, the brush of her hair against his chin, the quiet sound of her breathing.