Aimee shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even though her heart was threatening to burst through her chest. “You also said you’d do whatever it took to rescue the Lady and your friends.”
Whirling away from the table, he paced back to the window. “It’s a trick. It’s always a trick with Hades. A way to taint my honor to make it easier for him to ensnare me.”
Sympathy welled up within Aimee. She could feel Roric’s pain, his anguish, and it hurt her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. His pain was hers. Rising from the table, she walked over to stand behind him. The muscles in his back tensed slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication that he cared she was standing there.
Placing her hands on his back, she leaned in close and kissed his spine. The tattoo seemed to undulate beneath her lips, as though the tiger felt her touch. His skin was warm and salty against her lips. “I’m sorry.” She slid her hands around his sides and linked them together, resting them on his stomach. The movement plastered her breasts against his back. Her nipples ached, and she barely resisted the urge to rub herself against him. This was about comfort, not sex. “What can I do to help?”
Roric’s mind was spinning with possibilities. His anger simmered deep within him, but he kept it banked and under firm control. To let that fury slip its leash would be to allow Hades the upper hand. That’s what the god was hoping for. A warrior did not make wise decisions when he allowed his emotions to rule him.
Cold, hard and calculating were the qualities he needed at the moment, not hot-blooded, wild emotions. Although that was easier said than done with Aimee pressed against his back, her soft breasts pillowed against him, her inviting scent permeating the air around them.
He wanted her again, but it was much more than a physical need. That would have been easy to ignore. It was her generosity of spirit that moved him in a way he’d never thought possible, her willingness to sacrifice herself for a cause that was not hers. She didn’t curse him, even though she had the right. She hadn’t given him up to Hades’ minion to save herself. She was an enigma to him in many ways.
His existence had been about duty. Always. There had been little room for softer emotions. But Aimee made him feel things. Dangerous things.
He wanted endless days with her to find out what she liked and didn’t like, what made her laugh, what made her angry. He wanted to curl himself around her in bed and listen to a cold winter wind blow outside while they remained safe and warm inside.
The tiger within him roared in agreement. Sharp talons of need pierced him. But he would never give in to them. He couldn’t. Time was running out fast. There would never be an opportunity to see what might have been between them.
Anger and disappointment made his voice sharp. “Hades is toying with us.” He wanted to shelter her from the worst of what was to come, but knew it was impossible.
She slid her arms from his body and stepped away. He wanted to drag her back into his arms but kept them by his sides. Turning, he watched as she swallowed hard, her throat moving up and down. “What do you mean?”
He waved his hand toward the yard. Through the window they could see the area where they’d fought for their lives. The only indication that anything out of the ordinary had occurred was the scorched patches of grass and the splitting maul lying on the ground beside the woodpile. “Those demons were lesser ones, physically strong but not too smart. Hades was testing us. Testing you.”
Her face paled, but her gaze never wavered. “Testing? How?”
“He wanted to see if you’d cut and run at the first sign of real trouble, or if you’d stand and fight.” Roric raked his fingers through his hair, wishing Aimee weren’t a part of this. He didn’t mind his own death—expected it in fact—but the thought of Aimee being hurt made him want to roar with anger.
“I see,” she said, her words spaced apart. A shiver racked her body, but she squared her shoulders.
Pride ripped through him. He had no right to feel it, no claim to her in any way, but he couldn’t deny it. Here was a woman worthy to stand by a warrior for all eternity. She would not turn and flee, but stay by his side and fight. It made him all the more determined to protect her.
He had no idea how he was going to manage that. He simply knew he had no choice. Aimee had to survive.
“So what do we do now?” Going over to the counter, she poured what was left of her coffee down the drain. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her hand trembled slightly.
Roric took a mental picture of her. He wanted to remember her this way forever—standing in the middle of her quaint kitchen, the sunshine pouring through the window and the simple white cabinets behind her. Her short black hair was sticking up slightly, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and her eyes were the color of spring grass.