Night of the Tiger(70)

Her eyes were gradually becoming accustomed to the dark, but Roric was already moving. His eyes were narrowed, but she had no doubt he was seeing every square inch of the space. His superior vision was yet another reminder that he was a predator, something very different from her.

The inside of the tent looked much as it had the night she was here. It smelled slightly musty, permeated with a layer of grease and spun sugar from the concession stands.

“Which way?” His voice was almost a soundless whisper.

She glanced right and left, trying to get her bearings. She felt a distinct pull to the left. “This way.”

Rather than letting her lead, he went ahead of her, sword held high and ready. The ground was hard-packed beneath her feet, allowing her to move soundlessly. She stayed close to Roric. It was so dark in the tent it would be easy for her to become disoriented if she lost sight of him.

She felt something in the air. Expectation. Anticipation. Someone or something was there. Aimee placed her hand on Roric’s back. The muscles tightened, but he didn’t turn around. She knew he had to be feeling it too.

Silently, he stalked forward. She heard the light brush of canvas and then they were in another room. A dim light reflected eerily off the dark walls, casting grotesque shadows around the room. There in the center of the room sat the carousel. Only this time, the tiger was no longer there. Roric had been set free.

The reality of the situation slammed home. They were really going to try to find a way to free the other three warriors. The bear, wolf and lion all waited. Aimee could feel the swell of anticipation, of anger, of fear. So much pain and emotion swirled around her.

She wanted to run, to leave this all behind her. She wanted her boring life back. She wanted to spend the day working on illustrations for her latest project. Instead, she took a step toward the carousel. She’d freed one of them by climbing on the ride. She was willing to try it again.

Roric was staring at the carousel with such a look of longing and fear that it broke her heart. So many centuries imprisoned. He knew what the rest of them were going through, had lived through it himself.

“Which one?” She kept her voice low.

He walked toward the lion and rubbed his hand over the creature’s head. He did the same for the wolf before coming to a stop beside the final one. “Marko.” He pointed her toward the bear.

Adrenaline raced through her system. She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans. This was it. Stepping up onto the base of the ride, she patted the bear’s flank. It felt cold and lifeless, not at all like the tiger had the night she’d freed Roric. Frowning, she threw her leg over the animal, settling herself on his back.

Nothing.

She didn’t want to look at Roric, didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes, but she forced herself to do so. He was watching the bear, sadness darkening his blue eyes. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

For a brief moment, she thought she felt the ripple of muscles beneath her thighs. Then it was gone and the creature was solid once again. Aimee slid off the animal’s back and placed her hand on Roric’s arm. “I’m sorry.” The words did nothing to convey the depth of the sorrow she felt at being unable to free his friends.

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. We knew this probably wouldn’t work.”

“Yet you had to try.” The female voice rang out from the shadows. “You warriors are so predictable.”

The lights came up, temporarily blinding Aimee. She shaded her eyes with her hand and blinked to clear her vision.

Sandra strode from a dark corner of the tent. “Stavros tried to do the exact same thing. Except we didn’t let the jaguar get quite this far. Just in case, you understand. But the boss wanted to know for sure if one woman could free all of you or if a specific woman was really needed for each of you. I guess we know the answer to that question.” The demon frowned and shook her head, clucking her tongue. “I expected better from you,” she chided Roric. “After all, you’re the leader of this motley group.”

The blonde, blue-eyed demon slowly circled the carousel, stroking her hand over the three remaining animals. As always, Sandra looked good, better than good. She was wearing a skin-tight red dress that plunged to her navel, exposing more than a hint of her bountiful breasts. The sides of the dress were slit all the way to her waist, parting with each step she took, showing off her long, supple legs to their best advantage.

In her jeans, shirt and brown jacket, Aimee felt like a frump next to her. At least now she knew that those looks came from unnatural means. It made her feel slightly better. Not much, but some.