His Darkest Hunger (2 page)

Libby felt a hint of unease waft through her, but she angrily shoved it aside. She was sick and tired of being sick, tired, and scared. Enough was enough.

Inhaling deeply, she drew in a calming breath and took two more steps until she was level with him. Keeping her eyes averted, she looked at the specials written on her pad and read them off quickly. Her voice was so soft she was afraid he wouldn’t be able to understand her and she’d have to start all over again.

When she was done, she waited patiently for him to tell her his order. Moments ticked by and no words were forthcoming. Quickly, her eyes flickered to the table, and she became mesmerized by the tapping fingers that pounded out a staccato beat against the brown grain tabletop. They were long, lean, and incredibly male.

She felt a small flush of heat make its way up from her belly, spreading warmth over her flesh until her pale cheeks began to color.

“Would you like to order something, sir?”

She was about to try again, feeling like a fool at the continued silence that stretched between them. But then, when he finally spoke, she jumped, startled at both the timber and the effect he had on her.

“I’d like you to look at me.”

His voice was low and rough, with an edge of steel to it that sent her defenses crashing into red alert. Her first instinct was to flee, to rush through the door of the diner and never look back.

She fought it. She fought it hard, and inside felt a
sense of wonder that she was able to mumble a few words instead of run.

“I’m sorry, what would you like to order?”

She turned slightly, angled her head and exhaled softly as she looked into midnight eyes that were staring at her with lethal hardness.

Her tummy took a nose dive and she almost stumbled as the intensity of his glare washed over her. The man was on edge and clearly pissed off. Danger clung to him, caressing his shoulders and surrounding his body like an invisible force.

She could feel it, deep inside; he was not to be messed with. He was the kind of man who would eat someone like her for lunch.

He was the kind of man that haunted her nightmares.

Libby broke into a sweat as her body heated up, full of anxiety. Her breath was coming fast and hard, and she could feel the blackness, once more skirting the edge of madness.

A small sob escaped her as she fought for control, trying to tame the emotions that ran rampant through her frail body. Her side began to ache from the pressure, and instinctively her hand went to it, massaging it slowly.

The man’s eyes followed this movement, and when they once more locked onto hers, a tingling awareness rushed through her. Her head was pounding now and she thought she was literally going to come apart.

His eyes still held hers, but something in them had changed. A flicker of emotion colored the blackness that was there, and she swayed, her hand grabbing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I…don’t feel well.”

He shrugged away violently from her touch, and Libby withdrew her hand, feeling as if she’d been scorched. She staggered back, her eyes never leaving his, trapped by the bitterness that she now saw.

“Libby, do you need some help?” Maxine asked from behind, the tone sarcastic and gleeful at the same time.

“Please, I…” An intense jolt of pain ripped through her brain, and Libby’s hands automatically went to cradle her head as she saw stars. Her eyes tried to focus as she watched the notepad fall to her feet. But she couldn’t. The world seemed to be heaving underfoot, and she swayed as the darkness that had been cloying around the edges of her mind erupted violently.

A moment later her body fell forward and she would have smashed face first into the hard tiles if not for the large arms that grabbed her.

At the same time, glass shattered to their right and a spray of bullets rained down, punching the empty air where they’d both been.

T
he world stopped completely for Jaxon Castille.

Bullets flying everywhere, screams and shouts ripping through the air in terror; all of it faded into nothing but white noise. He could hear his heart beating steadily inside his body, and as he inhaled air deep into his lungs, the whooshing sound it made echoed eerily in his head.

Everything slowed and came to a halt.

Everything but Libby.

His vision focused into a narrow beam that encircled her body and nothing else.

Her legs had collapsed as she pitched forward. Instinct took over and his arms snaked out, grabbing her around the waist, and he went with her, cushioning the fall with the hardness of his body. He covered her face with his hands and turned as shattered glass blew out and rained down on them.

Her scent instantly went deep, and the animal that lived inside of him quivered excitedly, wanting…craving the female it had long been denied.

With great effort Jaxon pushed the beast back, his eyes quickly scanning the face he had never forgotten. She was so incredibly pale, a shallow ghost of her former self, and the feel of her frailty hit him hard in the gut.

The look in her eyes when she finally had the courage to meet his own had stunned him. They were full of horror and utter confusion.

In that instant he knew. Libby Jamieson had no idea who the hell he was. No one, not even Jodie Foster, could have faked such a performance.

What the hell had happened to her? And where in the hell had she disappeared to these last three years?

An even more pressing matter occurred to him as the scent of blood drifted through his nasal passages. His heart leapt into his throat as he turned her face in his hands, before they quickly ran down the length of her body.

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he was satisfied the blood wasn’t coming from her, and he let it out heavily.

Quickly he turned, still cradling her close to his body, and spied the other waitress, Maxine. She was lying in a pool of blood, while a few other staff members were crouched low around her. Within a few seconds Jaxon was able to ascertain that the unfortunate woman was the only casualty.

One of the waitresses was giving her mouth to mouth, but he knew that her life force had already
seeped from her limp body, mingling with the pool of blood that was slowly growing larger.

The door from the kitchen flew open and two men charged into the melee of screaming, frightened people. The older gentleman ran to the downed waitress and touched his fingers to her throat before shaking his head sadly. A fresh hail of whimpers sprang from the waitress who had been frantically trying to resuscitate, and she collapsed onto her friend as she cried out in anguish.

The older man patted her head in sorrow before springing to his feet. His eyes searched wildly, and when he rested them on Jaxon, his face went white and his legs almost buckled.

Libby meant something to this man. Jaxon growled and held her possessively as he approached. The beast began to clamor loudly, wanting to make an appearance, and he leapt to his feet quickly, ducking behind a wall, using it as a buffer between him and the sniper who was still out there.

A sniper that had come for both Libby and himself.

Rage, all consuming and black, flushed his face, and the older man halted. It was only concern and fear for Libby that pushed him forward. “Is she…?” His voice was hoarse and tears thickened his tongue.

Jaxon shook his head, answering in a clipped voice. “No. She just fainted.”

“Thank God. I’m Pete, what the hell happened here? It looks like a war zone. I’ve already called 911. The police should be here any minute.”

Pete looked back to the dead waitress and his voice broke. “I just don’t understand how this could happen. I don’t understand…any of this.”

“Can you take Libby?”

Jaxon’s voice cut through Pete’s confusion and he carefully placed Libby in his arms. “I’ll be back. Make sure no harm comes to her.”

He grabbed his bag and strode toward the door, barely contained fury humming along behind him.

“But you can’t just leave. The police are going to want to talk to you.”

Jaxon didn’t bother turning around, but his voice drifted back toward Pete as the door closed behind him. “Just keep her safe. She belongs to me.”

Off in the distance, the wail of sirens signaled the arrival of local law enforcement. Jaxon quickly slipped into the alley behind the diner and reached into his pocket to retrieve a cell phone. He hit number one on his speed dial.

“Yeah, Dec here.”

“Declan, it’s me.”

He heard a long static-filled pause in his ear as he waited for his former weapons specialist to get over the shock of hearing his voice. After their unit was ambushed three years earlier, the team had been dismantled, and they were all been reassigned after the debriefing. He tried to keep in touch, but had not bothered with either Declan or Ana in well over a year.

“How did you get this number? You need a level five clearance before it’s given out.”

Jaxon gritted his teeth, trying to hold the beast down and keep his composure. Declan O’Hara wanted to have a pissing contest, but he had no time for that kind of shit. “I’m in a small town called Winterhaven. It’s located in northern Michigan. I found Libby.”

There was a pause once more as his former teammate took a few moments.

“And she’s still alive?” The voice was harsh, deadly cold.

It was Jaxon’s turn to pause as a host of emotions washed over him. “I came here specifically to put a bullet between her eyes, but yeah, she’s still alive.”

“And the reason for that is?” Declan’s manner had wintered even more as the barely concealed contempt they all felt for Libby rose to the surface.

“Something’s not right here. I was sent this intel on a secure channel. I didn’t take the time to check it out, so I can’t even tell you where the hell it came from. What I
can
tell you…is that things are not what they seem. She has no clue who the hell I am, and someone just tried to take the both of us out.”

Jaxon paused, tight-lipped with anger at the audacity of the unknown assassin. His voice became harsh and he growled into the cell phone. “I need you to find out where that intel came from. This was a setup. It’s not about Libby. It’s about me. Someone wants me dead, and I aim to find the bastard before he gets another shot at my ass.”

“And what about Libby?”

Jaxon paused before barking into the phone, “Leave her to me. She has a lot to answer for, and trust me, she will pay for her complicity in Diego’s murder.”

“Right,
sure
. So where we gonna run this investigation? I’m assuming you want to keep it on the down low.”

“Meet me at the loft in twenty-four hours. Call
ahead and let Cracker know you’re coming. You still in touch with Ana?”

“Yeah, she freelances with us every now and again. I can’t promise, though. Not sure she’s even in the country.”

“Call her. I’ll expect to see the both of you tomorrow night.”

Jaxon clicked the cell and shoved it back into his pocket. He listened briefly as the sound of police and emergency response teams intermingled with the shrieks and cries of the scared patrons inside the diner.

The lonely wail of a wolf lit the night sky, and suddenly the beast inside him became painfully agitated.

Jaxon took off at a run, climbing the fire escape until he was on top of the roof. He crouched down low, senses quivering in the cold night air. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved a small pair of night vision goggles and began a scan of the area along the embankment, where he’d set his sniper gear up less than an hour ago.

No movement could be discerned. Whoever took the shots had probably disappeared as soon as they’d been fired. He would have known his aim had failed, his cover blown, and retreated.

Savagely, Jaxon snarled as his body hummed in anticipation. It had been far too long since he’d hunted. Running to the far side of the building, he leapt over the side and landed over twenty feet below. He paused, scented the air, then broke into a run.

The heavy satchel slung from his shoulders was not a concern, as his long legs quickly carried him
down the small valley and up onto the high ridge that followed the western side of Winterhaven. Once on top, he turned back toward town, ignoring the chaos that he could see inside the diner, and began to calculate distance and angles.

Once he was satisfied, he picked up the pace and found himself close to the area he had chosen earlier that night.

He dropped to his knees, his eyes searching the ground for clues. There was nothing there. This indicated a professional. Anger rode him hard; anger at himself. He’d put his own life in jeopardy because his entire psyche had been torn into knots at the thought of seeing Libby again.

At the thought of killing her
.

He inhaled deeply. The scent of the sniper filled his nostrils, and he growled loudly as the lingering odor left a trail he could follow easily.

Jaxon’s skin began to burn once more, and this time the energy would not be denied.

With a mighty roar, he grabbed his satchel and quickly found the safe cache he’d carved out of the ground several hours earlier. Throwing his gear inside, he stripped his body of clothes and boots, tossing them in along with the rest.

A large moon hung low in the sky, its soft glow caressing the hard lines of his body, the only witness as the change came over him.

Long fingers of mist swirled and clung to his limbs as bones popped and muscles elongated. His skin rippled and fell away, leaving a thick coat of glossy black fur in its place. When the mist cleared, a large jaguar barked a warning, his cry echoing loudly in the quiet night air.

The beast shook out his powerful limbs and quickly ran to the area where the sniper had been. He inhaled his enemy’s scent deep into its lungs. The stink of a human male filtered through his nasal cavity, and the great beast took off, running hard.

The scent was still fresh in the air and on the ground, and he followed it easily. The sniper had packed up quickly and was already on the move. The cat knew he needed to cut him off before he reached his vehicle.

Adrenaline pumped through his body, and Jaxon gathered as much power as he could, his four legs propelling him as he followed the scent to a small outcrop of tall conifer trees. He entered the green forest silently, and his ears twitched anxiously as he picked up the sounds of heavy breathing.

His enemy had pushed hard, taxing his physical capabilities to the limit.

Slowly, the black jaguar picked his way down a steep incline, until he sighted his enemy fifty paces to his right.

He froze, his nostrils twitching in anticipation of a kill.

The human part of his brain exerted a bit more pressure to contain the beast that so desperately wanted to destroy.

Instead, the cat hunkered down, low to the ground, its belly touching the earth floor as he slowly, with care and stealth, approached the large male.

The man had stowed his weapons and just settled onto the back of an all terrain vehicle when a soft beeping alerted him to a cell phone call.

The cat watched as the man flipped the cell open
and paused before answering. He cleared his throat loudly and spoke into the device.

“It’s me.”

The animal strained to hear a voice, or even a whisper of the person on the other end, for surely it was the bastard that had ordered an attempt on his life.

“That’s a negative. There were complications. Look, I said I’d get the job done and I will. He’s found the girl and he didn’t kill her. Trust me, he’ll take her and run, and I’ll be following closely. When the time is right, I’ll take them both out.”

The animal trembled as he continued to watch the male. The man threw the cell phone into a compartment and started the all terrain vehicle. Its loud rumble vibrated through the earth, and the jaguar’s great paws jumped at the sensation.

He gathered his power, and with a mighty roar leapt from his place of hiding. He jumped with full force and successfully knocked the man to the ground. His huge paws swiped hard and satisfaction filtered into his system as the scent of blood rose into the air.

The man screamed, twisting his body in an attempt to get away, but the beast was too heavy and much too powerful.

Jaxon roared his anger as his body straddled that of his enemy, his muzzle baring deadly canines. The man’s body let loose and the smell of urine mingled with the red blood that flowed freely from his damaged face.

Jaxon called the mist to him, using the weight of his powerful limbs to hold his enemy in place as the change overcame him quickly.

The man yelped, confused and scared out of his mind.

Jaxon snorted in disgust. This piece of shit thought to take him out? Savagely, he grabbed the man’s neck and brought the trembling form close to him. Fear lay heavy in the air, and his voice cut through the thickness of it as he threw his words at the enemy.

“Who gave the order for the hit?”

The idiot’s eyes had widened, and the pupils dilated as if he were in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, and after Jaxon loosened his grip around his throat, he croaked out a response.

“What are you?”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for. I’ll only ask one more time—who gave the order for the hit?”

The man seemed to regain a bit of his composure, and he studied Jaxon in silence. He seemed resigned and exhaled softly. “So, you are real. I thought they were full of shit.” His eyes turned pleading then, a last ditch effort, so to speak. “Look, I don’t know who’s giving the orders. You know the way these things work. It’s nothing personal…it’s just a job.”

Jaxon snarled loudly, his hands grasping the neck tighter. He leaned down, whispering quietly into the man’s ears, “That was the wrong answer, and don’t take this
personally.
I’m just doing
my
job.”

With a quick twist, the man’s neck snapped. Jaxon threw his lifeless body to the side as he jumped to his feet. He grabbed the cell phone the man had used earlier and pressed the redial button.