His Darkest Hunger (23 page)

Declan had placed an invisibility ward around them, so their enemies would not know they were being hunted, until it was too late.

Jaxon smiled savagely, feeling the power that rippled along his forearms and spread like fire along each and every cell in his body.

They inched their way forward, the greenish light that lit the tunnel growing brighter as they reached the opening that led into a magnificent cavern. At any other time, Jaxon would have appreciated the wild vast area that surrounded him, but his attention was focused solely on five soldiers who were grouped together, talking among themselves in hushed tones.

They were all jaguar warriors, two from the DaCosta clan, the other three with tattoos he didn’t recognize immediately. No matter. They were his enemy, and they would die at his hands.

Declan aimed his gun dead center at the tallest one, who stood in the middle, and Jaxon set his sights on the dark warrior to the far right of the group. They would reduce their numbers by two, but warriors were fast, especially elite jaguars, and they most likely wouldn’t have time to fire off another round.

In perfect sync, Jaxon and Declan fired their guns, their targets a blur even as the shots echoed loudly inside the cavern, bouncing off the rock face and slamming back at them. The two intended victims went down as planned, bright red blood seeping from their fatal wounds and leeching into the crystal-like water that flowed quickly by them.

Angry snarls rent the air, and Declan balled energy into his hands, feeding off the black negativity that hung so thick in the air. He flung the red hot balls of crackling energy at the warrior who charged toward him, and he crashed back into the water along with the warrior, before disappearing beneath the glasslike surface.

Jaxon had no time to react, as a warrior in the
process of shifting jumped to the right of him and another ran toward him, eyes blackened in blood lust. He let the large warrior fall into him, taking him down as he plunged his large knife deep into the man’s gut. The warrior shouted in rage and his face distorted as the shift started to fall over his features.

Jaxon’s animal answered in kind, and he felt his bones elongate and pop as his skin burned away, leaving shiny black fur in its wake. He snarled savagely and twisted his great body as his clothes fell in tatters to his feet.

The wounded jaguar lunged toward him, and the two great beasts rolled end over end, with Jaxon landing hard against a sharp boulder that edged the side of the stream. The smell of blood was heavy in his nostrils, and the rage that overcame him pushed his jaguar forward, his huge paws swiping at the enemy and knocking him off of his body.

Jaxon twisted away and leapt up, meeting the other jaguar in midair, and when he landed on top of him, his jaw clamped down hard on the jugular, his great canines piercing through the soft skin that lay there. He tasted the blood and life essence now seeping uncontrollably from his enemy’s neck, and with a mighty roar he struck, his powerful jaw crushing the skull of the great cat and killing him instantly.

His mind felt muddied, awash with the thick haze and adrenaline rush of the kill, and he barked his victory, snarling as he jumped from the lifeless body of his enemy.

He had no time to process his kill, as his body warned him of an attack. He turned, but not in time,
as the second jaguar pounced on him from behind. This animal was heavier and fully engaged in the heat of battle. Jaxon pushed his body to the edge as he tried to shake the heavy beast from his back, knowing that the animal’s powerful jaw could kill him as easily as he’d just done to its brethren.

He managed to unseat the cat, and had just gained his own feet when a blast of energy rocked the jaguar back several feet, followed by the snap of a gunshot. The animal took another step, then fell into a heap of fur, blood, and flesh as his feet.

Jaxon stood, sides quivering from battle, and glanced back at Declan. He had managed to climb from the water and take out the remaining warrior. They looked at each other in silence, and he followed Declan over to the bodies of the first two warriors they’d killed.

He watched as the sorcerer crouched down, studying the fallen enemy. Slowly, Jaxon began to shift back into his human form, feeling alarmed by Declan’s gray complexion as his friend turned back to him.

“Declan? What is it?”

“I don’t fucking believe it.”

Jaxon wiped the remnants of blood from his hands, not liking his tone, or Declan’s tense body language. His friend looked ill, and his concern grew as Declan struggled to speak.

“I just…I thought he was—” Declan inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Declan shook his head, and met Jaxon’s eyes with a bleakness he wasn’t used to seeing. “My father…
this is my father. The dead warriors have his mark on their flesh.”

“Mark? What kind of mark? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When a sorcerer binds someone to them, in any way, they leave a mark. It’s a symbol of their ownership.” Declan’s voice was subdued as he continued. “These men have my father’s mark on their necks.” He pointed to a small crescent-shaped tattoo on the dead warrior’s necks.

“But your father is dead, killed years ago. Wasn’t he?”

Declan turned from Jaxon, his voice still full of shock, “Apparently not.”

Jaxon’s steel resolve wavered.

Shit.

That couldn’t be good.

He remained silent, watching the myriad emotions affecting Declan.

Energy crackled and sparks flew from his fingers as Declan’s face darkened with the realization that his father, whom he’d thought long gone, was somehow involved in all of this craziness. His mouth thinned into a hard line of disgust and he shook his head, clearly not understanding any of it.

“I don’t know what to say, Jax.”

Declan swore under his breath, and flexed his hands as his anger continued to generate small currents of electricity that hummed and flew about the large cavern.

Jaxon glanced back at the dead bodies and a sense of urgency rippled through him. He quickly crossed over to where his clothes lay in a pile and tossed the
completely ruined shirt aside. His pants had fared slightly better, and he grimly pulled them over his long legs before grabbing his boots.

He turned to Declan. “Okay, we need to find Libby. Are you okay with this?”

Declan’s eyes met his, and Jaxon clenched his jaw as his old friend paused and then whispered hoarsely, “Let’s do this.”

He started to move away, then paused. “I deal with my father. Got it?”

Jaxon didn’t bother answering, just grabbed his weapons and moved deeper into the large cavern. He closed his eyes and concentrated on isolating Libby’s scent. It was there, but elusive.

There were a series of tunnels jutting out into different directions, but he quickly turned to the right and headed toward the last passage. As he stepped into the darkened interior, her unique odor caught at him full tilt.

It punched him straight in the gut, actually. He began to pant as his senses picked up the remnants of her emotions. They hung in the air, mocking him. Pain, confusion, and incredible terror slapped him in the face, and it stung.

Libby was in danger, and he felt like a third fucking tit, less than useless.

He whipped around, and his nose touched on a secondary scent that until then had eluded him.

It was strangely familiar. He closed his eyes and took his time, his mouth watering in agitation as he let the scent wash over his pallet. It was eerily like Declan’s, but tinged with a foulness that almost made him gag.

His eyes flew open and he began to run down
the tunnel, Declan hard on his heels. She had been there, but her scent was faint. His heart was pounding hard, and the adrenaline was once more kicking in. Jaxon reveled in the flush of power that lay just under his skin, and his eyes were glowing as he neared the end of the tunnel, only to find…absolutely nothing.

He came to a wild halt, his chest heaving as his head whipped around, turning his body with it.

“Where the fuck is she?” The words were ripped from his throat, and sounded harsh as they echoed off the cold stone walls. His eyes traveled along the passage, glancing past the many drawings of jaguars and eagles.

He could sense her. He knew she was just beyond his reach, and it made him furious. Frustration fueled him, working its way to his outer limbs, and he pounded his fists against the stone, not caring about the blood he left on the smooth rock.

The animal inside of him was so close that Jaxon felt faint from the rush of energy and emotions running with chaotic abandon through his veins.

“Jaxon, over here!”

Declan was crouched low to the ground, back several feet along the tunnel.

Jaxon’s long legs carried him over quickly, his eyes narrowing as he watched Declan run his hands over the seam of the wall, where it met the floor.

“There’s a protection ward here. It’s been placed hastily, just give me a second and I’ll get us through.”

Jaxon stood back, air hissing through his clenched teeth and watched as Declan wove an intricate series of symbols into the air. They glowed from the
energy he was producing, dancing along the wall as if resting on a thin band of smoke.

Within a few moments the wall began to glisten and shimmer. Declan stood up quickly and his long fingers once more traced the length of the wall along the seam. He found a small indent and pressed his finger into it hard.

Jaxon watched in amazement as the large piece of rock slowly moved inward until an entrance lay open to them.

Declan grabbed his satchel, and Jaxon slipped past him, lowering his head to allow himself room to enter the secret tunnel.

It was dark, cold, and clammy. He could smell water ahead somewhere, and increased his pace, moving quickly as his nose caught a small bit of Libby in the air.

She was here and he would find her.

Declan grunted from behind him. “Cormac’s mine. Do not touch him.”

Jaxon continued forward without pausing.

“Cormac’s a dead man. If you don’t kill him, I will.”

L
ibby’s mouth was bone dry and her tongue swollen. She opened her eyes slowly, wincing as the remnants of a nasty headache wove their way across her skull. Christ! She hadn’t had one of those in…She shook her head at a bucketful of memories that came to her.

She trembled as the enormity of them weighed her down.
He was here!
The monster from her dreams was here, in the flesh.

Her eyes few open and she looked around wildly. She was in a small room, one that had been carved from the stone inside of the mountain. She shivered as cool moist air moved freely into the room from a passageway to her right, clinging to her damp skin.

The narrow entrance also allowed the strange greenish glow inside, enabling her to see, though it was still dim. Her eyes seemed to be coated with a
film that made it hard to focus, and she shook her head, not liking the sensation.

The relief that washed over her when she realized she was alone was palpable. Her heart beat hard against her chest and she didn’t think it would slow anytime soon. She reached for the weapons she’d stashed on her body, and felt deflated when she realized they’d been snatched.

She knew she couldn’t waste time brooding over that. She needed to get free and find her son, if in fact he was here in this massive mountain cave. For the first time, Libby acknowledged that this whole exercise might have been for nothing.

She shook her head violently. She could not dwell on that now. She needed to get her ass in gear and search for Logan. She had to at least try. To think that her little boy was somehow mixed up with the likes of Cormac was unbelievable.

He was a monster. Quite simply, evil in the flesh. There were no other words for him. He stank of it and he carried it proudly. She’d met him at the DaCosta compound, on several different occasions. The dislike she’d felt for him was immediate and well deserved.

For it was Cormac who’d wiped her memories from her mind. It was a painful and brutal assault, and she knew that the bastard had enjoyed every single moment of it.

Her thoughts still jumbled, Libby jumped to her feet, calling on her last vestiges of strength and adrenaline to carry her through. She tried to blot out the image of Fat Frank, suspended high in the air, in excruciating pain as his life force was sucked from him.

Cautiously, she edged her way toward the opening to the tiny room where she’d awoken, pausing for a second to warily look around the corner. She held her breath, making not a sound, and exhaled slowly when she saw that the narrow passage was empty.

Her belly was clenched tight, full of worry as anxious energy clawed at her insides. She felt nauseous, and gingerly wiped her hand across the sweat that beaded her forehead. She could feel the fear that lay in wait, and knew that if she gave in to it, she would never see her son. At this thought, standing straight, squaring her shoulders, she stepped out of the room.

There were a series of holes carved deep into the walls here, and she turned to her left, away from where the glow slithered down from the large cavern. Quickly, she began to methodically check all of the tiny rooms that lined the long stone passage.

They were all empty. Some showed signs of recent occupancy, littered with scattered clothes and empty containers of food, but nothing indicated the presence of a little boy.

The ache that cut across her chest was sharp, and Libby fed on it, using the strength of the emotions to propel her forward. She ducked her head into the last tiny room, then turned back toward where she’d come from.

Quickly, she made her way back down the corridor. When she reached the end, she realized that it didn’t connect with the large cavern she’d initially emerged from. This was something else entirely.

Water seemed to be everywhere, and once more, along the far side of this particular cavern, a fast
tumbling swatch of water beckoned, its surface glittering like diamonds as it rushed away and disappeared underground.

The walls were adorned with a plethora of writings, etchings, and pictures. All of them, from what she could see, were of Aztec origin, and featured jaguars, eagles, and the same strange looking disc she’s seen depicted near the entrance to the cave.

Something along the edge of the far wall caught her eyes, and Libby moved quickly toward it, her heart nearly beating from her chest at the sight of a small object protruding from a mess of rocks near the edge of the fast moving water.

Her long fingers reached out, and with a gentle tug she pulled a small toy free. It was a jaguar, carved from limestone, its surface soft and worn from play. She traced the contours of the animal, rubbing its softness against her cheek before clutching it close to her heart. Sorrow nearly undid her as she envisioned a child playing with the toy.

Her child.

“I see you’re awake.”

His voice cut through her sharply, and Libby closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart that she’d open them and find herself alone. She felt the hairs on her body stand on end and electrify as the air around her vibrated with the power the man possessed.

Her eyes were still closed but she felt his coldness nearby, his presence spilling out and staining everything in his path with his dark aura.

She felt sick to her stomach just being in such close proximity to him, and she swallowed hard,
willing her eyes to open so she could face her nemesis once and for all. For surely, her last moments would be spent here, with him, in this strangely marked cave.

“Where is my son?”

The tall man regarded her in silence, obviously enjoying the fact that he held all the power, and dangling it in front of her like the proverbial golden carrot. Libby wanted nothing more than to smash her fist into his arrogant face.

“He’s not here.”

Surprise, anger, and then blinding rage rushed through Libby, and her body began to shake with the intensity of it.

She took a step forward but was unable to get any closer to him. It was as if an invisible hand had wrapped itself around her body and she was helpless to prevent it. She felt the pressure increase as it worked its way up her body, and she found it harder to breathe.

Her thoughts were chaotic, but one thing rang crystal clear. She would die here, and she was sure it would not be a quick and efficient death. No, the bastard would make her suffer and enjoy every moment of it.

A sadness deeply embedded in her soul broke through and trickled its way along her psyche. So many things lost. Loves that had slipped through her fingers, and a child she’d never had the chance to love and to watch grow.

She began to struggle as her anguish became physical, but it only served to weaken her already spent and tired body.

Cormac clapped slowly, his black eyes seeming to glow with enjoyment as he watched her struggle.

“I always liked your spunk, Libby. Even when you were no more than a whiny toddler, you still had that spark, that will to win. I knew even then that you were special.”

Libby froze at his words. Her eyes were wild, the dark violet centers huge in her pale face.

He laughed, deep from his chest, and she wanted to put her hands over her ears to drown out the maniacal sound.

“Oh yes, Libby, I’ve known you since before you could walk.”

He moved toward her then, his long legs gliding across the rocks. “We have a history you and I…long ago. So imagine my surprise when I was asked by the DaCostas to place a mind block on a…‘Castille whore,’ I think they called you.”

He grinned up at her, and Libby realized she was slowly rising through the air.

An image of Frank once more slashed through her brain, and she began to struggle again, not understanding his words, but as the need to survive rose in her, not caring.

“When I learned you’d borne a child, and one made with a jaguar warrior, I knew.”

Libby shuddered as his smile became even more pronounced and his features seemed distorted, as if there were another person, or thing, inhabiting his body. His voice was barely above a whisper, and he smiled up at her as if they were old friends.

“I had to have him.”

“Where is he?” Her words were ripped from her
throat, her muscles left raw and aching as she listened to her voice echo in the still cavern.

Cormac continued to lazily walk around her suspended body. “Oh Libby, he’s not here. Silly of you to think that he was. Nope, actually he’s far away from here.”

His voice changed then, anger coursing through his words, and Libby flinched at the intensity of his anger. “As should you be,” he added, then spat, “Frank DaCosta brought me the wrong girl, and for that he paid with his life.”

A sound began to build from deep in the belly of the cavern, slicing its way along the passageways until it burst through to where Cormac stood in front of her. Libby’s ears perked and her attention momentarily distracted from him to the narrow crevice that led from where they were.

Jaxon!

The roar of a jaguar was tempered by gunshots, and Libby panicked. She struggled and cursed as the invisible bindings kept her securely suspended twenty feet above the ground.

Cormac slowly moved away from her, his eyes black with amusement.

“Seems as if your jaguar has come to call.” He shook his head slowly. “Foolish animals they are.” His voice was almost a whisper. “They are not like us, Libby.”

She looked at him, her expression incredulous. “Not like us? We’re nothing alike, you and I.” He was a monster, as close to evil as you could get.

Soft laughter fell from Cormac’s lips, but his eyes narrowed as he studied her. His voice slithered
across her skin as he whispered, “We’re more alike than you know.”

Abruptly he turned from her, and Libby suddenly felt like crying, so great was the deluge of emotion that filled her body. She began to pant, in short staccato breaths, and they hung loudly in the air between them. She closed her eyes and concentrated, and a few moments later was able to force out a sentence.

“I just want my son back. I’ll do anything…anything that you want.” She knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care.

The tall sorcerer paused but didn’t turn around. His movements were precise and controlled. Everything about the man was cold and calculated, and the hatred that Libby felt as she gazed down upon him nearly choked her.

“Know this, Libby. Your son is alive, because I wish it.
As are you
.”

Time slowed as his words penetrated her brain and their meaning became clear. He had the power. He had her son. A sob escaped her throat, thick with grief, and her eyes were full of tears as she looked at the calm man in front of her.

“What do you want?”

He spoke clearly, his voice low. “I want Skye Knightly.”

Confusion rippled over her in waves. Libby shook her head, not understanding his meaning.

“I don’t know…who is she?”

“Don’t play games with me, Libby. I won’t hesitate to kill your child, the same way I wouldn’t hesitate to crush an annoying little bug.”

Her eyes were huge, but the grief was so great
that Libby couldn’t answer. All she could do was stare in terror at the man who regarded her with no emotion at all.

“Skye was your roommate at the DaCosta compound.” His eyes bored into hers, and as realization dawned on her, his cruel mouth broke into a sinister grin. “You find a way to get her to me, and I will return your son.”

“Why should I believe anything that you say?” The words fell from her lips in a hoarse whisper.

Cormac laughed softly and looked directly into her eyes. Libby saw the truth there even as he spoke. “I have no need to lie.”

The sounds of battle ceased, and Cormac moved away from her, edging toward escape. His voice was dispassionate and it was raspy, like sandpaper, “Remember what I said, Libby, the woman for your son.”

“But how will I…How the fuck will I find you?” Her terror and anger burst from her chest as she shouted down to him.

He paused, and though he didn’t speak, she heard his words clear as day, echoing deep inside her skull. They whispered through her mind and she shuddered at the creepy sensation.
I’m not going far so don’t fail me now. I already told you…we are not so different. Pay attention: you will find me, or you will never see your son alive.

He disappeared, and Libby screamed in frustration. She struggled wildly then, her body breaking out in a heated wash of sweat. There was no way to break through the charm Cormac had used, but still her body railed against the invisible chains.

How long she struggled, she couldn’t know. Her
fury was like a black haze that hung in front of her face, and the taste of her salt tears fed the hunger even more. That such evil had a hold on her child made her sick. Most of his words made no sense to her. She’d been adopted as a six-year-old and had no memory of her younger years. Cormac had insinuated he’d known her as a child.

What the hell did all of it mean? How did it all fit together?

Furiously, her brain tried to decipher it all, but Cormac’s innuendos and statements just coagulated into a large blob of nothing. None of it made any sense.

Her head lolled back and Libby felt the fight leave as her body began to physically shut down. She tried to wipe all of it from her mind. Everything faded away, and the sound of her own breathing echoed loudly in her ears. She closed her eyes and rested, trying to conserve her strength.

She would need it in the coming days.

When Jaxon burst into the secondary chamber and saw Libby suspended twenty feet in the air, his heart stopped.

Bone-crushing agony shattered his soul and he cried out in anguish at the sight of his woman, lifeless and possibly dead.

Declan was fast on his heels and pushed his way past Jaxon, his hands weaving a pattern quickly in the air. He shouted to the jaguar at his side, and had to repeat himself twice before Jaxon understood.

“Stand beneath her, you’ll need to catch her when she falls.”

Jaxon rushed forward, his heart beating hard, and when he was in position beneath Libby and she opened her eyes, he almost fell to his knees, so great was the relief that rushed through him.