His Darkest Hunger (6 page)

“No, it was no coincidence. It was a setup. I took out the sniper. He was a paid assassin. The poor bastard was human. Someone was stupid enough to send a human soldier out to kill a jaguar. He knew nothing, but I heard his phone conversation and he was definitely taking orders.”

Jaxon’s face darkened even more as he felt the animal inside of him begin to stir in reaction to his intense, warring emotions. He took a deep breath, noticing the way Declan retreated.

“Someone was using Libby as bait to get me out in the open, and whoever the hell it is, knew where she was. I’ve been hunting her for the last three years and had no clue she was working in some dead end diner in northern Michigan.”

His skin began to burn and he growled deeply from his chest. “I’m going to find the bastard that ordered the hit and rip him to pieces with my bare claws.” Jaxon flexed his powerful forearms and his skin itched to let the beast free.

“Someone wants me dead. The only reason I’m standing here right now is the fact that Libby fainted and I reacted on instinct and broke her fall.”

“Well, looks like the bitch was good for something after all.”

Both men turned in surprise as a small compact woman walked into the room. She was petite, yes, but hard as nails. Dressed from head to toe in tight black leather, she moved as if walking on air. Her long auburn hair hung in waves to her waist, flowing softly as if a breeze lived amidst the luxurious length. Freckles sprinkled across a small upturned nose, and her expressive sapphire eyes were almost overpowering on such a delicate childlike face.

But the woman who stood before them was anything but a child. She was a lethal killing machine who needed blood to survive. Lots and lots of blood.

Her name was Ana and she was the missing member of his team.

She was also a three-hundred-year-old vampire who loved to kick ass, and at the moment there was no mistake as to whose ass was next in line.

W
hat, no hug? No kisses?” Ana’s soft voice purred as she smiled at the two of them, but Jaxon knew better. She was pissed.

He was quiet for a few seconds. His face darkened and the air seemed to swirl around him as he spoke. “You will not go near her unless I’m present, Ana. Are we clear?”

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed in anger. Her fangs began to elongate and she growled loudly as she took a step closer.

Declan stepped between the two of them, his voice harsh and commanding.

“Back off, both of you! This is bullshit!” He turned to Jaxon. Both men were of equal height, and formidable opponents when the need arose. “Ana and I came because
you
asked us for help. We both dropped everything and we’re here, aren’t we?”

Declan shook his head in disgust, his voice barely
controlled. “You will not deny us the satisfaction of making that bitch pay for what she did to Diego. Hell, what she did to all of us.”

His eyes sought out the intense blue ones of the vampire, softening at the pain so ill concealed behind the bejeweled depths.

“And we will.
We all will
, when the time is right. Libby is the key here. Everything comes back to her. Right now we need her alive, but once we have the answers—”

“All bets are off,” Ana’s voice bit through. Bitterness and anger hardened the soft features of her face.

“I won’t tell you again, Ana. Leave her alone. She has no memory of her life, she has no answers for you, and I don’t trust you around her. You can’t be objective where she’s concerned.”

Jaxon clenched his teeth together as his anger got the better of him.

“The sun is waking up. I need to rest.”

Ana abruptly turned on her heel and headed toward the private quarters, where they each had their own space. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Castille…so glad to be back.”

Her voice gently drifted back toward them and Jaxon swore in frustration. She was the one person he had no desire to alienate. He had lost his cousin the day Diego died, but Ana…she had lost so much more.

Roughly, he ran his hands through the black hair on top of his head. Weariness was starting to settle into his bones, and he knew he needed sleep in order to function properly.

“You should get some rest too, Dec. We’ll start fresh in a few hours.”

Jaxon turned and headed toward his own room, pausing as the urge to check on Libby tore through his body. He had to physically force himself to follow in Ana’s footsteps.

He reached his quarters and tiredly flopped onto the bed, dirty clothes and all. His eyes closed and he was immediately assaulted with images of Libby.

The sight of her blond hair floating lazily along the top of the water as she sank beneath its cold dark surface was one he’d like to forget he’d ever witnessed.

He had tried to convince himself over the last few years that she never meant anything to him. That Libby Jamieson was nothing more then a woman he’d had sex with. Great sex, actually, but nothing more. He was a jaguar, and like most of his kind, had somewhat insatiable needs. Women were like candy. They were gobbled up and spat out when the flavor began to get stale.

He had first met Libby when she was called in to work with his team on an assignment in China. She’d been trained in the paranormal sector at Quantico, even though she was wholly human.

She’d been a kick-ass trainee, and came to his unit highly recommended. She thought quickly on her feet, was amazing in hand-to-hand combat, and her pale beauty was an added bonus.

Most men, whether human or other, were easily led astray and thought with their dicks when a beautiful woman was about. She’d been used many times to trap a target, and after a few months of working together, Jaxon had been unable to resist her charms.

They’d fallen into a passionate, sometimes volatile
relationship that lasted two years. They fought and then had the most amazing makeup sex ever. She even embraced the jaguar that lived inside of him.

Jaxon groaned, feeling his groin tighten as memories of pounding his cock deep into her body flooded his mind. She had been wildly passionate, funny, annoying, and tender. She lived life to the fullest, and with her, he had felt complete in a way he’d never experienced before.

But then, like all females, she had wanted more than he could give, and the last few months had not been great. They fought a lot. She wanted the white picket fence, and he didn’t.

Up to that point he had never envisioned a life shared with anyone. He knew that when he took a mate, it would be forever, and he just wasn’t ready for that. His life
was
and always
had been
the hunt.

The last night they spent together had been more volatile than most. He grunted, trying to force the memories away. But it was impossible.

She’d been so emotional in the preceding weeks. Either up or down. There was no pleasing Libby, but even he was shocked to find out that she’d applied for a transfer to a different unit.

At the time, he was getting ready to take off with Declan and Diego. The mission was routine. Ana hadn’t been involved, and Libby’s part in the initial legwork was over. He had been livid when he found out about the transfer, and that led to one of their most heated blowouts.

As always, their argument turned into passionate sex.

Jaxon groaned and his eyes closed as memories of her smell washed over him. Images of her long
blond hair cascading down, caressing the dark skin of his body, pulled at him, and his shaft became painfully engorged as he tried to wipe the pictures from his mind.

But it was as fresh as if they’d just made love.

Her eyes had been sad; he remembered the tears that gathered in the corners. He remembered reaching for them and kissing them away as she rode him hard. When they had both come to orgasm, she cried against his chest, and he felt like the biggest loser on the planet.

He’d left her there, lying in his bed alone, huddled in the mess of blankets. He remembered telling her they’d sort things out when he returned.

That was the last time he had laid eyes on Libby.

Until tonight.

Jaxon threw his head back, willing his hard body to succumb to the bone deep weariness that lay heavy in his heart and soul. He needed to sleep. He needed to forget. For surely, on that last night, the betrayal had already been in place. As surely as he’d pumped furiously into her, trying to forget their problems in the softness of her body, she had already signed Diego’s death warrant.

And perhaps her own.

Libby came awake with a start. It was dark, cold, and hard where she lay. Slowly, her hand cupped the side of her body, and she groaned in protest as tight muscles competed with the pain that rifled like fire through her rib cage.

The burn was intense, and she sat up carefully, hissing loudly as every single cell in her body shrieked against the movement.

She began to focus and breathe through the discomfort, trying to force a calm that she was nowhere near feeling. But it was no use and blood began to pump through her veins rapidly as her heart rate increased. A slow burn unfurled, deep in the pit of her stomach. It wove its way rapidly through her body, until her chest was heaving with a mixture of emotions that were making her light-headed.

She welcomed it.

For the first time in a long time, she felt alive. She laughed then, the sound strained and bordering on hysterical.

How crazy was that?

Her body was a mess of injuries, old and new; she had no idea who the hell she was, or why people were shooting at her. And the tall dark man? Who the hell was he?

Her brain protested all the questions and feelings swirling about, and as she recalled his face, Libby was startled at the intensity of emotion that washed over her. She realized then that the tall dark stranger who brought her here was the reason she felt alive. As if she’d lived the last two months—which in fact were the only two months she could remember—in slow motion.

And truthfully, they had been. It was all a blur, and she was suddenly so tired of being the helpless victim. It somehow didn’t seem the right fit to her. As if in her former life—whatever that meant—she would not have taken any of this shit lying down.

She felt newfound strength begin to pour through her as she sat there in the dark, methodically looking around, trying to find an escape. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim interior, and she slowly lowered
her feet to the cold tiles, feeling the shock of them against her bare toes.

Her arms still cradled her side, and her body odor hit her smack in the face. God, she was a mess. She needed out of this place, if not for any reason other than to wash the grime and smell from her body.

Her prison was small but had enough room for a bed, and as her eyes skimmed the far recesses, she smiled at the sight of a toilet and sink. Each step that drew her closer to the sink seemed lighter, more assured, and then she quickly set about washing her face and hands.

Her tummy growled, and Libby tried to remember the last time she’d eaten, but shrugged it off. She would have to worry about that later. After she escaped.

There was no window other than a small insert in the heavy door. And she knew how heavy it was. When the stranger lowered her to the bed, she’d rolled over, pretending sleep, but cringed at the sound of the door locking behind him as he left.

She ran her fingers over the door’s surface and swore when it became evident there was no way she’d be able to budge it an inch. Quickly her mind moved on, and she knew her only chance to escape would be when they came for her.

But she’d have to be smart about it. Take a chance.
The right chance.

Libby’s heart leapt to her throat as the handle began to turn.

Someone was there!

She jumped back to the bed, grabbing the blankets around her, her heart thumping rapidly. She inhaled one deep cleansing breath and prayed that
whoever it was would believe she was still fast asleep. She turned her back to the door and closed her eyes tightly.

The door swung open, its hinges creaking ever so softly, the sound hanging dully in the air. Libby felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, and held her breath, forcing it out slowly, mimicking the sounds of sleep. It felt as if a million tiny fingers were running up and down her back, and her body screamed at her to move, to flee. But she held fast.

No footfalls or any other sound heralded the approach of her captor, but she knew someone was there, just inches from her.

Were they going to kill her now?

Panic began to creep through her. She felt helpless and exposed to her enemy. She felt the familiar choking sensation weave its way up from her chest, as blackness once more curled around the edges of her brain. But she held on, gritted her teeth and pushed it away.

“Is this a new game, Libby? Did you think you could escape me so easily?”

The low voice fell upon her—a woman’s voice—and she exhaled slowly, not recognizing it. But she could sense that the woman who stood behind her was furious. She could feel it in the quiet words; it colored them with a ferocity that needed no amplification.

Libby’s eyes opened slowly, and she was grateful that she’d successfully fought off the panic attack that would have rendered her helpless.

It was time to face the enemy.

Slowly, she pushed her body from the bed, turning toward the woman, who stood a foot away. The
splice of pain that crossed her face did not go unnoticed, but Libby held her own and met the black eyes with a direct stare.

The woman who stood before her was incredibly beautiful, in a way that seemed almost surreal. She had long wavy dark chestnut hair that surrounded delicate features and pale skin. She was clothed from head to toe in black, and though petite, projected a menacing aura.

Her eyes were dark, like round pebbles of onyx dipped in sapphire. And they were staring at her hard, full of malice, dislike, and something else.

When the woman spoke again, Libby jumped, surprised at her harsh words.

“So it’s true, then? You claim to have no memory of who you are and what you’ve done to us?”

The stranger took one step forward until her body was almost touching Libby’s. Her voice dropped an octave and the warmth from her breath caressed Libby’s cheeks. “Did you forget how to talk as well? I see you’ve forgotten how to bathe. I used to be envious of the long blond hair that fell from your head, and now…” Her fingers reached out for a strand that fell down to Libby’s breast. Libby flinched as the fingers drew near, and closed her eyes as the woman tugged softly on the strand. “I see that personal hygiene has fallen by the wayside.”

The woman stepped back, her eyes critical. “As has your fashion sense.”

Libby flushed in embarrassment. The words rang too close to the truth.

“I don’t know you.”

The words slipped from Libby’s mouth, and she
immediately wished she could take them back. The woman’s eyes widened and she laughed. The sound was fake and tinny as it echoed against the sterile walls.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m Ana, and I can assure you we will be doing everything in our power to enable you to remember
exactly
who you are. I have a personal interest invested in your memory returning. We all do.”

Cold fear began to knot Libby’s belly at the woman’s words. Blank pictures flashed behind her eyes, empty scenes that held no form but the feelings they aroused were devastating. It was bone chilling terror and she began to tremble, her eyes looking to the floor and away from the probing black ones that had narrowed suddenly.

“Are you scared, Libby?”

Ana knelt down in front of her, forcing Libby’s head up until her violet eyes were captured by the blackness of her own. “You should be,” she whispered, and Libby’s eyes widened. She felt the scream that was trapped at the back of her throat rush to the surface and burst from her in a loud wail.

Ana’s eyes had darkened even further, until there were no whites to them, and she growled loudly as her mouth flashed a set of very long, very sharp fangs at Libby.