His Darkest Embrace (Jaguar Warriors 2)

From his perch behind the thick thatch of greenery that lined the perimeter of the camp, Jagger stilled.

The human part of his mind understood the words and their implications. Obviously, the two DaCosta warriors that had been killed near his cave somehow belonged with this dangerous bunch. The question was, why were two DaCostas out here working alongside several different clans of warriors?

Jagger’s brain went into overdrive as he tried to puzzle it out. It was not normal for different jaguar clans to mingle, especially warriors. One thing was certain, something was up. Something big. And somehow the little slip of a woman he’d run across was mixed up in the whole mess.

The snarls subsided and when the mist cleared, the warriors had returned to their human forms. The leader slowly gained his feet, his face dark with anger. He walked a few paces away, collected himself before turning back toward the messenger.

“How?”

The one-word question was uttered harshly and the other warrior spit into the ground, his growls slowly dying out as he faced his superior.

“One was knifed and the other’s skull was crushed.” The warrior’s chest heaved in an effort to slow his breathing as he continued, “I picked up her scent. The bitch is still alive but there was another jaguar there, and by the look of the attack I don’t think it was a regular shifter.”

“Fuck! Where the hell is she?” the leader exploded loudly as his temper erupted. He crossed over to a stand of trees and Jagger strained his head in an effort to better see. When a tall, thin man with graying hair was yanked forward he sighed silently, glad to see it wasn’t the female he’d been hunting.

The urge to protect was building steadily, but Jagger held back, listening intently, hoping to find out what the hell the large gathering of warriors was up to.

The leader threw the man to the ground and kicked him hard in the chest. The effort produced a grunt of pain, and Jagger was impressed at the fire of hatred that burned brightly in the man’s eyes.

“Where the hell is the eagle bitch?”

The man remained silent, earning another quick kick to the gut and a backhand to the face. Blood spurted out and several teeth flew from his mouth, but the man smiled up wickedly at his adversary, licking the thick red substance that was slowly trickling from the side of his mouth.

“You’ll never get your black paws on her,” the man sneered. “And she’ll make sure of it.”

The warrior roared in fury, his foot colliding hard with the side of the man’s head, effectively quieting him as his body slid to the earthen floor. The other warriors dispersed and Jagger noiselessly retreated far back into the underbrush.

Questions pummeled his bra

in: who was the woman and what were the DaCostas seeking? But there was no time to seek answers. The warriors would be on the hunt and he needed to kick it up a notch.

His heart began to pound and the rush of blood that flew through his veins pushed him to a relentless pace as he headed east, away from the jaguars.

The blond woman was in danger, and his need to get to her, while foreign, nevertheless had his powerful frame streaking through the jungle in an effort to locate her scent once more. He had to reach her before the pack of jaguars did.

If he was too late, there would be no telling what they’d do to her once they had her in their hands. The DaCostas were a nasty bunch, and the thought of anyone touching the blonde brought such anger crashing through him that his growl reverberated loudly, and several wailer monkeys flew along the canopy above, yelling their encouragement.

His powerful legs ate up a considerable range of lush jungle and he kept up a harsh pace for well over two hours. It was getting late in the afternoon and the sun’s warmth was definitely decreasing when he began to close in on her location.

Jagger had just crested a small hill as a warm breeze picked up, coming in off the Caribbean Sea and filtering inland. His nostrils quivered in excitement as the elusive scent he’d been searching for all morning and into the afternoon flew at him. He drew her essence deep into his body and his green eyes quickly scoured the area immediately below him. Off in the distance he saw what looked like a small clearing, a break in the thick foliage that carpeted the entire area.

He knew it was only luck that brought her scent to him. For whatever reason she was riding the wind and it wouldn’t be long before it drifted downward, to where the warriors were.

He took off, quickly disappearing deep into cover, and as her scent became stronger, he slowed to a crawl.

He paused as he closed in on the area where he thought she was and scented the air. His nostrils quivered in distaste, and he shook his head as the sickening aroma of death cloaked any sweetness that had been riding the wind.

Panic gnawed at him, but the hunter that lived inside clung to an air of caution. Methodically, he inched forward, keeping his body well hidden.

Jagger didn’t sense any enemies close at hand, but the powerful feeling that something tragic had occurred hung thick in the humid jungle air. His lungs inhaled it deeply and his mouth hung open as he panted hard in an effort to hold himself from rushing headlong into something that could prove to be very dangerous.

Silently he slipped through the abundant flora and fauna that covered the jungle floor, his stare transfixed directly in front of him where the mess of foliage thinned, and the obvious clearing could be seen.

He stopped, just at the edge, and felt his heart begin to beat erratically once more, as a camp of some sort had come into view. There were two tents, or rather what was left of them; the contents were scattered in disarray, adding to the chaos he’d sensed earlier.

He was inundated with the scents of several jaguar shifters, and his mouth watered as they mingled with the overlying odor of death. It permeated the entire area, and quickly his eyes scanned the immediate vicinity, trying to locate its source.

He could see nothing.