His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Chapter 1

It did not bode well that Jaxon Castille was working.

In his particular area of expertise it meant that someone was going to die.

It wouldn’t be pretty. Death never was, but it would be an act full of stealth, precision, and deadly accuracy, performed by the best that there was.

Jaxon threw his satchel to the ground as his eyes fell to the semifrozen earth at his feet. The coolness of late spring lingered there, and his quivering nostrils inhaled a fresh, crisp shot of air, blowing out a fine mist of warmth in return. He was well over six feet in height and moved with a sinuous grace at odds with someone his size. His features were dark, a true reflection of both his Spanish heritage and the emotions at war inside his body.

He was tense, and took a few seconds to calm his spirit, his black eyes quickly scanning the small knoll where he stood. The slope was steady and crested down into the valley, where it rushed up against the outskirts of the small town of Winterhaven.

A muscle worked its way sharply across Jaxon’s cheek, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to maintain control. Off into the distance the last lingering rays of sun painted a vibrant picture of reds, oranges, and yellows in the sky. Dusk was rapidly approaching and nervous energy clawed at his insides, as thoughts of his forthcoming mission slammed into him.

It was time to put old ghosts to rest and move on.

It was time for her to die.

Steely resolve flickered across handsome features that at the moment were obscured by cold fury. That particular emotion had taken up a permanent residence, ever since he’d received intel on his target several days earlier.

Intel that he had been waiting three long years for.

A picture rushed into his mind, and he growled low, deep in his belly, as visions of entangled limbs, long blond hair, and violet eyes assaulted him. The pressure along his jaw increased tenfold as his face darkened at the memories.

Traitorous bitch.

His skin began to burn, and his eyesight blurred as his heart rate increased. He was close to the edge and could feel the beast clawing just under the surface.

With superhuman effort Jaxon pushed all thoughts but the deadly mission from his mind. He began to methodically examine the terrain around him, automatically finding the precise spot to set up his sniper gear.

His eyes swept back to town, and as evening fast approached, one after one, lights began to flicker on in various homes and businesses.

He was only interested in one, and, using his binoculars, his eyes hardened at the sight of several patrons inside the small diner.

She hadn’t shown up yet.

But she would. His intel had indicated that she always reported for work at five o’clock sharp. He would be waiting for her tonight.

And it would be her last.

A bitter smile exposed even white teeth as he made preparations for the coming hour. He turned in a circle and scented the wind. Satisfied that no creature, human or other, was near, Jaxon reached for the large satchel and with great care unpacked his M40.

The large rifle had been modified at Quantico, but his team further enhanced the weapon. It was now cutting edge. He could take out a target at well over one thousand feet. His little bag of goodies contained several variations of nasty little bullets: silver for lycans, anticharm for magicks, and extra special ones for vamps. These were dipped in holy water and engraved with etchings and symbols of a large sacred cross.

Tonight, he knew he would need none of those. His target was human.

She would never know what hit her.

Something slithered through his brain then, and for the first time in days a shred of emotion other than hatred grabbed him. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. But it gave him pause nonetheless.

Was it his conscience? Was something trying to tell him that eliminating her was a bit extreme, even for him?

Angrily, he checked and rechecked his weapon, anchored it on its tripod and settled in to wait. He glanced down to his timepiece, noting his target would be in range within the next five minutes.

His target.

Funny that.

She had a name, one that when spoken used to make his body tight with desire. It was a name that had not crossed his lips in a very long time, and now it had come to this.

She was a target. His target. His smile slashed through the gloom and he snarled savagely.

He sure as hell had thought of her every day, picturing all kinds of ways to exact revenge. Truthfully, a quick bullet between the eyes was probably more than the bitch deserved. If he had his way, she’d suffer, just as Diego had.

On the day she’d betrayed the entire unit.