His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Jaxon immediately pushed her away from him, as if the touch of her skin burned like acid. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she cradled her midsection, feeling both nauseous and hungry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and her strength was waning fast. She knew she needed nourishment in order to regain some strength, and maybe have a slim chance at escape.

“I’ll bring you a plate of food,” Jaxon said, “and once you’ve eaten, a shower will be made available.”

Libby’s cheeks burned hot as she watched him turn to leave. He was so tall, yet moved with silence and deadly grace.

Like an animal.

“Wait!”

He angled his head back at her, his eyebrows arched questioningly.

Libby found herself frozen in place, her eyes lost in the dark depths of his own. They were incredibly expressive. With lashes so long she just knew they would whisper against her skin, if she were ever to get that close to him.

She watched his sensual lips compress into a tight line, and his eyes once more became aloof.

“Please, I…I’m really confused, and if you all know me, or know where I come from, why the hell can’t you just tell me?”

She became unnerved at his continued silence. His dark features studied her and she could see his brain at work, weighing his options.

“I won’t let you take me back to them.” Libby jutted her chin out in defiance, shuddering as his eyes narrowed. His voice was soft when he spoke, and it slid over her like hot liquid.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Libby.”

She swallowed thickly as he shook his head, and she waited for him to continue, not sure if his words were meant to intimidate or comfort.

He opened his mouth once more, his eyes boring into hers, but then turned abruptly and silently left the room.

Slowly, her fingers wound their way up to her face, and she pushed back the straggly tendrils of hair that had fallen forward.

Her fingers trembled as they traced the lines of her cheek, following the sharp curve until they came to rest on her lips. Her eyes were drawn to her reflection in the window of the door, and she stared at herself in shame. As if she knew that at one time there had been so much more than the gaunt, filthy, weak person who stared back at her.

“Who are you?”

She watched as her mouth moved, letting the words slip from between pale lips. The woman, vampire, Ana, had said she was a murderer.

That just couldn’t be possible. Could it?

Everything seemed so overwhelming all of a sudden. She collapsed back onto the bed as her strength fled in a rush. Her head began to ache, dull throbs that splintered through her skull, and she groaned as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours.

Jaxon had been ruthless in his pursuit of her, but if he had wanted her dead, then surely he would have left her to slip below the water to die. Wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes burned behind her own as she closed them tightly. He was so large, intimidating and angry, but she somehow knew he wouldn’t harm her. When he had first pulled her from the water, she was terrified—terrified of going back to the nameless monsters that chased her dreams every night.

She’d truly believed that he was one of them, and if she’d had the chance, she would have jumped back into the water and let its gentle caress take her into oblivion.

But she hadn’t jumped back in, and for that she could be grateful.

A spark had been stoked and was slowly growing into a heated desire to live. For the first time in many weeks, Libby had the urge to look at herself. Really look at herself.

She no longer wanted to be the victim.

Her first memories were so very new, only months old.

She had heard all the whispers from the towns-people of Winterhaven. Some were incredibly hurtful, while others had just been truthful. She’d been the poor little Raggedy Ann who showed up at the diner in Winterhaven two months earlier; a socially inept female with sad eyes and a broken mind. Pete took her under his wing, and for that she would always be thankful, but each day had been torture, and truthfully, most of the time she had no concern or thought for the future.

But now, suddenly, it became vital that she survive. That she remember. Not only to lay to rest the demons that stalked her, but to answer the haunted look she’d glimpsed in Jaxon’s eyes when he brought her here only a few hours ago.

Declan had said they were family once.