His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

She stilled and listened with all her senses, once more glancing toward the window to her right. It was now almost completely dark outside, with a hint of light falling from a mostly hidden moon. Mist was gathering, slithering across the edge of the forest, and she shivered as a feeling of dread punched her low in the gut.

There were no lights on inside the cabin, and she could barely make out the reflection of the large male who stood not more then ten feet from her. He was tall and heavily muscled, judging by the bulk of him.

Even though she could not see clearly, aggression poured from every inch of his lethal frame, which was confirmed when he spoke, his voice harsh with barely contained anger.

“I can smell your fear, Libby. I know you’re here. Why don’t we skip the games and you can tell me what I need to know, and maybe, just maybe, I might let you die…easily.”

His words shot through the air, hitting her in the chest with a force she recognized.

She knew that timbre well. One of the monsters from her past finally had a face, and a living, breathing body to go with it.

“Where is the shifter? I can smell his stink all over this place.” He paused then, and Libby shuddered as he inhaled deep and long, growling wickedly as his anger built. “His brother has been here recently as well. Too bad we didn’t find this place sooner. Two dead Castilles would have been quite a coup.”

He laughed, each deep guffaw slicing through Libby’s resolve with clean precision. Her fingers began to shake. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm and focused. She needed to be strong. There was no alternative.

She gripped the knife tight in her hands, her head pounding as long buried memories began to crack open. She welcomed the flood of emotion, grabbing hold of it greedily, using it to fuel the anger growing from deep within.

His laughter stopped abruptly and she held her breath, trying to stave off the fear that was along for the ride.

“Still a Castille whore, I see. I can smell your sex from here.” His voice was getting closer, and she gripped the handle, moving toward the end of the counter. “Was it worth it Libby? Was all of it worth one more night with Castille?”

With a roar, the large man jumped up and over the counter, landing not more then a few feet from Libby. She screamed at the sudden movement, unable to help herself.

He laughed outright, and she cringed beneath the fury that laced his features. Eyes as black as onyx burned down at her, and he smiled wickedly, enjoying the fear that draped her shoulders like a shroud.

“Been a long time, bitch. Miss me much?”

He knelt down in front of her then, and his powerful arm knocked the knife from her hands. Libby heard it skitter across the tiles, the metallic clanging echoing eerily in the empty cabin.

She felt in her heart that this was it. The proverbial climax to the story of her life. Her eyes slowly moved to the man in front of her and she felt the hatred, anger, and pain inside her seeping into her veins. It sped along inside her body, giving her strength even in the face of certain death.

She would not go quietly.

“That the best you can do, asshole?” she said hoarsely.

He leaned in so close she could see the whites of his eyes. He snarled savagely. “Nice to see you’ve got a bit of your spunk back.” Then he laughed loudly. “I was afraid you’d be a bit of a dead fuck.”

Libby hissed at his words and tried to slap his face, but his hands grabbed hers and held them steady.

“You know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off of you?” His tongue flicked out wickedly, and she shrank away from him. “Every night I ached to claim you as my own, but my cousins forbade it. Said you were a Castille whore and no DaCosta would dare dip his cock into something as tainted as you.”

His voice quieted into a deadly whisper, and his long fingers reached for the golden strands of hair that fell about her face. He grabbed hold of them and pulled her closer, inhaling her scent deeply as a growl rumbled from deep within his chest.

“I don’t care if you tell me where the shifter is or not. I didn’t come alone. Right now several of my men are out there,” he nodded toward the forest, “and they will hunt him down and bring him to me. I will kill him, as is my right.”

Libby gritted her teeth as his tongue licked along the edge of her jaw, her mind frantically looking for a way out.

“I can smell him all over you…inside of you. Even now his seed rests where mine should be.”

He lifted her up and threw her onto the counter. Libby yelped as her skull whacked the granite with such force that stars flashed before her eyes. Savagely, he yanked her head back, his eyes resting on her shaking lips, his voice deadly and full of intent.

“I will taste you. Have my fill of you. You will know what it feels like to mate with a DaCosta.” Black laughter trickled from even white teeth. “And then you will die.”

She tried to struggle, but he was just too strong, and she watched helplessly as his hands fell to his pants. Now, for the first time, she noticed tattoos and markings on his left arm, peeking up from beneath the neckline of the shirt he wore. They were so like Jaxon’s, yet different somehow. A small trickle of awareness slipped through her brain, and an image flashed in front of her.

And then another.

Realization hit her hard, and her lungs contracted painfully as she struggled to breathe. Agony coursed through her veins.