His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

He had held her tightly while fat Frank had burned her flesh. He had carved his knife deep into her flesh. He had beaten her with his hands.

He had a name…Alexio. She remembered it with perfect clarity. He was a member of the DaCosta crime family.

He had tried to beat information from her, all in an effort to…

The canvas remained blank, and she cried out as she tried to remember.

His hands stilled and he grinned down at her. “You remember me now? He said the mind block would crumble once you started gaining memories.” He leaned closer to her, and Libby pushed back against him, but it only fed his enjoyment. “I’ll make sure Castille knows I was able to pleasure his woman before she died.”

Alexio moved back briefly, intent on loosening his pants, and Libby saw her chance. She kicked out as hard as she could, her aim strong and true as she connected with his groin area.

He roared as she rolled to the side, falling to the floor. She hissed as her side throbbed from the impact, but her eyes had already latched onto the knife that lay inches from her hands and she scrambled to grab it.

A loud crash echoed through the dark cabin, but Libby pushed aside the fear clawing at her as the furious roar rent the air. Her mind was moving in a chaotic mess, but the need to survive held strong, and she clenched her teeth together tightly, as her fingers closed around the handle of the knife.

Strong hands grabbed her legs and began to pull her back, but she bucked and kicked, twisting her body around until she was able to aim for his face. Alexio was furious beyond reason, and his eyes bulged with a fanatical madness as spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth.

Someone, or something, was there, just beyond her vision, but Alexio was so enraged his focus had not shifted from her. Resignation fell over Libby, but it was accompanied with determination and grit.

If this was to be her final moment, she would not die in vain.

She would take the fucking bastard with her.

Time slowed then, like in the movies.

She heard the roar once more, but the sound was muffled and seemed so far away. Everything, in fact, seemed hazy, condensed but amplified.

She saw Alexio lunge for her at the same time she brought the knife up, its steel shaft glinting in the moonlight as the arc carried it straight toward his chest. Sweat dripped from his forehead and she could feel the heat from his body as he fell upon her, his breath hot at her neck and his hands reaching out.

They grasped her, and she felt the long fingers dig deep into her flesh, but it was surreal, and for a moment Libby thought it was a dream. Pressure began to build, and she winced at the blackness that edged the broken remains of her mind.

Blackness that parted as the gates opened and a flood of memories washed over her. Jaxon, Ana, Declan…and Diego.

They were all there, jumbled into a mass of incoherent thoughts and feelings. All mixed up with the pain and anguish she’d endured over the last three years.

Her mind wandered back, further than she’d gone in ages, and the scream that flew from her lungs was like a cry to heaven. It was full of anger, hatred, and betrayal.

It was a cry for all things lost.

She felt her body liquefy and she let go, slumped beneath the heavy weight of Alexio atop of her.

When he was wrenched away and thrown to the side, she didn’t care.

When strong arms lifted her and gathered her close, she didn’t care.

When Jaxon grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to his, she felt a spark of something rush through her. It was hot, heavy, and full with the need for vengeance.

She drew her arm back and slapped his face as hard as she could, struggling to leave his embrace, feeling her flesh rail against his touch.

She had spent the last three years hating this man with every fiber of her being. Oh, how she had plotted and designed his demise. He might not have had a physical hand in her torture and subsequent captivity, but he was the only reason she’d been taken.

The reason she had lost so much.

Wicked pain shot through her breast and an ache settled around her heart as he lifted her. It was one she knew well, and she screamed again as anguish rolled over her, coming in waves and getting stronger as the seconds ticked by.

Her sorrow was heartbreaking.

Her mind stilled as the images and memories finally stopped. But the emotions continued unabated, and she continued to struggle until he gently put her down.