His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Libby felt a weight settle on her chest. Why the hell did everything have to be so hard? Why couldn’t he just let her be?

He regarded her with frozen, black eyes, but remained silent.

“You will not keep me from Belize.”

She kicked at the scattered parchments on the floor and snarled, “From the looks of those, you have no clue where to look anyway. I’m willing to lead you straight to Degas and Frank. What more could you ask?”

His face remained closed, and the familiar blankness that he used so successfully when on mission shrouded his features. It dawned on her then exactly what his problem was.

He didn’t trust her. Hell, right at this very moment he was most likely thinking that she was part of some nefarious plan to trap both him and his brother deep in DaCosta land. She kicked the maps again as her anger bubbled up. She took a second, not trusting her voice, but thoughts of her baby stolen from her breast overcame her.

“What do you want to know?” Libby asked.

Her voice was soft, halting, and it hung in the air between them as something flickered in the depths of his eyes. It was illusive, gone just as quick as it had arrived.

“Everything.”

Chapter 16

Libby continued to stare long and hard at Jaxon. The last thing she wanted to do right now was revisit her not too distant past. One that was so chock full of pain and torment, she could feel her insides tightening, like she’d inhaled a gallon of sour milk.

Her muscles were strung so tight, her teeth clenched so hard, that a dull ache formed along her jawbone. With great effort she forced her body to relax.

Her eyes wandered toward the large window that welcomed the wilderness so intimately into the cabin. Early morning fog shrouded the edges of the forest, and it crept over the grass, lingering along the path beyond the small hill. Birds were chirping away, happily unaware of the darkness that resided so deep in her mind.

She closed her eyes, welcoming the agony that lanced her heart, thinking that maybe by sharing she’d be able to chase the demons that haunted her still. If anything, he should know what her love for him had cost her.

“They took me an hour after you left, that day. An hour.”

Her voice was quiet but she made no effort to speak louder.

“We’d made love, do you remember? Although I suppose we could have called it breakup sex, because I knew then it was over. I’m sure it wasn’t hard for them to track me, since my body was drenched in your scent.”

Libby moved away from the window and glanced back toward Jaxon. Her face remained closed, tense, but his eyes followed her movements and she could feel the heat of his gaze.

“I still wonder if, maybe if I’d had my wits about me, it would have all turned out differently. Maybe I would have been able to escape. Or not.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Either way, when they attacked, it was fast and precise. They used some kind of drug to knock me out, and when I woke up, I was in a crate. My hands were tied and I had a rag stuck in my mouth.” She paused, exhaling softly. “It was dark, I was cold, wet. I didn’t see the light for a few more hours. Considering what was in store for me, it would have been much better to have remained blind.”

Libby’s voice wavered and she didn’t bother to stop the tears that pricked the edges of her eyes.

“I realized right away who was responsible for my kidnapping. Fat Frank was literally drooling when I wouldn’t answer any of his brother’s questions. They wanted to know where you and Diego were. They wanted the both of you dead, but like the trained agent that I was, there was no way in hell I was giving it up. Not even after Degas left and Frank moved in with all his torture paraphernalia.”

She turned to him then, her eyes full of fire and the need for him to know how hard she’d tried to keep it together. “I didn’t say shit to them, not when they stripped me, not when he used a knife to cut into my flesh…not even when they used cigarettes to burn me. I held it deep inside of me, but then…”

“Then what?” Jaxon’s harsh voice cut through her, and Libby turned her tortured eyes away. His voice softened, maybe even trembled a bit. “Did they…did they rape you, Libby?”

She laughed outright at that.

The sound was hysterical and tinny, and she caught the grim

ace that flashed across his face. “No. They never touched me in that way. Frank liked to torture, but Degas made it quite clear that a DaCosta would never lower himself to have sex with someone like me. A Castille whore. I don’t think I was called by my name again. And when they found out…” Her voice trailed off and she hushed, her eyes falling to the fingers that nervously worried the worn edges of the T-shirt she wore.

“When they found out what?”

“A woman came into the room. She was a jaguar, I could tell. It was in the way her skin shimmered when she moved, and when she looked at me and came so close I could see the veins in her eyeballs, I knew it was over.”

Libby’s eyes darkened at the memory, and she felt the anger that stuck in her throat, like a heavy dose of bile.

“She took her time sniffing my skin, my mouth, and when she knelt down and touched my belly, I thought I was going to throw up. She knew. She told Frank I was pregnant, and when he aimed a crowbar at my midsection I broke down. I was only a few months along, but already this life inside of me had my heart and my soul and I knew I needed to fight for it.”