His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Her eyes slowly trailed along the back of the man she hated more than anyone else. His tubby build was a direct contrast to the fact that he was a jaguar warrior, a piss poor one, but a formidable enemy nonetheless.

She’d been pulled along behind Fat Frank for well over two hours. On top of the almost six hour hike she’d put in just to reach the compound, it had been one hell of a long day, and the next several hours promised to be even more of a challenge.

Her eyes bored into the back of his skull, and all sorts of ways to maim and torture flashed before her. She couldn’t remember ever hating this much. Not even when she was at her lowest point over the last few years, and survived on a diet of revenge and hatred, had she felt this all-consumed with such evil thoughts—not even for Jaxon.

Jaxon.

She’d heard the blasts echoing through the night, and another chunk of her heart broke at the thought of him possibly dead or gravely injured. Her eyes closed as she envisioned his face. If she tried hard enough, she could still smell the headiness of their lovemaking from the night before, feel the slickness of his skin as they moved together.

Her body ached, inside and out, so much so that it was almost paralyzing.

“What’s got you so down, bitch?”

Frank’s harsh words and careless laughter fell over her head as she looked away from him. She calmed her spirit and turned eyes that were both dull and lifeless toward him. She had to keep up the pretense. There was no way Frank could think of her in any way other than pathetic and weak.

“You told me you were taking me to my son. Where is he?” Libby kept her face devoid of expression, but inside, her heart was pounding madly against her chest.

Frank’s dark eyes regarded her in silence. They narrowed, and she felt like spitting in his stupid ass face. He wasn’t extremely bright. She had always been able to tell when he was thinking. It took a lot of energy for him to do that sometimes.

“All in good time.” He continued to regard her, his eyes shifting and wavering until she felt uncomfortable. Something was up. The silence that stretched between the two of them lasted several minutes before he spoke again.

“I know my brothers don’t think I’m very smart, but this time…” His voice trailed off as he laughed once more. “This time I’m the one that knows more than they do.”

“Yeah? And what’s that Frank?”

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know? I’m not stupid! I ain’t gonna spill.” He turned from her. “All in good time.”

Libby felt frustration bubble in her gut. “Aren’t you afraid Jaxon and his boys are coming for you?”

“Jaxon? You’re kidding, right? Did you not hear the big explosions?”

Libby blanched at his words, knowing there was a very real possibility he was right.

“They’re all dead. All of ’em. So don’t be thinking any of the big bad Castille jaguars are coming after you. Shit, we had you for three years and they never came. What makes you think this time will be any different?”

Defiantly, Libby held his gaze steady, while her belly took a nosedive and the nausea that roiled inside her gut threatened to spill over. With conscious effort she put all thoughts of Jaxon and the rest of the team to the back of her mind. She had survived out here for three long torturous years, and she was so close to finding out the truth, to finding her son, she couldn’t blow it now.

The only person she could count on was herself.

She was in charge of her own destiny, and everything that had happened to her since she’d first laid eyes on Jaxon Castille led her to this moment.

Every single act of torture, humiliation, and intimidation that she endured over the past three years had only made her stronger. She could feel it now, sizzling along inside of her, electrifying every cell in her body.

She was meant to be here, and in some insane part of her mind she truly felt more alive than ever before.

Abruptly, Frank broke from her and pulled something from his pocket. It was a phone that must have been on vibrate. He hesitated before answering, and Libby was sure his hands trembled as he nestled the small device against his ear. She tried to calm her nerves while struggling to listen in on his conversation.

She knew that whoever was on the other end was the person in charge, the one pulling his strings. Yanking them would be more accurate. Sweat began to bead along Frank’s forehead, and as he continued to listen, small rivers of liquid slid down his bloated face and dripped from the end of his nose.

The man was clearly nervous, and Libby strained harder to hear a voice, something to help her figure out what all of this meant. She had gone to the compound with the express purpose of forcing Frank to give her the necessary information she would need to find her son. She had not been prepared for him to offer to take her directly to Logan.

So she’d agreed to go with him willingly. Really, what other choice did she have? Jaxon and his team were on their way, and if Frank were killed, she would never find her boy. Right now he was the only link she had to Logan, and even if it led nowhere, she had to at least try.

She moved her butt a little to the right and found a modicum of relief from the sharp blade of the knife she’d shoved down her pants, as it eased away from her skin. Her gun was tucked away as well, up high near her left thigh.

She sighed softly to herself. It had seemed a little too easy, but then again, she was dealing with someone who was missing more than a few brain cells. Anyone else would have found her weapons. But Frank was a certifiable moron, who used his bulk and enhanced physical power to intimidate and maim. He was nothing more than a thug.

And his time was coming. How she was going to enjoy exacting her revenge.