His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Declan fell into step beside him, and his curse only deepened the anxiety already riding Jaxon hard. He looked to the tall soldier whose tight-lipped demeanor did nothing to dispel the notion that this place, this small drop of paradise, was to be the final act in the most bizarre week of his life.

“What is it?” Jaxon asked.

He watched as the man of magick took pause, face devoid of emotion as he turned to answer his question. When he spoke, the words were spat from his mouth, as contempt and bitterness washed through him.

“There is some deep shit going on here, Jax. Dark arts, really fucking strong dark arts, are at play. I’m positive it’s the same signature from Manhattan, and most likely the same sig that I felt in Drake’s office, back in Washington.”

Declan’s long fingers began to weave a spell in the air, and sparks flew and sizzled as if some unseen force field was in place. He frowned and closed his eyes, to chant in an ancient language that only a fellow mage would have been able to understand.

Jaxon stood beside him, feeling the power his friend was tapping into. The earth began to vibrate beneath his feet, and the energy that surrounded them burned hot. He realized then, for the first time, just how much power Declan was capable of producing. He was no ordinary man of magick, and the wind whipped furiously as fog wound toward them along the ground but stopped just short of where the two men stood.

Abruptly, Declan stopped chanting and turned to Jaxon, his eyes blackened from the source of his magick. “There’s an entrance there,” he said, pointing up to a steep ledge that ran alongside the waterfall and disappeared behind the cascading wetness. “We’ll have the advantage of surprise on our side, but we’re sure to be outnumbered.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Declan paused before answering, a little too long for Jaxon’s liking, but shook his head before murmuring, “No, but he’s powerful and stinks to high heaven of depravity, greed, and rotting flesh. He’s feeding off souls, both innocent and not. He doesn’t care about anything other than himself. He’s looking for something, and he’s right pissed off that he hasn’t found it yet.”

Declan grabbed his satchel and opened it quickly. Jaxon grabbed two guns and a knife, feeling the tension that hummed along his friend’s body. “Libby is not what he’s looking for,” Declan added. “I can sense her in there.”

At Jaxon’s raised eyebrows, he continued harshly, “If Libby were his prize, she’d be dead already.”

Jaxon grabbed extra ammo, both anticharm and a shitload of the regular grade, shoving them anywhere there was room. With his weapons loaded and ready, he looked to Declan, suddenly very glad the Irishman had decided to join him in this fight. He had a feeling it was going to get intense, and there wasn’t another soldier on the planet he’d rather have covering his back, and he knew Dec felt the same.

“Let’s do this.”

Jaxon began to pick his way quickly over the slippery boulders that lined the sides of the waterfall. It didn’t take them long before they were able to squeeze through a narrow passage that led directly behind the fast moving water and into a long dark tunnel.

There, the air was cool, caressing their cheeks as it was sucked from within and flung outside to tumble alongside the falling water. It was also thick with menace, and Jaxon grasped his gun tightly, his senses on high alert, eyes quickly scanning an interior that while dim, emanated eerily with a faint greenish glow.

He could smell Libby strongly inside the tight dark passage, and his heart sped up at the thought of being so close to her.

Slowly, they made their way along the narrow entrance. He could smell fear, and along the edges of his mind, recognized the pungent odor of death. It left an intense feeling of distaste in his mouth, and he snarled lightly in reaction to the violence that accompanied it.

Declan motioned toward the walls, and Jaxon noticed a vast array of pictures and etchings that were obviously Aztec. His heart leapt at the unique and magnificent drawings of jaguars and eagles.

He didn’t think that the Aztecs had ever foraged this far south. He shook his head and moved on. What the pictures meant was anyone’s guess. He had no time to try to decipher it. He needed to find his mate and get her the hell away from there.

Something skirted quickly across his mind, and he held his fist up, both men coming to a silent standstill. He clutched his gun tightly in his right hand as the scent of his enemy drifted down the passage toward them. He looked to Declan, and they began to move again, carefully picking their way forward, eyes and ears on high alert.

There were several warriors up ahead; he could sense them, feel their nervous energy as they lazed about with nothing to do.

Declan had placed an invisibility ward around them, so their enemies would not know they were being hunted, until it was too late.

Jaxon smiled savagely, feeli

ng the power that rippled along his forearms and spread like fire along each and every cell in his body.

They inched their way forward, the greenish light that lit the tunnel growing brighter as they reached the opening that led into a magnificent cavern. At any other time, Jaxon would have appreciated the wild vast area that surrounded him, but his attention was focused solely on five soldiers who were grouped together, talking among themselves in hushed tones.

They were all jaguar warriors, two from the DaCosta clan, the other three with tattoos he didn’t recognize immediately. No matter. They were his enemy, and they would die at his hands.

Declan aimed his gun dead center at the tallest one, who stood in the middle, and Jaxon set his sights on the dark warrior to the far right of the group. They would reduce their numbers by two, but warriors were fast, especially elite jaguars, and they most likely wouldn’t have time to fire off another round.

In perfect sync, Jaxon and Declan fired their guns, their targets a blur even as the shots echoed loudly inside the cavern, bouncing off the rock face and slamming back at them. The two intended victims went down as planned, bright red blood seeping from their fatal wounds and leeching into the crystal-like water that flowed quickly by them.

Angry snarls rent the air, and Declan balled energy into his hands, feeding off the black negativity that hung so thick in the air. He flung the red hot balls of crackling energy at the warrior who charged toward him, and he crashed back into the water along with the warrior, before disappearing beneath the glasslike surface.

Jaxon had no time to react, as a warrior in the process of shifting jumped to the right of him and another ran toward him, eyes blackened in blood lust. He let the large warrior fall into him, taking him down as he plunged his large knife deep into the man’s gut. The warrior shouted in rage and his face distorted as the shift started to fall over his features.