His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

His body trembled with anger. He was furious, and as he glanced down at himself, the lines around his mouth whitened even more. He snarled savagely; his dick was still hard as hell. It ached painfully, begging for release and the warm softness it had been denied.

Onward he marched, each large step taking him farther into the wilderness that surrounded his brother’s cabin. It was quiet here, peaceful. A place that in the past had been able to soothe his spirit and free his mind of all the crap his world was constantly throwing at him.

But no more.

Would he ever be free from her betrayal? Would he ever be free from the want and need that ate at him? That was the question that confused him most and, if he were truthful, scared the crap out of him.

He was a jaguar. He lived for the hunt and loved the work he did at PATU. He’d decided long ago that he would not take a mate. Most jaguar shifters didn’t settle on one woman.

Bitterly, Jaxon thought of his father. He certainly hadn’t.

But he was a true jaguar warrior, which set him aside from the common shifters, like his older brother and his father.

Jaguar warriors mated for life. It was part of their genetic code.

It was the reason his mother, who was a rare female warrior, had stayed with his father even though he’d betrayed their bond over and over again.

The now elderly Castille had married his mother and fathered three sons. He’d spent the bulk of his younger years expanding an empire that even by today’s standards was considered impressive. Blue Heaven Industries was a multifaceted company that dabbled in both military and communications, and it was a major bone of contention that he was not at his father’s side along with his brother Julian.

But then again, Julian hadn’t been born with the warrior tattoos that both he and his younger brother had. Tattoos that at times seemed almost a curse. To be a jaguar shifter was one thing, but to be born a warrior was something else entirely.

The need to fight and to hunt was a constant that burned beneath his skin. Regular jaguar shifters had always existed, but the warriors came into existence because of dark magick used by the ancient Aztecs. They succeeded in creating the ultimate predator, and the genetic code had been passed down through centuries.

Jaxon continued on, mindless of direction, only wanting the painful need that clawed at him to go away. He wasn’t sure when his senses started screaming at him, but he noticed it as he stepped into a small clearing, deep into the brush, and discovered the remnants of a fire.

Quickly, he scanned the perimeter as his body remained still. He scented the air, pulling in many different smells that his olfactory senses were able to pick apart in seconds.

He knew there was a carcass, half decomposed to his left, just under the brush—animal, not human. He also knew that a shifter had lingered here, but vacated, probably within the last day or so. The signature was jumbled, and he was certain some sort of agent was used to cover its exact origin. Whether that agent was human or a result of magick, he couldn’t be sure. But he did know one thing: the act of hiding one’s origins was something an enemy would use.

He growled low in his belly, senses high at the thought of a hunt.

“Damn, Jax! By the looks of things, I’d say you were happy to see me, but since I’m your brother, I’m really hoping that’s not the case.”

Jaxon’s tense muscles deflated in an instant, and luckily for him, that included the large one that had been standing at attention between his legs. He kept absolutely still, his enhanced senses quivering, and at just the right moment jabbed his left hand out to the side, feeling a keen sense of satisfaction when he connected hard with the flesh of his younger brother’s chest.

He heard a soft thump as his brother hit the ground, and he whirled around, crouching low, a wicked smile playing across his features.

He hadn’t seen Jagger in almost six months. They’d hooked up when Jaxon had returned to the States briefly, but since then he’d remained incognito. Jaxon was hoping to run into him at some point, considering the cabin belonged to him, but when he arrived last night, it was obvious the place had been deserted for quite a while.

His brother rubbed the back of his head gingerly as he slowly gained his feet. “I should have downed you ten minutes ago. I would have too, but seeing as certain parts of your body were a little vulnerable, I thought it best to give you a chance to wind down. I mean, that thing looked so rigid I was afraid it would snap in two.” He cracked a grin of his own. “My mistake, but it won’t happen again.”

Jaxon stared at his brother, noticing a hardness that gripped the features so like his own. Jagger was taller then he was, by a couple of inches, putting him at six-foot-six, his frame powerful and deadly. He had followed in his older brother’s footsteps and gone into the military, much to their father’s dismay, and done several tours of duty in Iraq.

All black ops, all deadly; the kind of missions a jaguar craved.

Something had happened over there. Jaxon wasn’t sure exactly what, but his brother returned from Iraq a changed man. Jagger resigned his commission when his last tour was over and had then spent the majority of his time on the road. Where he’d been and what he had been up to wasn’t something he’d shared.

Jaxon knew his brother was finding his way. And a hard one, that was. Being a jaguar, especially one born with the warrior tattoo, was not an easy path to follow. The animal fought with the human side constantly. It was a never-ending struggle, and one that could lead to destruction if not handled with maturity and balance. Something both his father and older brother had never had to deal with.

But he knew that his brother would be fine. Jagger was a Castille, after all.

“I see you finally found Libby.”

Jaxon’s head whipped up at his brother’s comment, his eyes narrowing at the mention of her name. “When did you see Libby?”

Jagger paused, a wicked glint lighting his eyes a deeper shade of green. “Well, hell Jaxon, I’ve already had tea and cookies with her.”

Jaxon hissed his displeasure at the thought of Jagger anywhere near Libby, and took an aggressive step toward him, stopping just short of physical action when his brother laughingly slapped him in the chest.