His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

Jaxon had dozed off on the couch and was up in a flash. He flew down the hall, hesitating outside Libby’s room, confused and disturbed at the raw agony that he heard beyond her door. He sensed no other presence, and after a few moments the screams lessened and then quieted altogether.

He exhaled slowly, on edge and fighting the urge to go to her. He growled in frustration, hating the way she’d managed to crawl underneath his thick skin.

He pictured the scars that laced her back, knowing the suffering that she’d endured, yet still took a step back.

Hands clenched at his sides, he turned away, intending to leave her wallowing in her own misery and took a few steps way. But he stopped when he heard a thud inside, and then sobbing, which was heart wrenching. He cursed his weakness—he’d always been softer around Libby—as he whirled back around and pushed the door open.

He found Libby curled up tight in the fetal position, on the floor beside her bed. She’d obviously fallen out, but was still deep in the throes of a nightmare. She was clad only in the thin T-shirt Ana had given her and a pair of underwear.

The shirt was soaked with sweat, and long strands of blond hair clung to the moisture at her face and neck. Her body was shaking. Jerks and spasms rocked her limbs, punctuated by a series of deep, guttural moans that sounded as if they were forced from her throat.

He stood still, unsure how to proceed.

She rolled onto her back, eyes open but not seeing him.

She was definitely under the spell of something dark. Her long graceful arms held herself protectively around the midsection and she began to mumble words that erupted into harsh whispers.

“Castille’s whore. Castille’s whore. Castille’s whore.”

Jaxon’s blood turned to ice at the words and he fell to his knees, feeling the heat from her body even though he was careful not to touch her.

She stilled as if sensing a presence beside her, and then her spasms, which had abated, returned, her body quaking with a ferocity that surprised him. His eyes raked her near naked form, and he was disgusted at the sharp spike of desire that flooded his body.

He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the pull that she wrenched from him. But it was no use. He cupped Libby around the shoulders with one arm, the other arm under her knees, and pulled her to him. As he lifted her up, she grabbed hold of his neck and clung to him, her thin arms digging into the hardness of his flesh as if the very devil were after her.

Her head lolled back, falling against his chest, and the dark eyes that had never faded from his memory implored him with such anguish, he felt the cracks around his heart widening even more.

“Please help me.”

Gently, Jaxon cradled her there, tight against his heaving chest, feeling every heartbeat her body took, fighting the overwhelming urge to protect and soothe.

It was a losing battle, and he knew it.

This woman that he held, shivering, damaged, weak and traitorous, belonged to him on a level he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He stumbled, the realization nearly bringing him to his knees.

Jaxon Castille, jaguar warrior, felled by someone like Libby Jamieson.

He cursed the irony.

The last three years of his life had been hell. The only thing that had kept him sane and functioning was the intense desire for revenge. The hunt for Libby had remained his number one priority, even as he took the odd mission for Drake. His team had broken up, life pretty much fell apart, but one constant was threaded throughout.

Libby.

He had dreamed of numerous ways to make her pay for the death of his cousin Diego, all of them painful. He had lain awake so many nights, fighting the desire that ravaged his body at just the thought of her. It mingled equally and freely with a deadly rage that simmered below the surface.

A rage that fed the cat, enticing it into a frenzy of need that drove him, day after day, fueling the hunt.

And look where that got him.

Here he stood, quivering with need, holding onto the woman who’d effectively shredded his life into slices of want, need, and emptiness.

She whimpered softly in his arms, relaxing into the crook between his shoulder and elbow. The frailty of her body inflamed his senses, and he found her hair—so blond and pale against the dark of his skin—incredibly erotic. He groaned as his body reacted, instantly becoming hard.

Her feminine scent colored the air around him, and he inhaled deeply, letting her essence filter through his lungs until it seemed every cell in his body was alive with a craving that bordered on obsession. Savagely, he shook his head, trying to clear the images of their bodies naked, writhing together in passion.

Her arms around his neck tightened even more as she melted into him. Christ, he needed a cold swim in the lake to put out the fire she’d inadvertently started. He looked down at her face, relaxed and deeply ensconced in slumber. The nightmares were gone, for now.

Jaxon glanced behind him, at the door standing open, mocking his stupidity. Then he knelt down on the mattress. which still held the warmth from her skin, and slid his hard body down until he was on his side, with Libby safely tucked in his embrace.