His Darkest Hunger Read online

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.

  Libby watched as his eyes furtively crossed over her, and she resumed her hunched over stance. Was she mistaken or had his color turned gray?

  He mumbled a few more words into the phone and then quickly crossed back to where she stood, his breaths coming in quick bursts as they wheezed their way out of his lungs.

  She began to feel a growing tingle of concern. The fact that he was obviously scared shitless really didn’t bode well for her.

  He grabbed the rope he’d tied to her waist, and she raised an eyebrow as he tugged her along behind him once more.

  She dug the heels of her boots deep into the moist earth, feeling a sense of glee as he whipped back around to face her, anxious and on edge.

  “What the fuck are you trying to pull now? Do you want me to hurt you?”

  “I want you to untie me, asshole. I can’t keep this pace up with my hands behind my back.”

  She shook her head, trying to use the whole female in distress thing. It had worked for her many times in the past.

  “Look,” she said, “I volunteered to come with you. I want my son. I’m not going anywhere other than where you’re headed, so untie my hands and we can get there twice as fast.”

  He studied her, his face harsh and pinched in the waning evening light.

  He swore and cursed a blue streak but yanked on the rope, pulling her closer, until she was lodged firmly against his chest. His breath was hot against her cheek, and she felt revulsion as his body odor washed over her.

  Libby tried to lean away from him, but his lips found their way to the side of her neck, and as he spoke, a rash of goose bumps spread like fire across her skin.

  “You try anything, anything, and I will gut you like a pig. You’ll never see your son, you hear?”

  She nodded her head in silence, biting her lips in an effort to stifle the disgust lodged in the back of her throat. His meaty fingers wove their way between the tight rope and her skin, and with a swift, assured stroke he cut the rope from her waist and turned her around to do the same to the bindings around her wrists.

  The relief she felt as the pressure lessened was short-lived. He pushed her along in front of him, barking orders and maneuvering her toward some destination that only he knew. Her wrists were raw, chafed, and coated with dried blood. She did her best to rub some feeling back into them, picking up the pace as an urgent need to see this night end pounded through her.

  For surely there would be closure of some sorts. She just hoped she came out on the winning side of this war she’d stepped into.

  They hiked through rugged terrain, and she knew if her sense of direction was correct, they were heading away from the Caribbean and west toward the border that divided Belize from Guatemala. A faint buzzing rang in her ears and at first puzzled her, but as she concentrated on the noise, she realized it was Frank’s phone. He was pointedly ignoring the summons.

  They had just crested a hill when a roaring, thunderous sound reached her. Fine, wet mist caressed her cheeks, and she realized they were near a huge waterfall. Her tongue, swollen from thirst, dryly licked at her chapped lips. Fran
k was breathing hard as well and stopped for a second, reaching into his pack and grabbing a bottle of water, from which he drank deeply, not caring that a great amount trickled out the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

  Libby averted her eyes. She would not beg for a drink. She was close to a water source and would wait until then to quench her thirst. She watched as the large warrior wiped beads of sweat from his face. It had been pouring freely from him since they resumed their march through the jungle, and once more she was struck by how tense he seemed.

  An uneasy feeling slithered through her belly as he motioned for her to continue. Her legs carried her forward, and no matter how hard she tried, her pace had slowed significantly. But for whatever reason, Frank seemed content to keep time with her, and she massaged her side, finally acknowledging the sharp pain that had come back with a vengeance.

  Her eyes were dark with anger as she shot a glance toward Frank, but he was preoccupied and his own were trained much farther away. Bastard! He was the reason her ribs had been broken in the first place. She remembered it clearly now, and scowled into the darkness as it rushed through her mind, painted fresh and vibrant with color, as if it had happened only yesterday.

  He’d been pissed off over something, but with Fat Frank, there always was something. He had come to her prison, his manner loud and aggressive. At that point she had shared her quarters with another woman, a blonde who didn’t talk much.

  The other woman had instigated a confrontation, and now that she thought of it, Libby was sure she was trying to force a situation that would result in her own escape. Of course that didn’t happen, and in a fit of rage Frank lashed out, attacking both of them, kicking Libby in the ribs with all his might, breaking at least two.

  She hadn’t laid eyes on him again until she walked into her former prison just a few hours earlier. She was surprised to see that the blond woman was still there, defiant and surprisingly still alive.

  Libby didn’t care. The mystery woman was no concern of hers.

  Frank came to a sudden stop, and her mind quickly moved from memories of the past to take in the magnificent falls that cascaded down before her. She cranked her head upward, but the night was thick with a velvety blanket of darkness, and she couldn’t see how far up it went. The roar was intense, so she assumed the drop was extremely steep.

  Eerie tendrils of fog slithered along the ground, fingering their way outward from the mist that surrounded the fast moving water. Libby took a step back, sensing a darkness that infiltrated the fog as if something, or someone, was using it as some sort of conduit to get to them.

  It was malevolent. It was evil.

  Her mouth went dry as she felt coldness creep into her bones, and her feelings intensified. She held back a yelp as the fog wrapped its long tentacles around her ankles, sliding along her legs and up her body. She took a step back as she sensed a presence, and peered into the gloom, wanting to know, needing to see who her enemy was.

  “What is this place?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  “Shut up and follow me. Keep quiet and for God sakes don’t touch anything.”

  Libby shot Frank a puzzled look, but obediently followed him as he began to pick his way around the large boulders and moved toward the side of the steep cliff. The malevolent feeling continued to follow her, and she shivered with cold. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was now soaking wet from the water in the air or because she knew there was something there.

  Watching her. Waiting.

  Anger surged and rushed from her belly up to her heart, and she began to walk with purpose, her head held high. Her entire frame hummed with repressed energy, and the adrenaline rush warmed her skin.

  Frank continued to climb, and she followed suit. They reached a ledge, and now that she was closer she could see an entrance to a cave behind the cascading buckets of water. Frank looked back and motioned her forward.

  She snickered silently. Coward! Pushing her way past him, she carefully picked a path over an extremely slippery rock face. The spray of mist drenched her even more, but she welcomed the purity of its wetness.

  As she moved deeper past the edge, she could see a large opening about ten feet ahead. Within seconds they were both inside the cave. It took a few more moments for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, she had no problem seeing clearly. An eerie glow lit the entire area, which consisted of a smallish entrance with a large passageway beckoning to the right.

  Frank pushed her roughly from behind, and Libby gritted her teeth, her fingers itching to pull the gun from her side and put a bullet between his eyes. She stumbled forward and entered the passage, glancing around as she made her way deeper into the cave.

  What she saw stunned her.

  The rock walls were covered in an intricate series of paintings and pictures that she recognized as N’ahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. She was sure of it. She’d seen many artifacts with similar type etchings in Jaxon’s home. She frowned at that, thinking it didn’t make sense. The Aztecs had lived and flourished in Mexico, as least according to Jaxon.

  Why was there evidence of Aztecs so far south, in Belize? An uneasy lump formed deep in her gut, and as she continued along, she felt as if she were being allowed to witness a small piece of a very large puzzle. One that had fragmented, with certain key elements remaining elusive.

  One overwhelming theme was evident. Most of the drawings depicted large black jaguars and equally large, impressive eagles. They seemed to be at war among each other, and at the center of all of it, a large dark disc appeared to be the prize.

  Libby’s attention to the wall quickly fled as the soft glow sharpened. Up ahead she could see that the narrow passage opened up, widening into a much larger room.

  As she stepped into the cavern, she was indeed in awe. To say this room was larger would have been a gross understatement. She looked around, her face incredulous as the sheer size of the cavern rose up in front of her eyes. She cranked her head back and calculated the ceiling at well over five hundred feet.

  In the middle of the space a huge well of water rippled smoothly as it slid by and disappeared beneath the ground, most likely joining the rush of water that raced down the side of the cliff. Beneath the liquid glass, a beam of soft green shone through, and the entire area was lit in a hazy, luminescent swath of light.

  She noted several passageways that jutted out from the large cavern, going God knows where, and as she continued to study the area, she couldn’t help but shiver again. The feeling of blackness that she’d experienced earlier flew at her in a rush, and her eyes frantically tried to find the source. Something evil was here.

  And it wanted her.

  Frank remained quiet and stood still a few feet away from her, his posture nervous and submissive.

  A sound to the right startled them both, and she heard Frank curse behind her as a large bulky man made his way into the cavern. He was tall, his chest bare, the tattoos that proclaimed him a warrior evident as he walked toward them. The man was a wall of muscle, and the sneer that graced his mouth went along with the arrogance that fell from him in waves.

  He was not someone to be messed with.

  He stopped a few feet from them before Libby recognized him. He had been at the DaCosta compound more than once while she was imprisoned there.

  “He’s waiting. You are to leave and not return until he contacts you, Frank.” The large man had a deep, lifeless voice, and his eyes were cruel, devoid of any feeling. He nodded toward her, indicating that she follow him, but Frank had his own ideas.

  “Carlos, that was not the plan and you know it. How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not trying to take the prize that is mine by right?” Frank’s belligerence grew as his confidence began to simmer once more. “You’ve always wanted to be a true DaCosta, but you’ll never be more then what you are. A warrior for hire.”

  Frank spat at the ground and while his focus remained on the warrior slowly closing the
small gap between them, Libby began to inch away toward the nearest passage, Frank’s whine echoing along the limestone cavern.

  “He asked me to bring him the blonde, and it will be me who delivers the bitch straight into his arms.”

  The approaching warrior roared his displeasure and suddenly charged. Libby leapt out of the way and watched in disbelief as he began to transform into his jaguar form. Frank began to shift as well, but she wasn’t planning on watching the fireworks. She took off at a run and headed straight toward the opening. It was only a few feet away, and she disappeared through it without a glance back.

  There, the air felt thick, and it was darker. The sounds of battle ceased as a bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Libby stopped, her chest heaving and heart pounding nearly out of her chest. She found herself drawn back to where she’d just come from, as if an invisible string was pulling at her, and the macabre display there almost brought her to her knees.

  She crept forward, not even pretending to have control over her impulses, felt the blood draining from her face at the sight that greeted her.

  One of the jaguars was suspended, high in the air, held up by some invisible force. The body turned slowly, and she could see the animal struggling to breathe. Fog crept up from the gentle swell of water far below, weaving its way around the body as the animal writhed in agony. She continued to watch, helpless, as the fog morphed into a darker entity, seeming to pull at the creature, and indeed she realized that’s exactly what was happening.

  The animal’s cries lessened as its very essence was sucked from within, and as the wisps of fog slithered back toward the water, the limp and lifeless body of Frank DaCosta stared back at her, his eyes shot full of black, dead.

  Libby held her hand to her mouth as a scream threatened to rip its way through her throat, and she watched in disbelief as his body fell nearly thirty feet and slipped beneath the calm water, leaving not even a ripple in his wake.

  Terror clawed at her as she turned and began to run down the passage, her thoughts incoherent and jumbled. She’d come here for her son, but did she honestly think he was here?