His Darkest Hunger Page 5

  He didn’t say a word, but picked her up carefully and began the trek up the hill and through the forest. The birds that had heralded his approach remained quiet as he slowly made his way back. He could feel their eyes on him, not trusting the shifter that had invaded their sanctuary.

  When he cleared the apple trees, he quickly ran to the truck, balancing Libby against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing. Even though he would deny it until hell froze over, there was that small sliver of comfort in knowing she was finally calm.

  And free of her nightmares for the moment.

  He reached the truck and loaded her into the passenger side for the second time, looking around for the blanket that had flown out with her. He noticed it a few yards back and quickly retrieved it, tucking her in with the added warmth of the wool.

  He jumped into the cab, started the truck, and looked to his passenger before accelerating slowly. Libby was fast asleep, but he didn’t trust her. He flicked on the child safety locks and ran his hand through his hair in agitation.

  He needed to find out whoever the hell them was.

  Somehow this whole mess was connected. Everything, starting back three years ago, when his unit had been ambushed and Diego murdered.

  He just had to connect the dots. He needed to link them all together. His face hardened as Libby’s image floated through his mind.

  He had the first dot.

  Now he had to find the rest.

  With Declan’s help they should be able to hurry her memory from its hiding place, and then the answers would come. Jaxon felt the coldness that lived inside of him spread out and caress his fast beating heart. His small shred of humanity disappeared and his handsome features settled into a tense frown.

  The woman in his thoughts moaned as she turned toward him. Her arm was flung over her head, as if warding off…something.

  Libby Jamieson had all of the answers locked deep inside of her. He snarled softly as he looked away from her and back to the road. He had a shitload of questions and wouldn’t let her rest until she was able to answer them. He’d rip them from her if he had to.

  The glowing clock on the dashboard told him it was three. He had been making great time until Libby’s mad dash for freedom. Without any more problems, he’d reach the loft by four.

  Jaxon cranked up the volume and carried on down the road as the hypnotic melody of a Doors classic filled the cab.

  This is the end, my only friend the end.

  He snorted as the lyrics floated through his brain. Hell no, this is the beginning of the end.

  Hardly anyone was on the road and it was just before 4:00 A.M. that the beams of light from the Tahoe flickered across the empty parking lot of an old abandoned warehouse, deep in the heart of the waterfront near Manhattan.

  Old, indeed it was.

  Abandoned, it most certainly was not.

  He slowed down as the truck maneuvered through a narrow entrance, stopping near the booth that housed Cracker, the night security guard. It had been almost a year since Jaxon had visited the premises, but Cracker was used to the secretive comings and goings of the certain select few who were allowed access.

  The truck ground to a halt as Cracker stepped from his safe haven, a large semiautomatic perched lazily against his leg. The man was about forty-five, tall, broad-shouldered, and mean as all hell. He was ex-military, having resigned his commission after being in Iraq for several years.

  He wasn’t one hundred percent human either.

  His scent had always thrown Jaxon for a loop; it was something he’d never come across before. The man had never volunteered his lineage, but as long as he did his job, and did it well, Jaxon didn’t give a shit if oil ran through his veins.

  As the truck slowly pulled up alongside him, Cracker’s eyes—so pale they were almost white—drifted toward the passenger that lay huddled against the door. They narrowed. It was the only noticeable sign of surprise, and his face quickly resumed the blank facade that was the norm, before acknowledging his boss.

  “Evening, Castille. Declan’s already inside.”

  “Thanks.”

  With those few words, Jaxon proceeded through the gates until he was inside the center of a large courtyard type area. The entire perimeter was fenced in, with full coverage from security cameras and two roving dogs that were trained to kill on command.

  In front of him was a series of eight large doors that led to a large underground parking facility. He drove the truck to the very end, depressing the remote inside his cab. The heavy steel door began to slowly recede, and he was able to drive through.

  Once inside, he pulled into his spot and cut the motor. Jaxon sighed softly, his lips pursed into a hard thin line as he glanced at the still slumbering woman.

  Libby had slept fitfully on and off the last forty-five minutes of the drive, occasionally moaning loudly and jerking her body wildly. Nightmares.

  That was something they both shared.

  He glanced to the left, smiling for the first time at the sight of the vehicle parked there. The long, sleek lines of the low riding viper were so Declan. It had been much too long since he’d been with his fellow operatives.

  They’d been family once.

  Until a little slip of ass had decided it would be a great idea to betray them. Once again anger flared. His eyes raked sparks of fire over Libby as the intensity of his emotions flushed his skin a deep red.

  She’d stolen a lot more than Diego from him that day.

  And she would pay dearly.

  Jaxon swung the door open, sliding from the cab with the sinuous grace that came so naturally to his kind. His eyes were always moving, and he noticed there was only the one other vehicle parked inside the cavernous garage.

  Guess Ana had decided not to join the party early. He slowly rubbed the kinks from the tense cords in his neck. She’d show. Although with the coming dawn, it wouldn’t be until later in the afternoon or early evening.

  Yeah, he’d been away far too long. It felt good to be back, with a mission in hand, and a host of butts out there just waiting to be kicked.

  He turned back to the vehicle and lugged the large bag from the back of the truck. After securing it around his shoulders, he opened the passenger door and grabbed Libby as if she weighed nothing. Which, given her state, wasn’t an exaggeration. The woman had lost some serious weight and probably tipped the scales at a buck ten, if that, soaking wet.

  He quickly crossed to an elevator that opened only after a successful retinal scan and palm print. Once he’d initiated the procedure, it took less than a minute for him to exit the lift and step into the main area of the loft.

  His loft.

  And headquarters to the best damn paranormal antiterrorist team on the planet.

  Magicks, lycans, vampires, and shifters had always existed alongside humans, invisible and silent, governed by their own. But over the last century things had shifted. Lines that were drawn straight and true had become blurred. New alliances had been formed as old ones were broken.

  The general human populace was still unaware of the various creatures that walked the earth alongside them. And while most of the paranormals were content to exist in silence, there was a faction that needed to be watched closely. The ones that had no mind to heed their own laws, let alone the human ones.

  It was up to organizations like PATU to police them. They were government sanctioned, and his unit had been the best. But after Diego’s death the team had disbanded and Declan turned to freelance work, while Ana was reassigned.

  As for himself, Jaxon had always worked when he chose to, and had just recently returned from a particular nasty mission in the wilds of South America. It had taken well over a year out of his life, and he’d truly been at a crossroads when the information on Libby just fell into his lap.

  Nice and easy. And like a fool he’d run with it and almost gotten killed.

  He continued into the large atrium that was the focal point of the loft, his long l
egs quickly eating up the ground as he passed the greenery to continue down the hall to his right. There was a series of rooms down here. They were in fact interrogation rooms, but one had a bed, so she’d be comfortable.

  He could leave Libby there and not worry about her trying to escape, as the heavy steel doors came equipped with locks that couldn’t be breached by a human, or otherwise. They were supposedly both charm safe and bomb safe. The only way to open them, once locked, was with a series of codes.

  Declan O’Hara had managed to open them several times, from the inside, just to annoy the hell out of Jaxon, and he’d not given up his secrets.

  Jaxon stepped into the cold room, wincing as the harsh lights flickered on, enhancing the dull, muted space. He shrugged; beggars couldn’t be choosers, and right now Libby Jamieson was at his mercy.

  He lowered her to the bed, keeping her body tucked into the blanket. She immediately rolled to her side, and he had the distinct impression that she was no longer asleep. Her long blond hair was a mess about her head, the once lustrous tendrils devoid of shine and health. They hid her face from view, and he stepped away, turning his back to the woman who’d once been his lover.

  He left her there, without a word, and smiled in satisfaction as the heavy clang locked her in. He’d left only the day before to put a bullet in her head, but it was somehow much more fitting that she was here, in New York City, and she would know the wrath of a Castille.

  She would learn what it was to cross a jaguar. For an animal like Jaxon, the hunt wasn’t over until his enemy was dead.

  Despite the fact that she had momentarily aroused his dormant softer side, Libby Jamieson was still his enemy. That someone had used her to get to him only bought her a bit of breathing room. Her reckoning would come. Once he flushed out the bastard that had taken a hit out on him, he would turn all of his energies toward Libby.

  And she would suffer as he had. Whatever she’d been through in the last three years would be nothing compared to the wrath he would bring down on her head.

  No one crossed a Castille and lived to tell the tale. No one.

  He left her and ignored the soft whispers that clung to the edge of reason that still lived in his head. The ones that told him he was no better than them.

  The familiar scent of Declan O’Hara wafted toward him as he made his way around the center of the atrium and headed to the hub of operations. It was a huge room, full of state-of-the-art computers and surveillance equipment, with another chamber deeper in, filled to the brink with an eclectic collection of weaponry.

  Weapons that could kill humans but for the most part were specialized for use against vamps, wolves, shifters of all sorts, and magicks.

  Jaxon could command a small army from here, and he’d indeed done just that many times in the past.

  As his eyes alighted on the tall man leaning over a computer screen, a genuine smile transformed his harsh features into the handsome man that he was.

  Declan O’Hara had been part of this unit long before Diego even recruited Jaxon. He was a man of mystery, and one with a dangerous edge. He was a formidable opponent who not only was a great soldier, but had a powerful command of magick. He’d been known to dabble in the dark arts when the occasion called for it.

  Jaxon didn’t know much about his personal life, only that his father had been a warlock cast out of his coven for using the dark arts. He’d always believed there was more to the story, but Declan had never volunteered and he’d never asked.

  A man should be allowed to keep his personal shit to himself.

  “Where is she?”

  Declan turned from the task he was performing, his face dark and unreadable. Jaxon could well understand his hatred toward Libby. They all felt it.

  The day Diego had died, Declan attempted to use dark magick to bring him back, but the sacrifice would have been too much, and Jaxon stopped him. He had seen the struggle, the darkness growing inside, and knew if Declan was successful, he would be doomed.

  The dark magick would have claimed him. Such was the delicate line between good and evil. Between love and hate.

  Jaxon’s smile faded and he wondered, for the first time, if he would have been able to carry through with his intent to take Libby out. What if she’d not looked out into the darkness at him? Would he have pulled the trigger and left her there to die?

  “Christ, Jax, don’t tell me she’s gotten to you already? What did she do? Bat those baby blues and open her legs for you?”

  “Her eyes are violet.”

  Jaxon’s voice was deadly in its softness, and it was obvious that Declan knew he’d crossed the line. Tense silence filled the space between them until Declan turned back to the computer screen. “Is she in one of the interrogation rooms?”

  “Yeah, and you’re not to go anywhere near her until I say so.”

  Declan ignored the last comment as he rubbed his eyes wearily. He pushed his fingers through the thick wavy hair he left long, curling around his neck. He certainly did not look military, but the lean and muscled frame beneath the faded jeans and T-shirt became one hell of a fighting machine when in combat. He could kick most anyone’s ass.

  “I tried to make sense of the transmission you received but I have no freaking clue where it originated. You’ll have to get Ana to look at it,” Declan said.

  The dark green eyes turned into hard emeralds as his face narrowed in anger. “I’ll tell you one thing, Jax. Your intel came from someone with the highest level security clearance. Maybe whoever it was just covered all the bases and had a second player in motion, in case you couldn’t complete the mission. Which, I hate to point out, you didn’t.” Declan ignored the black eyes throwing flames of anger his way. “Maybe the shot was just a coincidence.”

  “No, it was no coincidence. It was a setup. I took out the sniper. He was a paid assassin. The poor bastard was human. Someone was stupid enough to send a human soldier out to kill a jaguar. He knew nothing, but I heard his phone conversation and he was definitely taking orders.”

  Jaxon’s face darkened even more as he felt the animal inside of him begin to stir in reaction to his intense, warring emotions. He took a deep breath, noticing the way Declan retreated.

  “Someone was using Libby as bait to get me out in the open, and whoever the hell it is, knew where she was. I’ve been hunting her for the last three years and had no clue she was working in some dead end diner in northern Michigan.”

  His skin began to burn and he growled deeply from his chest. “I’m going to find the bastard that ordered the hit and rip him to pieces with my bare claws.” Jaxon flexed his powerful forearms and his skin itched to let the beast free.

  “Someone wants me dead. The only reason I’m standing here right now is the fact that Libby fainted and I reacted on instinct and broke her fall.”

  “Well, looks like the bitch was good for something after all.”

  Both men turned in surprise as a small compact woman walked into the room. She was petite, yes, but hard as nails. Dressed from head to toe in tight black leather, she moved as if walking on air. Her long auburn hair hung in waves to her waist, flowing softly as if a breeze lived amidst the luxurious length. Freckles sprinkled across a small upturned nose, and her expressive sapphire eyes were almost overpowering on such a delicate childlike face.

  But the woman who stood before them was anything but a child. She was a lethal killing machine who needed blood to survive. Lots and lots of blood.

  Her name was Ana and she was the missing member of his team.

  She was also a three-hundred-year-old vampire who loved to kick ass, and at the moment there was no mistake as to whose ass was next in line.

  Chapter 6

  What, no hug? No kisses?” Ana’s soft voice purred as she smiled at the two of them, but Jaxon knew better. She was pissed.

  He was quiet for a few seconds. His face darkened and the air seemed to swirl around him as he spoke. “You will not go near her unless I’m present, Ana. Are we clea
r?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she hissed in anger. Her fangs began to elongate and she growled loudly as she took a step closer.

  Declan stepped between the two of them, his voice harsh and commanding.

  “Back off, both of you! This is bullshit!” He turned to Jaxon. Both men were of equal height, and formidable opponents when the need arose. “Ana and I came because you asked us for help. We both dropped everything and we’re here, aren’t we?”

  Declan shook his head in disgust, his voice barely controlled. “You will not deny us the satisfaction of making that bitch pay for what she did to Diego. Hell, what she did to all of us.”

  His eyes sought out the intense blue ones of the vampire, softening at the pain so ill concealed behind the bejeweled depths.

  “And we will. We all will, when the time is right. Libby is the key here. Everything comes back to her. Right now we need her alive, but once we have the answers—”

  “All bets are off,” Ana’s voice bit through. Bitterness and anger hardened the soft features of her face.

  “I won’t tell you again, Ana. Leave her alone. She has no memory of her life, she has no answers for you, and I don’t trust you around her. You can’t be objective where she’s concerned.”

  Jaxon clenched his teeth together as his anger got the better of him.

  “The sun is waking up. I need to rest.”

  Ana abruptly turned on her heel and headed toward the private quarters, where they each had their own space. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Castille…so glad to be back.”

  Her voice gently drifted back toward them and Jaxon swore in frustration. She was the one person he had no desire to alienate. He had lost his cousin the day Diego died, but Ana…she had lost so much more.

  Roughly, he ran his hands through the black hair on top of his head. Weariness was starting to settle into his bones, and he knew he needed sleep in order to function properly.

  “You should get some rest too, Dec. We’ll start fresh in a few hours.”

  Jaxon turned and headed toward his own room, pausing as the urge to check on Libby tore through his body. He had to physically force himself to follow in Ana’s footsteps.