His Darkest Hunger (22 page)

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 small
ish 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?

Alive?

The passage narrowed and she had to slow her pace, but the need to flee continued to propel her. Something was here, with her. The hair on the back
of her neck began to vibrate and tingle, as if reacting to an electrical charge, and sharp edges of pain radiated inside her brain.

The pressure intensified to the point that it brought her to her knees and she was truly afraid her head would burst, so raw and intense were the feelings.

Anguish lit her chest on fire and her hands cupped her cranium. She tried to get up but it was no use.

Everything else dulled, and the ache between her ears was constant. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to count, and as panic nipped at her, she struggled to breathe. It was then that she became aware of him. She could see two feet planted in front of her, and they belonged to a large man, judging by the size of his boots. Expensive leather boots, from what she could see.

He crouched down in front of her and she flinched as a large, warm hand extended down and cupped her chin, forcing her eyes upward.

He was handsome, of that there was no doubt. Devastatingly so. Dark hair shot through with silver crowned his head. But his eyes were dead, devoid of any emotion. She blinked slowly, feeling her brain liquefy as a myriad of memories rushed through her. They left her breathless, and her chest constricted in an effort to draw air into her lungs. The world shrank away into the rock face at her back, until she was aware of nothing except the man who held her so gently.

A man whose long, well-manicured fingers were strangely familiar. She focused on them, and felt the
last part of her shattered memory shift into place. Like the final piece of a puzzle.

He continued to regard her in silence for what seemed ages, and when he finally spoke, his voice washed over her like broken glass.

“Hello, Libby. Been a long time, no?”

T
he serene quiet of the jungle was in total contrast to the emotions that ran through Jaxon as he slashed his way deeper into the interior. He had caught Libby’s scent on the other side of the river, her sweet musky odor tainted with the stink of the DaCosta bastard who had her.

The thought of his enemy’s hands on his woman left him filled with a cold, deadly fury. He fed on it, and right now all of his energy was focused on one thing.

He would bring Libby home, or he would die trying.

He inhaled the heady sweet air that lingered thickly in the extensive range of greenery that surrounded him. The power of the jungle called to his primitive nature, and his senses were electrified, strangely enhanced over and above their already considerable abilities.

Jaxon stood still for a second, his eyes closed as he concentrated on her scent. Satisfied that he was on the right path, he took off at a run, his long legs carrying him forward with great speed as he jumped over rotting logs and an abundance of lush vegetation at his feet. His eyes quickly scanned the path he had chosen, looking for signs that someone had recently passed by. He felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him when he came upon a clearing and noticed two sets of footfalls embedded in the soft earth.

He knelt down, his fingers reaching out to trace the pattern of the smaller of the two. A sound off in the distance stilled him, and he continued to study the ground while sending his senses out on the wind in search of the disturbance he felt.

Someone was here. With him, right now.

His heart began to beat faster and he felt his skin burn as his body heated with anger. His jaw clenched tightly as he continued to hold his position, a position he didn’t like, as his back was extremely vulnerable to attack.

Something was off. He knew there was a presence here in the jungle, not far from where he was, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Human? No, definitely not. But what the hell was it?

His senses began to scream at him, and he exhaled hard before whirling around and bringing his right leg around in a wide circle. He grunted as it came into contact with something solid, something definitely made of flesh and bone, that toppled from the force of his hit.

Jaxon sprang to his feet as a body fell in front of him, a litany of vile curses following it down.

“Jesus! Fuck, Jax!”

Declan’s hoarse shout brought Jaxon up short, and he stood there, heart pounding, body raging with adrenaline. He kicked at the ground and growled deeply from his belly.

“What the hell are you doing? I ordered your ass back to base. I need to know that Ana and Julian make it to the plane.”

Declan slowly got to his feet and spat dirt from his mouth. “Ah, last time I looked, Jaxon, I wasn’t taking orders from you. I’m along for the ride because I want to be. I need to see this thing through to the end just as much as you do,” his eyes narrowed, “and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let you run off into the jungle half cocked, with no backup.”

Declan’s white teeth slashed through the night as he smiled crookedly. “Besides, I brought a few goodies to help us out.”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed as the tall Irishman patted the satchel slung around his shoulder. He snorted, and grudgingly acknowledged to himself that Declan’s help would definitely be an asset.

He turned once more and scented the air, indicating they would keep heading west. Declan’s long legs fell easily in step with his own, and they kept up a quick pace for several minutes before Jaxon stopped abruptly.

His nostrils quivered as a new scent washed over him. Dread began to pool in his belly and he knelt down, studying the earthen ground, seeking the source of his distress. Over by a thick grouping of trees he spied a long piece of twine amidst the greenery, the ends frayed and raw. His muscles clenched at the unmistakable smell of blood that was heavy in the air.

Libby’s blood.

Heart pounding, he ran forward and snatched up two large bits of rope that had been cut. One was much longer than the other, but it was the smaller one that had the beast inside him clawing for vengeance. It had obviously been used to bind her hands, and the rope was covered in her blood from where it had dug into her soft skin.

Jaxon began to pant, and he felt his animal shimmer just below the surface. Blackness coiled its way along the edge of his brain, and he found it hard to maintain his human form. He growled loudly, and when Declan would have grabbed the twine from him, he roared his disapproval and moved away from his friend, needing space and time to quiet the violent rumblings that circulated frenetically through his veins.

He grasped the twine between strong fingers and brought it to his face, inhaling Libby’s sweet scent. When he got his hands on Frank DaCosta, he was going to rip him apart, limb by limb, and he would put a hurt on that piece of scum, the likes of which he’d never done before.

It took him a few seconds before Jaxon dimly realized that Declan was speaking, then he let the low, cool tones of his friend bring him back from the edge. He was able to focus, and slowly the red haze receded from his eyes.

“So, Frank just let her loose?”

Jaxon met Declan’s gaze, and didn’t like what Declan had implied. He didn’t answer but his mouth tightened into a frown.

“Hey, I’m just saying it’s kinda weird. Don’t you think he’d be afraid she would bolt?”

“I don’t know what to think, Dec, about any of this.” His voice was hoarse and his mind was moving quickly in all sorts of directions. Why the hell
would
he free her from her bindings? It didn’t make sense.

“Are they still together? Did she run?”

Jaxon studied the immediate area and moved along a few more feet before crouching low to the ground. After a few moments he spoke quietly. “Yeah, they’re still together. She’s leading and he’s following.”

Declan shrugged his shoulders but his face had darkened as he worked through this surprising development. “Maybe she wants to be with him.”

Jaxon’s head whipped up and he snarled. “What the hell do you mean by that? Why the fuck would she willingly go along with the bastard who tortured her for three years?”

“That, my friend, is the million dollar question, now isn’t it? What do we really know about Libby Jamieson?”

The jaguar shattered through the thin coating of control Jaxon still had, and with a fierce growl, he pinned Declan to a tree, his claws ripping through bark. He panted, unsure and extremely agitated, his forearms half shifted into the deadly paws of his jaguar.

Calmly, Declan offered no resistance as Jaxon roared his anguish deep into the night. Jaxon’s entire body trembled with the effort it took to tame his animal, and when he was finally able to restore a certain amount of control, Declan gently disengaged himself and moved several feet away, giving
his friend a moment to collect himself before he spoke his piece.

“My point is that there isn’t a whole hell of a lot we know about her. Her info sheet back at PATU was bare bones. She was adopted at the age of six by a couple of average, ordinary Americans. She was always at the top of her class, blew through her training at Quantico, and somehow managed to get herself attached to our unit, and we don’t deal with humans.” Declan shook his head. “This whole situation stinks is all. I’m just saying that we’re missing a huge part of the puzzle.”

Jaxon’s face had turned to stone and his voice was low, coated with steel, and so very quiet that Declan had to strain to hear his words.

“I’m going to bring Libby back. You can come along, but so help me God, if you dare to question her integrity or allegiance—we’re done.”

Declan watched as Jaxon turned abruptly and melted into the trees. He hissed in anger, but without pause followed in the footsteps of the man he’d trust with his very life. He just hoped that Libby was deserving of such devotion and loyalty.

The two men did not speak as they slowly climbed higher. A light rain had begun to mist, and the insects that buzzed around them intensified. The trek became much more arduous as they went on, and Jaxon led them with stealth across small streams and up several sheer rock faces as they climbed higher with a ferocious intensity.

It was now predawn, and Jaxon was beginning to wonder how Libby had managed this trek. The heat and humidity alone was killer, but with the coming
rain, the bugs were incessant and their appetite for skin and blood voracious.

Her scent was becoming stronger, and he felt relief as he realized he was closing in on his prey. A distant roar that had been muffled for a while now had become more thunderous and as they crested a small rise, the crescendo of a large waterfall was almost deafening.

She was there, all around him, her sweet scent lingering amidst the earth, the trees, and even across the water that sparkled as it fell from well over five hundred feet above him to several hundred below.

Jaxon sensed that there was more than just his woman here in this jungle paradise. His body began to tingle as his cells reacted to some unseen menace. There was a foul odor that lay like a heavy blanket over the entire area, and he turned his head, nostrils quivering as he scented the breeze that whooshed down from above, riding the fast moving water to the bottom.

He was uneasy, not comfortable with the smells and darkness that emanated from behind the glorious facade of the waterfall.

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.