Jaxon had been ruthless in his pursuit of her, but if he had wanted her dead, then surely he would have left her to slip below the water to die. Wouldn’t he?
His dark eyes burned behind her own as she closed them tightly. He was so large, intimidating and angry, but she somehow knew he wouldn’t harm her. When he had first pulled her from the water, she was terrified—terrified of going back to the nameless monsters that chased her dreams every night.
She’d truly believed that he was one of them, and if she’d had the chance, she would have jumped back into the water and let its gentle caress take her into oblivion.
But she hadn’t jumped back in, and for that she could be grateful.
A spark had been stoked and was slowly growing into a heated desire to live. For the first time in many weeks, Libby had the urge to look at herself. Really look at herself.
She no longer wanted to be the victim.
Her first memories were so very new, only months old.
She had heard all the whispers from the towns-people of Winterhaven. Some were incredibly hurtful, while others had just been truthful. She’d been the poor little Raggedy Ann who showed up at the diner in Winterhaven two months earlier; a socially inept female with sad eyes and a broken mind. Pete took her under his wing, and for that she would always be thankful, but each day had been torture, and truthfully, most of the time she had no concern or thought for the future.
But now, suddenly, it became vital that she survive. That she remember. Not only to lay to rest the demons that stalked her, but to answer the haunted look she’d glimpsed in Jaxon’s eyes when he brought her here only a few hours ago.
Declan had said they were family once.
Ana had said she was a murderer.
Jaxon had said nothing.
It was up to her to find the answers.
Libby’s eyes flew open as the door creaked and slowly inched forward. She held her breath, feeling a small tug of disappointment when Declan returned with a tray of food. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her side and the shards of glass that seemed to be breaking inside her head. It felt as if tiny pieces of her brain were slipping away and hitting the side of her skull.
The smell of food had her mouth watering, and spittle began to pool inside her cheeks as a tray of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast was set on the table beside her bed.
Libby kept her eyes averted, not wanting to see the dislike Declan made no attempt to hide. She willed him to walk away, but as her luck would have it, the tall man had other things on his mind.
“So, Libby, I’m curious. How much do you remember exactly? Can you at least share that with us? Can you tell me how far back your addled brain lets you wander?”
The insult stung, and she swallowed thickly, wanting only to eat in peace.
She paused for a moment and hoped if she answered his questions truthfully, Declan would leave her alone. Her eyes wandered toward the plate of food, set just out of reach, and she realized he was trying his own form of torture.
She sighed, having no desire to play this game.
“I remember riding on a bus. It was dark, and had rained recently. I could smell it in the air when I got off…the rain and the grass.” She closed her eyes, picturing the stormy night she’d arrived in Winterhaven.
“Someone had just cut their lawn and it lingered. It smelled nice…the grass.”
She paused, drinking in details that only now her mind was allowing her to see. The pain began to sharpen inside her skull, but she ignored it, clenching her teeth and willing the pictures to come.
“I had to get off in Winterhaven because I had no more money left. It was as far as I could go.”
“Where did you get money? Who gave it to you?” Declan’s hard words rained down on her, and she flinched at the heaviness of his anger. It was obvious he didn’t believe a word she was saying.
“I don’t know. I mean, I had none with me. I just woke up on the bus and the driver told me to get off.”
“Did anyone else get off with you?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” Her mind whirled into a vortex of images, and she pressed her hands against her head as the ripples of pain became much more intense. A blurred image ran across her memory. A man? Had someone gotten off with her?
“There might have been someone, I just…I’m sorry. I remember the rain and being soaked, and the feeling of panic that came over me because I had no clue where I was, or why I was out in a storm in the dark.” She paused, whispering. “And the noise was so terrifying.”
“What noise?”
Libby blinked up at Declan and felt a small moment of triumph wash through her. She smiled. Her lips were tremulous and eyes shadowed. “There were heavy footsteps. They were following me. I remember running and the only warm place to go to was the diner.”
She paused, trying not to let the emotions overwhelm her.
“I was so scared it was them. All I wanted to do was disappear, and I wanted the pain to stop.”
A single, solitary tear escaped, slowly sliding down her cheek until it disappeared. “I must have fainted, I guess, because the next thing I remember is Pete. It was two full days later.” Her voice became hoarse with emotion as she continued. “I got away from the footsteps but the pain was still there.” Her voice dropped, “I don’t think it will ever go away. It’s inside of me to stay.”
Declan moved back, allowing her access to the food. Her violet eyes were shadowed, heavy with tears, and something slithered across his features and was gone just as quick. He stood there, staring down at her intently, and then turned abruptly, leaving her to the quiet.
She grabbed at the food, greedily stuffing the bacon into her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the taste and aroma as it awakened a ravenous hunger.
Not more than five minutes later she was licking the last of the grease from her fingers—she’d already licked every last bit from the plate—when Jaxon appeared suddenly in her room.
The entire area seemed to shrink and fall in upon itself. The man was huge, dangerous, and incredible to look at. He was fresh from the shower, his blue black hair waving thickly atop his closely cropped head. The dark beard that had graced the sharp, chiseled features was gone, and his clothes were much more casual.
And way too sexy.
That thought wove its way through her brain, and Libby felt the heat of a blush ride her cheeks once more. What was it about this man that affected her so?
Yeah, so he was tall, muscled with a ripped six pack, and he looked amazing in a tight T-shirt and faded jeans. So what? He was also the man who’d taken her from Pete and brought her here for an undetermined reason. She didn’t wholly believe it was all about regaining her memory. That seemed a little too cut-and-dried.
He had an ulterior motive, of that Libby was sure.
She just hoped that she lived through whatever the hell it was they were after.
“The shower is down the hall. I’ll show you.”
He waited for her, his face closed, distant. Libby arose from the bed, her movements stiff and forced. It seemed that every bone and muscle in her body ached, and the thought of a warm shower seemed too good to be true.
“After your shower, Ana will examine you.”
Yup, too good to be true.
“I am not letting that…that deranged woman near me. Can’t you see that she wants to kill me?”
“We all want to kill you, Libby, but that doesn’t mean it will happen. I’ve talked to Ana and she knows not to cross me. She has given me her word that no harm will come to you.”
With that he turned on his heel and walked out the door, obviously expecting her to follow in his footsteps like a little puppy dog.
“You have got to be joking.”
Libby inhaled softly as Jaxon paused. He was so tense, his body hummed like an energy field. When he spoke, is voice was low, deadly, and the hairs rose on her neck at its the menace.
“I don’t joke. About anything. You will
have a shower and then Ana will examine you. It’s the only way we can hope to gather evidence of where you’ve been for the past three years.”
He turned then and nailed her with a look that told Libby they were done. She sighed, overwhelmed, and adopted the submissive posture she’d only recently begun to fight.
She followed him quietly, stopping only to take two large white towels that he’d procured. A cold knot of fear began to tighten deep in her gut, and the food she had all but inhaled moments before left her feeling sickly.
She opened the door that he indicated with a quick nod and disappeared inside, closing it quickly behind her.
Libby felt like she’d just come off the world’s craziest roller coaster. And she hated roller coasters. She knew that as surely as she knew she was screwed. She was frazzled, sore, sick to her stomach, and wished more then anything that she was somewhere else.
That she was someone else.
Like a normal person with a family and people to love her. What did she have? Who did she have?
She pushed herself away from the door and tried to banish the thoughts that were trying to crowd her too tired brain. Stripping the dirty clothes from her back, she walked toward the welcoming hot spray and hoped it would wash her troubles down the drain.
Better yet, wash her down the drain. Stepping under the hot water, Libby closed her eyes and let everything out. Her tears mingled with the water that fell upon her body, the pathetic sounds she made muffled by the hard spray.
Her eyes fell to the drain at her feet and she watched the water slip away. There was no escape for her. She knew that now. With deep resignation, she reached for the soap and began to scrub the grime and exhaustion from her limbs.
Outside the shower room, Jaxon leaned his tall frame against the cold cement wall. Her scent lingered deep in his nostrils. She’d been dirty, unwashed, and it still called to the primal part of him that wanted her. The animal inside him grumbled at being denied the chance to taste its woman.
He clenched his hands tightly, trying to fight the wave of desire that rushed through him. Visions of her naked and wet form began to dance in front of his eyes. He pictured her hands flowing across the milky white of her breasts and then down her tummy, to rest at the juncture between her legs.
She was so fucking beautiful. Even now, as beaten down as she was, his senses came alive at the sight of her, at the very smell of her. If he could, he would join her in the shower and take what was his.
Savagely, he swore, and in that moment hated Libby with a ferocity that startled even him. He hated the fact that she made him feel, made him want her. After all she’d done to destroy his life.
He still wanted her.
Jaxon shifted his jeans, trying to alleviate the pressure between his legs. Unfortunately it didn’t help. The sensation of the material as it caressed his shaft only intensified the need.
For her.
His skin broke out into a cold sweat, and he inhaled deeply, trying to calm the frazzled nerves that hummed along his entire body.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Jaxon hissed from between his teeth as he opened his eyes to gaze into ones as conflicted as his. Concern and irritation were evident in Ana’s delicate features. She looked tired, which was strange, since she was a vampire, but then again, the whole situation was fucked.
It must be damn hard for her to stand by and not take out the woman who’d signed Diego’s death warrant, he thought. It should have been hard for him too, but it wasn’t.
“She’s showering. I told her you would perform a routine examination.”
Ana studied him, her eyes narrowed to half slits, and Jaxon felt his emotions continue to swirl into a large ball of mixed soup.
He looked away from her, resenting the fact that she knew him so well. Knew how hard all of this was.
He was a Castille, for Christ sakes. He wasn’t supposed to have any weaknesses. And he hadn’t, until a slip of blond ass walked into his life over five years ago. Nothing had ever been the same since.
“Well, I’m here now,” Ana said. “You don’t need to guard her door. I think it’s safe to say Declan has no designs on your woman.”
Jaxon sprang forward and the vampire stepped back quickly. “Watch where you tread, Ana.” Something in his eyes became feral and his voice was low as he continued, “I need to run. I’ll be in the jungle room if you want me.”
He moved away from her, heading down the hall, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that was painfully loud.
“Do not harm her, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
Ana watched him leave and tried to push away the sadness that pressed into her. Jaxon Castille had always been a bad ass, a man apart from the rest of them. He had never needed anybody in his life, only the companionship of the people in his unit.
She shook her head in agitation. That had all changed the day Libby Jamieson was transferred to their unit at PATU.
The moment she’d first laid eyes on Libby, Ana knew she would be trouble.
It was in the way she walked. In the way her long blond hair hung down her back, just so. It was in the way Jaxon immediately focused on her with an intensity that signaled the beginning of the end for the both of them. She had known nothing but heartache could come from their joining.
Jaxon wasn’t ready to take a mate, and considering the shitty relationship his parents had endured, she wasn’t sure he would ever be willing to give it all up for one woman. And if he did, there was no way he’d let Libby live the life that she thrived on. The danger alone would have been enough to put a serious dent in their relationship.
When a jaguar mated, it was for life, and even though Jaxon would have liked to believe he could escape that genetic trait, it seemed that Libby was the one female who posed a serious threat to his singular status.
Ana sighed. Too bad he hadn’t listened to her and had Libby transferred immediately from their unit. It wasn’t like she’d ever truly belonged. She was a fucking human, for Christ sakes!
Her eyes darkened and her hands clenched into small tight balls. Libby Jamieson was the human solely responsible for the death of her lover. Memories of Diego washed through her, and she felt her body soften as the weight of them cracked her heart.
Ana pushed herself forward angrily.
Enough with the memories.
She yanked the door open, smiling at the shriek that flew from deep inside the steamy room. She wouldn’t harm Libby, but no one said she couldn’t have a little fun with the bitch.
“Time for your physical.”
Ana grabbed a large towel and stepped closer to the shower, her eyes smiling in malicious enjoyment as she yanked the curtain back.
The smile soon fell from her face as the towel slipped from her suddenly weak fingers. Her mind was having a hard time comprehending what she saw.
Libby had turned toward the wall in an attempt to hide, but in the process had exposed the flesh that covered her back, buttocks, and legs. She was painfully thin, compared to the healthy workout nut she’d been back in the day.
But it wasn’t her thinness that was so shocking.
Her back was full of scars that started just below her shoulders and raised ridges that ran down along her rib cage. Deep grooves had been carved into her flesh, and some were burns. Angry red marks that shouted torture and abuse. Ana walked into the shower without thinking; her fingers, reaching forward on their own, gently touched the marred flesh.
Libby was trembling uncontrollably, and she flinched as contact was made.
“Please don’t look.”
Ana continued to trace the puckered red flesh, wincing as the sobs escaped Libby, gut wrenching and full of pain, both physical and emotional.
Her eyes continued to wander over the mutilated area, and she could see that Libby favored her left side. Her ribs there were swollen, suggesting an injury that hadn’t healed.
Ana turned away, sickened by the obvious signs of torture. She
grabbed the towel from the floor and gently wrapped it around Libby’s shaking form. Less than twelve hours ago she had wanted nothing more than Libby’s blood. Nothing more than for Libby to experience the darkness of death.
She’d been alive for over three hundred years, and in that time had seen a lot. She’d traveled to every corner of the globe, and beyond. She’d suffered losses and endured indescribable anguish, both mental and physical, as she lost everyone she’d ever loved.
Ana was cursed and she knew it.
She could feel the darkness that was slowly chipping away at her soul. Or what was left of it. Diego had been her anchor. With him, she’d been able to push it back. She’d been able to hope. She’d been able to live once more.
Even among all the death and destruction they fought against every day.
When he’d been murdered, it was almost her undoing. The only thing that kept her from walking into the sun was a thirst for revenge. It ate at her with a ferocity that made blood lust pale in comparison. It was insatiable, relentless.
Now she was confused as all hell, and feeling something a three-hundred-year-old vampire rarely felt: shocked.
She exhaled softly. It looked like Libby had found her own nightmare punishment.
She led Libby from the shower room then, trying her best to ignore the sobs that escaped Libby’s clenched, chattering teeth. It was starting to look like Libby’s years in limbo had been no picnic at all. But for Ana, the question still remained. Did she deserve the sympathy that was knocking hard at her door?
As they entered the medical facility, the vampire’s steel resolve was once more in place. She was focused and determined to find out what the hell had happened.
And no amount of scars, burns, and broken bones would keep her from vengeance if Libby was complicit in the attack on their unit, in the death of Diego.
That was the one thing she was sure of.
Chapter 8
His Darkest Hunger Page 7