The jaguar moved once more, its steps slow and precise as it disappeared into the fog, only to reappear several seconds later in human form.
Julian Castille was fatigued. He’d been running for what seemed like hours, and as he turned his face to the warmth of the sun’s first caress, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
His thoughts, as always, turned to the one person who somehow managed to get under his skin in such a way that it drove him crazy.
Jaden made him lose focus. She resurrected feelings and emotions deep within that he hadn’t the strength or tools to deal with. Mass confusion rained down upon him when she was in the picture, tugging at the small thread of humanity that still existed within.
It was painful, and he didn’t like it one bit; nor did he have time for it.
His eyes flew open, and he moved toward the resort. He was done. He’d find Declan, and they’d cut and run. He didn’t need her to find the portal. What the hell had he been thinking?
He slid through the silent resort unnoticed, avoiding the odd tourist up in time to welcome the morning properly. He circled around back of the main building, growling softly as he passed the secret garden.
Minutes later, he took a run at the wall beside Jaden’s balcony and quickly leapt upward, his hands and feet gripping the side of the building as he began to climb. He made quick work of it, a soft sheen of sweat covering his frame as he swung over the railing and dropped into a crouch.
His muscles bunched tightly, but he held his hands loose, his stance rock solid and ready to take a hit.
But there was nothing. Only silence.
He exhaled, the breath whistling between his lips, surprised she’d not taken the opportunity to pounce, inflict some sort of damage.
He would have.
But, then, maybe he didn’t haunt her mind the way she did his. Maybe she didn’t give a rat’s ass whether he returned or not. Which was fine. After all, he was leaving.
His clothes were strewn where he’d left them, and he dressed quickly, the soft denim and cotton T-shirt damp from the early-morning dew. His shoes went on last, and he slipped into her suite, careful not to make a sound.
Julian paused and scented the air, his nostrils flaring as her subtle, exotic scent wafted through him.
Damn, but does she have to smell so good?
He glanced down the hall toward her bedroom as he crossed to the elevator. Julian had no clue where the hub was, but he was pretty sure he’d be able to convince Tank to show him the way.
He clenched his hands at the thought and flexed his arms in anticipation. He pressed the button located beside the com unit, but once more his eyes turned back toward her bedroom.
Something didn’t feel right.
The doors slid open, rolling back silently, yet he didn’t take that step. His entire frame hummed with the need to act, but, instead, he turned and walked down the hall.
He cursed the voice of reason that echoed inside his head as he moved forward. The one that told him he needed to find the portal and not waste time on Jaden DaCosta.
And yet, he couldn’t help himself, even as the skin beneath his left pectoral burned relentlessly.
He ignored the pain and kept on.
He crept into her room and felt the air deflate from his lungs, an anticlimactic whoosh. He knew the place was empty before he saw the bed. It hadn’t been turned down and didn’t look as if she’d slept in it.
His thoughts turned to Nico. Was that where she’d fled? Julian frowned, not liking the thought of Jaden and the warrior together, but it was the most plausible scenario.
She’d been hot the night before, on the cusp of coming into heat. Her scent had been intoxicating. Even now he felt it, pulling deep in his gut—the need to take her, to mark her as his and plant his seed deep within.
Nico had felt it, too.
Hell, he was pretty sure every male who’d come in contact with her had felt the pull of her sexuality.
Julian shook his head savagely. He shouldn’t care. She should be able to tame the desire that lived inside her with whomever she chose. He turned from her bed.
He had more important things to worry about, like saving the world. Saving his soul.
His eyes circled the room once more, and he moved toward the bed. Several photos were displayed on a side table and caught his attention. They were photos of Jaden with people he didn’t recognize. Some looked to be staff members, others were faces he didn’t know or care about.
His fingers ran along the top of the ebony surface and he slid the drawer open. He pushed aside papers, a brush, passport, and stilled as he felt the hard edges of another picture frame.
Carefully he withdrew the shot.
He blinked, then frowned. The picture was of a couple and their children. Jakobi he recognized instantly, and his breath caught at the woman in his arms. It was Jaden, yet not. Obviously, her mother.
They were younger, happy, and the five boys and small girl who stared up at them adoringly, were postcard perfect.
His finger caressed the moment snatched from time so long ago. What the hell had happened to the DaCosta family? How had they become splintered, distant, with a father who was nothing more than a sadistic son of a bitch and a mother who . . .
His eyebrows furled as he realized he had no clue of the whereabouts of Jaden’s mother.
The flickering light of a computer caught his eye, and he crossed to her desk quickly. He tapped the keypad, but he was locked out. She’d password protected the damn thing.
He should go, yet he stared at the blank screen, a frown furling his features. Quickly, he typed in the words, DaCosta, Jaguar, Portal, but nothing happened. His fingers hesitated, and he shrugged, typing in Castille. Again, nothing.
What the hell am I doing? He typed Julian and smiled as the screen flickered and came to life.
He hit history and quickly scanned the pages, noticing several phrases over and over. Eagle knights. Jaguar warriors. The Temple of the Warriors.
Back in the day, before this whole mess had invaded his life, Julian had been quite the student of history. He knew of this temple, of its purported secrets.
He also knew of its power and the ancient magick that surrounded it. He was puzzled. What the hell did she want with the Temple? What could she possibly find there? It was full of nothing more than old relics and echoes of a long-ago past when great warriors walked the earth.
He exited her screen and closed the program. He had no time for puzzles.
Jaden DaCosta wasn’t his concern. The portal was what he needed to focus on. Time was not on their side. Cormac was out there somewhere with Azaiel, and if the portal wasn’t found, all bets were off. The human realm would fall into darkness.
His sacrifice would have been for nothing.
His face creased as his lips pulled back in a feral snarl. Over his fucking ass would he let that happen—he’d die trying to stop it—no one should experience the holiday he’d had in hell.
The elevator doors were still wide open and Julian disappeared inside. He spared not a glance back. He no longer cared.
He rode the mechanical lift in silence and when it opened, he shot out, his hands fisting into hard weapons as he pounced on Tank. The shifter never had a chance, and he pinned the jaguar to the wall.
“Where are Nico and the eagle?” he asked, enjoying the power he held. He pressed his fist into Tank’s larynx, watching his eyes bulge as the man struggled for air.
Slowly, he relaxed his grip. “I could end you right now,” he whispered hoarsely as he struggled with the need, the desire, to inflict more pain.
The clarity through which he saw things wavered, like the color and essence of the world had receded. A film of gray passed before his eyes, and he hissed at the odd sensation as he felt the darkness within him stir.
He saw fear sweep across the jaguar’s face and knew that the man had glimpsed a sliver of what lived inside him. Or rather, of what no longer existed.
He felt nothing as the man continued to struggle, his words wheezy as he managed to spit them out from between tight lips.
“You are unnatural. You have the strength of a great warrior, yet . . .” His eyes fell to the flesh of his neck. “You do not carry the tattoos.”
“Yeah, so I’m not a fan of LA Ink, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass but good if you don’t tell me where I can find Declan.” His grip tightened, and the shifter struggled as his airway became nearly nonexistent.
“What are you?” Tank managed to wheeze.
Julian leaned close, barely able to control the violence that he felt. “Trust me, my friend, you don’t want to see what lies beneath my flesh.”
He pushed Tank away, watching dispassionately as the man inhaled deep gulps of air. Julian rolled his shoulders and widened his stance, aware that a crowd had gathered. “Shall we give them a show, or you gonna point me in the right direction?”
The shifter stared at him, labored breaths falling from his lips as he rubbed the raw flesh at his neck. Beads of sweat seeped from Tank’s pores, small rivulets sliding across his face as the large man stared at Julian, his eyes full of hate. And indecision.
The large shifter grunted, and Julian watched him carefully, noting the shift in his eyes and the way he shuffled his feet nervously.
This sad excuse is what Jaden had guarding her home? Un-fucking-believable.
He saw Security running from across the pool area, their radios echoing into the still-quiet morning.
He looked at Tank. “Your call, buddy.”
Tank cursed and nodded toward a stairwell that was located near the lobby and barely managed to speak. “That takes you to the lower level. Once down there, you’ll find your way. Just use your nose.”
Julian turned without another word and seconds later disappeared through the heavy glass doors, smiling as the heard the excited shouts of Security and tourists.
Nothing like a little chaos to feed the soul and start the morning off right.
The sounds disappeared almost immediately as he jogged to the bottom. A large conference room was off to his right, as well as a business center. Both were empty, and he quickly made his way down the hallway to his left.
Declan had been down this way in the last while. He wrinkled his nose; Nico as well.
Jaden’s scent, however, was fast fading. He only caught small snatches of it. It was an elusive trail that led his feet toward a small alcove. Directly in front of him was a door. It was unassuming, and he tried the handle, shocked when it opened with ease.
He stepped through and was immediately greeted by a young woman.
“Can I help you, sir?”
She was otherworld. He smelled the tinge of magick that coated her flesh, and saw the glitter of it in her eyes as she smiled at him.
She was the first line of defense from what he could tell, and though she appeared almost frail, with her pale skin and jet-black hair, he knew that she held power. It vibrated in the air, subtle pulses of energy that told him she was not to be messed with.
His thoughts turned to Tank, and he frowned. Seemed as if Jaden cared more about protecting “the hub” than she did about her own safety.
“I’m looking for Nico and the eagle shifter.” Julian cracked a smile though his features remained tight.
She didn’t bat an eye but held his gaze for several long moments.
“They’ve been expecting you, Julian.”
She lifted her hands and made several quick motions in the air as Julian watched in surprise. The wall behind her began to shimmer, to pulsate, and, seconds later, it disappeared altogether, allowing him to see “the hub.”
He nodded to the woman as she stepped aside to allow him entrance.
This indeed was an entirely different world. Totally Mission Impossible. A huge bank of monitors lined the wall in front of him, sending live feeds from all over the world. In front of each sat an operative, furiously tapping away at a console.
Some of the images were harsh. Interrogations taking place by brutal means, yet his eyes passed over them without thought. That was nothing compared to what had been dished out below.
The bitch with the dagger had seen to that.
The energy was frenetic, one tinged with violence, and he scented the air. He knew that the sorcerer Kragen was somewhere down here. Hopefully, out of his mind in pain.
He snarled. Served the bastard right. He only wished he’d been given a chance to work him over. Julian shook out his tight limbs. It was early yet. There was time.
He proceeded deeper into the hub, his long legs gliding over the cool tiles in silence. Everyone here was otherworld. There were vamps, magicks, shifters of all kinds. Each and every one of them was busy, focused.
He glanced up at the huge screen that dominated the entire area. A picture of Cormac stared down at him.
He felt his gut tighten and exhaled roughly, taking a few seconds to calm his mind. He glanced around one more time but didn’t recognize a soul. They were definitely government operatives. Everything about them screamed order. Purpose. Mission.
The exact opposite of the chaos that dwelled within his mind.
He’d never once visited his brother at PATU. Hell, up until several months before, he’d never known of its existence. He’d been total white collar, living in a world filled with boardrooms, private jets, beautiful women, and endless meetings.
Blue Heaven Industries, the company his father had built and one he’d taken to the next level, seemed like a lifetime ago. He was not the same man. A bittersweet smile cracked his cool facade. There was no going back.
An image of his mother floated in front of his eyes, and his chest tightened. God, he missed her quiet strength. Did she know he was alive? Did his father bemoan the fact that all three of his sons had been pulled deep into the legacy they’d been born to?
Ironic really. Both he and his father had long denied the jaguar heritage that pulsed through their veins. As a young man, he’d never matured into a warrior; the clan tattoos that marked his younger brothers as such never appeared on his flesh.
To him it had been a blessing, and he’d carried on, the perfect candidate to take over his father’s company.
But everything had changed when he’d answered his brother Jaxon’s call for help. Being back in the Belizean jungle had changed him in ways he’d not expected.
Living in hell for the last six months had completed the metamorphosis and made him what he was now. A freak-of-nature shifter with half a soul who’d fed on the darkness of the underworld to survive.
Not the type you’d want to bring home to Mama.
As his eyes traveled around the room, he thought of Jaden. Of how he’d rejected her three years earlier because of what she was. And wonder of wonders, he felt shame wash over him. It startled him, that sliver of emotion, and he stopped abruptly.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Declan’s voice intruded on his thoughts, and he forced the unfamiliar feelings away as he glanced at the sorcerer, surprised that Declan had been able to sneak up on him so easily.
He couldn’t afford a walk down memory lane. In his world, emotion was a weakness that would get you killed.
“I needed to clear my head.”
“You need to hit that fine piece of ass and get it the fuck over with.”
Julian glared at the sorcerer but remained quiet.
“Just sayin’. Why didn’t you tell me you guys were mated? That you have a history together?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julian retorted, angry that the Irishman thought he would even entertain a discussion about the jaguar.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Declan looked away, and muttered, “You Castille boys are all the same. You have no fucking clue.”
Julian took a step toward Declan, and whispered softly, “Jaden DaCosta is not someone we will discuss.”
Declan rolled his eyes and smiled, a nasty fuck-you grin. “You look like shit
,” he declared. His tone was light, a direct contrast to the cold, dead glint in his eyes.
“I could say the same,” Julian replied.
“Breaking someone who has dipped their toes into the dark arts isn’t exactly a restful way to spend the night.”
That sparked his interest. “What did you learn?”
A muscle worked its way sharply across Declan’s cheek as he clenched his teeth. “Nothing.”
Julian’s eyes swept the entire area. “Where is he? Let me have a shot at him.” Julian grinned at the thought of inflicting pain on the asshole whose hands had been all over Jaden.
Declan ran his hand through the thick hair atop his head before releasing a long sigh.
“Ain’t gonna happen, sport.”
Damn, but he hated it when Declan called him that. He arched an eyebrow and glared at the sorcerer. “And that would be because?”
Declan paused, then spoke quietly. “The bastard is dead.”
Julian felt his frustration rise and clenched his hands together tightly. “Dead,” he ground out.
“As a fucking doornail,” Declan answered.
Julian glared at the sorcerer, not impressed with his attempt at humor. Declan’s attention was diverted, and they both turned as Finn nodded at them.
“You see Jaden?” the eagle shifter asked.
Julian shook his head but remained silent.
Finn swore under his breath before turning to an operative at the station nearest him. “Max, track her down. I’ve already tried her cell, and she’s not in her suite.”
“Will do, sir.”
“What’s up?” Julian asked, his curiosity piqued. The atmosphere had changed, the air lit with an energy that sizzled along the room, touching them all.
Finn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve got a situation in Mexico City.”
Alarm shot through Julian. Templo Mayor was in the heart of Mexico City.
“What kind of situation?” he asked gruffly.
“The demon kind,” Nico answered. The jaguar emerged from a room down the way, and Julian’s already tense shoulders tightened even more.
“Where?” he asked.
Nico ignored him, and Julian glared at the shifter.
His Darkest Salvation Page 12
