Her slick channel contracted hard, and Jaxon roared as his release washed over and through him, to bury itself deep inside her sweetness. And then he held her to him hard, biting her shoulder as he continued to empty himself.
After a few moments their hearts calmed, the beats slowing down in time with their breathing. Jaxon slipped from her body and pulled her close to him as he collapsed back onto the bed. His mind was jumbled and he felt a sliver of madness run through him as the reality of his losing control overcame him.
What the hell had he just done?
What power had he once more given Libby Jamieson over him?
Libby felt it.
Something had changed. Shifted. Something else irrevocably lost.
She felt the cool morning air as it wafted in from the window at her back, caressing her heated skin and leaving a hoard of goose bumps in its wake. Her arms slowly crept back from his body as the black of his eyes began to pulsate with color; amber, gold, and red ran through the darkness like bolts of lightning. The effect was startling, unsettling.
His face became a blank mask, the one that faced the world most of the time. It was impenetrable and harsh.
She shivered as his hands fell away from her body, and felt even more bereft as his body heat left hers. It was as if he had only just woken up and realized that the woman he’d held so passionately was not the one he’d imagined. That she was damaged.
Sorrow laced through Libby then. Sorrow for what she’d just shared, because it was already lost to her. It was sharp, and struck her deeply. She could feel the heat of unshed tears gathering behind her lids, and she fought to keep them at bay.
She would not cry in front of Jaxon Castille again.
No matter what.
Scorching shame spilled over her, and she covered her exposed nakedness with trembling hands, wishing she could just close her eyes and make everything go away.
His hands pushed her away, and she kept her eyes downcast as he leapt from her bed. The imprint of his body still lay next to her, his scent was everywhere, but already his heat was replaced with a cool whisper. Inside, she cried out for the warmth lost, for the heated feel of his body next to hers. She heard him move toward the door, felt the tension emanating from him like long fingers.
“Jaxon, don’t leave.” She cringed at the pathetic sound of her voice and felt the sting of heat as her cheeks reddened in shame.
He paused at the door but did not turn toward her as he spoke. “Libby, you and I…we can’t do this. There’s too much shit going on, and I don’t think we can just go back to the way it was.” He took another step, and she was left with only the sound of his voice, “I can’t do this with you. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
His words startled her, but on some level they only confirmed what her body already knew. She and Jaxon had been involved at one point in her life. And whatever she had done—that thing her addled brain couldn’t remember—it destroyed whatever it was they had shared.
As Libby stared at the empty doorway, her heart plummeted.
She didn’t know what it was exactly, only that she wanted it back.
She drew the covers up around her shaking form and closed her eyes, trying to block out the sunlight that seemed determined to find her.
Yeah, she should have known better.
Happy and Libby just didn’t go hand in hand.
Chapter 13
Libby woke to a room shrouded in shadows and a house that was eerily silent. She yawned and stretched tight limbs, groaning softly as aching muscles protested. She was sore, no doubt about it, certain parts of her anatomy more so than others. And once more she felt the stain of heat on her cheeks as images of the reason for it danced before her eyes.
There was a heaviness blanketing her limbs, and it seeped deep into her soul as memories of her lovemaking with Jaxon filtered through the fog. He had been amazing. Her body began to tingle at just the thought of his hands on her flesh, and she sighed softly, wanting to go back six hours, needing him there with her.
But Jaxon had made it very clear she was a mistake he didn’t plan on repeating. The ache that sat near her heart blossomed sharply, and she wanted nothing more then to bury herself deep in the covers and wallow in self-pity.
And that’s exactly what she did. For about two minutes.
But as she lay there, Libby began to realize that she wasn’t a weak, broken person anymore. Sure, she’d been through more than most people would ever face in a lifetime, but she was alive. And she felt there was a purpose for her, yet unfulfilled. Even if it was only to find her way back to what she had been before.
Before she could do that, she needed to pull up her big girl pants and deal with the mess her life had become. A tremulous smile played along the edges of her mouth. Yeah, it was time to say a big fuck you to the demons from her past and move on. She flung her body from the bed, pausing for a moment as she caught sight of her nakedness in the mirror above the dresser to her left.
She flinched at the sight of the scars on her back and was pummeled with a deluge of disgust and anxiety. That someone could do this to her and she had no clue who or why was something she’d struggled with since she first discovered the marred flesh back in Winterhaven.
Her cheeks burned and her hands went to them, the coolness of her fingers against the heated flesh bringing a modicum of relief. She winced, wanting to turn away from the hideous sight, but not before the violet eyes that stared back at her grabbed her attention fully.
Slowly, Libby walked toward the mirror. Huge dark eyes widened as she wondered at the changes that had transpired in her appearance in only a few days.
Her cheeks were flushed, lips bruised and full. Her hair was a chaotic mess about her shoulders. The long blond strands seemed to glisten with a new energy that shimmered in the waning sunlight, haloing her head in a wash of gold.
Her eyes were arresting, no longer dull and beaten down. They held a sparkle. Somewhere deep, a tiny sprinkling of stardust glittered from within, and left them shiny with a new vibrant energy that brought a tremulous smile to her generous lips.
She smiled broadly, her reflection showing a face from the past, and it was one she wanted to grab hold of and never let go.
Surely it was the face that Jaxon knew. But was it one he had loved?
Her hands fell from her face and she scooped up the T-shirt from the floor and padded over to where the rest of her clothes lay. Shaking her head, she sighed as a whisper floated through her mind.
Careful what you wish for.
And she knew that was the crux of the matter. She needed to remember before she could move on. But if the memories were as bad as she suspected, maybe they were better left buried, deep in her past.
She opened the door, peered out into the empty hall, and when she was satisfied that Jaxon wasn’t in the immediate area, scooted through and down to the bathroom, where she got dressed.
Her belly led the way toward the kitchen, and she was relieved to discover she was alone. She would have to face Jaxon sooner or later, but right now later sounded so much better.
She raided the cupboards, even though the thought of dining on crackers again held little appeal. But it was nice to feel hungry. Days ago her appetite had been nearly nonexistent. Pete had tried every way imaginable to tempt her to eat, and it was a daily struggle on his part. But truthfully, why eat when you had no desire to live?
He would be happy to see her raking through cupboards in search of sustenance, she thought. Opening the fridge, her face contorted at the sight of two large plastic bags, which she now knew contained blood. Her eyes latched onto a small piece of steak that had been carefully wrapped, along with a baked potato and veggies. Her name was printed neatly on a piece of paper and taped to the items.
It brought a smile to her face, and she found herself humming a tune as she grabbed the food and threw it in the microwave. While her meal circled inside for a couple minutes, Libby twirled the paper around, looking a
t the writing, wondering who had been nice enough to think of her needs.
Jaxon? She shook her head.
It’s much too neat to be Jaxon’s.
The thought came from nowhere, and she froze, her mind clicking as it leapt forward in a blur. She could see something just beyond the veil of her past.
She clearly envisioned papers, typed memos with scrawls highlighting segments, scrawls that belonged to Jaxon. She knew this!
Desperately, she closed her eyes, trying to remember. Bits and pieces flew by, and she knew the price for this window into her past would not be pleasant. Even now, as she struggled to regain a sense of time, her head felt as if it were cracking apart. Flashes, spikes of lightning, flew around inside her skull, and as her stomach heaved, she grabbed the counter for support.
Blinding pain shot through her brain, and the piece of paper floated to the floor as her hands went to her head, pushing against her skull in an effort to stop the pain. She screamed at the brutality of the attack, and fell to her knees as images burst through the darkness, coming at her fast and sharp. Too many to focus on just one, but the predominant face that stalked these patches of memory was one she knew well.
Jaxon’s dark visage flew past like a ribbon blowing in the wind. His image twisted and turned, his face laughing at her, his eyes full of passion, his brightly colored tattoo vibrant and moving against her skin.
Emotions pounded her, both dark and light, and she groaned at the amount of information her mind was struggling with. It was all jumbled, confused, and as she held her head, she rocked back and forth in an effort to stop it.
Her soft whimpers echoed in the room, and what seemed like hours later, the images began to fade along with the pain.
She was wrecked. In that short period of time, she was done for.
Everything around her seemed thick, as if crawling with a layer of reality that wasn’t truly real. Dull though her mind had become, she tried to get to her feet. But her body was drained of energy and she fell back onto her butt.
The microwave emitted a loud, high-pitched bleep that just about shattered the last few nerve endings that still remained untouched, and she winced from the agony of it.
Outside, it was dusk now, and her eyes skimmed the large expanse of wilderness through the windows, feeling a twinge of unease as a shadow drifted across the porch.
Was it just the wind playing tricks on her mind? She tried to focus her eyes but there was nothing there, and for a moment she wondered if she had imagined it.
A soft click at the door convinced her otherwise, and her heart leapt deep into her throat, pounding out a rhythm of fear that rushed through her veins.
She inhaled sharply and felt her mouth go dry as fear began to invade and conquer, turning muscle to jelly in seconds. The sound of silence echoed louder than anything she’d heard before, and white hot jolts of pressure jump-started her heart, making it harder to breathe. Along with the nausea that lay at the pit of her tummy, she felt light-headed.
It was not Jaxon who had entered the cabin. Of that she was sure.
She held her breath as hesitant footfalls crept closer, and then she felt a small moment of relief as they moved farther away, and closer to the stairs that led to the basement.
Libby slumped down, hidden behind the large granite countertop. Her eyes quickly moved about looking for a weapon. She felt a sliver of adrenaline shoot through her body as she spied the large drawers directly in front of her. Surely something of use could be found there.
She glanced toward the massive window that ran along the front of the cabin, but from where she hid, there was no reflection that she could see.
Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to blot out the fear that was burgeoning within her.
Whoever had just entered was no friend of hers. The scent that filtered down to where she hid was not Jaxon’s. It was full of darkness, depravity, and malice.
And it was a scent she recognized all too well.
It was one of the monsters! They had found her.
She swallowed the lump of tension that rode the back of her throat, wondering where the hell Jaxon was. With that thought a new one struck, spreading agony to her heart. It hit fast and hard, heightening the emotions that were already jumbled deep inside her.
What if they had harmed Jaxon? What if at this very moment he was out there in the woods, dying and in need of her help?
Her eyes fell to her hands, watching them shake as she slipped them between her thighs in an effort to control her weakness. The ever present ache at her side began to burn, and she hissed softly as her ribs contracted and the pain worsened.
They had done this to her. They had weakened and broken her spirit.
In that moment of contemplation a spark ignited. It fed on the remnants of adrenaline that moved through her body, feasted on the tattered bits of memories that had both teased and tormented her only moments before.
And it grew, with a heat and ferocity that should have surprised her but somehow didn’t. This was her time, her window of opportunity to do the right thing. It was time for her to reclaim her life, even if it was about to end.
Libby calmed her mind and felt a sense of peace wash over her. No longer would she let them pull her strings as if she were a puppet. They had taken many things from her, but if this was to be her final battle, then so be it. She would make it a battle they sure as hell wouldn’t forget.
She eyed the deep drawer that was at her level and quietly eased it open, but found only lids and containers inside. One after the other she slowly opened the drawers, until only the top one remained. She couldn’t see into it, unless she exposed herself, so her fingers flew over the utensils before settling across the cold, solid length of a large knife.
A scuff slid across the tiles behind her, followed by another…and then another.
She grabbed the knife and held it to her chest, willing the pounding beats to slow so that she could think. He wasn’t even trying to hide his presence.
Her enemy thought her weak, pathetic, and up until a few days ago that’s exactly what she had been. Good. That should work to her advantage. Right now it was the only one she had.
She stilled and listened with all her senses, once more glancing toward the window to her right. It was now almost completely dark outside, with a hint of light falling from a mostly hidden moon. Mist was gathering, slithering across the edge of the forest, and she shivered as a feeling of dread punched her low in the gut.
There were no lights on inside the cabin, and she could barely make out the reflection of the large male who stood not more then ten feet from her. He was tall and heavily muscled, judging by the bulk of him.
Even though she could not see clearly, aggression poured from every inch of his lethal frame, which was confirmed when he spoke, his voice harsh with barely contained anger.
“I can smell your fear, Libby. I know you’re here. Why don’t we skip the games and you can tell me what I need to know, and maybe, just maybe, I might let you die…easily.”
His words shot through the air, hitting her in the chest with a force she recognized.
She knew that timbre well. One of the monsters from her past finally had a face, and a living, breathing body to go with it.
“Where is the shifter? I can smell his stink all over this place.” He paused then, and Libby shuddered as he inhaled deep and long, growling wickedly as his anger built. “His brother has been here recently as well. Too bad we didn’t find this place sooner. Two dead Castilles would have been quite a coup.”
He laughed, each deep guffaw slicing through Libby’s resolve with clean precision. Her fingers began to shake. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm and focused. She needed to be strong. There was no alternative.
She gripped the knife tight in her hands, her head pounding as long buried memories began to crack open. She welcomed the flood of emotion, grabbing hold of it greedily, using it to fuel the anger growing from deep within.
His laughter stopped abruptly and she held her breath, trying to stave off the fear that was along for the ride.
“Still a Castille whore, I see. I can smell your sex from here.” His voice was getting closer, and she gripped the handle, moving toward the end of the counter. “Was it worth it Libby? Was all of it worth one more night with Castille?”
With a roar, the large man jumped up and over the counter, landing not more then a few feet from Libby. She screamed at the sudden movement, unable to help herself.
He laughed outright, and she cringed beneath the fury that laced his features. Eyes as black as onyx burned down at her, and he smiled wickedly, enjoying the fear that draped her shoulders like a shroud.
“Been a long time, bitch. Miss me much?”
He knelt down in front of her then, and his powerful arm knocked the knife from her hands. Libby heard it skitter across the tiles, the metallic clanging echoing eerily in the empty cabin.
She felt in her heart that this was it. The proverbial climax to the story of her life. Her eyes slowly moved to the man in front of her and she felt the hatred, anger, and pain inside her seeping into her veins. It sped along inside her body, giving her strength even in the face of certain death.
She would not go quietly.
“That the best you can do, asshole?” she said hoarsely.
He leaned in so close she could see the whites of his eyes. He snarled savagely. “Nice to see you’ve got a bit of your spunk back.” Then he laughed loudly. “I was afraid you’d be a bit of a dead fuck.”
Libby hissed at his words and tried to slap his face, but his hands grabbed hers and held them steady.
“You know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off of you?” His tongue flicked out wickedly, and she shrank away from him. “Every night I ached to claim you as my own, but my cousins forbade it. Said you were a Castille whore and no DaCosta would dare dip his cock into something as tainted as you.”
His Darkest Hunger Page 14
