His Darkest Embrace (16 page)

The burn was intense, the pain sharp, searing.

Skye began to buck wildly, her arms flailing out, and when her hand clamped down upon a rock she picked it up and threw it with all her might at the demon’s head.

He roared in anger and swung his fist at her, striking her with an equally vicious blow.

Skye screamed in fury, frustration, and plain old fear. Her cheek was on fire and her calf felt like there were a thousand shards of glass ripping through it.

The demon began to lower his head and for that one brief second, Skye could honestly say she’d never been more terrified in her entire life. It was all encompassing. Immobilizing.

Frantically, she clawed at the demon, trying to arch away, but it was no use. Even with her enhanced strength the demon was much too strong.

When his mouth closed over hers, Skye nearly lost her mind. The terror that ripped through her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

The demon moaned into her and went still, but the pull that Skye felt deep inside of her intensified. Her skull was on fire and her head pounded. It felt like her very soul was being ripped from her body and the cold that seeped into her veins was sharp, as if she’d been dipped into the deepest, most frigid part of the Atlantic Ocean.

It was liquid ice.

She struggled still, but Skye’s vision began to blur and even though she fought like hell, she began to lose hope.

A god-awful cry ripped across the darkness that had entombed her and Skye’s eyes flew open. The cry had come from inside her mind and she knew without a doubt who it belonged to.

Azaiel.

The demon, Tag, broke away and looked down at her. The fear that hung on his distorted features caught at her.

“I knew not …” the demon mumbled, confused and deathly
afraid.
He then made a series of choking noises, as if he were being strangled from the inside out. His body began to shake violently and then he collapsed on top of her.

The weight very nearly crushed her and it was all Skye could do to push the body off of her. She rolled to the side, coughing, shivering, and feeling like she’d just died. Dully, her gaze landed on Jagger, still in animal form, his jaguar panting from exertion.

At his feet lay the limp body of the female vampire. From what she could see through the thick haze of fog that was slowly descending upon her, the vampire’s head had been nearly torn from her body.

Skye was afraid of losing consciousness. Afraid that the demon’s kiss would claim her, destroy her. Funny, considering where she was going to end up when she finally sealed the portal.

If
she sealed the portal.

The feeling of sadness that washed over her brought tears to her eyes and she struggled to see through them, to focus on Jagger.

The cat jumped over Dani’s body as the mist claimed it and it was Jagger himself who knelt over her. His hands touched her face, fell to her chest and then to the rest of her body.

“Why the fuck didn’t you leave?” His words were laden with a pain she’d never felt before.

His whispered words tore through her and if she could, Skye would have done anything to ease his burden.

She stared up into eyes full of pain. They shimmered as the last of his jaguar left his body, the bright green orbs now solemn and dark.

“I can’t …” The words came haltingly. “ … shift after dusk.”

Jagger cradled her closer, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

Skye closed her eyes and whispered simply, “I didn’t trust you.”

“Of course you didn’t. Why the hell would you?” Jagger’s voice rose and she flinched, though it went unnoticed as his anger kept pace. “Jaguars have been killing your kind for eons.”

He paused then. “How did you …?” He glanced at the demon at her side. His innards were exposed as sulfuric smoke escaped from every orifice. She could tell he was as confused as she was, but when Skye opened her mouth to answer, no words came out.

Her body was cold and she began to shiver uncontrollably, her teeth chattering against each other in a relentless rhythm. Her stomach was roiling, her head light.

When the seizure hit it was all she could do to keep her sanity.

Jagger shoved his finger down her mouth in an attempt to clear her airway and turned her onto her side. She struggled to breathe through the attack and the panic that punched her hard in the gut.

Was this the end? Is this what it felt like to die by a demon’s hand?

The cold whisper that wove its way through her body left every cell aching and on fire with pain.

Her eyes rolled upward and then she saw nothing.

The only witness to the large man cradling the shaking woman was a lone wailer monkey that had made its way up from the canopy below. It had been attracted to the violence and dark energy in the air.

It paused, raised itself up on its back legs and then slowly slipped into the night, leaving Skye halfway between the dark and the light.

And a jaguar warrior, a man with no religious conviction at all, left holding her tightly, a prayer falling from his lips, the only sound to greet the now silent jungle.

Chapter 15

T
he first light of dawn was just breaking across the jungle when an exhausted Jagger finally stopped his treacherous descent. He’d pretty much used up all of his energy getting Skye down from the summit of Victoria Peak. It had been a long, arduous night but he couldn’t afford to linger.

He needed to get Skye to Monkey River. Surely there would be someone who could help her.

Where the hell was Cracker when he needed him? Jagger gritted his teeth, paused to take a long swig of water before forcing some of the precious liquid between Skye’s cold lips.

Fucking demon! How the hell had he not known what Tag was, back in Iraq? The man’s scent had always been off, but he’d just assumed the bastard was Dani’s lackey. Her bitch-slap boy.

He should have taken them all out when he’d had the chance. Would have, too, if Eden hadn’t been …

Jagger couldn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t go there. Not ever again.

Skye began to twitch violently and he held her tight, knowing the spell would pass. It seemed to be the way of it.

He was frustrated at the lack of knowledge he had in regard to demons.

He knew they existed. In fact several had been purported to be the targets in operations he’d quarterbacked. But the intel that had been gathered was sketchy at best. He’d personally never laid eyes on one before this night.

Jagger sighed tiredly. He had no time to dwell. He needed to get his ass in gear.

His gaze fell on the face cradled so close to his chest.

Skye had been in and out of consciousness for most of the night; her hoarse whispers were in an ancient tongue. She spouted things he couldn’t make sense of and he couldn’t help but wonder at the many layers that lay beneath Skye’s facade.

He closed his eyes, but only for a moment. The face that had haunted him for months was always lurking about. Eden.

Her death was on him. Savagely, he drew air deep into his lungs. Dani had paid for her part. He’d long thought that if he could avenge Eden’s death it would assuage the emptiness that ate at him every day.

But it did no such thing. It was still there, carving more and more trails deep into his soul.

Jagger was cursed and he knew it.

His tired arms pulled Skye in close to him as he secured the heavy satchels that hung from one shoulder. He would get her out of this mess, with the portal intact. He would protect her and keep her safe. She would not become another Eden.

And then he’d disappear.

He continued to move through the greenery on his long legs. He still had a hell of a lot of ground to cover and most likely wouldn’t make it to Monkey River before nightfall.

Added to that was the fact he had a large contingent of DaCosta warriors on his ass, coming at him from the north with God knows how many more soldiers for hire, all of them gunning for Skye.

Jagger hiked for hours, crossing many small rivers that ran from the top of the mountain, cutting a path through the jungle and into the basin, where they dumped into some of the great rivers of Belize, the Swasey and South Stann Creek.

He was in the heart of the jaguar reserve before he realized things were not as they should be.

Jagger should have noticed sooner, but truthfully, he was incredibly fatigued. He’d been carrying Skye for nearly twenty hours and had had virtually no food or rest in days. He stopped abruptly, his senses fingering their way out as he sought to find the barest hint of an enemy.

But there was nothing, and an eerie cold began to settle alongside him. Jagger began to suspect that dark arts were at play. The rhythms of the jungle were out of whack. It felt like all life had been sucked from the very heart of it, leaving nothing but the breeze, the greenery. The enemy.

He’d not seen or sensed a single jaguar, ocelot, or puma. The amazing myriad of birds that normally filled the canopy high above him with their endless shrieks and squawks was missing.

They’d all fled.

He paused. Not even the local black howler monkeys trumpeted his presence.

The feeling of unease that settled inside him only confirmed that danger lurked about, hidden within the shadows between the trees. Carefully he scoured the entire area as he lowered Skye to the ground. She was still feverish and his fear that she would succumb to whatever the hell the demon had done to her was nearly paralyzing.

He needed to get to Placencia and get a boat to Monkey River. Nico had mentioned a local Mayan healer once who had made her home there. That had been several years ago, but at the moment it was his only hope.

He forced some more liquid down Skye’s throat, cradling her head as she thrashed. He pulled her to rest against a downed tree trunk. They were along the banks of yet another small creek and he left her, sliding into the wet coolness in order to fill their bottles.

It was then that he became aware of another presence.

Jagger froze, his body tense, ready to fight. Slowly his eyes swept the immediate area, and without making a noise he leapt back up the bank, carefully placing the bottles near Skye. Reaching into the deep pockets of his cargos, his fingers encircled the deadly knife that lay there.

It had been charmed, a gift from Declan.

When he stood, all the fatigue and pain had fled, leaving behind only the anger and madness that fueled his jaguar in battle. The taut muscles of his arms and abdomen gleamed under a soft sheen of sweat. His tattoos stood out in stark relief against the dark skin, their intricate markings seeming to shimmer and move as he flexed his arms and rotated his neck.

Jagger crouched low, scenting the air, and as he did so the hair at the back of his head stood on end.

Something was there, just beyond the creek.

Silently he kept to the shadows that lined the bank, his body moving with stealth and determination. His mind went quiet, all of his senses focused on tracking the presence that he felt.

He slipped into the mess of vinery that caressed the edge of the creek and disappeared from view.

Jagger kept his body low to the ground and for a brief second debated calling his jaguar to him, but a noise ahead gave him pause. There was no time.

He held the knife loosely in his fingers and his eyes flattened to a dead, dull green as he inched forward. For once he was grateful there were no creatures around to trumpet his presence.

He watched as a large, black jaguar slid into view. Its massive head slowly turned before settling directly in front of where Jagger hid.

The animal barked a warning, emitting a growl that echoed in the quiet. It slowly began to move toward Jagger, its body downwind, and Jagger cursed silently at his inability to read the beast.

Was it a shifter? Or just a male protecting its territory?

The animal paused only a few feet from him, and when Jagger noticed the strange mist that began to flow over its flanks, his adrenaline kicked in.

Fuck. Definitely a shifter.

Jagger exploded from the greenery, his arms outstretched, the deadly blade aimed straight for the jaguar.

The two men met in midair and landed together in a pile of raw muscle, anger and curses.

The intruder was strong, his energy heavy, dark, but the two of them were evenly matched. The knife was knocked from Jagger’s hand and he head-butted the bastard as hard as he could, twisting his body in an effort to get his weapon.

“Fucking Castille, you always were such a little prick.”

Jagger froze. The voice was familiar. As was the arrogance and hostility.

He slid forward, intent on righting his body, when a fist slammed into the side of his cheek, sending shards of pain across his face.

“What the—” Jagger managed to get out before he was cut off.

“Next time you’ll think twice before attacking the cavalry, asshole.”

With great effort, Jagger held his anger in check and turned to the man who stood facing him.

The warrior’s body looked as if carved from granite, every single muscle seeming enhanced, honed, hard, and lean. The scars that crisscrossed his chest and rib cage were whitened next to the dark skin that stretched tight across his abs.

The face, nearly feral, couldn’t hide the handsome features, nor the cold blackness that rested in the eyes. The once neatly trimmed hair was long, unkempt, and when he smiled, Jagger could sense only the merest slip of humanity within.

It seemed he needed to look no further.

Nico had found him.

The small modicum of relief Jagger felt was tempered by the blast of anger that washed over him. His cheek fucking killed him, and the impotent need to act, to do something with the electric energy that rode him, had him clenching and unclenching his hands so strongly that his forearms ached.

Jagger took a second, controlled his temper, and ran his hand along his jawline.

“Heard you were still a jungle hermit.”

Nico laughed harshly and began to pace in a circle as if the thought of standing still was too much to bear. He stopped suddenly. “Beggars, my friend, beggars …”

Jagger hated to admit it, but the warrior was right. He had no choice. Nico was about all he had at the moment.

“I need to find the Mayan healer you told me about years ago. She still around?”

“For the female?” Nico laughed softly, his teeth a slash of white in his deeply tanned face.

Jagger growled a warning and took a step toward Nico.

“You will not touch her.”

“I have no desire to. She stinks of demon.” The tall warrior’s eyes narrowed. “The only reason I’m here is because Jaxon called in a favor.” He spit into the ground. “Trust me. I don’t give a flying fuck what happens out there, so long as it stays out of my jungle.” His voice deepened and an unholy light lit his eyes from behind, emphasizing the glittering darkness within them. “And right now it’s crawling with every kind of scum you can imagine.”

“Yeah, well, my life hasn’t been puppies and rainbows either,” Jagger snarled. “This shit that’s gonna hit the fan is about as bad as it gets. But right now Skye is priority number one.”

Nico regarded him in silence. “What’s priority number two?”

Jagger hesitated, suddenly not so sure trusting the warrior was a smart move. The ex-PATU soldier had spent the last several years out in the jungle, with no human contact except the occasional visit from his older brother, Jaxon, and the few times Jagger had seen him, they’d not been exactly friendly.

Many thought he was crazy, and after what he’d been through there had to be some merit to it. But did Jagger honestly think Nico would betray the warrior brotherhood? Betray his history with Jaxon?

In the end, loyalty to their common ancestry won over. “You ever hear of something called the Cave of the Sun?”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. He stared long and hard at Jagger, his body tense. “That’s what this is about?”

Jagger nodded, his mouth set into a grim line.

“I’ll take you to the healer,” Nico replied, a tic playing along the side of his cheek. “Then we’ll go to the cave. But I’ll warn you.”

Jagger paused, eyebrows raised.

“You won’t like what’s there.”

Jagger snorted. “I figured as much.”

Mist once more crawled up Nico’s body and Jagger stood back as the energy within crackled and sparks flew everywhere. The tattoos that adorned his body were different from any he’d ever seen. They moved and glowed as the magick began to take hold.

Nico was strong—one of the strongest warriors he’d ever come across, and that quality alone garnered much respect.

Jagger turned and led the animal back to where he’d left Skye. She was slumbering against the tree trunk, her arms held loosely against her midsection as if she were trying to wring some small bit of comfort from her cold body.

The cat inched forward, its great tail twitching back and forth in agitation. Jagger growled at it and the animal stopped, its canines exposed as it barked and hissed.

“She’s mine.”

The words slipped from Jagger’s mouth before he even realized he’d spoken them. Two little words, but suddenly so heavy with meaning, emotion. Christ, he sounded like Tarzan, and from what little he knew about Skye, she sure as hell wouldn’t be content as Jane.

Hell, she’d be kicking Tarzan’s ass from here to Mexico.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her chin, the fullness of her mouth, and the delicate area underneath her ear. Somehow, in such a short time, this woman had insinuated herself deeply into his psyche. She’d given it meaning again, after he had spent months wandering the jungle aimlessly. Half alive. Half dead.