Hunting the Jackal

by Seressia Glass

  A newcomer to the clan, jackal shifter Amarie has tried to deflect the interest of male jackals, hiding a secret that could destroy her prospects as a mate. But she can’t deny that warriors Kurik and Rashon, who have forged their own relationship, fuel her sensual fantasies.

  Despite his strong bond with Kurik, Rashon’s heart has made room for Amarie—and he wants to make to room for her in their bed, too. At first Kurik fears losing his lover, but the temptation of sharing her as their mate is too tempting to resist. And if any female can handle two virile jackal guards, it’s Amarie...

  Hunting the Jackal

  Seressia Glass

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Nocture Cravings BPA

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  As sunlight streamed into the window above the bed, Kurik raised himself on one elbow and watched his mate sleep. Rashon had regained his human form during the early hours of the morning, and only then did Kurik relax his vigilance, finally believing his mate would recover. Only then did the weight in his chest ease—if temporarily.

  The reason stirred on the far side of the bed, snuggling closer to Rashon. Amarie. She’d been their roommate for six months, ever since she’d joined their clan. She’d arrived with a mountain of distrust and a boatload of baggage from a Canadian clan not known for its enlightened treatment of women, but Rashon had drawn her out of her shell bit by bit. Since her arrival, she’d become one of the rare female guards, working hard and training harder. It couldn’t have been easy trying to assimilate into a new clan and dodging the attentions of single males, but she’d made a place for herself. They were all three friends now, inseparable. He admired her.

  Rashon loved her.

  Kurik scrubbed a hand down his face. He and Rashon had been mates for a little more than a century. Before that, they’d both been in temporary arrangements with female jackals to increase the clan’s numbers. Yet every male jackal felt the urge to produce offspring as did the females, and they were no exception. After a century of monogamy, Kurik wasn’t surprised that Rashon had the urge to seek out a female. He wasn’t even surprised that the object of Rashon’s attention was their pretty roommate. What had surprised him was how far and how fast Rashon had fallen for Amarie, while Kurik had wanted to ease into the idea of forming a triad.

  That was before Rashon had nearly died as the result of a Lost Ones curse. Before Kurik had seen the depth of the emotion, Amarie had for his mate. Now he knew delaying was pointless. What he didn’t know was whether or not he still had a part to play in the developing relationship.

  * * *

  Rashon awakened to wonder if he’d died and made it through Duat and into the afterlife. Sunlight streamed golden white above him. On one side of him lay the comforting heat of his mate, Kurik. On the other, the woman his heart had surprisingly made room for: Amarie.

  Deep within the darkness of the curse, he’d heard her tear-choked prayers for his life to be spared. He’d felt Kurik’s will, giving him strength through their bond, Vowing to be with him no matter what. Rashon had fought for that reason, fought to hold on. He didn’t want Kurik to be alone. Amarie could help them with that too—if one of them fell, the other would still have a partner.

  It wasn’t something that he’d deliberately sought out. When Amarie came to live with them he’d honestly offered friendship and nothing more. She’d needed friends more than she’d needed males trying to get into her pants, which was probably why Markus, the clan leader, had asked them to board her. Somewhere during working out, patrolling, and discovering that she shared their love for martial arts movies and breakfast foods, they had become friends. And in that friendship it had become a matter of fact that the three of them would pile together on the couch or in the middle of his and Kurik’s bed to watch movie marathons, critiquing some of the more improbable action sequences.

  Amarie fit with them, Rashon knew. He didn’t know when his like of her had deepened, but it had. It hadn’t pushed aside his feelings for Kurik, and their bond was just as strong as it had been at the start. Instead, Rashon’s feelings for Amarie had curled around it, becoming something bigger, something right. He’d been worried about confessing his evolving emotions but Kurik had known, had even seemed to accept it. That Kurik hadn’t gotten angry when he’d confessed his interest in Amarie made him love the big man even more, made him determined to make a triad work.

  Of course, that was before Rashon had nearly died while out on patrol with Amarie and other squad members. Now Rashon didn’t know if Kurik would be more interested in forging a tri-bond or more resistant. Either way, Rashon knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt his mate. If Kurik wanted him to abandon the idea of Amarie as their third, he would. Somehow.

  Breathing deep, he drew in the heady combination of their scents: a spicy, sweet blend that did more to soothe him than any temple incense. He opened his eyes to see Amarie blinking away the last vestiges of sleep from wide, tortoise-shell eyes rimmed red. Pressing back against Kurik, he reached out, brushing her coppery bangs back from her forehead. “Hey.”

  She blinked. Then a watery smile curved her lips. “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

  “Almost normal. How long have I been out?”

  “Two days.” Tears shimmered in her eyes as she touched her fingertips to his cheek. “I was so scared for you,” she whispered. “I thought we were going to lose you. Please don’t do that again.”

  “I don’t intend to.” He frowned at her. “But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you take a hit for me. You know better than that.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” Knowing she wasn’t expecting it, knowing he shouldn’t, he rolled her onto her back for a kiss. She stiffened, and he tightened his grip to keep her from pulling away. A heartbeat later, she melted against him, arms circling his neck. Her lips, at first hesitant, moved hungrily against his.

  Gods, she was just as sweet as he’d hoped, and eager too. Rashon pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. He reveled in the feel of her against him, the hardened tips of her full breasts pressing against his chest through her T-shirt, the way the cradle of her thighs welcomed his body. He wanted more. He needed more.

  Kurik’s breathing continued deep and even, but Rashon knew the other man was awake. Awake and now hard with need. His own cock swelled in response, stimulated by the fantasy that had played through his mind too many times to count. Kurik and Amarie both in his bed, taking each other as he wanted to take them. All of them together in a tangle of limbs and sex and need.

  His hips moved involuntarily, his cock seeking entry to her lush warmth, only to bump against the barrier of her panties. He wanted to reach down, rip them off, push inside and accept the invitation her soft curves and softer moans extended. Their tongues tangled as her hips thrust upward, their simultaneous groans filling the air.

  Kurik stroked a hand down his back as the larger man leaned into him from behind, his erection a pointed reminder that there were other things that needed attention. Rashon crawled back from the edge of passion claw by claw, his body loathe to part from hers. Still, he couldn’t resist curving his fingers over her breast, her nipple stabbing into his palm. They’d been talking about something before he’d kissed her. What? Oh, yeah. “The important thing to remember is that I’m alive and so are you. What happened?”

  Her heavy-lidded gaze and passion-plumped lips made him ache to cover her again and not stop until they both
came shouting. She traced her lips with her fingers. “We got a miracle,” she said, her voice dreamy. “Do you remember?”

  “It’s still fuzzy. There was a priestess?”

  She nodded, running her tongue over her lips. A bolt of pure lust grabbed him by the balls. He almost reached for her again but she spoke. “Her name’s Tia, and she’s the great-granddaughter of Aya, the high priestess of the Daughters of Isis.”

  “A Daughter of Isis? Here?” He shook his head, dumbfounded. “I thought I dreamed that, that Isis had joined with Lord Anubis to bring me back from Duat. It was real?”

  “Yeah. She’s got a lot of power. Tia and Markus joined together to heal you and brought Alonso back, too. The magic they made felt incredible.” She shivered in memory. “There’s more to the Lost Ones than we thought. All this time we believed the Lost Ones we’ve been fighting have just been poor undead souls that lost their way on the journey to the underworld, led by some who refused to go to their eternal rest. Instead, we found out that a renegade Isis witch is working with the Lost Ones, and she’s behind the curse—and the cause of the witches breaking with the jackals centuries ago. There was a big fight at the witches’ circle yesterday, but we won. We now have an alliance with the Daughters of Isis, tentative as it is, and Markus has claimed Tia as his mate.”

  “Wow. An Isis witch mated to a jackal?” He gave a low whistle. “I missed a bunch.”

  “Not as much as we missed you.” Kurik’s voice rumbled over his shoulder.

  Rashon rolled onto his back as his lover loomed over him, yellow eyes fierce. Kurik cupped his cheek and with a whispered, “Welcome back,” claimed his mouth in a possessive kiss.

  Dimly Rashon heard Amarie gasp before need pushed aside rational thought. He kept her hand in a vise grip as he returned the kiss, anchoring her as his free hand cupped the back of Kurik’s head. Kurik pressed against him, large hand slipping down Rashon’s chest and abdomen to wrap around his cock. He moaned in appreciation, lifting his hips to push himself through the other man’s fingers.

  Amarie swallowed loudly as she pulled her hand free. “I, uh, I’d better go,” she stammered, rising and heading for the door.

  Rashon grinned at her. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

  She jerked to a stop. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she swallowed again. And was that a whimper? Then she stepped through the doorway. “You guys keep on with the celebration sex. I’ll see about breakfast.”

  Kurik eased back as the door slammed shut. “For a moment there, I thought you’d forgotten I was here.”

  “As if I could.” Rashon pulled his lover back on top, enjoying the sensation of their cocks rubbing together. “As if I want to.”

  “Right.” Kurik squeezed him again. “Is this for me or for her?”

  “Both,” he admitted, because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, lie to Kurik. Not about this. “I want it to be for both. Right now, it’s for you. Fuck, don’t stop.”

  Kurik stroked him as he continued his teasing. “It would serve you right if I did. I know what kissing her did to you. Kissing her instead of me. You got hard for her instead of me.”

  “Not instead of.” Rashon lifted his hips, needing more. Kurik had a way of making him forget how to speak in complete sentences. “Never instead of.”

  “Huh. This is what you want from her, right?” Kurik asked, yellow eyes alight with teasing, need and concern. “You want her kisses, to taste her tongue.”

  Kurik kissed him then, hot and wet and open, tongues sliding alongside each other in a dance mimicked by their erections. This kiss was so different from the one with Amarie, carnal and feral compared to gentle and almost innocent. Rashon moaned, deep and guttural, as his lover kissed and nipped a path from lips to chin to throat, biting hard enough to leave teeth marks. He hissed as Kurik bit a trail to his left nipple, the pleasure knocking on the edge of pain just the way he liked it.

  “Is this what you want Amarie to do to you?” Kurik demanded, softening the sting of his bite with a long sucking pressure that had Rashon digging his fingers deep into the other man’s shoulders. “You want her to do this while I watch?”

  “Yes. Gods, yes,” Rashon confessed. The vision Kurik painted with his words had him panting, his balls drawn up and tight with the need to come.

  Kurik stopped, putting space between them, his eyes darkening with concern. “Maybe we should wait for the priestess to give you a clean bill of health.”

  “No.” Rashon lifted his hips. “I think you know how to make sure I’ve recovered. I want you. I want her. I want you together.”

  “You think you’re ready?” Kurik nodded toward the bedroom door. “You think she’s ready?”

  “I don’t know.” Rashon sighed, worry pushing desire away for the moment. “I hope so. But we probably scared her off.”

  “She might be scared, but she’s also aroused.” Kurik paused, staring down at him. “I know I was dragging my ass on this, but after what happened, I don’t think we should wait anymore.”

  Rashon held his breath. “So you really want to do this? You want to ask her to be our third?”

  “Yeah. What if she doesn’t want to breed? She’s rejected every attempt by the other males to get with her.”

  “Or maybe it’s because you growl at every male but me and Markus who come near her. Besides, just because she hasn’t bred yet doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to. Maybe she’s waiting for us to make our move.”

  “Then we should make it. It feels good when we’re all together.” Doubt colored Kurik’s features. “I don’t know if it’s going to work, though.”

  “Why not? She’s been with our clan long enough to know female jackals can have any number of mates for however long they want to be mated. Quite a few of the women live with two men, raising the children together.”

  “But they don’t share her at the same time as far as I know. The men don’t share each other.” Kurik fisted his hands. “She kissed you, not me. She chose you, not me. I won’t be kicked out of our bed.”

  Rashon turned to the other man, belatedly seeing the hurt and worry, the deep love beneath. It amazed him again that they were together. With so few female jackals in their clan, the men had adopted other sexual outlets as a matter of necessity. Markus didn’t want discord between his warriors or the females, so he allowed everyone freedom of choice. Rashon had had his time with a couple of the women. He knew Kurik had, too. Neither of them had found a long-term mate until they found each other. They’d been lovers exclusively for the past hundred years, and Rashon couldn’t imagine not having Kurik in his life.

  “We’re a package deal, and our bed is still our bed,” Rashon told him. “I still want you. I still need you.”

  “Yeah? Prove it.”

  Rashon wrapped a hand around the back of the other man’s neck, pulling him forward in a bruising kiss, a clash of lips, tongue and teeth. An edge of desperation made them both rough, almost clumsy, but Rashon didn’t mind. Right now, this was what he needed—what they both needed. Hunger flared, bright and burning. He couldn’t reach for the lube fast enough.

  Finally, finally, Kurik pushed into him, a slow invasion that left him shaking. “I almost lost you,” Kurik said, his voice and expression stark. “If Markus hadn’t found that priestess—”

  “Don’t. Don’t think about that. Think about this.” Rashon shifted beneath him, breath shortening at the eye-rolling pleasure. “I’m here, and I love you. Now shut up and fuck me.”

  A wicked gleam lit Kurik’s eyes as he grinned. “Yes, sir.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Confused and flustered and more than a little aroused, Amarie made her way back to her bedroom. She needed a cold shower. She needed a workout. Mostly though, she needed someone to explain to her what had just happened—and why.

  Rashon had kissed her. He’d kissed her! And not just a light, sisterly peck, but a breath-stealing, toe-curling mesh of mouths. She would have excused it as a momentary
confusion on his part as he’d awakened from his healing, something he wasn’t aware he was doing. Except that they’d been mid-discussion, and she’d kissed him back like her life had depended on it. Then he’d kissed Kurik, and then—

  Then he’d asked her if she’d wanted to stay.

  She’d turned tail and ran as if a horde of the undead were chasing her. Because she’d really, really wanted to stay. Wanted to watch them enjoy each other. Wanted to join in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

  She wrenched the shower on, her senses still reeling. Gods. They were her friends, and she’d needed that friendship. Lately though, they’d become much more, and she knew exactly when it had started.

  There had been one night after patrolling that they’d come home, showered and all piled into Rashon and Kurik’s bed to watch a laughable horror movie. When she’d awakened the next morning it was to discover Rashon spooned up close behind her, his arm around her waist and one hand cupping her breast. She’d had her head on Kurik’s chest and her hand dangerously close to his groin. Both men had been aroused even while deeply asleep. She’d allowed herself one full minute of enjoying the sensation of waking up between them, of entertaining the dream that they’d been aroused for her before common sense had prevailed and she’d retreated to her own room.

  Now all she could think about was all of them together, bodies sliding together, mouths clashing. Hands gripping, stroking, bringing pleasure. It was only a fantasy, not something she thought would ever happen despite the teasing offer Rashon had made. Even if she did find herself wrapped in pleasure between them, it would be a temporary fling. It wouldn’t be forever. It couldn’t be forever, especially when she told them the truth about why she’d been banished from her old clan.

  A whimper eased out despite her attempt at control. She wanted that, wanted it with a bone-deep need bordering on desperation. She was more aware of Rashon than anyone she’d ever met. She was drawn to the smooth bronze of his skin, the teasing glint in his liquid copper eyes and the open warmth of his personality. He was like the bright dawn sun, chasing nighttime fears away. Kurik, on the other hand, was the might of the noon sun as it began its descent. Power rode every inch of his muscular, golden body, but he never used it to intimidate her. From the shoulder-length shock of hair they called “Seti-red” to the clarity in his amber gaze, Kurik was the epitome of masculine virility. They both were.