Hunting the Jackal

by Seressia Glass

  The day of Markus and Tia’s bonding ceremony dawned clear and warm, a good omen in anyone’s mind. Amarie had gone shopping with the priestess the day before, buying a dress for the ceremony and experiencing the decadence of a spa manicure and pedicure for the first time.

  He chafed in his dress shirt and trousers. The women participating in the ceremony had spent the day in seclusion. He and Kurik hadn’t seen Amarie since breakfast. They enjoyed each other as fully and deeply as they usually did, but it wasn’t the same as when Amarie was with them, even when she wasn’t actively participating. Something about the three of them together was just better than any two of them alone. Something he hoped the other two would recognize—and soon.

  The Daughters of Isis arrived just before sunset, their white robes gleaming with the red-gold of the setting sun. Silent, they filed into rows of folding chairs while high priestess Aya moved down the grassy aisle to the flower-draped gazebo fronting the lake, resplendent in the glittering accoutrements of the Great Mother Isis. Markus was already there, Hector at his side, dressed in the traditional linen tunic, chest plate and collar as head of the clan. Hundreds of string lights hung like garland from poles ringing the lake, giving the area the feel of a fantasy wonderland.

  Rashon and Kurik sat with the other jackals on the opposite side of the aisle. Amarie was with Tia and another small contingent of the Daughters who would lead the future Anput to Markus. Most of the jackals had never seen even a single Daughter of Isis in their lives, and now they were faced with more than two dozen. Every unattached male jackal sat riveted by the sight of so many unmated women in one place.

  Rashon ignored them, jackal and witch alike. There was only one female who captured his attention. Only one woman who refined and enhanced what he had with Kurik. Only one woman who inspired the thought of forever.

  Forever. Not just a temporary association many of the jackal males had with the females. Not a century here or there. He wanted the three of them to be bond mates, bound by blood and magic into an unbreakable unit, separated only by death. The idea warmed him, sending a smile to his lips. He leaned into Kurik, nuzzling his shoulder. “Maybe the three of us can have a binding ceremony like this before the season is over.”

  Kurik slid his arm around Rashon’s shoulders. “You think Amarie would be willing to commit to us forever?”

  “I think if anyone can convince her it’s you.”

  He felt Kurik’s heart race, knew he wanted this, too. “I think it’s a great idea, but you’re better at words than I am.”

  “Maybe, but sometimes you need more than words. And when it comes to communicating through action, you’re the best.”

  The clear peal of a bell announced the arrival of their Anput. Everyone stood as six Daughters of Isis led the way, shaking sistrums as they chanted. Behind them came six female jackals, four in jackal form and two in human form, one of which was Amarie. Tia followed behind them, and while he was sure she made a lovely bride, he had eyes for only Amarie.

  She looked... beautiful was too simple a word. Radiant worked. So did breathtaking and stunning and amazing. Her dress was a simple white tiny-strapped thing similar to what the other women wore, but, gods, the material loved her. It caressed her breasts, cinched in her waist, draped over her belly and made a mystery of the heaven between her thighs.

  He wanted to find places they could take her out, just so she would wear the dress again. Even if it meant he’d have to kill any other man who looked at her.

  She turned her head as she passed their row, her smile lighting her entire face. It fell on him like dawn’s light, like a gentle rain, like a blessing from the gods. It rocked him to his foundations, and he vowed he’d do anything, everything, to make her always smile like that.

  Kurik gripped his hand. Obviously he was just as struck as Rashon. There was no doubt—not that there had ever been.

  They needed to make Amarie theirs. Forever.

  * * *

  The ritual ceremony joining Tia to Markus and the clan was beautiful in its simplicity. Amarie knew the clan hadn’t had a priest in centuries, and the role of spiritual head fell to Markus. He couldn’t officiate at his own bonding ceremony, however, so had temporarily abdicated that authority to high priestess Aya.

  The high priestess, the child of a Daughter of Isis and a Son of Anubis, invoked the presence of both gods in the ceremony, asking their blessings for the union, the alliance, and the future. Then Markus and Tia grasped a large gilded ankh between them as they pledged their lives to each other. By the time Tia accepted the Anubis head pendant that marked her as a member of the clan, not a dry eye could be found.

  Having an alpha female to serve as Anput, the female embodiment of Anubis increased the stability, status and power of the clan, and Amarie thought Tia brought a good balance of power and compassion to the alpha female role. Every jackal felt the effects of Tia and Markus blending their magics as the ceremony bound them together. Hope and joy buzzed the energy of the throng.

  Soon enough things moved from ceremony to celebration as everyone moved into the huge community house for the reception. Everyone had dressed up for the occasion. The female jackals were gorgeous, the Isis witches beautiful. The Daughters of Isis, mesmerizing in their white robes and golden ankhs, were stunning now, having removed their ceremonial vestments to reveal brightly colored party dresses beneath. Even Aya, the four-millennia-old high priestess, looked like a striking forty-year-old. The energy of the gathering changed, bringing about an awareness almost cloying in its thickness.

  Amarie couldn’t blame them. The Daughters had an earthy kind of serenity and sensuality to them, a confidence based on centuries of developing and exercising their powers. From what Tia had told her, the Daughters took temporary partners from the human population but were able to manipulate conception to give birth to daughters only, thus ensuring their numbers. Now with the truce in place, they were free to look for permanent partners among the more than willing jackals. The resulting children would have the best of both magical lines.

  Joy and trepidation warred within her. The clan had offspring but not as many as they wanted. She knew the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle need to reproduce that drove male and female jackals alike. With a delegation of Isis witches coming to stay at the compound, it was just a matter of time before another jackal-witch union took place. The pressure would be off of her, as the newest female, to do her part to secure the clan’s future. Being with Rashon and Kurik would help as well.

  Unless they wanted children.

  Why would they be different from any other mated pair? They’d been together for a century. She couldn’t believe either had been without a woman before that. If they’d wanted children, surely they would have approached one of the other females who only had one mate long before she’d joined the clan. They hadn’t as far as she knew, so maybe they didn’t want children. That wasn’t likely to change just because they were now intimate with her. Was it?

  Her heart sank as she watched Rashon chat with a couple of Isis witches who seemed interested in every word he spoke. Rashon and Kurik were gorgeous. They could have any woman they wanted, but they’d chosen her. Maybe it was because she was convenient—she already lived with them, after all. She couldn’t help but wonder if they would have made a different choice had they known the Daughters of Isis were coming.

  They could still make a different choice, she realized. She’d have to tell them that she’d been kicked out of her old clan because she couldn’t have children. And wonder if they’d kick her out of their lives in turn.

  * * *

  Kurik watched Amarie watch Rashon with the two Isis witches. He saw the exact moment dismay filled her eyes before she turned away. Didn’t she know she had no reason to be jealous? She outshone every Daughter of Isis in the room and her dress had him growling at any man that even looked in her direction. Her soft smiles were a treasure, her body an altar at which to worship, her heart a comfort. No, Amarie had
nothing to fear. He, however, had a heart to lose.

  He crossed the room, snagging an arm around her waist. “Hey, beautiful.”

  She glanced up at him, her lips curving in a smile that didn’t crinkle her eyes. “Hey, yourself. Having a good time?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. Parties weren’t his thing, though he knew the clan needed the opportunity to let off steam. He’d rather be home, kissing the worry from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She jerked, and her false smile faded. “I-I think I’m going to go home. Tia doesn’t need guarding, I feel naked without my gun, and I’d really like to get out of these shoes.”

  He leaned closer to her. “Doesn’t answer the question.”

  “It’s the only answer I’ve got.” She gave him another overly bright smile. “Besides, everyone’s having such a good time. I doubt anyone’s going to miss me.”

  “I’d miss you,” he whispered in her ear. “Which is why I’m coming with you.”

  “Kurik, no.” She turned toward him, putting her hand on his arm. “Don’t leave on my account. You should stay and have fun. Enjoy the party with Rashon.”

  “I’d rather enjoy alone time with you.”

  She stared up at him, as if trying to decide if he told the truth. He took a risk. “Does the idea of being alone with me make you nervous?”

  “Of course not. I just thought—” she broke off, then leaned against him. “Alone time sounds wonderful. This many people in one place makes me edgy, even if they are having a good time.”

  “Agreed. Let’s go home.” He caught Rashon’s eye, gestured to Amarie, then toward the door. Rashon nodded, a knowing smile on his lips. Kurik knew Rashon wanted him to convince Amarie to give them forever, but first Kurik needed to see if she could be as into him without Rashon between them. If she wasn’t...he refused to think about it.

  Gathering her hand loosely in his, Kurik maneuvered them along the outer perimeter of the large room toward the door. Once outside, they paused so that Amarie could remove the heels.

  She sighed in relief as she curled her toes in the grass. “That feels so much better.”

  “Just think of how much better you’ll feel out of that dress.”

  She laughed, the sound genuine as it skated over his senses. “I’m guessing you want to help me with that? Getting out of the dress, and feeling better?”

  “Absolutely.” He tucked her free hand into the crook of his elbow as they took the grassy path back to their house. Night cloaked the compound, the stars overhead brilliant with no streetlights to mar the darkness. He kept them to a sedate pace, enjoying the feel of her on his arm. “You mind telling me what got you down back there? You know Rashon’s on duty, making sure the unmated males don’t go overboard trying to impress the witches. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I’m not jealous, not really. It’s just that...” She sighed.

  Kurik stopped, turning to face her. “What is it, Amarie?”

  “All of this is new to me, and I don’t know how to handle it. The emotions, the wanting. The fear churning in my gut.”

  His protective instinct rose, tensing his muscles with the need to defend her against any and all monsters. “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”

  “Of not being enough for you.” She looked down at her bare feet. “Maybe you should go back in there with Rashon and see if one of the Isis witches is interested in being with you guys. I bet you’ll have a couple of takers.”

  Not being enough? She was more than enough—she fit perfectly in their bed and in their lives. “You said that before. Why would we choose an Isis witch over you?” Kurik finally asked, his voice soft.

  “Because the Daughters are so beautiful and vibrant and full of life and magic that they’re damn near perfect. I can’t give you what they can.”

  Her uncertainty tore at him. Rashon would know what to say to reassure her. Rashon always had the words. Kurik had always been about taking action, rushing into the fight claws first. Action would have to do.

  “Amarie.” He settled his hands on her shoulders. When she wouldn’t look at him, he lifted her chin. Even in the slim light of the quarter moon he could see the tears that glittered on her lashes. Not knowing what to say, he settled for action instead. Carefully he thumbed her tears away, folded her in his arms, then kissed her.

  A tremor swept her, then she pressed against him, her arms a welcome weight around his waist. Need burned through him, the need to prove how much he wanted her, how much they needed her.

  He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “You fit us. You’re perfect for us. All right?”

  “Kurik.” She cupped his jaw. “When you say it like that, I believe you.”

  His tension eased, and he smiled as he gathered her hand again. “Let’s go home.”

  “Okay.”

  The rest of their walk passed quietly, but Kurik knew it was a better silence than before. She hugged his arm tight to her body, her head resting against his shoulder. Once home, he paused in the main room. He wanted to take her with an urgency that couldn’t be denied. More than that, he wanted to take care of her, see to her needs and ensure that she was fine.

  “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  She shook her head, dropping her shoes near the sofa. “I don’t need food or drink,” she answered, her voice soft. “I just need you.”

  He scooped her up without a word, carrying her back to the bedroom. She giggled, and the sound sent crazy quivers through his chest. “I should have said that on the way over here. I could have gotten a free ride.”

  Alarm swept through him as he tightened his hold on her. “Are you okay? You didn’t stub your toe or cut your feet on a rock, did you?”

  She giggled again, softer this time. “No, I’m fine. You can put me down with no worries.”

  He did, heat stinging his ears. For some reason, this moment, this time with her made him as nervous as his first time with a woman. Not how he wanted to feel as he seduced her into agreeing to be theirs forever.

  She reached behind her to untie her dress, but he stopped her. “Let me,” he whispered.

  A blush darkened her cheeks as she nodded. He stepped behind her. A soft moan rewarded him as he pressed kisses to the nape of her neck. The desire that roared through him earlier tempered into something softer, deeper. Permanent.

  “I’m no good with pretty words, Amarie,” he said against her ear. “But I can show you what I think, how I feel. Will you let me do that?”

  Her head fell back against his shoulder, exposing the column of her throat as she swallowed. “Please.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amarie held her breath as Kurik slowly pulled at the wide sash that flattened her midsection and lifted her breasts in a generous display, loosening the dress. Stroking his fingers up her back, he caressed her shoulders, pushing the straps down her arms. With her senses on full alert, she was hyperaware of the slide of the fabric down her back to pool at her waist, leaving her upper half completely bare to him. A small sound of approval hummed from his throat as his lips grazed each ridge of her spine with scorching heat.

  Kurik was different somehow. She didn’t know how to explain it, not really, or what happened to uncover this new facet to him. He had always been quietly intense and protective, but this, coupled with such attentive focus, was so much more.

  He knelt behind her, his hands pushing her dress down her hips and to the floor so she could step out of it. Now she stood completely nude, her only adornment the golden Anubis head pendant all clan members wore. Imbued with magic, the talisman was the only thing that survived their shifts.

  “I wondered if you wore panties,” Kurik whispered against her bare skin. “I’m glad I didn’t know the answer before now.”

  Her belly clenched at the husky sound of his voice. “Why?” she finally asked.

  His fingers traced over her skin from the small of her back to her buttocks to the backs of her knees then back again. “Beca
use I probably would have followed you down the aisle, my tongue hanging out like a jackal lost and thirsty in the desert.”

  He nipped the curve of her buttocks, teeth lightly grazing one side then the other before licking the sting away. Moisture dampened her thighs in response. “I definitely would have slung you over my shoulder as soon as the ceremony was over. You would have missed all that hobnobbing and people watching.”

  She shivered as he bit her again, desire pooling low in her belly. “I fully expect to be carried away next time.”

  He turned her around to face him, a sensual smile tugging at his lips. “How about right now?” he asked, pressing his thumb into her curls.

  She was already wet for him, hungry for him, automatically widening her stance to give him more access. “Now feels good.”

  “Good? I can do better than that.” He pulled her forward, his hands splaying across her thighs, thumbs holding her outer lips open. The first press of his mouth to the passion-slicked folds of her sex had her moaning loudly, fingers clutching at his shoulders as her body surged for him.

  Then she was falling, guided down by his strength and his expert touch to land on her back on the bed. He pushed forward, bracing her thighs apart, stroking her deeply with his tongue. She moaned her approval, leaning back as he began to plunder her folds. He made love to her with his tongue, spearing her repeatedly, driving her higher, hurtling her toward a precipice she wasn’t sure she wanted to summit.

  She writhed on the bed, swept up in the sensual torture. When he added his fingers to deftly stroke her inner folds as he continued to lave her clit with his tongue, she cried out, the sensation almost overwhelming. Passion ramped up even higher as his tongue circled the little knot of nerves. Kurik played her with an expert’s touch, knowing when to slow if she danced to close to the edge.

  “Kurik...” She panted his name, begging him to stop, to never stop, to hold her back and push her over. When he pulled his drenched fingers free of her body she whimpered with relief and groaned in disappointment.