Jackal's Pride (Seven Deadly Book 2)

by Michelle Gross

  A few steps in, the anger began to rekindle. I had time alone, time for my haughtiness to come to the forefront. He dared to forget about me? The nerve of him! After everything he went and made me feel, then he went and let himself forget about me with a measly spell—who could be sure what the witch gave Jackal. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten. Maybe Newt was lying. Maybe pigs flew and fish talked.

  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t his fault. If he didn’t recognize me, I was… He was going to grovel when he did remember.

  He better know me. He better love me. If he didn’t, well he better remember before I got my hands on a memory thingy—

  The whooshing sound that escaped my throat wasn’t what took me by surprise. I was too busy inside my own head that I didn’t even hear or feel him approach. Jackal tossed me against the cave wall. Somehow I managed to hold on to the torch. He grabbed my shirt between my breasts and wedged his knee between my legs keeping me in place. I didn’t feel held down, but I definitely felt something.

  “Jack,” I finally hissed. “What are you doing?”

  “Jack?” he growled.

  This wasn’t promising.

  “Who are you?” He scrunched up his nose as his eyes slowly closed a bit, then he inhaled. His eyes slowly popped open and did that glassy thing they always did when he was about to fuck me. Then he pushed himself away unexpectedly. “You smell offensive!”

  “What?” He did not just start up about my smell again. Forget making him remember, I was going to kill him. “You don’t know me?” I tested hotly.

  “I’ve been asleep! I don’t know anyone, nor do I want to. What are you doing in my cave?”

  “Really?” I sized him up with my heated glare. “You just woke up?”

  His eyes fluttered with uncertainty. “I woke up in a mess in the human world. I assumed that was my doing… Strangely, I don’t remember doing it. ” He shot an accusatory stare my way. “Do you know something?”

  “Oh, I know something all right.” I leaned off the wall and held the torch between us. “You have two seconds to remember who I am, or I’m kicking your ass for the rest of our lives! And that’s forever—ever, ever, ever since you don’t fucking remember!”

  He tried to come at me again. I sidestepped him, waving the torch around like a weapon. “Think instead of act, you giant behemoth!” I yelled.

  “I can’t think when the only thing I want to do is fucking kill you!” he spat.

  I stopped, took him in head to toe, then grinned. “Are you sure? Are you really? It kind of seems like you want to do something else to me.” I gestured to the tent in his jeans.

  His gaze followed my hand. His eyes took on this wide-eyed, bewildered appearance. It was oddly cute for someone his size. “What the fuck?” He couldn’t stop staring at it. “That doesn’t happen.” How strange? The fact that his language and actions all stayed the same despite having lost his memories of us. That made me hopeful.

  “I assure you it does, and it works rather fabulously.”

  “Quiet! You don’t understand, I don’t—” He peered down at his bulging cock again.

  “Yeah, you do,” I told him.

  “I can’t—”

  “You can.” I nodded. “You feel everything perfectly thanks to the hearts.”

  His stare hardened. “How do you know that?”

  I clenched my teeth. “Would you remember already!”

  “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to remember!”

  “How did you feel waking up in the human world—thinking you did all that damage?”

  “Why?” His body tensed.

  “Just checking to see if you’re Jack or Jackal.”

  “I’m Jackal,” he assured me. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly. “I don’t feel them anymore, but I don’t feel normal. I don’t feel right.” I watched as he began studying me anew—really seeing me. I held the torch higher even though I knew he had no problems seeing in the dark. I trembled beneath his stare as his gaze raked over me. He breathed in, but he never seemed to let it out. “I feel like you’re telling me something.”

  “I am,” I replied. “I’m telling you to fucking remember before I stab you with Ben and Jerry.”

  “Not you,” he said quickly, then he breathed in again. “Your scent. It’s like it wants me to know it.” He grabbed his face and shook. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t even know how to explain.” He lifted his eyes and stared right through me. “Like it’s been waiting for me…” He shook his head again. “No, that’s not right. Like I’ve been waiting on it.”

  I was warm down to my bones even in this cold cave. “Lift your shirt.” Then I thought about that little piece of information and smiled. “Don’t you think it’s weird that you’re wearing clothes?”

  “I found it strange, but for some reason I’m not compelled to take them off,” he answered with a frown. “But why ask that?”

  “The same reason why you asked yourself why you thought to keep them on.” He was still there. He might not remember, but he was right here, still so beautifully mine. “Lift your shirt,” I said again.

  “Do you want me to kill you or something?” I detected no real traces of malice in his voice or his essence. “You smell of the Grim Reaper.”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  “He has a daughter?”

  “We’ve already had this conversation.”

  He finally lifted his shirt, mainly I believed for his own curiosity of what I’d do. His tent wasn’t going down anytime soon, and I had every intention of leaving him high and dry.

  I didn’t hold back my grin as the orange peacock came into view, followed by my other mark that lay upon his chest. I sighed happily. “Proof that you’re mine,” I told him.

  “You marked me,” he accused.

  “Yep.” I turned around pretending I was heading out when really I was going to fade out of here. “I’m leaving this cold awful cave. Feel free to come begging on your hands and knees when you remember.”

  Chapter 31

  Maureen

  WORLDWIDE NEWS!

  New York City gone? A terrorist attack? A single explosion powerful enough to drop a crater in New York City?

  New York City is still there, but a good chunk of it was blown to bits by…

  “Why am I coming along again?” Barron grumbled as we knocked on the spooky-ass mansion where Isabella’s coven was.

  “Sebastian said she wanted you with me,” I whispered.

  “Who is she?”

  “The covenant leader, Belinda…or Melinda.” I shrugged. “You’re fine. I need that spell.”

  He took a deep breath just as the door opened for us, and Isabella greeted us. “Come on. Melinda’s been waiting on you guys.”

  I peeked over at Barron. “Melinda.” He twisted his head away with a grunt, and we followed Isabella inside. “Creepy,” I said as I glimpsed around at all the weird statues and antiques. There was no way I was touching anything. No doubt most of the stuff in this mansion was crammed full of curses.

  Isabella nodded. “This place is creepy. But what did you expect?” She shrugged. “We’re witches.”

  “Where’s Sebastian?” I asked her.

  “Human world still,” she murmured quietly, and I frowned. I wasn’t the only one missing someone. Only my someone didn’t remember me.

  “What does she want with me?” Barron finally broke his silence and stepped closer.

  Another shrug from Isabella. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

  “I have a place and a name.” I didn’t recognize the new voice, but I figured she must be Melinda. There was a powerful yet unique aura about her. She was draped, from head to toe, in an ugly beige dress. Maybe at one time, she had been beautiful, but now she appeared like she was trying to hide it. She held a strip of paper in her skinny fingers as she eyed Barron.

  “What?” Barron eyed her warily.

  “The name on this paper is someone whom is suppos
ed to die soon. Deliver them to their afterlife with ease. That is all.” There was something more to it. I knew it and so did Barron. We glanced at each other at the same time. The woman specifically asked for him, and it wasn’t like he was all rainbows and butterflies when it came to guiding souls to the afterlife. She wore a blank expression—no smile, no struggle to hold back a smile—and gave no other clue about the name.

  Frowning, Barron asked, “If it was something a Reaper did on a daily basis, why not Sebastian? Why ask for me?”

  She closed her eyes and shrugged. “You don’t want to do it?” She crumbled up the paper, setting it on fire in her fist. Umm…okay? “I guess another Reaper shall do the honors when it is time.” Dismissing Barron with a curious gleam in her eyes, she glanced at me next. “There’s no need for a memory spell. Jackal’s memories will come back likely in a week or less. It all depends on how quickly his power heals.”

  My mouth fell open as my eyes grew wide. I stuttered, “A w-week? I-I don’t have a week!”

  She arched a patronizing brow at me. “Why not?” Something about the twitch in her lips was evil, like the woman knew more than she should about me, and it amused her.

  “Because…” Good question. Unfortunately, I only had a shallow excuse. “He’s not supposed to forget about me.”

  She clucked her tongue at me. “You just want him back.”

  “Of course, I want him back!” This witch pissed me off.

  “Entities will naturally fight off anything they’re hit with. Spells and potions mean nothing to any of you. Sure, you can be hurt, but measly things like memory spells…” Her voice trailed off. “They don’t last long at all. Tell me, when you were blown to pieces, how quick did your body regenerate itself?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Likely less than an hour. Your power… Your essences work like immune systems. They’ll correct and fight any wrongs done to your body or mind. Right now, his mind is already working to remember what he’s forgotten. I assure you, he no doubt knows he’s missing something. Let him remember.”

  Let him remember. Let him remember.

  I wanted him to remember, but it felt like she was asking a lot, especially when the pain in my chest grew worse the more I missed him.

  Shit, this sucks.

  “So I wait?”

  She nodded. “You wait.”

  “I wait,” I repeated.

  Fucking shit.

  I hated you Jackal.

  Then I remembered his wild essence and the way he always let it run rampant, the way he stepped in front of me like I was someone worth saving. Maybe, I was to him. Warmth burst from my chest. I could be good to him—I could be better. I’d learn to love him the way he deserved even with my curse.

  That was it. I loved him.

  I love you, Jack.

  So please remember me.

  Chapter 32

  Jackal

  I didn’t know why I was awake. I couldn’t even remember where I’d been, but I knew I’d been somewhere. The last thing I remembered was putting myself to sleep to keep the one hundred and thirty-seven hearts silent. When I came to, I was in a giant gaping hole in the human world. I didn’t know why I was there, but every shattered bone and scrape of singed flesh let me know I had been a part of something.

  I must be the one responsible for the mess back in the human world. Why did I do it? Questions swirled through my mind. Why did my chest hurt so? What happened to the one hundred and thirty-seven hearts? Instead of the chaos of heartbeats, there was only one. Strange.

  The only answer was I lost my mind. The portal chip, materializing clothes—all signs that I’d lost my grip on sanity. The clothes were as foreign to me as the giant skyscrapers were in the human world. Everything seemed new, but there was a hint of familiarity. The worst part was I missed something.

  Pieces of me.

  Did the witch do something else to me besides curse me with the one hundred and thirty-seven? Did the hearts affect my mind even when it felt like they were gone?

  Then she came.

  And I’d been restless ever since.

  Even when she stood at the entrance of the cave, I felt her presence crash over me. She knew something about me. She might even know me. I wondered if that was why she occupied my mind even when she was gone. I tried to sleep but when I did strange images haunted me.

  Dark hair. Soft skin. Rough. Slow. Biting. The rapture of a woman’s moan. Pleasure.

  When I did fall asleep, I awakened shivering. Odd. The cold never bothered me. The night’s chill and this desolate cave vexed me. But those things seemed bearable. It was the new sensation troubling and confusing me. How could I be cold one second and then blistering hot in the next? And why was my cock constantly straining against my pants? None of this had ever happened to me.

  I was dreaming of her. Instead of making me angry or annoyed, I was filled with the insane urge to find her. I didn’t, but every second I sat still the desire to do something ate at me like a disease.

  Every second I lay alone in the cave, I sensed I missed something. Correction. I missed her. Why?

  I rubbed my chest. The lavender-smelling female had marked me. I should be mad. I wondered why I wasn’t. My chest ached instead—a deep, agonizing pang that spread all through my limbs and deep into my gut. I yearned so desperately for her that it was suffocating. Then that pain turned to heat as the ghost of a touch spread over my skin, and my cock responded to my thoughts of her.

  Then I’d try to sleep again and every time I did, I felt like I was reliving what I was supposed to know. So, there was no sleeping, not when I sensed I was remembering something important, only to lose whatever it was once I woke. She was haunting me through whatever I did.

  By the next day, I was desperate to remember. The she-devil in my dreams… No, that wasn’t right. Little Monster. Somehow that was more accurate, more... her. The Little Monster in my dreams became even more vivid.

  I stood and swayed on my feet as more images flooded my mind. The memories didn’t hint at what happened to me. They only let me know that my missing time was filled by her.

  Maureen.

  I heard myself say her name.

  Jack.

  That was right.

  She was waiting on me and the bits and pieces taunting my thoughts weren’t enough. The need to remember weighed on me more and more every second I paced the cave’s floor. When I first entered this place, the cold and the desolation welcomed me. Not anymore.

  Remember her.

  My emotions hit me long before my memories did. My reactions told me she was everything to me. I doubted the possibility. After all, I never used to feel. Somehow, I didn’t think that was the case anymore. Everything I felt was for her.

  Maureen.

  Maureen. Maureen.

  I found myself porting somewhere. The trip scratched at a memory I was determined to remember. I was in a home. Her home. My chest swelled. Every part of me responded even though she wasn’t here. There was a table full of food. It was still warm, and the smell had me salivating. Before I gave it a second thought, I sat down and picked up the silverware. All of it familiar.

  The need to be with her was staggering, but I let my body lead the way. Once I was finished eating, I pulled out my portal chip and ported, a strange sense of knowing where to go.

  I ended up at a spot in the Underworld called The Den. The place bustled with demons. In the center of the room, was an octagonal cage for fighting. Off to the side, in a dark corner, was a bar. Smells of sex and blood wafted toward me, bringing with it fragments of memories. She brought me here. I drifted toward the bar. A skinny woman scooted me a drink. Green liquid in a glass.

  “I think you took a likin’ to this one,” she said and smirked. She looked familiar. She fit into a memory or two.

  I drank it all in one gulp. The taste was familiar. “Another one,” I told her.

  “Jackal, right?” I turned toward the unfamiliar voice.


  A curvy blonde vampire sat on the stool next to me. She didn’t jog a memory. I was positive I didn’t know her. She stood, leaned in, pressing her breasts against my arm. I’d been in a constant state of arousal every time I thought of Maureen, but now, as a woman stood with her shamelessly displayed breasts against me and not as a strange hallucination in my mind, I wasn’t hard at all. It was the opposite. I yanked my arm away from her irritated that she thought I’d welcome her touch. If anything, this moment felt the most normal, like the old me. It appeared the sexual part of me only awakened for the woman I was determined to remember.

  “So the rumors are true? You are back. Where have you been?”

  “Another one,” I repeated to the woman behind the bar after downing my second drink. The vampire leaned forward again. I scowled as she reached for me again. “Don’t touch me. I’ll stake you.”

  “That’s not very nice,” she whispered with a grin.

  I stiffened when I smelled lavender, a moment later a hand slid over my shoulder and then she sat by me, filling up the empty stool—on the opposite side from where the vamp sat next to me—with her intoxicating presence. “Having fun without me?” Maureen whispered as her hand slipped down from my shoulder onto my chest. My blood ran like wildfire. The reaction the blonde had tried to invoke came like lightning across my skin—instant and out of nowhere for Maureen. I stiffened as my body overloaded my senses with all these instincts. All of them leading to Maureen and what my cock wanted. To be inside her. As her palm flattened and rubbed over my chest, I had another pang in my chest. Not a pang. A lightness to my chest, like a thousand bubbles were popping off into my ribcage at once. I was elated.

  It took another several seconds before I realized that it was because of her. I’m happy to see her. To be near her.

  But it was apparent from the bulge in my jeans that I was reacting all sorts of ways for her. It seemed the memories of her that I couldn’t remember weren’t the only thing I was after.