He gestured to his men. “Do as she says as she’s healing our brothers,” he ordered, picking two men to remain behind. “The rest can bring in supplies.”
They left. Hector remained. “What is it?” Marcus asked, though he thought he knew.
“I just want her to know—” strain shot through his voice as he gestured to the half-man, half-jackal “—that’s my blood brother, Alonso. He’s only nineteen. He’s never seen an Isis witch before now, and he’s certainly never killed one. He didn’t even join us in hunting the Lost Ones until earlier this year.”
His expression twisted. “And yet, an Isis witch has doomed him to die, just because he’s a jackal.”
Tia didn’t cower in the face of Hector’s anger. “I understand being targeted because of what you are,” she told him, her chin high. “After all, it’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
Her features softened as she looked at the stricken jackals. “But I also understand that there is more to the Sons than what I’ve been told, just as there is more to the Daughters than what you think you know. All I can say is that I will do everything I can to heal your brother. When this is over, I will do my best to find out who is responsible for this curse. For right now, I need your help to help your brother. Can you do that?”
Markus couldn’t hear the magical compulsion of an Isis witch’s Voice, but he felt the need to help Tia all the same. Hector did, too. He nodded, some of the tension seeping from his body. “What do you need me to do?”
“You have a blood bond with Alonso. We can use that bond to send healing, healthy energy to your brother, while I draw the negative out.”
“You’re sure?” Hope limned his voice.
“I’m not sure of anything right now,” she retorted, then softened her words with a smile. “But we have a shared mission. We can only hope that Isis and Anubis will hear our prayers, recognize our intent and lend their strength to break this curse.”
Markus watched Tia direct his jackals in setting up everything she required, bringing in water, bowls, music and an assortment of other things he couldn’t figure out the use for. He was once again reminded of the Daughters of old, confident in their abilities and strong in their determination. Asharet had been much the same, holding her own with Sekhanu who had done the impossible and united the jackals into a cohesive group against their solitary natures. Hard men all, scoured fine by battle and the harshness of the Western Desert. Asharet had protected and defended them all with such devoted ferocity that Markus had been jealous, wanting an Isis witch mate as Sekhanu had, though he’d never found the right one. Now he wondered if someone else had been jealous of Asharet and Sekhanu, jealous enough to want to destroy them both.
“Markus.”
He blinked away his memories to the past and focused on the here and now. The rich smell of incense wafted through the room, pulling him back once again to an older time. “You have kyphi incense?”
“Yes, mostly. A lot of the ancient ingredients and recipes are lost.” She whispered a few words under her breath as she used a white ostrich plume to fan through both occupied cells the smoke of the incense pellets held in a small alabaster bowl. “Frankincense is good too, but I figured the kapet was better since it’s after nightfall.”
Rashon, the second jackal, already seemed calmer, his breaths deeper, twitches less frequent. Guilt pricked Markus. He should have thought of procuring and lighting traditional incense to create a sacred space for the men. He was old enough to know better.
He looked to Tia, grateful that he’d made the decision to take her, though now he wondered if she would have come willingly had he asked her properly. She stared at him, her dark eyes luminous, her lips a full ripe blend of honey and raspberry. “What can I do?”
“You as a warrior lead the Sons of Anubis against the Lost Ones, but you are their spiritual head, as well,” she explained. “I need you to invoke the presence of your patron god. Whatever prayers of protection you use before you go into battle should be a good beginning.”
That he could do. He dropped to his knees between the cages, the remaining jackals in the room following suit. Stilling his mind, he began to recite the ancient prayer. “Lord Anubis, Anapa, Guardian of the Dead, He Who Sits upon the Mountain, hear the prayers of your humble servant.”
He continued the prayers of thanksgiving, praise and protection, his words echoed by his men. Power gathered in the room as Tia mixed oils and herbs in a large bowl. As she worked, she began to sing. He recognized the song as a hymn to Isis, and somehow it melded with their chants to become something more powerful, more potent.
Markus couldn’t take his eyes off Tia. Grace filled every movement she made, like a ballet of magic. Her magic called to him and his body responded. Need, unexpected and sharp, bit deep.
His voice faltered, but he blamed it on the sudden music flowing into the room. The recorded sounds of drums and sistrums were no less visceral than if musicians had been in the chamber. The beat threaded through the incense and sorcery, weaving the masculine and feminine halves into a powerful whole.
Blessed Anubis, he wanted her.
She lifted a large bowl in both hands. “Markus, please open the cell.”
“No.” Shaking his head for emphasis, he shoved his need down. “They become violent and try to escape. As far as we can tell, the curse seems to transmit through a bite. I can’t risk more of my men.”
Instead of arguing, she turned to the cage. “Alonso. Look at me, Alonso.”
The stricken jackal slowly turned his head, moaning as if even that simple movement caused agony.
“Alonso. Anubis stands beside you, Isis holds you in her arms. We are here to aid you and break this curse, to lead you back whole and hearty to the sun. You will help us help you.”
The cursed jackal struggled to work his jaw to form words. After an eternity he managed to push words out. “Yes, priestess.”
A garbled sound tripped from Hector’s throat. “He hasn’t spoken in days. No matter how I begged, he wouldn’t answer me. But he answered you.”
Tia’s eyes glowed with power—or perhaps, the power of her personality. “It means that your brother is strong and willing to fight. Markus, if you would please?”
Markus unlocked the cage then stepped through. Though Alonso’s gaze never left Tia as she entered the cell, he made no move toward her. When she looked to Markus in question, he shut the cell door. “I won’t have you say that I sent you in unprotected.”
He took the large basin from her. “I’ll hold this for you. Is this for what I think it is?”
“If you think we’re going to give Alonso a sponge bath, then yes, you’re right,” she answered, kneeling beside the jackal’s head. “We’re anointing his body with this healing mixture as we offer prayers and blessings for him.”
Markus blanched. When one of his men died in battle, it fell to him to prepare their bodies, assuming the role of a high priest of Anubis. “It’s too much like a burial ritual.”
“It’s exactly like a burial ritual,” she told him, “except Alonso is still alive. This purification ritual will go far in helping us keep him that way.”
Markus didn’t know if Tia actually knew what she was doing or grasped at any straw she could out of desperation. Considering that he’d grabbed her for a desperate cause, he’d grasp those same straws and they could burn or fly together.
“Okay. Let’s get started.”
Chapter Four
<
br /> “Tia.”
A growl of a voice, close to her right ear, pulled Tia slowly up through the intricate pattern of the spell weaving itself into the jackal’s life force. “Hmm?”
“Tia.” This time a hard hand to the shoulder, shaking her. “You need to stop.”
She blinked, and the blurred image finally focused. Markus. He didn’t look happy, not that she expected him to. She wasn’t even close to pulling off a miracle for his men. “What?”
“You need to stop.”
“Can’t.” Was that scratchy mewl of a sound her voice?
“Can.” His hand slid from her shoulder to her forearm. She didn’t feel the same tingle she had before, a sure indication of how depleted she was. “You’ve been at this for hours. Your voice is all but gone and so’s your energy. No one will be helped if you pass out.”
“Just a little more,” she insisted. “I’ve never experienced a spell so intricate. It has a Daughter’s touch, but there’s much more to it, something I’ve never seen before. If I pick at it a little longer, I should be able to find the master thread.”
“As much as I want you to continue, I don’t want you or my jackals hurt,” he told her. “You can start again after you’re rested.”
The unexpected concern touched her. He had a point though. She needed food, rest—ugh, a shower—and some way to replenish her magical reserves. At this point, she’d do more harm than good by continuing. “’Kay.”
Bracing her hands against the mattress, she attempted to push herself to her feet. Her arms shook with the effort and she couldn’t unfold her legs enough to stand.
An arm snagged her about the waist, hauling her off the floor. Her body flew horizontal and she found herself cradled against a very hard and very warm body. Despite her fatigue, her nerve endings sang, sensing the vast resources of strength and power thrumming through the jackal. Her magic stirred, recognizing a perfect energy source. His power tasted potent, smooth as quality whiskey, and it made her wonder what the skin at his throat tasted like.
“Nice,” she said without thinking. “Bet you make all the girl jackals howl.”
Someone choked on a laugh. “Now I know you’re exhausted.” Markus’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re actually being nice to me.”
Oh, yeah. That was probably not the smart thing to do, considering he’d kidnapped her and all. “We’re under a truce, aren’t we? I think it’s okay to be nice to each other. I’ll even give you a compliment. Did you know that you give good frown?” Especially with those tasty-looking lips.
Another smothered snort. “You’ve gone from exhausted to delirious,” he rumbled, carrying her out of the cell and toward the door. He paused beside Hector. “Send the next shift in, and tell them to keep the incense and music going and notify me immediately if there’s any change. See about some food, then take yourself off to bed.”
“A bacon cheeseburger and cheese fries would be great,” she piped up, her stomach yowling a protest at the mention of food. “Or pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs if it’s breakfast time.”
Markus frowned down at her again. “What?” she asked, defensive. “I get horny when I heal someone. Sue me.”
He stopped in his tracks. “You mean ‘hungry,’ right?”
“That’s what I said.” Isn’t it?
“If you say so.” He carried her back down the hall to the room in which she’d awakened. As they passed through a door at the rear of the room, she noticed her duffel bag atop the chest of drawers. Good. Besides a change of clothes, her go-bag carried a few necessary things that helped her replenish her energy. She wondered if Markus had rifled through it. Probably. He didn’t seem the sort to leave anything to chance.
He took her into the surprisingly large bathroom and placed her atop the closed commode. A luxurious glassed-in shower dominated the space, its sand beige tiles interspersed with cobalt and turquoise squares imprinted with gold lotus flowers. So, not a cell at all. “This is your room, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why no windows in the bedroom?”
“I live here to be available for the clan,” he answered. “I catch sleep when I can, and having no windows makes that easier.” He opened the glass door and reached for the water handle. “I’ll start it for you.”
“Thank you.” Tia watched the muscles play over his back as he twisted the handle, sending water gushing into the enclosed space. The jackal was a fine specimen of a man with his wide shoulders, tight buns and powerful legs. Lethal grace and strength wrapped a keen mind and a fierce spirit, all very attractive qualities that called to her. Her magic stirred again, rumbling in harmony with her empty stomach. What would it be like, she wondered, to blend their magics together, to feel his body moving with hers?
“Tia?” Roughness filled his voice, though his tone sounded as if he’d called her name more than once.
She forced herself to raise her gaze from his body to his face. Mmm, his lips looked tasty, too. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” Concern darkened his topaz gaze.
No, she wasn’t. She’d always had a healthy sex drive, but being close to Markus was like adding gas to a fire. “I need,” she explained, knowing it wasn’t much of an explanation at all. She tried again. “I need to replenish. Untying the curse is more draining than I expected.”
She didn’t want to tell him that the quickest way for her to replenish was through sex. Each Daughter of Isis manifested different aspects of the goddess at the onset of puberty. Unfortunately for Tia, hers manifested primarily as sexual creative energy with a smaller gift of healing. While she’d been part of the coven she hadn’t had sex, so her power had never been great. It was only after leaving for college that she’d had her sexual and magical awakening.
“Ah.” His expression cleared. “The food should be here by the time you finish your shower. Then you can eat and rest while we gather more supplies. How long do you need?”
“More time than you probably want me to take, if all I can do is eat and rest.”
The greater the magical work, the greater the amount of energy expended. Her coven, of course, could spread the energy toll over the circle, so no one witch was depleted. Since she didn’t have her coven to rely on, she had to parse her magical work out carefully, saving any greater spell-casting for situations when she knew she’d be able to rejuvenate completely. Stuck in the jackal’s den without her usual outlet, she ran the risk of draining her magic completely. She doubted Markus would give her the two days she needed to recuperate without sex.
Not that she could tell Markus that, of course. It wasn’t as if he’d offer to help her out in that regard. Or would he?
“We’ll figure something out. I know you’re doing everything you can.” He reached his hand into the spray, testing the temperature. “How do you like it?”
Damn. She gritted her teeth, biting back all the suggestive responses to his innocent question. Angry Markus she could withstand. This Markus, nice Markus, was too close to her type. Usually when she needed sex to recharge, she went for betas—men who had no problem with casual hookups and her lack of interest in long-term relationships. Men like Markus—gorgeous alpha males with fierce loyalty, intensity and protective streaks—those were the men she fantasized about alone in her bed.
She licked her lips. “A cold shower will work.”
He turned to her then stopped, his smile slipping from his lips. His gaze dropped from her face to her chest and caught there.
“I think...I think you’re already cold.”
Gods. Her nipples, already tight and sensitive against the thin material of her gown, peaked further beneath the heated weight of his gaze. “Actually, I’m burning up.”
His nostrils flared as his gaze roamed her body again like a wandering hand. Desire coiled deep inside her, tightening her body as she matched his frank perusal. Tension built with the eddying steam in the suddenly small room. Tia’s lips parted as she caught the sharp licorice liqueur edge of his need burning its way into her senses. Her own need rose in response, sharp, painful and necessary, slicking her core.
Desire met desire, magic met magic, obliterating her fatigue. Nothing mattered but getting a taste of him. She stretched out a hand, putting all her need into her Voice. “Markus.”
Instantly he closed the distance between them, grabbing her hand before hauling her up and molding her to his body. Amber eyes glittered with barely banked hunger, then he crushed his mouth to hers.
Yes! Throwing her arms around his neck, Tia matched his wildness, giving herself over to the kiss and the dizzying sensations that buffeted her. A duel of lips and teeth and tongue curled her toes and left her moaning for more. The feel of the hard ridge of his cock pressing so sweetly between them made her breathless.
His hands palmed her ass, lifting her so that her pussy could ride the bulge in his jeans. She groaned again, rubbing against him, silently pleading for more.
A growl cut the air as Markus broke the kiss. Golden eyes dilated, canines peeking from lips curled in a snarl, breathing harsh over the sound of running water, he stared down at her. He was magnificent.
And pissed.
“Are you trying to put a spell on me?” he demanded, his hands scooping her up under her arms, his fingers biting into her shoulders as he held her off the floor.
She licked her lips, enjoying his taste and wanting more. “Spell you? No. Seduce you? Yes.”
Mills & Boon : Seducing The Jackal Page 3
