The Jackal Prince

by Rebecca Goings

  Just knowing he wanted to make love to her had her heart racing. Even now, as she toiled with the other women in the weaving carav, her heart skipped a beat at the memory of Siraj’s tongue in her mouth. While she’d been trying hard to ignore her own desires, she’d kept herself busy with the women who made both new fabric and lush carpets on their large looms.

  Siraj’s caravan must supply the other princes with the fabric for their fine garments. They didn’t just make textiles in the colors of the Jackal, Yasmin also recognized the blue, the red, the green, and the black of the other desert princes.

  She didn’t quite know what she was doing, but the ladies were eager to show her, and soon, she found herself laughing with them as they talked about this or that.

  Thankfully, the ghost hadn’t shown itself since they’d left Neviann. Perhaps she’d been lucky. Perhaps it had lost her in the vast expanse of desert. But despite the fact it hadn’t reappeared, that hadn’t stopped Siraj from posting his guards up and down the caravan line.

  His protection meant everything to her. If it was true she’d have the protection of his god for the rest of her life as his princess, then perhaps she should marry him. It was a tempting offer. She’d thought on him at least as many times as he’d thought on her. Making love to him would be a dream come true.

  Bearing his heir would be an honor, knowing her son, their son, would be the next Jackal Prince.

  She cleared her throat, weaving threads with trembling fingers.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” an older woman known as Disa asked.

  She nodded with a smile.

  “You know,” the woman said, a light of mischief in her eyes, “the Jackal has been looking so long for you, we were beginning to believe you didn’t exist.”

  Yasmin stared at her with her mouth wide.

  “Is it true you saved his life when he was just a boy? Why, you couldn’t have been much older than a child yourself.” Disa gave her a toothy grin.

  “Y-yes, it’s true,” Yasmin replied, averting her eyes.

  “Then your magic is healing?”

  “Of a sort.” Yasmin’s heart pounded now for a different reason. She couldn’t risk telling Siraj’s people what her true powers were.

  “My knee has bothered me for years. Can you have a look?”

  Every eye in the carav was on Yasmin while Disa gazed at her expectantly. Panic bubbled within her. She could heal the woman without batting an eye, but casting her magic would surely alert her presence to the spirit chasing her. She couldn’t risk it.

  “I’m sorry, but no,” she said nervously.

  “Why ever not?” Disa’s eyebrows shot up.

  “My m-magic, it c-comes and goes. I-I have no control over it.” She hated lying, but it was better than the alternative.

  “Perhaps you can use it today,” the woman offered. “Can you at least try?”

  Yasmin stood suddenly and smoothed her robes. “No, I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”

  Without waiting for their replies, she made her way swiftly to the door. She couldn’t escape the carav fast enough. The moment her feet hit the sand, she ran up the line to Siraj’s quarters. She would be safe there. Nothing and no one could touch her behind Siraj’s door.

  Except, perhaps, for Siraj himself.

  ~ * ~

  By the time Siraj entered his carriage, Yasmin had eaten and curled up in the blankets, as if she slept. The lamps burned low, and she tried hard not to make a sound. She faced the wall, not wanting to bear his scrutiny. She’d been a coward, hiding for the rest of the day. No doubt Disa would wonder at her odd behavior, as well as the rest of the ladies in the weaving carav. She had no doubt it would soon be known she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—heal anyone.

  She listened to the familiar sounds of Siraj sitting among his pillows, eating his food.

  “I know you’re not sleeping,” he said, his voice gentle. “What ails you?”

  Right about now, Yasmin cursed whatever power they were bonded by. But she wasn’t about to tell yet another lie.

  “I spent my day in the weaving carav,” she told him. “Disa, who is making a most colorful carpet, asked me to heal her knee. I…lied to her.”

  Silence greeted her words before Siraj spoke once more. “Why did she ask you to heal her?”

  “Because I’d once healed you.” Yasmin flopped on her back and gave Siraj a deep sigh. “I told her my magic comes and goes. That I couldn’t heal her. But I…can heal her, Siraj. However if I cast my magic, there’s a good chance the spirit will find me again. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “You did the right thing,” he said, taking a sip of water from the goblet off the dinner tray. “Perhaps after we deal with this… whatever it is, you can use your power to heal the woman.”

  “I don’t like lying. I can’t stand hiding. It’s all starting again. I thought I was safe here, that I could have a new beginning. But if your people find out what I can do…”

  “If they find out,” he said, his voice as hard as granite, “they will have to deal with me before they ever get to you. I promised you my protection, Yasmin. Even from my own people.”

  She bit her lip as tears burned her eyes. His jaw was rigid and his body tense, telling her beyond a shadow of a doubt he spoke the truth. He would fight for her, no matter the cost to himself.

  “They are your subjects, Jackal,” she whispered. “I am just—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “You are the woman I have prayed for. I have no doubt in my mind the god of Jackals delivered you into my hands. I will protect his gift until my dying day.”

  Siraj’s words clutched onto her heart. The silence stretched out as she held her breath. The carav seemed to melt away until nothing was left but the Jackal Prince, blatantly claiming her with his gaze alone. In that instant, Yasmin knew exactly where she wanted to be. With Siraj. Forever.

  Yet all she did was nod.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, somehow sensing her change of mood.

  “Yes,” she answered, somewhat breathless. “Just tired.”

  “Then let’s get some rest.” Without another word, he’d doused the lamps with his magic and curled up within his blankets.

  She tried hard to ignore his even breathing, or the fact that he’d taken off his robe before finally settling down to sleep. Her mind ran away with her, and for once she was thankful the Jackal couldn’t read her own naughty thoughts.

  Eight

  Yasmin stood and watched as the man before her stumbled in the sand at the feet of a beautiful woman. He was gasping and crying, and his skin was ripped to shreds. Deep red blood stained the ground and the sharp stench of iron filled the air, but that didn’t stop the man from begging for his life.

  Yasmin knew she was dreaming when the scene shifted, to the very same man, rutting with the woman violently. He cried out again and again, as if he’d found his pleasure more than once, but that didn’t stop him from slamming into the woman. His thrusts were so forceful, Yasmin had no idea how the woman hadn’t been ripped in two.

  But her head was tossed back, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. She welcomed him, and the familiar tug of magic hung in the air.

  Before her eyes, the man’s wounds healed, and he breathed a sigh of relief before kissing the mysterious woman as if his life depended on it.

  But the woman’s power wasn’t any mere magic. Yasmin recognized the force of it. She’d weaved the ancient magics. With a gasp, Yasmin was even more startled when the woman opened her eyes and looked at her.

  The woman’s mouth opened in a vile sneer before she screeched and tossed the man off her. In one swift movement, she was astride him, gazing at Yasmin as she sheathed his cock and bucked on him wildly. Her breasts bounced and her hips writhed. No matter how much Yasmin yelled at herself, she could not look away.

  At the moment of the woman’s orgasm, a burst of magic rippled throughout the dream.

  “Yes, Khalil,” the woman cooed to the man, who
moaned underneath her. “As I have given you life, so, too, have you given me a life.”

  The man didn’t seem to hear her. Or if he did, he didn’t care. But the woman growled in his ear.

  “I want your cock in my ass.”

  With his eyes glazed over, the man groaned and positioned himself behind her, spreading her cheeks wide for his cock. He pulled her hair as he slammed into her—to the hilt—thrusting so hard Yasmin winced.

  The strange woman gazed at her once again. “I have created you,” she whispered through her gasps. “Yasmin!”

  With a cry, Yasmin sat straight up and glanced around her. The darkness pressed in, but she recognized her surroundings. She was in Siraj’s carav, and judging by his deep breaths, he still slept.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away. It had merely been a dream, nothing more. Why was it affecting her so deeply? What she’d witnessed had seemed more real, more tangible than any other dream she’d ever had. The woman had known Yasmin watched, and that made her skin crawl. She’d even held her eye contact.

  And there had been no denying her use of ancient magics. But who was she? And who was the man she was with?

  A breeze stirred the dunes. A few grains of sand lightly pelted the carav outside, giving the darkness an eerie sound that made the hair on her arms stand on end. She was being silly. She’d merely had a bad dream. But the images in her head seemed branded on the back of her eyelids.

  A larger gust of wind sprayed more sand against the carav, making her gasp in fright. The thin blanket did nothing to warm her chilled skin, and her common sense couldn’t calm her wild imagination.

  Her mind made up, Yasmin padded over to where Siraj slept and lay next to him, lifting his blankets to curl in their warmth. Finally, for the first time that night, she felt safe and secure, as if nothing could touch her. Scooting toward him, she tucked her arms in and cuddled close to his back, relishing in the scent of his clean skin.

  Closing her eyes, Yasmin sighed with a grin, and slept beside the man she’d only just realized she’d been in love with for most of her life.

  ~ * ~

  Siraj awoke at the twilight of dawn. But this morning was different. Someone snuggled next to him, and hair was in his face. Before he even opened his eyes, he knew by the scent filling his nose that Yasmin had joined him sometime in the night.

  Instantly, his body tightened and he couldn’t keep his cock from rising even if he wanted to. Why had she crept over to his blankets? Why was she curled next to him as if she already had a right to be there?

  Gods above, Siraj didn’t care.

  Opening his eyes, he gazed at her, facing him, with her arms tucked into her chest. Was she was cold? Wrapping his left arm around her waist, he gently pulled her closer to him, trying not to wake her. She whimpered and tossed her head, but didn’t open her eyes. With a smile, Siraj tugged his blanket over her and pressed her into the curves of his body.

  She felt good against him. Damn good. He couldn’t resist a few gentle thrusts, rubbing his cock on her thigh. The thin robe she wore to bed did nothing to hinder him. The swell of her breasts and the outline of her nipple made his mouth water to taste her. It was all he could do not to lower his head and suckle through the fabric.

  Now that she was in his arms, where he slept, he’d be hard-pressed to ever let her go. She was his, and had been for some time. By all that was holy he wanted to claim her.

  Siraj tucked her hair behind her ear, exploring the soft skin of her cheek and neck. His touch was light, but he didn’t know how much longer he could take, having her against him and not taking advantage.

  What would she do if he woke her with a kiss? He’d told her he wouldn’t pressure her further. The choice had to be hers to come to him. But she had already come to him, sometime during the night.

  Perhaps she’d been cold. More likely, she’d had a bad dream. Whatever it was, Siraj thanked his good fortune to be lying next to her now.

  He stared at her lips. But instead of kissing her, all he did was caress her, using his left hand to lightly skim the top of her robe, over her hip, down her thigh, then back up to her waist. Surely the fact she slept next to him gave him the right to touch her.

  But when his gaze rose back up to her face, Yasmin’s eyes were open, regarding him with an emotion he couldn’t read. Her lids were hooded and she blinked a few times, but she was definitely awake, and seemingly very aware of his hand.

  But Siraj didn’t remove it. His palm was firmly on her hip and he arched a brow at her. She made no move to shake him off. Instead, she lowered her eyes and took him in, glancing at his chest and even further down his belly.

  His cock leapt painfully beneath his undergarment, the only article of clothing that separated him from her. She had to see the large tent it had become. But for now, that didn’t seem to be where her attention was focused.

  Without saying a word, Yasmin’s palm skimmed his skin, beginning between his pecs to lightly trace a line through his chest hair, down to his long, thin scar—the very one she’d healed years ago. The pads of her fingers explored the ridge of it, and Siraj had to close his eyes or risk attacking her in passion.

  Her innocent touch slammed through him, bringing every nerve ending in his body to life. The silence surrounding them seemed holy somehow. He loathed to break it. Instead, he let his hand do the talking as it slowly crept its way up her body to the very breast he’d been fantasizing about.

  Ever so gently, his thumb swiped her nipple, which brought her eyes back to his. Such lovely depths he’d only been able to dream about these past years. Now that they held him captive, he couldn’t glance away, but instead, he rested his forehead on hers.

  Their breaths became one. He inhaled and kissed her nose. Yasmin bit her lip, shyly holding his gaze through her black lashes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Siraj quieted her with his finger to her lips. She remained silent, and he spread his palm over her cheek and into her hair.

  With a light brush, his lips grazed hers. He had to tilt her head up a bit, but she followed him. Siraj’s heart soared. His next kiss was a bit firmer, but not by much, and he pulled away just enough to make her lips advance toward his.

  By the gods, Yasmin was offering herself to him. Her thoughts opened for him, as plain as day. This was no mirage, this was a shining beacon in the desert sands. She wanted him. And gods help him, but Siraj wanted her to want him.

  The instant her hand found his cock sheathed in his undergarment, he growled and thrust, but still did not kiss her fully. He needed her to claim this, to own it, before he took control and loved her as he’d always dreamed. By the look in her eye, she was both aroused and frightened, but Siraj’s hand had found its way inside her robes. Teasing her nipple between his fingers seemed to seal her fate.

  With a cry, she wrapped her leg around his thighs and brought his mouth to hers. One plunge of her tongue was all the invitation Siraj needed.

  Yasmin was finally his.

  Nine

  There was no holding back. Yasmin kissed Siraj for all she was worth, tugging on his hair, devouring his mouth, trying like mad to get as close as she could. And he returned her kiss with just as much ardor.

  His hand left her breast to round her ass, pressing her tightly against his stiff cock. She mewled in his mouth and rocked against him. More than anything, she wanted his fingers to touch her clit and play in the wetness of her pussy. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he bunched up her thin robes until her entire leg was bare beneath the covers.

  Her undergarments were no barrier to him. His hand slipped inside, and the warmth of his palm had her gasping.

  Yasmin pulled away from his mouth, but that didn’t keep Siraj from kissing her. His lips made a trail across her cheek to her ear while his fingers followed the gentle divide that led straight to her pussy.

  Her slick skin offered no resistance. His touch was divine, swirling on her clit and making her jump from the shocks of ple
asure he created. But he was also gentle, seeming to sense she’d never been with another man.

  Siraj, Siraj, Siraj…

  She canted his name over and over inside her head, thinking the words she didn’t have the courage to say. She wanted to tell him how she felt; she wanted to tell him what was in her heart. She hoped he already knew. Perhaps he could read her.

  His glorious mouth returned to hers, and his tongue swirled inside, mirroring the fingers that explored her pussy. Yasmin had never before imagined such bliss could be possible. She threaded her own fingers through his hair and held on tight to the back of his head. She couldn’t stop her hips from swaying back and forth. A need spiraled within her, coiling like a snake ready to strike.

  More. She needed more.

  Yasmin raised her leg higher against his thighs, urging him to continue. He groaned in response and his touch became rougher.

  Yes. That was exactly what she wanted.

  Without warning, Siraj’s mouth left hers and he dipped his head, latching his lips onto the point of her nipple, right through the fabric of her robes. The rasp of the fabric and the pressure of his teeth and tongue made something burst within her.

  Pleasure unimaginable thundered throughout her body, consuming her limbs and bringing forth a cry of completion. It seemed to rage on and on, until finally, her passion cooled, and once again, Siraj was gentle. But he continued to swirl his fingers, prolonging the ecstasy.

  Yasmin’s body shuddered as tiny arcs of electricity crackled in her blood. Nothing in the desert could possibly compare to the rapture he’d just shown her. With soft kisses, he brought her back down from the sky and removed his hand from her undergarments.

  Yasmin closed her eyes, reveling in the afterglow. But Siraj didn’t give her much time to float down from the heavens.

  He lightly pushed her leg from his thigh and rolled her to her back. With deft fingers, he untied her belt-wrap and threw open her robes. Amazingly, she wasn’t ashamed that he gazed upon her tightened breasts. But he didn’t touch them. He was intent on stripping her completely, and tossed her undergarments somewhere behind him.