Claiming the Jackal. Seressia Glass
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understand what you’re asking. I’m just standing here.”
“No. There’s something about you.” He leaned closer. “Something that makes my men careless in practice just so that they can have you tend to them. I would know why they choose to risk my wrath to come to you.”
“I don’t do anything other than ask them questions as I treat them,” she managed to say, painfully aware of the frenetic beating of her heart. “Same as I have done for the female jackals, for the children. Getting a medical history is standard practice.”
He stared down at her, skepticism silvering his gaze. “You expect me to believe that you aren’t enchanting my men in some way?”
“Enchanting? It’s not my fault that your men are unused to being around women. You should allow them to socialize more.”
“With humans who do not know what we are or what we do?” He snorted. “Or with Isis witches who have been our enemies for centuries?”
“Not anymore, remember?”
“Not all of you. Remember?”
She suppressed a wince. He had a point, a very good one. Millennia ago a priestess—her grandmother, Amansuanan—had caused the rift between the Sons of Anubis and the Daughters of Isis. All the Daughters, even high priestess Aya, had believed Amansuanan dead. Realizing only recently that she was not only alive, but also the root cause of the rift between priestesses and jackals—and creator of this new breed of undead Lost Ones—had shocked the coven. While many Daughters didn’t know or couldn’t remember Rana’s connection to Amansuanan—after all, she’d never met her grandmother—they all knew Cassandra, Rana’s mother and a priestess, had set Tia up to be captured by the Lost Ones. Cassandra had escaped with Amansuanan, leaving Rana ashamed, angry and determined to prove she had nothing to do with her relatives’ evil machinations.
“Look, I understand that there aren’t enough female jackals to go around for all of the men. And I know having so many Daughters in the compound is taking some adjustment for men not used to being around so many unattached women. Give them a little more time and I’m sure they’ll settle down and ignore us.”
Maybe the jackals would ignore her, but she certainly couldn’t ignore Hector no matter how hard she tried.
“Perhaps.” He stroked her hand, making her shiver. “Perhaps there is something about you, an Isis witch who cares so fiercely. It’s dangerous.”
Rana had no idea what he meant. Was provoking him dangerous? Without a doubt. Was standing there, letting him cup her hand to the magnificence of his chest, dangerous? Absolutely. Was wanting to press her body against his as she gave in to the urge to kiss him dangerous? In spades.
Yet she stood there, completely aware of the danger, completely aware of him as she had been for the past four weeks. Stood there, paralyzed with the danger of wanting to touch him, taste him. With wanting more of him.
As if in answer, his free hand came up and slowly flattened over her heart. “You fascinate me, an Isis witch with so warm a heart that it quiets the rage I’ve held for your kind for thousands of years.”
Rana had to swallow before she could speak. “We’ve always been taught that jackals were wild, raging creatures that would kill Daughters on sight. What I know, what I’ve witnessed about the Sons of Anubis, makes me weep for the suffering inflicted on both sides.”
She reached up, covering his hand so hot through her blouse. A connection snapped into place, a feedback loop of pure energy. She drew one ragged breath then another as magic and want crashed through her system. Tia had told her about the earthy sensations she’d felt when her magic had joined with Markus’s, but Rana hadn’t expected to feel such raw, earthy power herself. She hadn’t with any of the other guards who’d come to her. Hector’s power and vitality she’d felt across a room. Now, up close, on a feedback loop blending with hers, she couldn’t do anything but stand there and experience it, even as everything in her screamed for more.
His hand tightened on hers and somehow she was closer, a breath separating them. Then even that distance closed as Hector leaned down, claiming her mouth. Whether he’d intended it as a punishment or a dare she didn’t know, didn’t care.
The heat she’d felt moments before became a flame burning through her meager defense and fanning her simmering desire to a boil. It had been a long time, longer than she cared to think about, since she’d been in a man’s arms. Even then, no one had swamped her senses the way Hector did.
A growl rumbled between them, and she realized she was the one who’d made it. She leaned forward, stepping as close as she could, wanting more of his mouth, his heat. His tongue traced her lips, silently seeking entrance. She opened for him, bliss sweeping through her as their tongues slid and tasted. Heat spread through her, plumping her nipples, dampening her core.
Kissing Hector wasn’t anything like she’d expected. It was so much more.
His hands pulled away from hers as if forced away, then settled onto her shoulders. “Gods. Gods damn me.”
With a jerk, he set her at arm’s length. Silver swirled in the depths of his gaze, eyes dilated with the same need she felt. “You will leave my men alone,” he rasped out. “If you have need of information, you will come to me.”
She swayed toward him. “What if— What if I want something other than information?”
He dipped his head and Rana uttered a mewl of pleasure as his teeth scraped her throat. “Whatever your needs, come to me,” he breathed against her skin. “I and I alone will provide.”
With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving Rana to sink onto the exam table to gather her wits, her breath and her self-control.
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