Claiming the Jackal

Claiming the Jackal
Seressia Glass

Bartending at Atlanta’s hottest nightclub – side by side with what may be the world’s hottest man – fuels Bailey’s already overactive sex drive. So she’s beyond frustrated at her inability to reach orgasm by any means…Bar owner and incubus Griff knows all about Bailey’s intense lust – because he feels it too. So he’s taken it upon himself to ease her through the cataclysmic Change from mortal to immortal succubus. He tells himself it’s about saving her life, nothing more.But somewhere along the line, the purely physical passion they feel for one another has become something much more complicated…

Despite an end to two thousand years of conflict with the Daughters of Isis, jackal shifter Hector still distrusts the witches. But he cannot deny his growing hunger for Rana, a beautiful and gentle priestess who soothes his anger and awakens his passions as no other ever has.

As a healer, Rana is working tirelessly to find a way to protect the jackals from a deadly curse—and restore the honor of her bloodline. As a woman, she cannot resist surrendering to her desire for Hector, the powerful and virile second in command. But when her secret is revealed, will their new bond be strong enough to survive the truth?

Claiming the Jackal

Seressia Glass

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Dear Reader,

Jackals and witches and passion, oh, my! After thousands of years of being enemies, the Daughters of Isis and the Sons of Anubis are finding common ground—and everlasting love. Their magics are stronger together than they are apart. Still, it’s harder for some to overcome centuries of mistrust than it is for others. With a common enemy focused on destroying Sons and Daughters alike, the jackals and priestesses are going to have to come together to survive. Will they make it? Will they work together? Will they overcome their differences? I’d like to think that with love all things are possible!

Seressia Glass

Dedication

To Larry, my guy, my heart, my other half, who keeps me fed and watered when I forget. Now I truly know how heroes are made.

Contents

Chapter One (#ue185f6cf-cbaf-5aab-8870-97736175c884)

Chapter Two (#u0d15702e-2572-55a0-af36-3855d78da8db)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

“There, that should do it.” Rana smoothed the bandage in place, then smiled up at the jackal shifter. “You can take the wrap off tomorrow morning and apply the ointment again. After lunch, feel free to shift.”

“Thank you, Priestess.” The young jackal smiled, holding his bandaged forearm. “It feels better already. You surely have a magical touch.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, grabbing her chart to make a few final notes. The young guard—at least, he seemed young—had entered the infirmary with a six-inch gash in his arm, given to him by another guard during combat training. “How long does it normally take you to heal from your wounds when you shift into your jackal form?”

“Well, usually—” Suddenly he stiffened, eyes widening. A whimper seeped from his throat as he dropped his gaze.

Concerned with his abrupt change in demeanor, Rana reached out to touch his carotid artery. “Are you all right?”

Power rolled through the infirmary a split second before a warning growl did. Rana dropped her hand, suppressing a shiver as she recognized the distinctive signature of the magical energy weighing down the air. He was here.

She turned to see Hector, the jackals’ second in command, filling the doorway. The large jackal growled again. “Remain away from your post for much longer and I can guarantee you will be in desperate need of a healer.”

The words were soft, almost negligent, but only a fool would ignore the threat woven in them. The young guard was no fool. “My apologies, Captain. I’ll return straightaway.” He beat a hasty retreat, Hector’s glower boring into him.

The shifter captain stepped into the exam room, turning the full weight of his silvery-green gaze to Rana. She stopped, stared, her duties forgotten.

Hector was stunning—in looks, in effect. Six feet three inches of solid, sleek muscle, olive skin highlighting his Greek-Egyptian heritage and gray-green eyes beneath thick brows and dark brown hair that seemed perpetually wind tossed. She knew that he was roughly two thousand years old, and his power was potent, heady.

Awareness tingled along her nerve endings, awareness of him. Every time she saw him, her breath caught in her throat, her blood heated and her palms grew damp. A month into her stay at the jackal compound and she was still struck mute by his nearness. He made her feel like a girl in the first blush of womanhood, not a priestess over three hundred years old.

Most of the Sons of Anubis were politely distant in a could-rip-your-throat-out sort of way. They all seemed fiercely protective and focused on their duties, something that she, a Daughter of Isis, could appreciate.

Hector, however, was...more. Large and lethal, he radiated danger and intensity even when standing still. The infirmary—six large beds and two cages flanked by new state-of-the-art equipment—seemed too small to contain the full force of his energy. She only had to look at him to know that he was fiercely committed to everything he did and accepted nothing less than a successful outcome.

He wore a simple white T-shirt and dark cargo pants, but on him they were a king’s raiment. The white cotton emphasized his broad shoulders, defined arms, taut abs. Isis, have mercy.

She’d been introduced to the captain after Tia, granddaughter of Isis high priestess Aya and great-granddaughter of jackal clan founder Sekhanu, had wed the current clan leader, Markus. While the other male jackals had shown keen interest in Rana and the other Daughters of Isis who had attended the ceremony, Hector had been coldly reserved, almost to the point of hostility.

Hector’s distrust and dislike of Rana and the other Daughters of Isis was palpable. It didn’t matter that she had worked tirelessly both magically and surgically to save three of his fellow clan mates after an attack by the undead. It didn’t matter that she and her fellow priestesses had nothing to do with the murders that had started the war between their peoples. Hector tolerated the presence of the priestesses because he had to. Rana had the feeling that if Hector had his way, the Daughters of Isis would never set foot on jackal lands again.

Rana, of course, couldn’t stay away. She’d known from the moment she’d entered the jackal compound that she was meant to be there. Discovering that the shifters’ healer had died trying to save other members from a deadly curse a few months ago and they didn’t have another confirmed it. She’d been the first to volunteer to be part of the visiting delegation, and had every intention of making it permanent. She even had Aya’s blessing, the high priestess saying it was the will of Isis. Here, Rana could right the wrongs inflicted by Amansuanan. Somehow, she would make reparations for the horrors her grandmother had caused with her twisted jealousy. She’d been behind the attack on the Daughters of Isis and the Sons of Anubis—her jealousy over then—high priestess Asharet and her mate, Sekhanu, had festered into a killing rage. She’d managed to kill both leaders and several followers and somehow blame the jackals for the crime. Four thousand long years of enmity, of hiding and avoidance and a few outright conflicts that had left whole swaths of the Two Lands uninhabitable.

Shame, hurt and anger burned through Rana. Her mother had betrayed Tia to Amansuanan, enabling her to be kidnapped. Amansuanan had thought she’d be able to depose Aya and take over the coven, but she hadn’t counted on the bonds Tia had forged with Markus and the jackals. She hadn’t counted on Aya being as formidable as she was. Rana had thrown herself onto Aya’s mercy. She’d had no idea that Cassandra had planned to betray the coven. She hadn’t known that Amansuanan was alive. Now she wanted to make amends, to prove her loyalty and restore the honor of her bloodline.

If the jackals, and Hector in particular, would let her, that was. Remembering how the young jackal had fled as if his tail was on fire, Rana regained her composure, keeping her hands occupied with putting her supplies away. “Was that necessary?”

Hector sauntered further into the room, hands behind his back, observing her every move. Rana instinctively tracked him, trying to dismiss the sensation of being stalked. “He’s a cub. Hardly a challenge for you.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need my patients to challenge me.” She moved to a cabinet to restock the bandages, telling herself that she wasn’t retreating from him. Not really. “May I ask to what I owe the honor of this visit? Our weekly update meeting isn’t until tomorrow.”

The meetings shouldn’t have been with him at all. She was supposed to have these meetings with Tia. Part of Tia’s duties as Anput, the female embodiment of Anubis, was to see to the physical welfare of the jackals. Rana had worked with Tia to completely redesign the infirmary, and the weekly meetings were to give the Anput a status check on the general health of the clan.

For some unknown reason, Hector had taken over the meetings as of last week. She hadn’t questioned it—clan business wasn’t her business, after all—but sitting down with Tia was a lot easier than sitting down with Hector.

“You’ve noticed by now that we have few women. While many females have two mates, that still leaves numerous men without a partner. Many of them have never known a woman’s touch.”

“Seriously?”

His hard gaze roamed over her. “The younger ones are still settling into their nature, their discipline. You and your fellow priestesses have upset that discipline.”