Claiming the Jackal

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.

Chapter Two

Anubis’s balls.

Hector dove into the chilled lake, touched bottom, then pushed off. He swam the length of the water twice, then shifted to jackal form and paddled the length again. Exerting his body, pushing his muscles, all in a desperate need to cool the fire burning in his veins.

Rana.

He’d approached the Isis witch in an effort to deflect his men away from her. He’d thought pretending to claim her was the best option.

He’d never been more wrong.

Pretense had died the moment he’d kissed her. Hell, it had vanished long before that. The moment she’d poked his chest, the fire of conviction burning in her gaze, she’d piqued his interest.

He’d allowed an Isis witch to challenge him. He’d allowed her to touch him and walk away unscathed. He’d kissed her, had come close to taking her right there in the infirmary. He’d taken her scent, given her his. By the dark breast of Nephthys, he’d all but claimed her when he’d set his teeth to her throat. At least other jackals would stay away from her now.

He just didn’t know if he could.

Rana had bewitched him. That was the only explanation for it. Despite carrying enough mistrust and anger to believe himself immune to the lure of the priestesses, he’d fallen under the spell of one. How, he didn’t know. He’d thought himself immune to their charms, the power of their Voice. An Isis witch was behind the curse that had killed four jackals and almost killed his brother. A group of Isis witches had hunted his kind for centuries, taking their pelts for some unknown purpose. Yet another Isis witch had betrayed the new Anput and nearly gotten her killed. He had good reason to distrust Isis witches and even better reasons to hate them. Yet this woman, with her caring nature and healing touch, soothed him and stirred him as none had in centuries.

Rana was different. He’d known that when they’d briefly met at the ceremony joining Tia and Markus. The nurturing strength of her healer’s magic had wrapped around him, abating some of his rage. Though he’d easily dismissed the other priestesses, he’d noticed Rana as a man recognizes a woman. A little taller than average, the top of her head reached his chin. Mysteries and keen intellect shone through the fathomless darkness of her gaze, drawing him in. She was all curves, from the golden-copper apples of her cheeks, the bow of her lips, the swell of her breasts, to the sweet curve of her hips and thighs. She kept her ebony hair in short, touchable waves that just grazed her neck and made him want to tuck the wayward strands behind her ears. Her eyes were tomb-dark yet soft beneath sweeping black brows, the warmth in them accented by the slightly upturned nose and balanced by full lips that seemed always ready to smile.

The memory of her touch swam through him. She’d touched him, and he’d awakened. Just a simple touch to his chest, her palm flat against his heart, and he’d come alive. Everything after that had been new and wondrous and etched into his memory. His first breath, taking her air. The first scent of her, warming his lungs. The first touch, feeling the softness of her curves against the hard planes of his body. The first sight of her eyes, deep and dark and full of care, staring into his awakened soul.

It must have been how the dead felt when Lord Anubis awakened their senses for the journey through the underworld.

Despite the cool swim, her essences still lingered on his senses. Her scent, the taste of her lips, the feel of her chest against his... Hunger settled in his bones. Hunger for Rana. She would come to him, whether she intended to or not. He felt her, pulling at man and jackal, and he could do nothing except respond.

Silently he broke the surface, and there she was. She didn’t seem to be aware of his presence yet. She stood at the edge of the lake, her face tilted toward the heavens. The sky hung in the magical balance between day and night, the blaze of the setting sun dueling with the cool fire of the waxing moon, bathing Rana’s simple white blouse and skirt in ribbons of blue and amber.

The serenity in her expression stole his breath and tightened his loins. In the four weeks she’d lived in the compound, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her so unguarded, so real, so beautiful. He understood why the other jackals were drawn to her—she was female, and the divine feminine flowed in her veins. What he didn’t understand was why he was attracted to her.

The whys no longer mattered. He wanted her. She had come to him. That meant she wanted him, too. Tonight he would have her.

* * *

Rana watched the jackal paddle to shore. She knew it was Hector, though she’d never seen him shift forms before. She could feel the current of magic and energy she’d felt from him before, more muted than the body-to-body effect she’d experienced in the infirmary. Something had called her out here, compelled her to the far side of the lake instead of her usual nighttime path near the community house. Now she knew why.

Hector. She rubbed at the spot of skin below her throat where he’d touched her. The heat of his hand and the power of their kiss had stayed with her long after he’d returned to his duties, leaving her unable to focus on hers. She wanted to feel his power entwining with hers again. She wanted to feel his body brushing against hers again. She wanted him.

The jackal stepped out of the water then shook himself, causing water droplets to fly. The beast was enormous—she figured it had to weigh the same as Hector’s human form, somewhere around two hundred pounds. Its shoulders probably reached her waist, and would be taller than her if it reared up on its hind legs.

This jackal was jet-black and almost hairless, which she’d learned was an indication of age. The younger the jackal, the more variations in coat and color. For Hector’s jackal form to be so close to the depiction of Anubis—so close to Markus’s Anubis form—meant that Hector was not only one of the older members of this Sons of Anubis clan, he was one of the most powerful. Little wonder, then, that he was Markus’s second in command.

As she watched, he shifted forms. Being jackals given human form by the god Anubis, he didn’t have to endure the painful transition of other were-creatures. A soft golden glow surrounded the inky-black jackal like a sprinkling of gold dust. Between one blink and the next Hector stood at the water’s edge. He was beauty, he was grace, he was...fully aroused.

“Sweet Mother Isis.”

“What are you doing here, Rana?” he asked, his voice a silky caress that slid over her senses and stripped her caution.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He stopped a few feet away from her, the current between them growing stronger with his nearness. “You usually walk the part of the lake closest to the community house. Perhaps you’re here for the same reason I am, to cool off, to get you out of my thoughts, to cleanse your essence from my senses.”

He gestured to his erection. “Obviously it didn’t work for me. I’m guessing it didn’t work for you, either.”

She tried to look him in the eye, she really did. No matter how she tried, her gaze kept drifting down. Even in the encroaching darkness, she could tell his arousal showed no signs of abating. “I couldn’t concentrate on my lab or magical studies, and the community house felt too small and confining. I had to come outside.”

“That’s not all, is it?” His gaze bored into her. “You know exactly why you’re here. Say it.”

“I was drawn here.” She gestured to the space between them. “Drawn to you.”

“Why?”

This time she met his gaze. “Because I want you.”

He sucked in a hard breath and his cock, gods, his cock actually bobbed in reaction. Need uncurled inside her like a predator rising from sleep, ready to prowl, to hunt. It rose, a vibrant living force just as heady as the times she channeled magic in rites honoring Isis. Only, this was sharpened by the razor edge of lust.

“I told you that if you had a need, I would provide.” He stepped closer. “What do you desire from me?”

Desire made her bold. “Everything.”

He huffed. “And how do you want me?”

“Every way I can have you.”

“Are you sure, Rana?” he asked, his voice a low, intense caress. “Everything in every way? Do you think you can handle that?”

She dropped her hands to her hips. “Do you think you can handle me?”

“I think I can rise to the challenge.”