Hunting the Jackal (2 page)

A wicked gleam lit Kurik’s eyes as he grinned. “Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER TWO

Confused and flustered and more than a little aroused, Amarie made her way back to her bedroom. She needed a cold shower. She needed a workout. Mostly though, she needed someone to explain to her what had just happened—and why.

Rashon had kissed her. He’d kissed her! And not just a light, sisterly peck, but a breath-stealing, toe-curling mesh of mouths. She would have excused it as a momentary confusion on his part as he’d awakened from his healing, something he wasn’t aware he was doing. Except that they’d been mid-discussion, and she’d kissed him back like her life had depended on it. Then he’d kissed Kurik, and then—

Then he’d asked her if she’d wanted to stay.

She’d turned tail and ran as if a horde of the undead were chasing her. Because she’d really, really wanted to stay. Wanted to watch them enjoy each other. Wanted to join in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

She wrenched the shower on, her senses still reeling. Gods. They were her friends, and she’d needed that friendship. Lately though, they’d become much more, and she knew exactly when it had started.

There had been one night after patrolling that they’d come home, showered and all piled into Rashon and Kurik’s bed to watch a laughable horror movie. When she’d awakened the next morning it was to discover Rashon spooned up close behind her, his arm around her waist and one hand cupping her breast. She’d had her head on Kurik’s chest and her hand dangerously close to his groin. Both men had been aroused even while deeply asleep. She’d allowed herself one full minute of enjoying the sensation of waking up between them, of entertaining the dream that they’d been aroused for her before common sense had prevailed and she’d retreated to her own room.

Now all she could think about was all of them together, bodies sliding together, mouths clashing. Hands gripping, stroking, bringing pleasure. It was only a fantasy, not something she thought would ever happen despite the teasing offer Rashon had made. Even if she did find herself wrapped in pleasure between them, it would be a temporary fling. It wouldn’t be forever. It couldn’t be forever, especially when she told them the truth about why she’d been banished from her old clan.

A whimper eased out despite her attempt at control. She wanted that, wanted it with a bone-deep need bordering on desperation. She was more aware of Rashon than anyone she’d ever met. She was drawn to the smooth bronze of his skin, the teasing glint in his liquid copper eyes and the open warmth of his personality. He was like the bright dawn sun, chasing nighttime fears away. Kurik, on the other hand, was the might of the noon sun as it began its descent. Power rode every inch of his muscular, golden body, but he never used it to intimidate her. From the shoulder-length shock of hair they called “Seti-red” to the clarity in his amber gaze, Kurik was the epitome of masculine virility. They both were.

Her soap-slicked fingers slid down her belly to part her folds, stroking her clit. She would love to watch them making love, watch their tongues dueling as their cocks rubbed together. Caught up in the fantasy, she rode her fingers as her imagination drove her higher. She imagined joining them, sucking on Rashon while Kurik took him. Kurik’s thick length slowly filling her while Rashon sucked on her clit. The sensual overload of both men thrusting deep into her sex, over and over until she screamed in ecstasy.

Orgasm slammed into her. Biting her lip against a groan, she leaned against the water-warmed tile, hips jerking as she milked every last sensation. It took long moments to regain enough control to wash her hair then finish her shower. The release had taken the edge off her need, but the hunger remained. Now that she had the memory of Rashon’s kiss to fuel her fantasies, she didn’t know how she could be in the same room with either man without combusting.

But it was more than just the physical need that she hungered for. She’d come a long way since she’d been accepted into their clan, and Rashon was largely responsible for that. With his ready smiles, gentle teasing and easygoing attitude, Rashon had a way of lightening her soul, helping her break out of her self-imposed shell.

Kurik, well, he had a protective streak larger than the Great Pyramid. He was a bulwark that shielded her from the other males. It was an unusual experience, having someone protective of her. Not that she relied on it—part of being accepted as a guard meant proving she could hold her own—but it was comforting and amazing to know that Kurik had her back.

At least, he did before. Now, she wondered if she’d damaged that friendship by returning Rashon’s kiss and using the men in her sexual fantasies. Why? Why would Rashon kiss her like, like she was his partner? Kurik had been right there beside him. Rashon had to know that his lover, his partner, his mate, was beside him on the bed. His actions didn’t make sense. Blessed Anubis, what would Kurik think of her kissing his mate as if she was in heat?

Gods. She finished blow-drying her hair and went in search of clothing. Only Rashon and Kurik brought her to this edge. Only the thought of lying naked and sated with them made her nipples tighten and her breath shorten with want. Was it because she’d considered them safe, knowing they were only interested in each other?

That wasn’t true anymore, was it? Rashon’s kiss had changed things. Now, a new awareness settled into her skin, awareness of Rashon and Kurik and the heat between them. The only sex she knew had been about procreation instead of pleasure, but now she wondered. Wondered what it would be like to be hot and sweaty and panting with need for another person, to lick the salty satin of a lover’s skin, to taste the very essence of their pleasure. Wondered what would happen if the casual camaraderie she felt with Rashon and Kurik, the casual comfort she experienced when she hung out with them, deepened into something more.

Frowning, she stood in front of her dresser. As a guard, she didn’t have to wonder what to wear—loose fitting cargo pants and a dark T-shirt topped by a jacket was standard daytime wear, her jackal form her nighttime uniform. No, she dawdled because of her newly discovered obsession: brightly colored cotton undies and matching bras. She hadn’t had her own money in her former clan and hadn’t the first clue what to do with her first payment except turn it over to Kurik and Rashon for room and board. They’d given it back to her and taken her shopping instead, which she discovered she liked very much.

She chose lime-green bikini panties with blue polka dots and a matching bra, then strapped on her favorite knives before pulling on a pair of dark brown cargo pants. A long-sleeved turquoise tee came next, then her low-heeled boots. Dressed, she picked up her gun holster, fastened it to her belt. Most of the old school jackals preferred fangs and claws as their weapons of choice, and she’d learned to fight and defend with her natural gifts, too. The human weapons gave her an advantage however, and when you fought for your life, you took every advantage you could.

Leaving her bedroom and morbid thoughts behind, she headed down the hall, pausing at the darkened alcove to say a prayer of thanks at the statue of Anubis for Rashon’s recovery. She continued on to find Kurik in the kitchen, drinking a glass of orange juice. The smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee seduced her nose. So did watching the golden column of Kurik’s throat as he swallowed.

He gave her a smile as he placed the glass in the sink. “Hey. I’m making a celebration breakfast—bacon, eggs, the works. I could use a hand with shredding the potatoes.”

It was their usual routine, since her only kitchen skills consisted of knife work and other prep, but no way could she sit there and watch Kurik make breakfast and pretend that nothing had happened, no matter how hungry she was. And what if Rashon joined then? Talk about awkward. “No, thanks. Besides, I figured you guys would want more alone time.”

“Rashon’s in the shower.” He smiled in obvious relief and satisfaction. “And we had our alone time.”

“Good.” Her stomach clenched, but she didn’t know if it was hunger for breakfast or the images that bludgeoned her imagination. She edged toward the door. “I-I mean, he’s gonna be okay, then. I’m glad.”

Kurik frowned, his amber gaze missing nothing. “Amarie, I can hear your stomach growling from here. You stayed in jackal form with Rashon and me for the past two nights, waiting for him to wake up. You need food. We all do. Sit.”

She instantly obeyed the demand, sitting at the breakfast bar. He poured a mug of coffee, adding sweetener and an inch of cream just the way she liked it before pressing it into her hands. “Here you go.”

Lifting the mug, she drew a deep breath in. Her eyes slid shut as she took a careful sip, then she moaned as caffeinated warmth slipped down her throat. “Gods, that’s so good.”

A strangled sound had her opening her eyes. Kurik stared at her, unsmiling, his yellow eyes glinting with intensity. “Kurik, are you all right?”

He blinked and then shook his head. “Yeah.”

“Um—” she pointed behind him “—the bacon’s burning.”

Snarling, Kurik spun away to handle the bacon. Amarie stared down at her mug, hunching her shoulders defensively. Kurik never burned food, and he’d never snarled at her, even when she’d made mistakes adjusting to the clan. She could only think of one reason why he’d be angry.

“Are you mad at me?”

Silence. Then big hands slid around hers on the mug, trapping her. “Amarie. Look at me. Please.”

The
please
did it. Slowly she raised her gaze to his. His expression had softened into another sort of intensity, one that made her stomach clench for an entirely different reason. “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

“Because.” She licked her lips, conscious of the warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers. “Because I kissed Rashon.”

His low chuckle skated over her senses. “Rashon kissed you if I recall. Then you kissed him back. I wasn’t bothered. Well, maybe a little.”

She dropped her gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Leaving me out like that.”

“What?”

“Where’s my kiss?” A teasing glint lit his eyes. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

Kurik wanted her to kiss him, too? Her stomach fluttered. Was it just because he was jealous or because he wanted her kiss, and more? She didn’t know what was going on with the two men or why she’d suddenly become the center of their attention, but she liked it.

The effects of that earlier kiss and her orgasm still swam through her system, prodding her into action. “Leave you hanging after you made me the perfect cup of coffee? I don’t think so.”

She leaned forward. Kurik met her halfway, his lips soft, exploratory. Just like with Rashon, he tilted his head, slanting his lips against hers. But where Rashon’s kiss swept her up in a whirlwind of passion, Kurik’s was like being struck by lightning.

It was a demanding sort of kiss, demanding her response, her passion, her surrender. Ravenous, she gave it to him willingly. One moment she wanted coffee, the next, him. All of him. With a low growl, he cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer. She rose off the bar stool, ready to climb over the breakfast bar, ready to say yes to whatever he wanted.

“So that’s why I smell burnt bacon.”

They broke apart as Rashon entered the kitchen. Amarie realized she had a fistful of Kurik’s T-shirt when he had to tug away to tend to the stove. “I got distracted,” Kurik explained, “in the best possible way.”

“Really now?” Rashon came up behind Amarie, sliding his arms around her waist, his lips brushing her ear. Her nipples hardened, making her thankful her bra was lightly padded. “You know if you keep distracting him like that we won’t get breakfast. We’ll be forced to eat cereal.”

“A fate worse than death for growing jackals,” she joked, though her mind reeled. Rashon had moved far beyond their usual displays of friendly affection, and while she craved it, it also made her nervous as she wondered what Kurik thought.

Her eyes slid to the red-haired man. He didn’t growl, didn’t set his shoulders stiffly and didn’t exhibit any of the signals that would have sent her hiding in her old clan. Sure, he’d said he wasn’t bothered by their kiss, but this was different, wasn’t it? This was—gods, Rashon’s hands cupping her aching breasts, pooling liquid heat between her thighs—this was more than a kiss. This was something that would make her ask for something she wasn’t sure she’d get. Unless both men offered.

The thought made her light-headed. Trying for nonchalance, she lifted her mug to her lips. Rashon took that moment to kiss her neck. She fumbled her mug, sending coffee running along the granite slab. “Darn it!”

“Here, let me.” Rashon caught the towel Kurik tossed, quickly sopping up the liquid. “Doesn’t look like any got on you. There’s no reason to get upset.”

“But it was good coffee.” She pouted. “Kurik put his special touch on it.”

“Of course.” Rashon smiled at his mate, a sexy smile that made her warm, and she wasn’t even on the receiving end of it. “Kurik’s touch makes everything good.”

“Don’t worry,” Kurik said as he rounded the counter. “There’s more where that came from—if you’re good.”

She stared at him, trying to read him, doubt and hope warring inside her. If he could tease, so could she. “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

Kurik froze and then smiled. The dangerous glint of his eyes thrilled her. “I like the way you say that. You’ll get more, but first, give Rashon a proper good-morning kiss.”

Rashon spun her bar stool until she faced him. He stepped between her thighs to kiss her, and gods, it was even better than the first. Her arms wrapped about his shoulders as she gave a hum of appreciation. Dimly she was aware of Kurik pulling her gun holster off her belt, placing it on the counter. Rashon pulled her off the stool. She pressed against him with a little moan, needing to feel his lithe body against hers.

Kurik moved behind her, reaching past Amarie to grip Rashon’s waistband and pull him even closer. They sandwiched her in, and Rashon deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue past her lips. Kurik’s big hands cupped her breasts, unerringly finding her nipples through two layers of clothing, his fingertips tracing the sensitive peaks. Once again she was swept up, caught between thunder and lightning as the men tantalized her with hands and mouths. She circled her hips, pressing forward to feel Rashon’s hardness, then back against Kurik. Inwardly, she cursed the need for clothing in human form.