Mills & Boon : Seducing The Jackal (4 page)

He was one of the remaining few who remembered the days of
witches and jackals working together for the purpose their gods had called them
to, many living and dying together. He missed that, missed that collective
power. He wanted that for himself. Gods, he wanted her.

“Why did you leave before?” she wondered.

“Because if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been about you,” he told
her. “I would have just taken and not given you anything in return.”

Her eyes widened at his blunt statement. “And now?”

The huskiness of her voice sent anticipation spiking through
his blood. He reached for the soap. “Now it can be about us. Turn around.”

A slow smile curved her lips before she turned, offering her
back. Markus soaped his hands then settled his palms on her shoulders. She
released a bone-deep sigh, then relaxed. He took his time, working the knots
from her shoulders, enjoying the feel of her lather-slicked skin, each ridge of
her backbone, the curve of her buttocks.

Gods. He took a deep breath, bringing his will to bear to
strengthen the tenuous hold on his control. The lust riding him wanted to
immediately lift her so he could feast on her breasts, feel the heat and wetness
of her pussy just before he filled her. Just before he fucked her blind.

He’d told the truth about why he’d left her. The need rode him
so hard he would have lost control, something he could not allow. Too many
people depended on him for him to let go. To feel that wildness for a woman he’d
just met—for an Isis witch—was unusual, and hinted at magical influence. Even
the few minutes apart from her, clearing his head and securing the compound,
he’d felt the hunger for her, the balls-deep ache to take her.

Take her he would, the way he wanted and not the way lust
demanded. He turned her back around, running the shea butter soap along her
upper body. Her eyes slitted as he cupped her breasts, his thumbs skating over
her hardened nipples. Hissing at the sensation, she tilted her head back,
soaking her hair beneath the spray. The movement pushed her body against his,
chest to chest. It was like brushing up against an electrified fence. His cock
bumped against the curve of her belly, blindly seeking entry and he had to bite
down hard on his lip to keep from lifting her and shoving inside. He’d been
alive for millennia. He wasn’t going to spurt like a teen just because a hot
woman brushed up against him.

Gritting his teeth, he passed the soap to her, then reached for
her hair, pulling off the elastic that held her ponytail, slipping it over his
wrist. He loosened the plait then worked shampoo through the strands. She
moaned, an earthy sound that tightened his balls, giving him no choice but to
cover her mouth with his own. Much hotter than the first kiss because now those
magic hands ran along his bare shoulders and arms and back, lathering his skin
and setting him afire. Even with the shower pounding into them he could smell
her magic and her arousal, blending in an intoxicating scent that called out to
him.

“Markus?”

Her hands slipped down, soaping his buttocks. His hips thrust
against her in response, and they both moaned aloud. “Yeah?”

“We need to hurry.”

“No. It’ll be worth the wait.” He was hard enough to break
rock, desperate to be inside her, but not desperate enough to go there without
protection. He rinsed the lather from her hair then exchanged the ponytail
holder for the soap, lathering his skin as she secured her hair. Dropping to one
knee, he lifted her right foot, placed it on his raised thigh, and began
lathering her leg in slow, sure circles. A tremor streaked through her thigh as
his fingers stroked higher, but he denied them both the final satisfaction to
tend to the other leg.

Her breathing deepened as his fingers rose toward her core once
again. This time he didn’t stop but stroked his fingers over the crisp hair
covering her mound. Her hips slung forward in a silent plea for more. Looking up
at her, he rinsed soap from his fingers, then pressed them into her.

* * *

Tia groaned aloud as Markus’s fingers thrust inside her.
She slapped her hands down on his shoulders as her hips bucked, taking his
fingers deeper. He retreated then thrust again, his thumb circling her clit.
Holding on for dear sweet life, she rode his hand, reaching out with her senses,
her magic and her body for everything Markus offered. Pressure built inside her
and she welcomed it, knowing release was sure to follow.

Markus rose, pressing her back against the tiled wall, his
fingers setting a rapid rhythm that had her moaning his name repeatedly. “Come
for me,” he growled, slamming his mouth down on hers.

He flexed his fingers deep inside her. Orgasm slammed into her
like a bolt of electricity. She cried out, the sound muffled by the bruising
kiss. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers, squeezing out another arc of
pleasure that left her collapsed against him, breathing heavily.

The absence of gushing water had her lifting her head. Markus
had turned the shower off and carried her out of the shower. “Can you
stand?”

She wasn’t sure. It felt so good to be wrapped around him, her
head on his shoulder. Satisfaction purred through her veins, but she
needed—wanted—more. She slid down his body, the feel of his erection between
them almost unhinging her knees.

He flexed his fingers, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Damn
girl, you almost broke my fingers. I can’t wait to get my dick inside you.”

“Me neither.” Unable to resist, she reached out to stroke him.
His cock, hot and hard and ready in her hand, made her mouth water with
anticipation. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, stroking him again.

Groaning, Markus wrapped his fist around hers. He rocked his
hips, pushing his cock back and forth through their joined hands several times
before stopping. “Gods, we gotta stop,” he ordered, his breath harsh. “When I
come, I want to be balls-deep inside you, not spurting in your hand like a horny
high school kid.”

They toweled dry quickly, then he gathered her up again,
smothering her with drugging kisses as he strode into the bedroom, tossed her
onto the bed. Before she could say anything, he reached into her go-bag, dug
around and came up with the carved rosewood box that held her supply of condoms.
“Did a little search and seizure, huh?”

“Better safe than sorry, I always say.” He joined her on the
bed. “Are you sure about this?”

For an answer, she reached down, wrapped her hand around him.
“You can’t be having doubts with a rager like this?”

He released a shaky sigh. “Trying to do the right thing here.
You had a go in the shower.”

“That was for the magic,” she said, rising up to kiss him.
“This is for us.”

He didn’t argue further, thank Isis, just put the condom on.
Once sheathed, he cupped her breasts in his hands. She arched into the stroke of
his tongue, the pinch of his fingers, the nip of his teeth as the fire once
again raced through her senses. Her hands gripped the covers, her legs moved
restlessly, wanting him, needing him inside her. “No torture,” she breathed.
“You said we were on a truce.”

“I’m the one being tortured.” He huffed out a laugh. “But I’m
all for ceasing hostilities.”

“Then I think it’s time to come to a resolution.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He brushed the head of his sheathed cock against
her once, twice, then pushed inside.

“Markus.” Her breath hitched at the oh-my-goddess fullness.
Despite being wet for him, it was slow going as he stretched her.

“Just a little more.” He blew out a breath as he finally
settled balls deep. “Damn me, that’s good.”

He withdrew, taking his time, eyes sliding closed against the
long, slow glide. Watching pleasure sweep across the harsh planes of his face
had her hungering to give him more. Her nails dug into his shoulders at the
mind-numbing pleasure as he pressed into her again. Wrapping her legs high
around his waist, she was better able to take him, groaning as he slid
deeper.

“Tia.” He shuddered as he bottomed out. “Control...don’t know
how long I can take it easy.”

Her nails dug harder into his shoulders. “Then don’t. Let go,
lose control. Give me everything you’ve got.” She reached up, bit his bottom
lip.

Growling against her mouth, he thrust into her with furious
intent. Once again her magic rose, reaching out for his power, riding the edge
of the passion they generated. As his control shredded, his power rammed into
hers, rich, sharp, overwhelming.

Markus shifted, hooking her legs with his arms. The angle drove
him deeper and Tia cried out, caught in a cresting wave of ecstasy. His pace
increased and he gave a guttural groan, driving into her with wild abandon.

Without warning she broke, shattering as the orgasm burst over
her. Screaming her release, she threw her head back, her inner walls clamping
down on him.

His eyes burning the color of molten gold, canines elongating
and peeking between his full lips, he pounded into her. His thrusting rhythm
grew jerky as his muscles bunched then shoved him over. Tia held on as he lifted
his head and howled, his body stiffening as he came.

Power surged between them, white-hot arcs that lit the room.
The surge fired her synapses, sending aftershocks zinging through her body.
Unprepared for the onslaught, she gave herself over to it, trusting Markus to
anchor her.

Chapter Five

A while later, Tia staggered out of the bathroom in a
borrowed T-shirt to discover that their food had arrived. Heat crept up her
cheeks as the perfect timing dawned on her. “I guess it was pretty obvious what
we were doing and when we stopped, huh?”

Markus, now wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that
accentuated his sensual gifts, placed the tray of food in the center of the bed.
“They have good hearing and didn’t scent any blood,” he told her, lifting the
tray cover to reveal homemade oversized cheeseburgers and home fries. “Since
they found me to be mostly in my right frame of mind, albeit slightly dazed,
they didn’t assume the worst.”

With her magic recharged, hunger reasserted itself. She fell on
the food with gusto, barely pausing for sips of sweet tea between bites of home
fries. “Please tell whoever made this, thank you from the bottom of my heart!”
she exclaimed, licking her fingers. “I think that’s the best burger I’ve ever
had in my entire life!”

Markus laughed again, activating her senses. “That appetite
would do any jackal proud. I’ll pass on the compliments.”

Tia glanced up from her almost-empty plate, and forgot about
her food. Markus had stretched out along the foot of the bed, the epitome of
masculine grace and power. She’d never seen abs like those up close and personal
before. Honestly, she’d never had any man as gorgeous and full of prowess as
Markus. It was obvious that he’d learned a thing or two over his long life.

He gave her a knowing smile. “That last bit of fries is going
to get cold.”

“Not likely.” She scooped up the last crumb, then wiped her
hands on the fingertip towel. Another myth about jackals burned to dust. They
had structure, took care of each other, had the means to have a facility large
enough to house them and build a luxury suite for their leader. Not a bare step
above wild dogs as she’d been taught. “I was just thinking.”

He stilled, caution filling his gaze. “About what?”

“Witches and jackals. Asharet and her mate.”

“Sekhanu. Leader of the Sons of Anubis at that time.”

“You knew them well?”

He nodded. “Since he and Asharet had no sons and I’d lost my
father in a battle with the Lost Ones, Sekhanu adopted me. He groomed me to take
his place, though we both figured that would be centuries later.”

“What was he like?” She curled against the headboard, eager to
learn more. “What was Asharet like?”

A smile lit his features. “She was amazing. Tiny by today’s
standards, but the power she wielded—both in magic and personality—drew everyone
to her. Including Sekhanu.”

Food forgotten, he stared into space. “As for Sekhanu, he was
amazing, too. Jackals are solitary by nature, though family groups tend to stay
together. Even though we were united in our calling to serve Anubis, most of our
skirmishes were one family group against a clutch of the undead, or solitary
hunters keeping the peace through wits. Sekhanu was the first to unite the
jackals under a supreme commander, to help us see the benefits of organizing and
making us a stronger, more cohesive unit. Meturare was high priest of the Cult
of Anubis and remained our spiritual leader. Together they made us nearly
invincible against the Lost Ones.”

“What about Asharet? How did she and Sekhanu meet?”

“Asharet was already high priestess of the Daughters of Isis,”
he explained. “Usually she dealt with Meturare but Sekhanu wanted to form a
closer alliance and make sure the witches were properly protected. He felt that
if an enemy rose against the Sons for uniting, the Daughters would be
vulnerable.”

They had been, according to Tia’s grandmother, Aya. They’d lost
a third of their coven sisters the day they’d lost Asharet.

“I don’t know if it was love at first sight,” Markus went on.
“Sekhanu never spoke of softer things like that, but he was taken with Asharet.
She had power and beauty to go with it, balanced by a keen mind and a giving
heart. Sekhanu always said she was his toughest challenge and his greatest
conquest.”

He packed up the remnants of their meal. “They showed us how
jackals and witches could work together, to forge greater power and protections
together. With them leading us, we were able to protect the land from the Lost
Ones for five generations. And then the night of blood came.”

“When Asharet and Sekhanu died.”

A sharp nod. “An outbreak of Lost Ones rising in the desert
near Saqqara had me away from home for several days. When I returned, the deed
was done—the temples destroyed, our leader and priestess dead, our priest
missing, our allies became our enemies. The undead we fought, they were
different. Not mindless creatures intent on taking from the living but focused,
thinking beings that attacked as if they’d been combat-trained.”

“Do you think they were soldiers who retained some of their
humanity?”

“Yes, and gained new abilities. I also believe the uprising was
a deliberate ploy to remove a large number of Sons so that the temples—and
Sekhanu and Asharet—were unprotected.”

Guilt drenched his tone, and she reacted to it. “You couldn’t
have known what would happen. You did your duty as you’ve always done. Sekhanu
and Asharet were powerful, you just said so. They wouldn’t have fallen
easily.”

“No. But fall they did.” He fisted his hands. “The least I
could have done was die defending them.”

Rising to her knees, she reached out and wrapped her fingers
around his bicep needing to touch him, to offer some sort of solace. “What good
would that have done, versus the good you’ve done since? Your clan has survived
because of you. I think Asharet and Sekhanu would prefer this to your
death.”

He snorted, shaking off his sour mood. “Defended by an Isis
witch. Who would have thought?”

He gathered their plates and tray and placed them on the
dresser. “We have a common enemy, Tia. Someone powerful enough to command the
Lost Ones and secretly betray both the Sons of Anubis and the Daughters of Isis.
I have thought on this for years. Every jackal I have considered capable of that
level of treachery I have discounted. I can only believe the threat came from an
Isis witch.”

Tia sank back down on the bed. She didn’t want to believe that.
How could she begin to consider that a distant coven sister had set off a chain
of events that created a four-millennia-old blood feud? She knew her circle had
a single-minded respect for power—her own supposed lack had been impetus for her
to become a solitary practitioner. Still, she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to
overthrow Aya, still a powerful high priestess. If Asharet was even more so,
wouldn’t that make her even less vulnerable? Surely if a Daughter of Isis was
responsible for Asharet’s death, Aya would have known and done something about
it.

Tia rubbed her forehead with her palms in sudden fatigue and
frustration. “I don’t know anyone capable of that. I don’t think Aya does,
either.”

“Think, Tia! Think of all the Daughters that you know. One of
them has to know more about the night of blood. Someone, one of the survivors,
had to have seen something, or have suspicions of who would want Asharet
destroyed!”

“I don’t know, Marcus, all right? I don’t know!”

They stared at each other for an electrified moment. Finally,
Markus scrubbed a hand over his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent centuries on this
mystery, coming close but never getting answers. The Lost Ones have gained in
strength and numbers while the Sons of Anubis are threatened now more than ever.
Even if I can’t defeat the undead once and for all, it would end the conflict
with the Daughters of Isis and return us to being the allies we once were.”

Sincerity rang in every word he spoke and Tia found herself
wavering, wanting to believe him, wanting to trust him. Wanting to do anything
to erase the pain and weariness that tarnished his golden eyes.

“I’ll talk to my grandmother,” she offered. “I’ll take your
message to the Elder Sisters and the circle. If the threat is as great as you
say, it would be stupid for our people to keep being at each other’s
throats.”

His expression lightened. “I didn’t think Isis witches like you
existed anymore.”

“I’m not all that special.” Bitterness filled her mouth. “As
far as my circle is concerned, I failed to live up to my promise or my
potential. Nobody begged me to stay when I left. Even Grandmother Aya thought it
was a good idea to go. The Elders might not let me speak to the full coven.”

His touch to her shoulder surprised her. So did the compassion
in his eyes. “Their loss is the jackals’ gain. You promised to help my people
and you have lived up to that potential. Maybe it was the will of the gods, you
leaving your circle. After all, if you were still with your coven, you wouldn’t
be here now.”

She arched a brow at him. “And that’s supposed to be a good
thing?”

At least he had the good grace to look chagrinned, even if he
didn’t mean it. “For the record, I’m sorry I didn’t offer you the choice to help
us.”

Her heart did another flip in her chest. “For the record, I
don’t know if I would have agreed to come with you or not,” she confessed,
something loosening inside her.

He smiled. “I would have taken you anyway. In this case
especially, the ends justify the means. Still, it would have been gentlemanly to
have offered.”

It was so ridiculous she had to laugh, though her laughter
quickly disintegrated into a jaw-cracking yawn. With a full belly and restored
magic, sleep now asserted its hold. “Nice to know there’s a gentleman inside
there somewhere. I feel so much better now.” She yawned again as she crawled
beneath the covers.

“Talk about being gentlemanly.” He shook his head in
self-disgust. “You needed sleep.”

“I needed the food and the sex more.” She slid down deeper into
the bed, her eyes sliding closed. Egyptian cotton sheets atop a mattress that
molded to her body threatened to pull her under immediately. “But, yeah, it’s
catching up to me.”

“Then get some rest. I’ll come back in a few hours and we can
start the healing rituals for Alonso and Rashon again.”

“Come back?” she echoed, blinking at him. “Isn’t this your
room?”

“It is.” He proved it by grabbing a pair of jeans out of a
dresser drawer.

“Why don’t you stay?” At his surprised glance, she held up her
hands. “I promise not to kill you in your sleep.”

“As if.” He tossed the jeans onto the dresser. “Even if you
did, you’d still have to get past the jackals guarding the hall, and we’re all
trained to grieve later, avenge now, no matter who falls. We have agreed to a
truce, though, and after what we just shared, I’m inclined to trust you.”

She snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

“I should warn you, I am not a restless sleeper, but I don’t
usually share my bed.”

“Same here.” She yawned again, her jaw cracking with the force
of it as she wiggled into a perfect spot. “Call me crazy—and everything about
the last day or however long it’s been has been the definition of crazy—but I
think I’d feel better if you were here.”

The surprise that lifted his dark brows was the last thing she
saw before her eyes slid shut and she tumbled down deep into slumber.

* * *

Markus awoke to the best sensation a man could
experience: a warm, wet mouth swallowing his cock. He fumbled for the lamp on
the nightstand, tapped it on. “Tia, what are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“I mean, I know what you’re doing, but why are you doing it?”
Are
you
stupid
,
man
?
A
beautiful
woman
is
going
down
on
you
.
Shut
the
hell
up
and
enjoy
it
.

She pulled off him with a wet popping sound that was the most
erotic thing he’d ever heard. “It was poking me in the back. Since it so
obviously needed attention, I decided to give it some.”

“Blessed Anubis, woman.” His hips rose as she swallowed him
again. Lust and magic increased, a heady combination he could easily grow
addicted to. Probably already was. If this was what being enchanted by an Isis
witch meant, he’d gladly surrender to it.

Sex for pleasure’s sake was foreign to him. Throughout the long
years of their exile, the jackals’ intimate habits had been focused on survival,
and survival meant building their numbers. Every sensual act with the opposite
sex was considered a sacred and deliberate thing, always begun with a prayer to
Anubis.

This was...freeing. Wildness rose in him, the primal call of
male to female. Curling his fingers into the sheets, he gave himself over to
sensation. When Tia’s fingers cupped his balls, he nearly whimpered but couldn’t
keep silent when her tongue traced over his sac. Buffeted by the need raging
through him, he groaned aloud, helpless against the sensual magic she wove.

All too soon he could feel it, the urge to come surging up from
his toes. No, gods damn it! Not yet. “Tia.”

Relief and disappointment met as she pulled her sweet mouth
away. “Yeah?”

He struggled for words as her fingers stroked him. “Condom. On
me. Now.”

Her throaty chuckle almost undid him. She crawled to the head
of the bed, dropping a searing kiss on him before reaching for one of the foil
packets on the nightstand. Thank Isis she had a whole box of them in her
go-bag.

She straddled his thighs, dark eyes fixed on him as she tore
the pouch open with her teeth. Fingers wrapping around his cock, she stroked
him, strong, steady pulls with a twist over the head just the way he liked it
but made better by her touch, her magic. His cock swelled anew, hard for her,
hungry for her.