Mills & Boon : Seducing The Jackal (5 page)

“Ride me,” he demanded as she sheathed him. His fingers dug
into her hips, muscles flexing as he lifted her. “Ride me.”

She reached between them to guide his hardness to her opening,
dragging his sheathed cock along her slit to coat it in her wetness. Keeping her
gaze locked to his, she sank down even as he thrust up, fusing them
together.

She threw her head back on a groan, the dusky copper of her
nipples capturing his gaze. “Gods, that feels incredible. I can barely breathe.”
She squeezed him.

He let her go, digging his fingers into the sheets again in an
effort to hold back, to wrestle for a shred of control. The fabric ripped as his
nails elongated.

Her eyes rounded. “Are you shifting?”

“No.” He mangled the word, his sharpened teeth getting in the
way.

She smiled at him, a light sparking in her eyes. “My, what big
teeth you have,” she teased. “Like a big, bad wolf.”

“Jackal,” he ground out. “Desert dog. Not a wolf. Don’t
play.”

Tia gave another throaty chuckle, obviously reveling in her
sensual power. Tension coiled in Markus like an over-tightened wire, ready to
snap with just the right touch. He needed release, needed to free himself of the
pressure that threatened to consume him. She could do that for him.

“So I can’t talk about the other big parts you have?” She rose,
slowly sank back down on him, then did it again, inner muscles tightening around
him and driving him sensually insane.

He growled as he clamped his clawed hands around her waist. “No
talk. Fuck now.” With that, he took the brakes off his control, driving up into
her with rapid-fire strokes.

* * *

This! This was what Tia wanted, what she needed from
him. Groaning with pleasure, she leaned over him, her nails sinking into his
shoulders as she matched his frenetic pace.

He rolled his hips, igniting a wave of pure primal pleasure in
her. She reached down, fingertips brushing over the spot where he speared her.
His nostrils flared and he seemed to thicken inside her, his eyes burning with
power. Riding his cock, she stroked her clit, driving pleasure even higher. She
arched backward, his massive hands on her waist keeping her upright. She could
feel his power, her power, rising between them, riding the crest of an ecstasy
so sharp, so potent, she couldn’t do anything but cry out, her body a rigid arc
of pleasure.

A vision slipped through the haze of passion, Isis revivifying
the slain Osiris. Magic suffused the goddess, a white-gold glow that Tia could
almost feel. She opened her hands, her body and her senses, reaching out for the
offering.

Magic and orgasm struck each other like atoms, exploding behind
her eyes in a massive burst of pleasure. She cried out again, her body burning,
feeling as if her skin were too fragile to contain it. Then she could feel
Marcus, feel his strength and his power wrap around her as he surged into her
one final time, shouting as he came.

Chapter Six

A long while later, they quit the bed and dressed.
Still trembling from the effects of her vision and her orgasm, Tia pulled a long
white cotton sundresses from her bag. She smoothed the fabric down over her
curves, then held her hands up. “I feel...different.”

Markus zipped up his jeans then crossed to her. His nostrils
flared as he scented her. “You smell different. There’s more magic flowing
through you than before. And your eyes—I can see swirls of power in your
eyes.”

Tia trembled as goose bumps broke out over her body. “Great
Mother Isis, She who is the Throne, guide me,” she whispered. “Show me your
favor as you favored Anubis when you claimed him as your Son. Show me how to
heal the jackal warriors.”

She closed her eyes as warmth enveloped her, the presence of
both gods filling the room. “Markus, we need to go.”

She pulled open the door, stepping into the hallway. Jackals,
drawn by the power surge, flooded the corridor.

* * *

“It’s all right,” Markus said, but Tia could hear
uncertainty in his voice. The magic was a potent living thing, reaching out,
invigorating everything it passed. Even the depictions of the gods on the walls
seemed more vibrant, alive. “Let her through.”

They made their way to the holding room. Hector was already
beside his brother while one of their few female jackals, stood just outside
Rashon’s cage.

Markus snarled. “What are you doing here, Amarie? You know full
well I ordered all children and females to remain sequestered until further
notice.”“Forgive me for disobeying you, sir,” she said, her words tumbling
together. “They said he was getting better and I wanted to see, but he’s not,
his fangs are showing. I thought she cured...” her voice faded as she stared at
Tia. “Goddess.”

“She’s here with us,” Tia said, placing her hand on Markus’s
bicep. His anger at Amarie’s disobedience dissipated. “She hasn’t abandoned
us.”

Markus followed her into the cage, dismay written on his face
to see that Rashon’s condition had worsened.

A partial shift misshaped his face, fangs protruded from his
upper lips and a gray pallor dusted his sunken cheeks. The odd scent of what
could only be the Lost Ones mixed with Daughters of Isis flooded her nose.

“Tia?” Markus asked.

Tia knelt beside the cot. Webs of dark magic surrounded
Rashon’s body, digging deeper into the jackal’s spirit. He was fighting it
though, fighting it with everything he had.

She reached out, touched a fingertip to a thick cord of the
strands. Several reached out, wrapping around her wrist, seeking her veins. She
could feel the pulse of Isis magic coated and twisted with the decay of the Lost
Ones. The two should have repelled each other but didn’t. How was it
possible?

“What are you doing?” Markus hissed. “I can smell the curse on
you now.”

“It’s trying to infect me, but it can’t,” she assured him.
“It’s a blend of the undead and Isis magic, twined together into something new.
It’s fast-spreading and insidious, like the kudzu vines that overtake everything
nearby.”

“Can you stop it?”

“We can stop it,” she corrected. “I didn’t sense the undead
power before, but I recognize it now. I can stop the part of the curse that has
twisted Isis’s gift, and you can stop the undead magic.”

“Tell me what to do.”

She smiled up at him, grateful for his presence, his strength
and his courage. “Put your hands on me. Our magics will connect again. We’ll
draw the curse out and split the two components apart, then destroy them. When I
ask, you’ll have to force Rashon into his jackal shape to burn off the last
vestiges of the curse.”

Markus knelt behind her, his knees flanking hers, his heat and
bulk comforting and already familiar and needed. He settled his hands on her
shoulders. At once, her magic reached out for his, found it and clasped it to
her.

A shudder passed through the gathered jackals. “Blessed
Anubis,” someone whispered. “That power...it’s amazing.”

Tia agreed. She’d never felt power as pure and full and capable
as this. This gloriousness must have been what had drawn Sekhanu and Asharet
together, and had ultimately cost their lives. To always be able to feel this
vital, this connected—who wouldn’t want it?

“I can see it now.” Markus’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“It’s everywhere, just like that damned vine. Let’s uproot this crap.”

Pushing out negative thoughts, Tia combined their magics then
reached out with both hands, grabbing fistfuls of the cursed strands that
strangled Rashon’s life force. The jackal cried out as she pulled, but Markus
reached out with his own power, lending the younger man his strength and force
of will.

Extricating the curse was just like weeding, with the curse the
invasive vine and the jackal’s body the fertile soil. Years of tending her own
garden gave her the insight and plan of attack. Markus’s magic buttressed hers,
giving her the energy she needed.

Still the curse was as tenacious as any weed, refusing to give
up easily. It took even more effort to unravel the twisted magic into its
separate parts. The undead energy took solid form as they pulled it free of
Rashon’s weakened form. Several jackals shifted and attacked, shredding the
undead mist into nothingness with claws and teeth. She drew the Isis magic into
herself, using the golden glow of the goddess’s favor to purify it.

“I think it’s all gone,” Tia said after a while, lifting her
hands free of the ill jackal. “You can force him into his jackal form now.”

Markus moved until they knelt hip to hip beside the cot. Tia
rested a hand on his shoulder, lending some of her magic to him. Not that he
needed it. Markus splayed his right hand across Rashon’s chest, covering his
heart. He spoke to Rashon in the old tongue, command ringing in his voice. Soft
golden light suffused the young jackal’s body, warming as his body magically
changed shape. When the glow faded, an oversized dun-colored jackal lay on the
cot.

Amarie gripped the bars. “Is he...?”

“Sleeping,” Markus answered. “He’s sleeping.”

Tia felt a minute tremor pass through Markus. “Rashon’s no
longer contagious and could do well with a warm soak in a healing bath and rest
in a comfortable bed,” she told him. “Is there a place here he could sleep?”

“Yes.” He gestured to the burly male jackal beside Amarie. The
large man entered the cage and scooped up the sleeping jackal with surprising
gentleness. “I’m coming with you,” the female jackal said, tears glistening in
her eyes. She quickly followed the others out.

“Priestess!” Hector called from the other cell. “Come
quick.”

Tia hurried over to the other cell. Alonso had apparently
worsened, as well. Hector had his brother’s clawed hand in a death grip. “He’s
fighting for every breath. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to last.” He
looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes. “Please save him.”

* * *

Markus turned to Tia, hoping for a second miracle. They
couldn’t afford the loss of another jackal. Their numbers had dwindled over the
centuries, especially after separating into smaller groups in a clandestine
diaspora. He wasn’t a man who begged, but he would demand. She had to save
Alonso because nothing else was allowed.

They knelt beside the cot as they had beside Rashon’s. “The
curse has burrowed deeper,” Tia told him. “It’s beginning to choke the life from
his cells.”

“No.” He would not allow Alonso to die. “What do we do?”

“What we were born to do, Son of Anubis.” She covered his hands
with her own. Magic drenched the room like a sudden summer shower, carried by
the power of her Voice. “You protect the living from the Lost Ones. Alonso is
one of the living. Death should not have command of him. Put death in its place
and I will call on Isis to give him the energy of life.”

Trusting Tia, Markus shifted his hands into claws. The curse
covered Alonso like a mass of black snakes, writhing and burrowing. Calling his
power, Markus sunk his claws into the seething mass. Alonso howled, his
misshapen body jerking.

Hector leaned over his brother, a growl rolling from deep in
his chest. “You’re hurting him.”

“The curse has invaded every part of his body,” Tia explained,
her voice equally soft and ringing with power. “It’s not going to give up
without a fight, but neither will we. No fight can be won without pain, but when
we win, his pain will cease. After all, we have the gods on our side.”

Her obvious faith overrode any doubts Hector had. He nodded at
her, then pressed his forehead to his brother’s, closing his eyes in silent
prayer. Tia began chanting a prayer of life, then nodded to Markus to
continue.

Once again Markus reached for the curse coiling around every
cell in Alonso’s body. The coils were tenacious, requiring all of his strength
to pull free. Handful by handful, he dragged the curse out of the young jackal,
cursing and praying under his breath. Reaching for his will and his magic,
Markus shifted even more of his body, felt the deep, low thrum of Anubis magic,
the magic of his clan. Felt Tia on the periphery, offering the gift of Isis.

Strand by strand Markus pulled the curse apart, sending the
undead portion to his jackals to shred and the corrupted Isis witch magic to Tia
to purify. He didn’t think about the ache in his shoulders, the headache
blossoming between his eyes, or how much time had passed. All he could think of
was ridding Alonso of the curse, of Tia bolstering him with her power. He
wondered if Sekhanu and Asharet had faced a trial such as this while he’d been
out fighting in other parts of the Two Lands. If they had, they’d never had the
chance to share the details with him. Would they be proud of their descendant,
of how they’d set aside their distrust to save the jackals? He had a feeling
they would be.

“Markus.” Tia’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “The curse
is gone. Shift Alonso to his jackal form to heal.”

A healthy glow limned the young jackal’s features, his
breathing deep and even. As before, Markus splayed his hand across Alonso’s
chest and spoke the ancient command Sekhanu had taught him to send subordinate
jackals into their animal forms. His shift took longer than Rashon’s, but soon
enough, a sable-colored jackal lay on the cot.

Markus sat back on his haunches, hope, exhaustion and euphoria
spinning in his gut. “It’s gone, right? I don’t sense any traces of the curse
nearby.”

She tilted her head, the swirls of power in her eyes fading.
“It should be completely gone. If you and your clan anoint yourself with the
potions we used yesterday—was it yesterday?—before your fights with the Lost
Ones, and use the ritual cleansing afterward, you should have no more
troubles.”

Using his shoulder for leverage, she pushed herself to her
feet. “I can write down everything you need, but since you’ll need blessings
from a Daughter of Isis, it’ll just be easier for me to make batches of it at my
house.”

Her words punched a hole in his euphoria. Right. She’d healed
the jackals as she’d promised, and now it was time for him to live up to his end
of the bargain.

“Of course.” He rose to his feet, irked when she grabbed his
elbow to help him. He pulled away. “I’m fine.”

“You expended a lot of energy,” she reminded him. “You probably
should shift to recuperate, too.”

He brushed her concern aside. “As alpha, I’ve got larger
reserves than that. I suppose you need to recuperate the usual way?”

The glow left her eyes. “No. I don’t have any large magical
works on my plate after this. A few days’ rest and I should be fine....”

She swayed, and he scooped her up in his arms, holding her high
against his chest. If the limpness of her body was any indication, breaking the
curse for Rashon and Alonso had taken more power than she’d let on. Brave,
foolish witch.

“How’s Alonso?” Markus asked Hector.

Hector ran his hand over his brother’s fur. “Sleeping
peacefully for the first time in days, thank the gods.”

“Good. Get him out of here and into a real bed, okay? The last
thing he should see when he wakes up are these damned bars.”

“You bet.” Hector looked up, eyes shining. “How’s our
healer?”

Markus dropped his gaze to Tia, barely refraining from lowering
his head to brush his lips across her temples. “She’s not our healer,” he
retorted, his voice harsher than called for. “In fact, I’m going to honor our
agreement and take her back home today.”

“Take her back?” Hector repeated. “Why?”

Markus didn’t feel like explaining something that wouldn’t
sound rational, so he ignored Hector’s question. “Any activity around her
house?”

Hector bared his teeth. “The men report that no one’s been
there in the two days that she’s been with us. If that’s the concern the
Daughters of Isis show to one of their own, one who happens to be the
granddaughter of their high priestess, then Tia would be better off with
us!”

Markus gritted his teeth to keep from agreeing with his second.
“She’s not staying here.”

“Why not? We need her more than they do.”

Just like Markus needed her more than his fellow jackals did.
He didn’t share that with Hector, however. “I made a deal with her, and I’m
going to keep it. I swore on the gods that she’d go home after she healed our
people. She’s done that, and now it’s time to send her back to her life. We are
the Sons of Anubis. We hold to our duty and our honor when all else falls to
dust.”

Honor and duty were all that had kept him alive—kept them all
alive—through the centuries. It wouldn’t fill the emptiness in his bed or his
soul, but it was all that he had. He would hold on to it with all his might.