A newcomer to the clan, jackal shifter Amarie has tried to deflect the interest of male jackals, hiding a secret that could destroy her prospects as a mate. But she can’t deny that warriors Kurik and Rashon, who have forged their own relationship, fuel her sensual fantasies.

Despite his strong bond with Kurik, Rashon’s heart has made room for Amarie—and he wants to make to room for her in their bed, too. At first Kurik fears losing his lover, but the temptation of sharing her as their mate is too tempting to resist. And if any female can handle two virile jackal guards, it’s Amarie...

Hunting the Jackal

Seressia Glass

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

As sunlight streamed into the window above the bed, Kurik raised himself on one elbow and watched his mate sleep. Rashon had regained his human form during the early hours of the morning, and only then did Kurik relax his vigilance, finally believing his mate would recover. Only then did the weight in his chest ease—if temporarily.

The reason stirred on the far side of the bed, snuggling closer to Rashon. Amarie. She’d been their roommate for six months, ever since she’d joined their clan. She’d arrived with a mountain of distrust and a boatload of baggage from a Canadian clan not known for its enlightened treatment of women, but Rashon had drawn her out of her shell bit by bit. Since her arrival, she’d become one of the rare female guards, working hard and training harder. It couldn’t have been easy trying to assimilate into a new clan and dodging the attentions of single males, but she’d made a place for herself. They were all three friends now, inseparable. He admired her.

Rashon loved her.

Kurik scrubbed a hand down his face. He and Rashon had been mates for a little more than a century. Before that, they’d both been in temporary arrangements with female jackals to increase the clan’s numbers. Yet every male jackal felt the urge to produce offspring as did the females, and they were no exception. After a century of monogamy, Kurik wasn’t surprised that Rashon had the urge to seek out a female. He wasn’t even surprised that the object of Rashon’s attention was their pretty roommate. What had surprised him was how far and how fast Rashon had fallen for Amarie, while Kurik had wanted to ease into the idea of forming a triad.

That was before Rashon had nearly died as the result of a Lost Ones curse. Before Kurik had seen the depth of the emotion, Amarie had for his mate. Now he knew delaying was pointless. What he didn’t know was whether or not he still had a part to play in the developing relationship.

* * *

Rashon awakened to wonder if he’d died and made it through Duat and into the afterlife. Sunlight streamed golden white above him. On one side of him lay the comforting heat of his mate, Kurik. On the other, the woman his heart had surprisingly made room for: Amarie.

Deep within the darkness of the curse, he’d heard her tear-choked prayers for his life to be spared. He’d felt Kurik’s will, giving him strength through their bond, Vowing to be with him no matter what. Rashon had fought for that reason, fought to hold on. He didn’t want Kurik to be alone. Amarie could help them with that too—if one of them fell, the other would still have a partner.

It wasn’t something that he’d deliberately sought out. When Amarie came to live with them he’d honestly offered friendship and nothing more. She’d needed friends more than she’d needed males trying to get into her pants, which was probably why Markus, the clan leader, had asked them to board her. Somewhere during working out, patrolling, and discovering that she shared their love for martial arts movies and breakfast foods, they had become friends. And in that friendship it had become a matter of fact that the three of them would pile together on the couch or in the middle of his and Kurik’s bed to watch movie marathons, critiquing some of the more improbable action sequences.

Amarie fit with them, Rashon knew. He didn’t know when his like of her had deepened, but it had. It hadn’t pushed aside his feelings for Kurik, and their bond was just as strong as it had been at the start. Instead, Rashon’s feelings for Amarie had curled around it, becoming something bigger, something right. He’d been worried about confessing his evolving emotions but Kurik had known, had even seemed to accept it. That Kurik hadn’t gotten angry when he’d confessed his interest in Amarie made him love the big man even more, made him determined to make a triad work.

Of course, that was before Rashon had nearly died while out on patrol with Amarie and other squad members. Now Rashon didn’t know if Kurik would be more interested in forging a tri-bond or more resistant. Either way, Rashon knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt his mate. If Kurik wanted him to abandon the idea of Amarie as their third, he would. Somehow.

Breathing deep, he drew in the heady combination of their scents: a spicy, sweet blend that did more to soothe him than any temple incense. He opened his eyes to see Amarie blinking away the last vestiges of sleep from wide, tortoise-shell eyes rimmed red. Pressing back against Kurik, he reached out, brushing her coppery bangs back from her forehead. “Hey.”

She blinked. Then a watery smile curved her lips. “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Almost normal. How long have I been out?”

“Two days.” Tears shimmered in her eyes as she touched her fingertips to his cheek. “I was so scared for you,” she whispered. “I thought we were going to lose you. Please don’t do that again.”

“I don’t intend to.” He frowned at her. “But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you take a hit for me. You know better than that.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Knowing she wasn’t expecting it, knowing he shouldn’t, he rolled her onto her back for a kiss. She stiffened, and he tightened his grip to keep her from pulling away. A heartbeat later, she melted against him, arms circling his neck. Her lips, at first hesitant, moved hungrily against his.

Gods, she was just as sweet as he’d hoped, and eager too. Rashon pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. He reveled in the feel of her against him, the hardened tips of her full breasts pressing against his chest through her T-shirt, the way the cradle of her thighs welcomed his body. He wanted more. He needed more.

Kurik’s breathing continued deep and even, but Rashon knew the other man was awake. Awake and now hard with need. His own cock swelled in response, stimulated by the fantasy that had played through his mind too many times to count. Kurik and Amarie both in his bed, taking each other as he wanted to take them. All of them together in a tangle of limbs and sex and need.

His hips moved involuntarily, his cock seeking entry to her lush warmth, only to bump against the barrier of her panties. He wanted to reach down, rip them off, push inside and accept the invitation her soft curves and softer moans extended. Their tongues tangled as her hips thrust upward, their simultaneous groans filling the air.

Kurik stroked a hand down his back as the larger man leaned into him from behind, his erection a pointed reminder that there were other things that needed attention. Rashon crawled back from the edge of passion claw by claw, his body loathe to part from hers. Still, he couldn’t resist curving his fingers over her breast, her nipple stabbing into his palm. They’d been talking about something before he’d kissed her. What? Oh, yeah. “The important thing to remember is that I’m alive and so are you. What happened?”

Her heavy-lidded gaze and passion-plumped lips made him ache to cover her again and not stop until they both came shouting. She traced her lips with her fingers. “We got a miracle,” she said, her voice dreamy. “Do you remember?”

“It’s still fuzzy. There was a priestess?”

She nodded, running her tongue over her lips. A bolt of pure lust grabbed him by the balls. He almost reached for her again but she spoke. “Her name’s Tia, and she’s the great-granddaughter of Aya, the high priestess of the Daughters of Isis.”

“A Daughter of Isis? Here?” He shook his head, dumbfounded. “I thought I dreamed that, that Isis had joined with Lord Anubis to bring me back from Duat. It was real?”

“Yeah. She’s got a lot of power. Tia and Markus joined together to heal you and brought Alonso back, too. The magic they made felt incredible.” She shivered in memory. “There’s more to the Lost Ones than we thought. All this time we believed the Lost Ones we’ve been fighting have just been poor undead souls that lost their way on the journey to the underworld, led by some who refused to go to their eternal rest. Instead, we found out that a renegade Isis witch is working with the Lost Ones, and she’s behind the curse—and the cause of the witches breaking with the jackals centuries ago. There was a big fight at the witches’ circle yesterday, but we won. We now have an alliance with the Daughters of Isis, tentative as it is, and Markus has claimed Tia as his mate.”

“Wow. An Isis witch mated to a jackal?” He gave a low whistle. “I missed a bunch.”

“Not as much as we missed you.” Kurik’s voice rumbled over his shoulder.

Rashon rolled onto his back as his lover loomed over him, yellow eyes fierce. Kurik cupped his cheek and with a whispered, “Welcome back,” claimed his mouth in a possessive kiss.

Dimly Rashon heard Amarie gasp before need pushed aside rational thought. He kept her hand in a vise grip as he returned the kiss, anchoring her as his free hand cupped the back of Kurik’s head. Kurik pressed against him, large hand slipping down Rashon’s chest and abdomen to wrap around his cock. He moaned in appreciation, lifting his hips to push himself through the other man’s fingers.

Amarie swallowed loudly as she pulled her hand free. “I, uh, I’d better go,” she stammered, rising and heading for the door.

Rashon grinned at her. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

She jerked to a stop. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she swallowed again. And was that a whimper? Then she stepped through the doorway. “You guys keep on with the celebration sex. I’ll see about breakfast.”

Kurik eased back as the door slammed shut. “For a moment there, I thought you’d forgotten I was here.”

“As if I could.” Rashon pulled his lover back on top, enjoying the sensation of their cocks rubbing together. “As if I want to.”

“Right.” Kurik squeezed him again. “Is this for me or for her?”

“Both,” he admitted, because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, lie to Kurik. Not about this. “I want it to be for both. Right now, it’s for you. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Kurik stroked him as he continued his teasing. “It would serve you right if I did. I know what kissing her did to you. Kissing her instead of me. You got hard for her instead of me.”

“Not instead of.” Rashon lifted his hips, needing more. Kurik had a way of making him forget how to speak in complete sentences. “Never instead of.”

“Huh. This is what you want from her, right?” Kurik asked, yellow eyes alight with teasing, need and concern. “You want her kisses, to taste her tongue.”

Kurik kissed him then, hot and wet and open, tongues sliding alongside each other in a dance mimicked by their erections. This kiss was so different from the one with Amarie, carnal and feral compared to gentle and almost innocent. Rashon moaned, deep and guttural, as his lover kissed and nipped a path from lips to chin to throat, biting hard enough to leave teeth marks. He hissed as Kurik bit a trail to his left nipple, the pleasure knocking on the edge of pain just the way he liked it.

“Is this what you want Amarie to do to you?” Kurik demanded, softening the sting of his bite with a long sucking pressure that had Rashon digging his fingers deep into the other man’s shoulders. “You want her to do this while I watch?”

“Yes. Gods, yes,” Rashon confessed. The vision Kurik painted with his words had him panting, his balls drawn up and tight with the need to come.

Kurik stopped, putting space between them, his eyes darkening with concern. “Maybe we should wait for the priestess to give you a clean bill of health.”

“No.” Rashon lifted his hips. “I think you know how to make sure I’ve recovered. I want you. I want her. I want you together.”

“You think you’re ready?” Kurik nodded toward the bedroom door. “You think she’s ready?”

“I don’t know.” Rashon sighed, worry pushing desire away for the moment. “I hope so. But we probably scared her off.”

“She might be scared, but she’s also aroused.” Kurik paused, staring down at him. “I know I was dragging my ass on this, but after what happened, I don’t think we should wait anymore.”

Rashon held his breath. “So you really want to do this? You want to ask her to be our third?”

“Yeah. What if she doesn’t want to breed? She’s rejected every attempt by the other males to get with her.”

“Or maybe it’s because you growl at every male but me and Markus who come near her. Besides, just because she hasn’t bred yet doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to. Maybe she’s waiting for us to make our move.”

“Then we should make it. It feels good when we’re all together.” Doubt colored Kurik’s features. “I don’t know if it’s going to work, though.”

“Why not? She’s been with our clan long enough to know female jackals can have any number of mates for however long they want to be mated. Quite a few of the women live with two men, raising the children together.”

“But they don’t share her at the same time as far as I know. The men don’t share each other.” Kurik fisted his hands. “She kissed you, not me. She chose you, not me. I won’t be kicked out of our bed.”

Rashon turned to the other man, belatedly seeing the hurt and worry, the deep love beneath. It amazed him again that they were together. With so few female jackals in their clan, the men had adopted other sexual outlets as a matter of necessity. Markus didn’t want discord between his warriors or the females, so he allowed everyone freedom of choice. Rashon had had his time with a couple of the women. He knew Kurik had, too. Neither of them had found a long-term mate until they found each other. They’d been lovers exclusively for the past hundred years, and Rashon couldn’t imagine not having Kurik in his life.

“We’re a package deal, and our bed is still our bed,” Rashon told him. “I still want you. I still need you.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Rashon wrapped a hand around the back of the other man’s neck, pulling him forward in a bruising kiss, a clash of lips, tongue and teeth. An edge of desperation made them both rough, almost clumsy, but Rashon didn’t mind. Right now, this was what he needed—what they both needed. Hunger flared, bright and burning. He couldn’t reach for the lube fast enough.

Finally, finally, Kurik pushed into him, a slow invasion that left him shaking. “I almost lost you,” Kurik said, his voice and expression stark. “If Markus hadn’t found that priestess—”

“Don’t. Don’t think about that. Think about this.” Rashon shifted beneath him, breath shortening at the eye-rolling pleasure. “I’m here, and I love you. Now shut up and fuck me.”

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.

After long moments, they broke apart, gasping for air. Amarie’s entire body thrummed with want. It curled within her, tightening her nipples, dampening her panties. Desire that she’d thought she’d tamped down flared again, demanding satisfaction.

“What is this?” she whispered, wondering if they could hear the need in her voice.

“The start of something good,” Rashon whispered against her cheek.

“Really good,” Kurik added, nipping her shoulder.

Finally. They pressed against her, and she leaned into them, wanting to taste, to touch, to share twice over. The trill of a cell phone sliced through the anticipation like sleet.

“Crap,” Kurik growled as he unclipped his phone. He stepped back, answered. “Good morning, sir.”

Only one jackal in the clan was called sir. Markus. Amarie watched as Kurik transformed into the soldier he was. “Yes, sir. He awakened this morning. Yes, she’s here, too. We’d like to thank you and the priestess for saving him. Of course, sir. We’ll be there.”

Kurik disconnected. “We have a guard meeting in thirty. Markus said we can meet with the priestess after.”

“I guess that means no celebration breakfast.” Amarie tried not to pout, but she had more than food on her mind. Rashon and Kurik were finally offering what she’d been wanting, and she didn’t want them to have second thoughts. She wanted the good stuff, and she wanted it now.

“We’ve got time for eggs and toast. Our celebration will have to be postponed, not canceled.”

“Dinner then,” Rashon decided. “That way we can take our time. We’ve got a lot to celebrate, and I want to enjoy every moment of it.”

CHAPTER THREE

They made their way to the clubhouse on foot. It was a beautiful sunny day, and several of the clan’s children took advantage, biking and skating along the sidewalk under the watchful eye of several females sitting on a porch a couple of doors down. Markus’s clan had an entire planned community to themselves, a collection of single-family homes and duplexes surrounded by thick woodland that disguised the abundance of high-tech and magical security that protected it. It was so far removed from the rundown small town in the middle of nowhere her former clan called home that Amarie still had difficulty accepting the blessing of her changed circumstances.

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