Hunting the Jackal. Seressia Glass

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      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, СКАЧАТЬ