Hunting the Jackal (7 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Much later, they regained their composure and cuddled together in a puppy pile in the center of the massive bed. Amarie pillowed her head on Rashon’s chest while Kurik rested his cheek on Rashon’s rib cage, one hand possessively stroking her thigh.

Rashon sighed as he played with Amarie’s hair. “That was...” he trailed off. “There are no words for what that was.”

“Yeah,” Kurik agreed.

“Is it always like that? That transcendent?”

“I don’t know,” Rashon answered. “You’re the first person we’ve been with like that.”

Kurik pressed a kiss to Rashon’s ribs as he stroked her hip. “Our first. Our only.”

She grinned, her fingers tangling with his. “I like the sound of that.”

“You know what would make this perfect?”

“Chocolate?” Amarie guessed.

“What about honey?” Kurik asked. “I love honey.”

“Another orgasm?” Amarie suggested.

“Chocolate—and honey-covered orgasms?”

Rashon erupted with laughter. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m going to need a couple of hours to recover from that. As wonderful as it sounds, that’s not where I was going. I’m not talking about dessert either.”

Amarie placed a kiss just above his left nipple. “Okay, I give up. What could be better than chocolate—and honey-covered orgasms?”

Grabbing Kurik’s hand, Rashon then reached for hers, entwining their fingers together and bringing them to his lips. “I was thinking about this. About us. I love you. I love Kurik. I want us to make an official commitment to each other in front of the clan. I want us to proudly wear our marks as a bonded triad. And I want us to start a family.”

Icy dread sliced through Amarie’s veins, freezing her sensual lethargy. For a moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Sensitive to her mood shifts as usual, Kurik tensed a hand on her thigh. “A family?” she repeated, her voice high.

“Of course. You’re going to sleep in here with us from now on anyway. We can convert your room to a nursery. Tia told me how great you were with the kids at the ladies’ lunch. But I figured you’d be a great mother anyway.”

She tried for a light laugh, hoping neither one of them could sense the pain and panic that pounded in her chest. “You know I love you, but I’m still getting used to all the sexing going on,” she chided, keeping her voice light. “And now you’re talking bonding and trying to turn my bedroom into a nursery?”

Rashon’s laugh ruffled her hair. “I’m rushing things, aren’t I?” he asked. “It’s just that I feel so right about the three of us. I don’t want to waste a minute.”

She knew what he meant, knew how complete she felt being with the two of them. Even though she loved them, loved both of them, she hadn’t wanted to face thoughts about forever. She hadn’t wanted to face them wanting a family.

“A family sounds wonderful,” she managed to say. “I think you would make wonderful fathers.”

She could almost feel Rashon’s delighted grin. “You think so?”

“I know so. It sounds like a wonderful dream.”
For someone else.

“It doesn’t have to be a dream.” He pulled her hair away from her face, trying to read her expression in the dim bedroom light. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, lying through her smile. “You just surprised me. I wasn’t expecting talk about kids.”

Kurik rose above them. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t we take things one step at a time? We’re only three days into this. We have plenty of time. We can talk about children and nurseries later.”

“True.” Rashon squeezed their hands. “No pressure, I swear. I just want to be sure we’re in this for the long haul.”

“There’s something I need to tell you guys,” she blurted out.

“Uh-oh.” Rashon’s smile faltered. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.” She sat up, pushing away her bangs and her afterglow. “Maybe we can meet in the kitchen?”

Kurik stood. “Is this a coffee or whiskey kind of conversation?”

“Definitely whiskey.” She slid to the end of the bed. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

Rashon wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her before she could get up. “This is your room, too.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’ll be faster if I use my shower.”

Concern filled his eyes. “You know you can tell us anything. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out.”

“I hope so.” Despite his words, dread cramped her insides. In the time she’d known them, she hadn’t ever seen either of them truly angry that she could tell, but she couldn’t predict their reaction. Still, she kissed him briefly, then pulled her hand free before touching Kurik’s shoulder. “I’ll meet you guys in a bit.”

Amarie hurried through her shower, pulling on shorts and a T-shirt before she lost the nerve to face them. Nervousness palsied her hands. What she had to tell Kurik and Rashon had gotten her kicked out of her old clan. She could only hope that history wouldn’t repeat itself.

Straightening her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen. Kurik and Rashon were already there, three shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the breakfast bar. Rashon sat on one of the bar stools, anxiety pinching his features, while Kurik stood protectively close, silent and stoic. She took the spot at the edge of the counter as Kurik poured her a healthy shot.

Rashon spoke before she could. “Are you going to tell us that you don’t want to be with us?”

“What? No. I want that more than anything.”

“Gods.” He shuddered, then tossed back a shot of the whiskey. “As long as you’re not breaking up with us. I can handle anything but that.”

Too late, she realized she could have lied, told them she didn’t want a commitment, and that would have been that. But she did want it, she knew, just as she knew she wouldn’t be the one to break them up.

The lip of the liquor bottle tinged against the shot glass due to the violent trembling in her hand. Kurik took it from her to finish the pour. Lifting the glass, she tossed it back. The burn as the liquor slid down her throat gave her focus and courage.
Here we go.

“I can’t have children.”

Rashon’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”

She poured herself another shot. “I can’t get pregnant.”

“But...are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she replied, grimacing at the alcohol burning down her throat.

“Pretty sure?” he echoed. “What does ‘pretty sure’ even mean? Have you tried—”

“They tried,” she cut in, her voice flattening. “My old clan tried to breed me as soon as I reached puberty. I had to set my human self aside and live as jackal. The dominant males would fight for mating rights with the females coming into estrus.”

Both men stared at her in horror. They didn’t have a frame of reference for the ways of her old clan, especially after the new leader took over after her father’s untimely death. If they were horrified now, at the beginning of her tale, they would be even more so when she reached the end.

She poured herself another shot. “I didn’t conceive during my first few mating cycles. A few years later, the clan leaders decided that I was more human than jackal and perhaps human biology would apply. So they forced me to stay in human form, and every month, a different male would attempt to impregnate me. I submitted because it was what I was supposed to do, what I’d been taught to do since birth. I was no longer Amarie. I was just a womb waiting for the right male to fill it.”

“That’s just wrong,” Kurik burst out, thumping the granite bar and causing the shot glasses to rattle. “Females aren’t chattel. They are to be treasured, but they have their own minds and rights. No one should ever be forced!”

“It took me a while to realize that, that what I thought of as my duty to my clan wasn’t the way it had to be,” she admitted. “One day I just, I couldn’t do it anymore. I fought against it, fought the next male who came to me. I said no, and I refused to subject myself to that again.”

“Good,” Kurik growled. “Damn good.”

“Bad,” she corrected. “The males became afraid I was part Isis witch, come to steal their virility. I was deemed unfit, beaten and sentenced to death. My mother pleaded for banishment instead, and because my mother is a good breeder and mate to the late clan leader, they granted it. They also thought an honor killing would be too honorable for me. A slow death by banishment, in exile in the human world, was fitting punishment for someone like me. And so I was spirited across the border to Michigan and put on a bus with just enough money to get me here.”

Silence fell on them, thick and unyielding. She kept her eyes on the countertop, not willing to see further horror in their eyes. Even worse, pity. Or worse yet, no trace of the love and affection they’d showed her in the bedroom earlier.

Kurik finally spoke. “You’re young,” he reminded her, folding his arms across his chest. His expression revealed little of what he thought about her news. “Not even half a century old. Maybe with time, things can change.”

“Maybe.” She gave him a small smile, but inside she reeled. Kurik’s subdued reaction bothered her almost as much as Rashon’s outburst did. “Anything can happen in the future, right? Still, I thought it was important for you to know.”

Rashon slid off the stool, paced away from them. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

That stung. “When was I supposed to tell you, Rashon?” she demanded. “We had sex for the first time three days ago. You’re mated to Kurik. How was I supposed to know you wanted kids? I told you as soon as you mentioned wanting a family.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his expression stricken, as if he’d lost something. Someone. “Does Markus know? Not telling us is one thing, but our leader needs to know something that affects the clan’s future like that.”

“Rashon,” Kurik warned as she flinched. “Take it easy. Yeah, this is hard to hear, but it’s probably just as hard for Amarie to tell it.”

“Markus needs to know,” Rashon repeated, though some of the harshness had left his voice.

Amarie stared at him, buffeted by bewilderment, anger and hurt. Rashon made it seem as though she’d deceived them, like she’d done something wrong. “Markus knows,” she finally said. “I told him before he allowed me into the clan.”

Rashon shoved his hands through his hair, then turned away as though he couldn’t stand to look at her. “I can’t listen to any more of this right now.”

Amarie watched him walk away, her heart breaking with every step he took. The click of the bedroom door gently closing was loud in the room. She didn’t realize she was shaking until Kurik reached over to pry the shot glass from her clenched hand. She blinked at him, shocked by Rashon’s reaction, shocked by the depth of the pain welling up inside her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. Rashon was hurting, and she’d caused him that hurt. But she hurt, too.

Kurik sighed heavily. “We...he needs time. This news was completely unexpected. He’s had this dream of us having a family with you for a while. It’s hard to deal with your dream dying right in front of you.”

She knew that. Hadn’t she just watched her own dream crash and burn moments before?

“You need to go to him. He needs you.”

Kurik hesitated, obviously torn, gods bless him. She nudged him with her shoulder. “Go on, Kurik. Go take care of your mate.”

With a last searching glance, Kurik followed Rashon into the master bedroom.

Chaos whirled through Amarie’s thoughts as she made her way to her bedroom. She leaned against the door, her gaze drifting over the contents. The house had two more bedrooms, one filled with gym equipment and the other with storage. This one though would make a great nursery.

Too bad the only way that would happen was for another woman to take her place. A healthy, whole woman who could be everything that Rashon and Kurik needed.

A woman who was not her.

Amarie pressed her hand against her flat abdomen. She didn’t want to give the men up. Not now, not ever. But if Rashon and Kurik wanted children more than they wanted her, she would have to step aside for someone else.

She had to know. For better or worse, she needed to know the truth of where she now stood with them. She made her way to their bedroom but stopped short as she heard the guys talking. Rashon’s next words flayed her to her soul.

“Maybe we should approach an Isis witch.”

Pain exploded in her chest, almost buckling her knees. She skittered backward, back to her bedroom. They didn’t want her. They wanted children, and now that they knew their female roommate was no longer a convenient means to an end, they were done, ready to turn to a Daughter of Isis to give them what they wanted.

Her skin itched with the need to escape, to feel the night air on her face. She hurriedly changed her shorts for jeans, grabbing her gun and knives as a matter of rote. Her weapons were her security, and right now, she needed every semblance of security she could get.

Holding her breath, she slipped down the hall to the front door. She didn’t breathe again until she closed the front door behind her and turned to face the night. Lights still gleamed from the community house; obviously the party rocked on while her world had crumbled around her. Not wanting to face anyone, she took the long way around to the lake, trying to gather her thoughts.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she vacillated between anger and despair. Deep in the quagmire of her thoughts, she didn’t realize she’d made it to the fence line that ringed the jackal property. This far back the fence, tucked under sweeping oaks and magnolias, edged a steep drop that ended in a tangle of brambles and bush, with an abandoned railroad track beyond. She knew from her guard duties that clan property ended some twenty feet beyond the fence, but the drop was the most logical place to erect a barrier. No one expected an attack from this area, so the fence was monitored remotely but not regularly patrolled.

Which didn’t explain why no one had reported the breach in the fence line or the group of undead skittering through.

Crap.
Panic flooded her chest as she crouched in the underbrush, heartbreak forgotten. There were way too many Lost Ones for her to take on, but she didn’t dare leave to try to summon help. Jackals patrolled the perimeter of the property; most concentrated near the families, the community house and the clan leaders’ home. Shots would alert the jackals patrolling the compound’s perimeter, but shots would also announce her presence to the undead skulking about. She was already outnumbered; revealing herself would be a death sentence.