The Jackal Prince (Caller of the Blood - Book 2)

by McIlwraith, Anna

  Alexi emerged from the entrance to the cockpit, pausing mid-stride when he saw Emma, arching one severe brow at the expression on her face as she assessed the jet’s interior. A brief flare of unease shot through her before she remembered Fern’s mind was merged with hers. He was a silent warmth behind her, happy to wait until she was ready to go further.

  Alexi straightened to his full height, taking up far too much space as he came down the wide center aisle. He slowed as he neared her, a sneer curling his cold-looking lips.

  He shrugged one shoulder deliberately, the movement sending his braid slithering over his shoulder and swinging down his spine, exposing the leather of a gun rig beneath his green shirt. His wide nostrils flared. “The king spares no expense for comfort. He trusts his taste in luxury is sufficiently pleasing to you.”

  Riiiight. “Yeah, it’s great.” Emma looked around, couldn’t help but pull a face. “If you’re a rock star, I guess. Now I know why Felani wanted me to wear something sexy.” She made air-quotes with her fingers on that last word. Alexi looked at her like she was insane. “Yeah,” she said. “I really shouldn’t talk when I’m nervous.”

  Alexi blinked, bruised lids and thick lashes lowering briefly over his smoldering eyes. They were burnt ocher in the dim shadows of the jet’s interior. He cocked his head, an odd expression on his face, then grunted and turned away.

  As he continued down the aisle toward the back end of the jet, Emma breathed a sigh of relief, even as she peered after him, Fern’s laughter echoing in her head. Then she turned and found Telly staring at her, eyes slanting dangerously. She rolled her eyes and didn’t hide it from him, biting the bullet and entering the interior proper.

  She walked over to him where he stood at one of the windows. “Honestly, Telly, what is it with you two? If I have to sit through several hours of travel with you and him at each other’s throats, I think I’ll go nuts.” She kept her voice low and teasing, but it was the truth.

  He huffed a sigh out through his nostrils, ruffling the strands of hair that fell across his forehead. “Just be glad Seshua’s not here,” he said.

  “I find that hard to do, since he’s the king and all, and we’re heading into the jackal’s kingdom without his protection now.”

  Telly gave her a sharp look. “You are not without protection.”

  She returned the look, determined to not let him get to her. She was too sensitive when it came to Telly; it was not a good thing. “I asked you a question.”

  His pale brows went up. He shifted, jamming a hand in the pocket of his jeans, brushing her arm with his elbow. “Alexi is a serpent priest,” he said, voice lowered.

  Emma spared a glance for Fern, who was hovering around the entrance to the cockpit trying to look inconspicuous should Emma need him. She turned her attention back to Telly. “That’s not all. That can’t be all.”

  Telly turned pale, bleached-blue eyes on her, jaw working. His cheeks were turning dark with some suppressed emotion. Finally he spoke, little more than a hiss. “We have history.”

  “No shit.” Emma waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she let out a frustrated growl. “Telly…”

  He just stared at her, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know if he should. And she would have pressed him, wanted to, but Felani blustered up to them and took Emma’s arm.

  “Into your seat, come on,” she fussed, dragging Emma away from Telly, who looked way too relieved for Emma’s liking. “We are taking off in less than a minute. Luggage is secure, but here I find you still wandering around.” Emma almost didn’t hear what Felani was carrying on about, she was becoming so accustomed to the maiden’s bossy directions all the time. Emma was sure she only fussed in such a way to hide the constant vigilance that the maiden exercised over Emma’s well-being. For some reason it didn’t bother her anymore. Hell, maybe soon she’d be submitting to everybody else’s bossy demands as well, and then they could all do whatever they liked with her.

  You don’t mind it when Felani does it because she’s only looking out for you. She’s not trying to tell you what to do. She cares about keeping you safe and happy, whereas everybody else… Fern trailed off, and Emma looked up at him as he came to her side.

  Everybody else cares about me. Well, maybe not the guards, or some of the maidens who are just doing their jobs, but -

  Felani pushed her down into the seat next to Red Sun, oblivious to the shared communication between Emma and Fern. Red didn’t seem to notice them crowding around him; the maidens didn’t seem to notice Red Sun, certainly not in the way Emma did.

  So when Telly said that Red Sun “tends to have that affect on people,” he meant on people who were already that way inclined.

  Interesting factoid. Not a factoid that would make it any easier to sit next to him, however.

  Emma steeled herself against the affect his proximity had on her. Her firm connection with Fern seemed to lessen it, but her skin still flushed with heat, and her mouth started to water in an embarrassing fashion when his scent hit her: leather, pine, something edible like baking bread… Whose idea of a joke had it been to put her next to him? She coughed, hard, and tugged at Fern’s mind with her own, willing his to shield hers. It worked. Almost.

  Fern politely ignored her inarticulate inner monologue and let himself fall into the seat next to her, continuing their silent conversation as though Emma wasn’t struggling not to breathe heavily in Red’s direction. Telly and Anton and Ricky might care about you, but they’ve also got their own agendas. Even the guards. Emma caught a quick flash of memory from him; Guillermo standing over her, lips parted, eyes hot with hunger. Everybody’s got their own agenda, Emma. His eyes followed Felani as she stalked away with a scowl on her face to harass someone else. Except maybe her. He smiled.

  Emma arched an eyebrow, forcing her face neutral. Pity she couldn’t make her mind that way. What about you? Do you have an agenda?

  He turned that innocent smile on her, and it brightened, making his black eyes glitter like they were shot through with stars. I did once. He shrugged. Now my agenda is yours.

  Emma looked away from that bright smile, pretended to watch the guards as they filed out of the cockpit; Horne was leading two guards Emma had never seen before, obviously the king’s men, along with one guard she had met — Kal, a dark-skinned juggernaut with red-amber eyes and a full head of dreadlocks. Their first introduction hadn’t been pleasant, since he’d been kidnapping her at the time. The jags sneered with open distaste at Fern as they passed, that charming inter-species racism Emma despised so much.

  She scowled at them, wishing she wasn’t sitting down. Not that she’d be any more intimidating standing up.

  And do I have an agenda, Fern? She looked at him again. His smile left his eyes, turned into something hard. He didn’t answer. He didn’t know. Emma could read his mind, and beneath the trust and the faith and the devotion, there were some things he was still unsure of.

  And that was unexpectedly satisfying to her.

  The jet’s engines whined, powering up. Behind where Emma and Fern sat, there was a solid metal thud as the hatch was closed and sealed. There was no announcement from the pilot. The jet began its run down the tarmac.

  Emma swallowed. She was not afraid of flying, but taking off made her stomach turn for some reason. She’d be fine once they were in the air. Almost everyone was seated; down the aisle, Telly slouched in one of the big seats, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, staring out the window. Emma’s stomach flipped.

  And then Alexi stalked into view, braid swinging sinuously, and took a seat diagonally across from her, on the other side of the aisle. He folded down, hooking one long black-clad thigh over the buttery leather arm rest, not bothering with the seatbelt.

  His eyes were on her, as though he could read the unease in her mind.

  Then again, it was probably obvious enough on her face.

  She turned away from him toward the window to her right and found Red Sun
staring down at her, an odd tilt to his mouth. As soon as his brown eyes met hers, reaction flared in her core, in complete opposition to anything she thought when she looked at him. Damn it, she didn’t know him, didn’t even feel attracted to him, but her body had other ideas.

  How was she supposed to conduct a search-and-rescue mission in a foreign country with these kinds of distractions? A bizarrely arousing biker, a bitter serpent priest who hated her guts for no sane reason at all, a walking god with emotional issues…

  Red grunted, and it might have been a laugh. “What’s so funny?” Emma tried to sound harsh, and ended up sounding breathless instead. Shit. She fumbled for her seatbelt, barely noticing when Fern put the clip into her questing hand.

  Red made a noncommittal sound, shifting in his seat. “You look a little harassed, is all. “ He sniffed, thick nostrils flaring, held his beer bottle up to the light. He looked disappointed to find it empty. “Not like I blame you.” His dark eyes slid back to her, and she wondered not for the first time just what the hell he was, how he knew Telly, and what he was doing here.

  Emma took a deep breath in through her mouth, trying to avoid his scent. It blossomed on the back of her tongue instead, warm and astringent like cloves. Damn it.

  “You’ve known Telly a long time,” she said, determined to act like a normal person.

  Red Sun grunted. “Sure have.” There was a note of irony in his voice that Emma didn’t like. She scowled; it was useless to try to decipher anything people like him said. People like Telly.

  Red chuckled, and she turned her scowl on him. “Whoa there, spitfire.” His eyes crinkled, glittering with mirth, the corner of his scarred and sculpted mouth turning up. “What’d I ever do to you?”

  Now that was a question he would never get the answer to, considering everything he’d done to her so far concerned things below her waist. Instead she switched topics.

  “You were at the Roadhouse,” she said. “I remember now.”

  Those brown eyes, somehow hard yet sensuous at the same time, sobered. “Aye.”

  Emma dropped her voice and tried to sound casual. “So how long have you known Telly?”

  “Ah, see.” He shifted in his seat, his bare, golden-brown arm coming dangerously close to brushing Emma’s, and suddenly she couldn’t tear her eyes from all that scarred velvet-warm smooth skin. Then Red cleared his throat and Emma’s gaze jumped to his face. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. “You and -”

  Red laughed, the sound like thunder. Ridiculously arousing thunder. Then he moved forward in his seat, hunkering down over his knees, bottle still dangling from his one meaty hand. “No, sweetheart. Not him and me. I don’t swing that way.” He stood, tipping the empty bottle toward her in a salute, and then he left for the mini bar.

  Fern let out a hiss beside her. Gods, until Red came along, I didn’t swing that way either.

  Emma turned an incredulous look on him — but his gaze was tracking Red’s backside as he stalked down the aisle.

  14

  Red never returned to his seat. Whether that was out of courtesy because of her physical reaction to him, or some other reason, Emma didn’t know. He went to sit with Telly, and she resisted the urge to try to eavesdrop on them.

  Instead she tried to relax. It was a fourteen-hour flight from California to Luxor, and Egypt was ten hours ahead, so they would be touching down mid-afternoon Egypt Standard Time. And traveling well into the night, the jaguars had been told. The jackals were sending an escort to a place called the Kharga Oasis, but beyond that, the jaguars weren’t permitted to know where they would be going. Only that the journey was long.

  Felani had encouraged Emma to sleep if she could. They were going to be on the move for what would amount to well over twenty-four hours since they left the ranch. But Emma didn’t even bother trying; instead she stuck her ear-buds in and cued up something old and heavy on the brand new iPod. The jaguars had needed to destroy all her old stuff — phone, mp3-player, laptop — and she’d had to delete all her old accounts, so she’d spent the better part of a week rebuilding her music collection. She was definitely going to need it on this trip. There was also a new laptop with several seasons’ worth of TV shows on it, somewhere in Felani’s luggage, but the maiden had a love-hate relationship with the thing. At least she was learning. Several of the other maidens were completely tech-shy and would only tolerate the television back at the ranch.

  The maidens were clustered together now, talking softly in the lilting language that Emma heard them use sometimes. Guards were paired at the hatch and at the cockpit; Horne and Kal had been talking outside the kitchenette, but much to Emma’s dismay, they angled themselves up the aisle and took the seats opposite her and Fern.

  Kal gave Fern an unfriendly once-over, but didn’t say anything derogatory as he folded his huge bulk down. The leather of his pants strained at his massive thighs, creaking. Wasn’t it a bit warm for leather? Horne lounged next to him, wearing much more practical black denim jeans and his ever-present muscle shirt. He looked positively malnourished next to Kal, though he still outweighed Emma by at least a hundred and fifty pounds.

  Emma removed her ear-buds and hit pause on the iPod, silencing Faith No More. “What’s up, Horne?” She ignored Kal’s dark, empty stare.

  He gave Emma a tight smile, smoothing his goatee. “Afraid I have to bother you with some battle-plan stuff.” He waited for Emma to nod and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Seshua doubts the jackals will want to waste an opportunity, getting you away from your king, so it’s unlikely they’ll volunteer to send out another escort when Seshua arrives in Kharga, about a day after we do. They’ll claim they’re not obligated to, since he should have been with you. They’ll argue that it’s a sign of rudeness, adding insult to injury after their invitations were rejected.”

  Emma held up a hand. “How the hell does he know all that?”

  “It’s just politics, chica, it’s what Seshua would do, were the situation reversed. We can expect no less than treachery from them. They kidnapped one of our allies.”

  Emma stared at him, contemplating the idea of going into the jackal kingdom without Seshua there. Without his protection.

  For the first time since she had ever laid eyes on the jaguar king, she actually wished that he were here. It was not a feeling she liked, for several reasons.

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  Horne smiled grimly. “Seshua can track Kal. Kal is his first lieutenant. They share —” Horne broke off as Kal turned burning red-amber eyes on him, full of warning. Horne grunted. “Well, they share something. Seshua will be able to find us, and we’ll have the advantage of our king coming into the jackal kingdom unannounced, with more reinforcements than he would have been able to bring otherwise. We’re making the most of the situation, but don’t let the jackals know that.”

  “Won’t they suspect us of it, just as you would suspect them?”

  Horne grinned appreciatively at her. “Of course. But that is all it must be, suspicion. Nothing more. Anything more would give the jackals an excuse to declare a war, or at least a fight, and then all bets are off. So long as their suspicions remain unconfirmed, we’re protected by the unspoken rules of diplomacy.”

  Emma gave him a get-real look. “Which means we’re not safe at all.”

  Horne just smiled again. “Of course not.” He stood, inclining his head. “Rest up, chica.” Kal stood and followed him up the aisle. Emma watched them until they slumped down into a larger set of seats near the back, disappearing.

  She turned to Fern. His black eyes were on her. “They were helpful,” he said dryly.

  “They’re just doing their jobs.” Emma shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, and shoved her hands through her hair. “Is it hot in here?”

  Fern shrugged. Only when I think about Red Sun and Telly getting it -

  Fern! Emma bit her lip. Jesus. Now she was
thinking about -

  No way. Nuh-uh.

  “Quit squirming around,” Fern said with a gentle laugh. “You’ll never get comfortable that way.”

  “Oh yeah? And what do you suggest?” God, being in the air was making her more tense that it usually did.

  It’s not being in the air. Fern captured her hand in his. Just ignore them, Emma.

  Who?

  All of them. He squeezed her hand, ignoring the way her eyes widened in warning at his initiating physical contact. Especially Alexi. If you don’t learn to ignore him now, then the next few days are gonna drive you up the wall.

  Emma forced herself to sit still. Alexi’s not the kind of person you can forget. She risked a glance in the serpent priest’s direction. His eyes were closed, bruised lids hiding the pale yellow, but his back was straight and one hand was tucked into his side, out of sight beneath the folds of his dark shirt. Near his gun. I’m not sure it’s safe to ignore Alexi, Emma thought, mostly to herself.

  Fern gave her a small smile and released her hand. It’s safe, Emma. I’ll be here.

  He was right. She was safe, or as safe as she was going to get. She forced her eyes closed.

  The lilting voices of the maidens were beginning to drown out the harsher murmur of the men; the maidens could get pretty heated once they were involved in a topic of conversation. Of course, Emma had no idea what they talked about. What the hell did a bunch of immortal ex-royal handmaidens talk about? Palace gossip several centuries out of date?

  Actually, Fern’s mental voice slid into her dozing mind, they’re playing Uno.

  Very funny.

  His soft chuckle was like a velvet butterfly in her brain. She shivered, feeling too lazy to open her eyes and glare at him.