by Lynn Graeme
Jamal made a sound of disgust. “Even back then you had the boys wrapped around your little finger.”
“I bet I could say the same thing about you. Broke all the girls’ hearts, didn’t you?” she teased. “I bet they ate up that bad boy look you got going on.”
“They had no interest in a scrawny street rat with bruises on his face and holes in his clothes,” he snapped.
Then he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Terris’s mouth parted, but no words came out. Jamal leaned forward so that he didn’t look at her, his hands clasped between his knees. He glared down at the grass sandwiched between the stone tiles beneath his feet, the green blades stubbornly forcing their way through.
“Where were your parents?” Terris asked softly. Her words were gentle, silently willing him to confide in her.
How could she possibly understand?
Yet Jamal found himself giving in to her anyway. Perhaps this was the way it would always be, he thought dismally. Giving in to her. Always wanting.
“My father was an abusive drunk far more interested in the bottom of his bottle than in his kids. When he reached that bottom, he showed his affection by whaling on me and my brother. We learned there was no point in hiding bruises and split lips.” His tone was cold, lacking inflection. “I never knew my mother. She died before I can even remember. Guess she had the sense to get out of that life while she still could.”
He felt her touch on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“No point in being sorry. It happened.”
“Where are your father and brother now?”
“Dead, I’m assuming. I know my father is. Hell if I know—or care—about Sul.”
She picked up on his tension. “What happened?”
Jamal shrugged, though careful not to move too much lest she take her hand away. Her thumb was moving back and forth over a particular spot between his shoulders that somehow soothed him. It abated the bitter anger that usually accompanied this swath of memories. There was a reason he didn’t often let himself think of his childhood.
“Sul was older than me. Used to try and shield me from most of our father’s rages. Then he grew older and just … gave up. Didn’t see the point of fighting against the inevitable anymore. Stayed out more and more, coming home looking the worse for wear. Took me a while to realize that he was doing the hard stuff.” He cut her a look. “You know what drugs can do to shifters. It was far worse back then, when they didn’t know precisely how much it fucked up the nervous system.”
Terris made a small sound of distress. Jamal looked away again.
“He nearly OD’ed a couple of times. Once in our bedroom. Scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know what to do, and our father was passed out cold on the couch. Neither of them even cared when I finally managed to drag Sul to consciousness.” Jamal focused on Terris’s touch, using it to center himself. “One day Sul went out with his friends and never came back. A year later I met one of those friends and asked if he knew … if he knew what’d happened to Sul. Why no one ever came to tell me that he’d died.” His hands clenched into fists, a sharp twinge shooting down his right. Grounding him in the present. “He said Sul didn’t die. He just skipped town. Leaving me to take on my dad alone.”
“Oh, Jamal.” Terris wrapped her arms around him then. “I’m sorry.”
“No point in being sorry.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not.”
His jaw hardened. “Don’t be. Old man fucked off into that blinding white light a couple of years later. Owed the wrong people money. I saw them coming down the street, the look on their faces. I knew what they intended.” He turned his head so that Terris could read his eyes, see exactly the kind of man she was dealing with. The kind of man she was clinging to so tightly. “I saw them and I went out the back door and I didn’t come back until morning. By that time, the neighborhood was awash in police tape and flashing lights. I don’t fucking regret it.”
That had been the turning point in Jamal’s life. He’d taken the horror and abuse for far too long, and the shame that he’d been that weak still smote him sometimes. No more. He’d learned to fight back, fight for everything and demand to be given. He’d raged with his teeth and claw and fists, courtesy of the lessons he’d learned at the hands of his own father, and he’d worked his way to the top of the pack. Even ended up a senior-level Council agent through pure might and fury alone.
Old man had been good for something after all.
Jamal had been so angry back then. He still was. He scrubbed his face, trying to scrub the unpleasant memories away as well.
He froze when he felt Terris brush his hair back from his forehead. “Jamal… .”
She searched for words, but she didn’t have to. Jamal knew that. There was nothing she could say to erase the past.
He stared at her. She was so lovely, so warm and open it almost tore his heart out. He could feel the attraction between them growing stronger and deeper every day. The air practically snapped with electricity whenever they were close, and he knew she felt it too. He knew it by her blushes and by the way she looked at him. By the way she touched him. Fuck, the way she touched him.
He wanted to explore her, body and soul. He wanted to know everything about her. At the same time, he was terrified and outraged at himself for telling her about his shitty, fucked-up past. It would only drive her away. It would cast an indelibly black stain that had no place being anywhere near her.
But Jamal found he was a selfish bastard. He wanted to wrap himself up in Terris’s essence and never let her go.
The moment stretched long and taut. He could hear her breathing quicken. He reached over and grazed a knuckle along her cheek, and he swore he could hear her pulse leap.
“Jamal… .”
He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, stopping her next words.
“Someday,” he said silkily, “someone’s going to kiss the sass right out of you.”
She flushed bright red.
“And bring out more of that blush. It’s too pretty to hide away.” He leaned closer, taking her breath into his. “Might as well be me.”
He kissed her then. Staked his claim with his mouth, drew out a complicit moan from her own throat that drove his animal wild. It was capitulation. It was surrender. He took and she yielded, and he took some more. Her body twisted soft and supple under his hands, rubbing tight hot nipples against his chest, begging to be touched. He slid his palms down to oblige.
Then she broke the kiss.
They sat there staring at each other, both gasping for breath. Jamal’s heart pounded. His pulse roared in his ears. Her taste was sweet and still fresh in his mouth. He wanted to drag her back in for another taste.
Then he saw her expression and his gut turned cold.
“I’m sorry, Jamal.” This time the words—the same ones she’d uttered earlier—stammered and tripped over themselves, tinged with hollow regret. “I don’t … I don’t think of you that way.”
Jamal stared at her for a long, suspended moment.
The accusation, when at last it came, struck low as it hissed past his teeth: “Liar.”
Terris flinched.
“You feel it too. You’re just determined to deny it.”
“You’re a client, Jamal. I can’t … I don’t date clients.”
“Liar.” He could tell, even without the second flinch. “You don’t want me. Because I’m not good enough.”
“That’s not—”
Jamal rose to his feet, his entire body shaking, an ice-cold rage stemming from that frozen core housing his heart. “You’re right about that. I’m not good enough. But so what? I’ve never been good enough for anybody. That’s never stopped me before. Don’t worry about these tainted hands soiling your pretty skin, Ms. McLachlan. Even this hand.” He flexed his prosthetic hand, casting a mirthless grin that was all teeth. “You’re safe from me. Run back safe and unmolested to your fancy castle. I won’t insult you with my attentions again.”
“Jamal, please. Listen to me.” Distress tightened her sweet countenance. Pretty face, pretty words.
He should’ve known better.
Jamal shut down any emotions that threatened to seep through for the perfect princess. He refused to offer her one shred of pity. He refused to offer any part of himself. He had too precious little left over to give.
Jamal avoided Terris’s outstretched hand as he walked away from the garden, away from her. Away from hope.
Stupid fucking hope.
*
He moved out of Moran Towers’ temporary housing not too long after.
Jamal returned to the quarters he’d previously shared with other Council agents. His roommates hailed his return, though their welcome held a hint of apprehension. He didn’t blame them, considering the way he’d behaved when they’d tried to visit him at the hospital. His behavior had been inexcusable. He shouldn’t have taken out his guilt on them.
They seemed ready to accept him back into the fold, though, something he still couldn’t let himself believe. Surely they eyed him askance, and not just for how he’d treated them in the hospital. How could they trust him again without expecting that he’d lead them into yet another ambush? How could they not look at him and blame him? Brodie, Yvor, Gettis, all dead. All torn into like chum in the water.
Not that he’d be leading any team on a mission anytime soon. The Council wouldn’t place him on active duty again until he’d proven he was back in fighting form, with both hands. And it would still be a while until he’d completed the clinical trials.
It was hard being around his colleagues again. For one thing, they were constantly going to and returning from missions, while he was stuck sitting on his ass. He felt aimless, without purpose. Jamal detested that feeling.
He continued his mandatory psych visits, but didn’t tell the therapist what’d happened with Terris in the garden. He went in for his regular check-ups and observation sessions at Moran Towers, making sure to arrive on time for his appointments and depart immediately after so that Terris had no chance to catch him in between. Not that he even saw her that week. Probably using that time to scrub his taste from her mouth, Jamal thought bitterly.
He heard from her, though. The Council made it a point not to disclose its agents’ personal information to civilians, so all it could do was forward Terris’s messages to him, which Jamal promptly deleted.
When she did show up at the labs, he ignored her and focused his attention solely on the tests. Or at least pretended to. Since she couldn’t conduct a private conversation with him with the techs and scientists in the same room, she was left waiting in the corner, frustration etched boldly across her face.
See how you like it, he seethed with relish.
With nothing to do and a woman to avoid, Jamal got to know the other two trial participants better. Since they were each at different stages of progress, they didn’t cross paths often, but he had lunch with them in the cafeteria once. Well, to be more accurate, the gray-bearded retiree and the stay-at-home mom—fox-shifter and wolf-shifter, respectively—plopped themselves beside him to share the news that there was a fourth recruit. That explained Terris’s scarcity.
Then, on learning that Jamal’s first supervised shift post-operation was coming up, they described their own experiences to reassure him. Reassure him.
“I know it’s terrifying,” said the wolf mom, patting his arm kindly. “But trust me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Jamal stared back in disbelief, wondering if she knew who she was talking to. Then he cleared his throat. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Isobel stopped by his place for a visit not too long after.
“So you finally have the balls to stop hiding from us,” she said in her typical pull-no-punches way.
“Fuck off,” Jamal snarled.
“And yet retaining that fine Mousenn charm.” She eyed his right hand. “So how does it work?”
He flipped her the finger. She let out what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. That only made him scowl all the more.
“If it works then you’ll be our first bionic agent.”
“Who says I’ll even be on the team?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what happened. You found me in the forest yourself. You found their fucking bodies.”
Silence.
“Is this still about… .” Isobel muttered a curse. “We’ve been through this, Jamal. You’re not to blame for what happened.”
“I’m the only one to blame.”
“No. The Ogdens did this, not you. You got caught in a hideous situation, that’s all.”
“That’s not all, Saba!”
“For fuck’s sake, Jamal—you think the same thing wouldn’t have happened to me if I’d been in your shoes? You think it might’ve turned out differently had Malcolm or Jules or sixteen other senior agents led the charge?”
“I know it would.”
“No, you don’t. It could’ve turned out better, it could’ve been far worse. Based on the report, it would’ve definitely turned out worse.”
“Worse than Brodie, Yvor, and Gettis dying? Worse than Rex barely making it out alive?”
“I’m sorry for what happened, Jamal. It’s hit us all hard. But if you’d spoken to Rex yourself you would’ve known he doesn’t blame you. We all knew the dangers going into this job. This isn’t the first or only time we’ve lost agents in the line of duty.”
Jamal glanced at her, his gaze hollow. “How do you do it?”
Isobel shook her head. “You find a way. You hurt, you grieve. You let it haunt you for a long time. You learn from it, and honor their lives. And you move on. That’s all any of us can do.”
Jamal stared down at his hands. The artificial one throbbed as if seconding Isobel’s words.
She patted him on the shoulder as she got up to leave. “You’re not that almighty, Jamal. You can’t control everything. Get over yourself.”
Chapter Five
Dr. Overkin and his techs were running late. That was the only reason Jamal found himself waiting out in the hallway. He could hear them setting up in the room on the other side of the wall, busy preparing for his first supervised shift. After the previous scare, they wanted to make sure everything went smoothly this time around, especially since they’d never experimented with a snow leopard before.
It was the only reason Terris managed to corner him alone.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Jamal sneered. “Wow. Beauty and brains.”
“Please, just hear me out.”
“Fuck off.”
“Are we back to that again?”
“Isn’t that where you wanted to return? You don’t get involved with clients, remember?”
“Jamal. Please.” Her eyes darkened with distress. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care,” he snarled. He wouldn’t care. “I get it. I’m not good enough. And you know what? I’m proud of it. I’m glad I’m not good enough for your conceited, arrogant, know-it-all ass—”
She yanked him down by the hair and silenced him with a kiss.
That got his attention real quick.
She tasted as sweet as he’d remembered. As delicious and welcoming as he’d imagined. And she did things with her tongue that he’d never expected at all.
Terris’s grip loosened, but her power over him only grew stronger. Heated desire launched him into action. Jamal wrapped his arms around her and hauled her tight against him, her body fitting so beautifully to his. He deepened the kiss, relishing in her soft moans as he palmed the sweet curve of her ass. She writhed with equal parts of desperation and need as she struggled to get closer to him, her movements only inciting him further.
Hunger blazed like wildfire, consuming Jamal whole. He wrenched control back from the Valkyrie, lifting her up and pressing her against the wall. He caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, grinding his erection into that sw
eet heat calling to him. The scent of her arousal drugged him, taking away all conscious thought. He operated on pure instinct now.
Terris let out a soft keen, then a demanding snarl as she raked her nails down his neck and shoulders. Jamal smirked as he let her take over for a second. Yeah, she was a lion’s daughter, all right.
Her body was made for his. The perfect size, the perfect shape, the perfect fit.
Too perfect for him.
Perfect and ours, his animal snarled back.
They were forced to part for air, a sliver of breath separating their lips, but Jamal refused to let her go. Not now that he had her in his arms. He still held her against the wall, his hands squeezing and releasing the soft flesh of her ass, testing its smooth resiliency. His cock demanded entry as he moved in little thrusts against the slick entrance that awaited. Each move jolted a stuttered breath and whimper from her swollen lips. Made her even hotter for him.
Her lipstick, Jamal was pleased to discover, wasn’t smear-proof after all.
Terris swallowed and licked her lips, trembling as she sought several times to regain her voice. “Now will you listen?” she finally managed, her tone husky.
Jamal leaned close and used his teeth on her lower lip. She moaned. “What game are you playing, Terris?”
“It’s … it’s not a game. Jamal, please… .”
She was wet with need. Any shifter venturing into the hallway would immediately scent her arousal. Her arousal for him, Jamal thought with cruel satisfaction.
Mine.
Terris was still grappling for air. Jamal didn’t feel particularly merciful, however. He moved his left hand underneath her dress and brushed his thumb along the swollen lips guarding her entrance.
She gasped. “Jamal.”
“Yes. Say it again.” He licked her lips, savoring the taste of her. He started to work her panties aside. His right hand cupped her rear and held her steady, tilting her up while kneading her soft, supple flesh.
A small part of him was terrified that his new hand would fail him now—would somehow snap off, or clench too tight, or hurt Terris. But no, the makers had achieved their goal. Full sensation indeed. He could feel every delicious, trembling inch of his woman.