Claiming the Jackal by Seressia Glass Page A

of the god of death. The lighting made it seem as if the jackal-headed god was striding out of the darkness, ankh in his right hand and a staff of power in his left, ready to dispense justice and determine a person’s fate.
    The desk stood in front of it, so the person behind it in the bloodred leather chair had Anubis at his back. It dominated the rest of the room, intricately carved from dark bronze wood. A laptop and a lamp were the only objects on its surface, but it didn’t need anything else. A sitting area composed of a couch and two chairs took up the far wall, but this area was the focus. It was a place of power, a place of hard decisions and swift action.
    Two guest chairs in the same bloodred leather sat on the other side of the desk. Hector stood between them, his bearing military straight, but Rana could almost feel the barely leashed rage that boiled inside him. She strengthened her mental shields, hoping to dampen the effect his anger had on her, knowing she wouldn’t be successful. They were intimately connected now. She had few defenses when it came to this man.
    “I’m here, Anapa.”
    “You have something to report?”
    Report. Yes, that was why she’d come here, not to find Hector. Turning around, she straightened her shoulders, her gaze pinned to a point above the jackal leader’s left shoulder. “Yes, I assumed you’d want a status report on the injured.”
    “Of course.” He gestured to the chair. “You must be exhausted. Have a seat.”
    “No, but thank you. If I sit, I might not get back up.” Besides, Hector stood next to the chair. She couldn’t be that close to him, as angry as he was. She didn’t know if he’d want her, an Isis witch, that close. His anger beat at her like a giant’s fists, threatening to shatter defenses already stretched thin by the magical and technological healing she’d done.
    “All of the injured have been stabilized,” she said, scrubbing her hands down her face. “Those who were functioning under their own power and minimally injured went home. Two are in critical condition and will be kept overnight to be sure they are out of danger. Inari will monitor them for a few hours while I get some rest.”
    “I’ll have two of the men stand guard,” Hector said, his voice a low growl. “The priestess doesn’t need to stay.”
    Rana kept her gaze on Markus, ignoring the stab of hurt Hector’s words had caused her. “If you feel it is necessary,” she said, surprised at how even her tone was. “However, considering that you don’t have any jackals with medical training, and they therefore couldn’t discern the difference between severe indigestion and a heart attack—and Inari is a nurse in a human hospital—she will stay on duty and monitor our patients until I can take over.”
    Hector growled, but remained silent.
    Markus glanced from one to the other, his gaze measuring. Then he turned to Rana. “It’s just a precaution. Jackals can be unpredictable when they’re injured.”
    Blood flooded her face. Markus’s explanation was as much an excuse for Hector’s behavior as it was an explanation. Hector didn’t trust priestesses to watch over his injured, even though she and the others had treated almost every jackal in the clan over the past few weeks. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, but surely he knew by now that all of the Daughters of Isis were not like Amansuanan! She wasn’t like her grandmother.
    It didn’t matter. Not to Hector, whom she’d let into her bed and her heart. She’d thought, she’d hoped, that things had changed, that Hector had changed. He hadn’t. Hatred still blinded him, hatred and a renewed thirst for revenge. He wouldn’t let it go, which meant that she would have to.
    Rana’s defenses began to fracture. Hold on , she told herself. Just a few minutes more , then you can be away from them. Away from him.
    She lifted her chin, her attitude directed at Hector, but her words for Markus. “I will inform