Free Hunting the Jackal by Seressia Glass Page B

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