Page 19 of Jackal

“There is no logic in love, little thief. It starts small and grows into something very big and endless. Something you’re willing to die for. Don’t you long to feel something like that? Instead of all the emptiness you’re so used to…”

She pulls back and stares me right in the face. I can’t help myself. The quirky little corner of her mouth is raised like she’s mocking me, probably not the best time to kiss a woman. But I drop my head anyway and kiss her, letting my tongue softly graze her bottom lip. She pauses, her breath sucking in, and then she pushes away from me. For a moment, it’s just the two of us facing each other on the dance floor, the cider lights speckling our faces, and then as abruptly as she pulled away, she turns on her heel and leaves. I smile as I watch her go, her steps unsure like she’s dizzy.

“Dancers don’t get dizzy,” I call after her.

I’m drunk. After Phoenix leaves me on the dance floor, I’m cornered by a pack of moms and have to dance my way through four songs before one of them takes pity on me and cuts me loose. Through the endless bodies swathed in color, I see only one yellow dress. Flashes of canary taunt me from across the room—a graceful shoulder, her raven hair. I find myself looking for her even when I am engaged in conversation with someone. Sean seeks her out as much as I do, only he gets to touch her. I notice that Phoenix never shies away from his hand on her arm or back. They’re comfortable together...familiar.

“Jackal.” Someone calls my name. The lady of the house. Her arm snakes through mine.

“You’re wanted in the library,” she says.

That can really only mean one thing. How untimely. I don’t have time to fuck a room full of women; I’m in the middle of pursuing Phoenix. I cast one more glance in Phoenix’s direction before following the woman out.

EIGHT

PHOENIX

Male anglerfish attach themselves to the lady anglerfish and proceed to atrophy until they are essentially a parasite with male reproductive organs, available to the female whenever fertilization is needed. If he doesn’t, he will die.

I back away from the room, heat rushing to my head, rage ticking like a live bomb. I didn’t mean to see that. I didn’t want to. After Jackal kissed me, right there in front of everyone, I fled like a frightened deer, his words a razor on tender flesh. I needed to gather myself, unfold my thoughts enough to understand them. I moved through Mrs. Mavey’s party in a trance, barely hearing what anyone said to me, my lips still tingling where his tongue had touched them. I wanted to find him, demand to know the real reason he wouldn’t leave me alone. When I asked Mrs. Mavey where she’d led him off to, she directed me to the library with a smirk. I didn’t know I’d see Jackal being Jackal upon walking through the door, his stellar reputation at play before my eyes.

I blink at the scene in front of me; it takes my brain a second to catch up to what I’m seeing, the lights so dim I have to squint. There is a woman on all fours, her chin thrust upward and her body rocking back and forth. Her breasts bounce beneath her, and out of her throat comes an animal sound so primal in nature that it sucks the breath out of my lungs. Jackal stands behind her, his naked body bronzed in the candlelight. With one hand, he holds a mass of her hair wrapped around his fist, and the other is gripping her buttocks in a hold so tight it looks painful. My eyes move to his face and my mouth goes dry. He hasn’t seen me, he can’t see anything—because his eyes are closed, head tilted back. Even in the dim light, I can see the cords in his neck straining against his flushed skin.

He likes what he’s doing. What Gwen Allison has been preaching around the Regions is wrong. His is not the face of a prisoner or even a forced man. My eyes move back to the woman, her cries sound like the braying of a donkey. The jealousy I feel is unexpected. It rushes at me like a hot wind, pushing me further out of the door where I stand, glued.

I tear my eyes from their fucking. There are other women in the room, all of them naked, lounging on chairs and leaning against walls as they watch. Some of them are touching each other, hands and mouths open, searching like they’re hungry. I want to look away, but I can’t. I realize with dismay that there is a humming between my legs. I’m soaked and also deeply ashamed. I clamp my thighs together and grind my teeth. What is wrong with me?

One of the women turns on the chaise she’s reclining on, her head pivoting toward me. When our gazes meet, I see the glaze that covers her eyes, her lips wet and parted. I’m of little interest; her attention returns to Jackal after a cursory glance. She’s waiting her turn. Well, so am I. I step back into the room, my shoulders squared. I can play games too.

It’s the sound of my heels on the marble floor that makes him open his eyes and see me. My footsteps crack like a whip through the air, rising above the woman’s keening. His face betrays nothing of surprise, but he’s buried to the hilt inside of some woman. It would be so easy for me to shove her aside, she’d fall right over like a tipped cow. I grapple with the decision and then forget my jealousy when I look at Jackal. His eyes are half open as he stares at me, a look of intense concentration on his face.

I stop a few feet away from them, aware that I’ve quickly become the center of attention in a room full of naked, sexually aroused women.

“I’m next,” I say.

His rhythmic thrusting falters and I see him slide out of her, slick with her wetness.

“No,” he says.

The woman looks up in a daze, jarred to the present by the absence of Jackal’s cock, and sees me standing there. She clumsily climbs off of the ottoman, a look of disappointment on her face. He didn’t come inside of her.Boo fucking hoo,I think. She’d make a terrible mother anyway. I have no grounds for this, but it makes me feel better to think it. When she’s gone, I get a full view of Jackal. I’m grateful for the dim lighting in the room so he can’t see the rosy red mortification climbing to my cheeks.

Hard and lean, his penis fully erect, his body is lit only by the candles that flicker behind him on tables and shelves. I have a fleeting thought of fire.Who puts this many candles in a library?But then Jackal comes into focus again and all I feel is a burning in my lower belly.

“Yes,” I say.

In a score of bravery, I flick the straps of my dress off my shoulders and the silk collapses to my waist. His eyelids flutter, and suddenly, he’s over the ottoman and right in front of me.

“No,” he says again, softly this time so only I can hear.

Shame climbs my face as my eyes fill with tears. He’s rejected me and so publicly; it is all a game to him. He stands close to me, his fingers lift the silk of my dress, grazing my nipples as he covers my breasts. In spite of myself, I shiver at his touch and then curse my body for its response.

“Why not?” I spit out. “You can fuck an entire room of women without blinking an eye but not me?”

He casts a cursory glance around the room before leaning over me.

“You’re drunk,” he says softly. “And you’re a virgin…”

“So what?” I can’t keep the hurt from my voice. “So are most of them…” I jerk my head around the room, not caring who hears me. I can smell the sweetness of Jackal’s breath as he breathes into my face, his features contorting as he shakes his head.

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