He nodded. "I see the gun."
"Then we understand each other," I said.
"We understand each other," he said. Jamil closed the distance between us, eyes still an eerie shade of yellow.
"Don't get cute, Jamil."
He gave a quick baring of teeth. "I am doing what you asked, Anita."
Zane moved behind me, hands on my shoulders, but giving me more room to move. Cherry huddled against my legs. Neither of them moved away. I took that as a good sign. I hoped I was right.
Jamil touched my face very lightly with the tips of his fingers. "If we were in public, it would be this." He bent downward and it looked like he was going to kiss me.
He did. A soft brush of lips, fingers still holding my face. He drew back from me. When he opened his eyes, they were still that rich, golden yellow. It was a startling color against the darkness of his skin.
I had just stood there throughout, too startled to know what to do. Neither the leopards nor Jason called foul, so Jamil was doing what I'd forced him to do. Probably. If it had been Jason, I'd suspected some sort of ploy to steal a kiss, but Jamil didn't play those kinds of games.
He stayed with his hands still cradling my face. "But tonight won't be in public. Between ourselves when no one watches..." He didn't finish the sentence. He just leaned over me again.
His tongue ran across my lower lip.
I jerked back.
He let his hands fall to his sides. "You read the wolf books, Anita, I am a submissive wolf begging a dominant's attention."
"It's a variation of food begging by pups," I said. "In two adult wolves, it's a ritual of licking and biting gently at the mouth of the dominant wolf by the subordinate."
Jamil nodded.
"You've made your point," I said.
"The greeting I am trying to teach you is like our version of a handshake. You both offer your faces at the same time. It's more like a kiss."
"Show me," I said.
He leaned into me again, but this time he didn't try to touch my mouth. He rubbed his cheek along mine, rubbing his face across my ear until his face was buried in the hair behind my ear. His movement had put my face against his hair. His hair was in cornrows, and the texture was rough and soft at the same time.
Jamil spoke with his mouth still against my hair, "You have to bury your face in the hair and smell the skin."
He burrowed his face into my hair until he had to be touching skin. I heard him breathing in air. His breath was almost hot against my skin.
I tried to return the favor, but had to raise on tiptoe, one hand against his chest for balance. Zane slid away from me, and I used my other hand on his shoulder. The cornrows made it easier to put my face next to the skin of his scalp. The braids moved around my face like small thin ropes.
I could smell his hair straightener, his cologne, and under all that was him. The moment his scent hit me, I felt a rush of power, and it wasn't his. I suddenly knew that Richard was sitting on a bed, holding his mother. I felt him look up as if he'd see me standing at the foot of the bed. But I was miles away, standing at the foot of a different bed. We drew in the rich warm smell of Jamil's skin, and Richard's power broke over me in a march of goose bumps.
Jamil drew back from me, hands still on my shoulders. His nostrils flared while he drew in scent. "Richard -- I smell our Ulfric. How?"
Zane pressed against my back, rubbing his face against my hair. Cherry had curled herself around my leg like a fetus. "She is your lupa. Bound to your Ulfric."
Jamil stepped back from me, something very close to fear on his face. "She cannot be bound to Richard. She is not lukoi."
I moved towards him, and Zane went to his knees behind me. Cherry let me go, hands sliding away reluctantly. They huddled together, holding each other.
I spared them a glance and asked, "You guys all right?"
Zane nodded. "I saw you call the power of the marks once before, but I've never been touching you when you called the Ulfric's power. It's a rush."
Cherry just stared at me, eyes gone large in a pale face.