by Mary Calmes
I was led down a flagstone path that ended at a small courtyard surrounded by a lush garden. It would have been lovely if I could leave and return of my own volition, but as a prison, I had no fondness for it.
After moving to the door of the small cottage, Dov held it open for me.
“Am I to be accompanied inside or will I be allowed my privacy?”
He and Wick exchanged glances.
“We would make sure you’re comfortable,” Alaine flared irritably.
I coughed. “How could I not be, semel? This is your home, after all.”
“You will need to eat,” he ground out, furious.
“I’m sure whatever your cook prepares will be acceptable. It can be left on the doorstep as they do in jail.”
His gaze met mine, and I bowed my head in deference to him.
“Surely this will please your yareah.”
He pivoted and left then, and the others stood there, staring at me.
I walked through the door Dov was holding open and would have closed it behind me, but Nazar caught it and held on.
“Forgive me, my reah.”
My eyes flicked to his dark brown ones. “Your loyalty is to your semel, sheseru. There is nothing for you to apologize for. I’m sure my sheseru is just as loyal to me.”
He screwed up his face. “My reah, I—”
“Good night.” I cut him off, closing the door behind me.
After I locked it, I started shedding clothes. Stalking through the house, one moment I was a man, the next a panther. I moved easily to the open window and went out. Scaling the tree beside the small house, I was up and on the roof moments later. Crawling to the edge, I watched the men from the darkness and saw them all lingering in the courtyard in front of the cottage.
“No one wants to be a prisoner,” Dov reminded Nazar, who was beginning to pace.
“He doesn’t trust me now, and I would give my life for him if he asked me.”
Wick cleared his throat and put his hand on Nazar’s shoulder to stop his movement. “It’s a disease, this is, mate. You’re split right down the middle, you are, half of you wanting to give service to the reah, half knowing your duty is to your semel.”
Nazar stared at him. “I have no—it physically hurts to have him turn away from me.”
“He’s a reah, mate,” Wick said gently. “It’s just going to feel worse when he gets his scent back and the rest of his power.”
Nazar sucked in a breath. “I want to go in there and talk to him.”
“Not without his permission.”
I put my head down on my paws and closed my eyes. It was too early for me to take a run, so I’d wait.
Listening to the sounds around me, I heard the semel yelling, caught the sounds of his yareah crying, counted the times Nazar’s shoes scraped over the cobblestones of the courtyard, and kept track of the breathing of Wick, Dov, and the khatyu.
Hours later, when the others had retired to the house, Luther brought a tray of food out to me. He stood there speaking to the door.
“You should come out,” he said, his voice thick with desire I could hear. He wanted me, and it grated. How dare he want a mated reah? “You promised to have dinner with me, you remember.”
I made no sound, and after what seemed like a long time, he finally put the tray down and returned to the main house. Twisting into a ball, I waited for it to get dark enough to hide a black panther in the shadows.
Chapter 5
I FLEW over the rooftops of the city, listened to some jazz at Preservation Hall, drank rainwater down in Pirate’s Alley, ducked into a kitchen on Dauphine and Orleans and was fed by an old couple who was sure I was both tame and owned by a neighbor. It was the great thing about the city: nothing really surprised anyone. They expected to see things out of the ordinary. A black panther eating gumbo was normal.
I returned before dawn to find Nazar and Luther keeping vigil on the benches in the courtyard in front of the garden house.
Slipping inside the house, I immediately shifted back and walked to the kitchen for water. Once I gulped down quite a bit, I went to take a shower. My clothes, the few that I owned, were in a duffel bag on the bed, and after I got out, clean from my exploration of the city, I changed into a pair of chinos and a T-shirt and lay down on the bed. I didn’t think I could sleep at all, but I woke up to the gentle sound of knocking, and the room was full of natural light.
Rolling out of bed, I stumbled to the door and opened it a crack.
“Hey.”
The blond man I found there had the warmest smile I’d ever seen in my life.
Then, opening the door wider, I was stunned by the number of people clustered in the tiny courtyard. It was overwhelming.
“Jin.”
Turning back to the man in front of me, I was caught in his dark sapphire gaze.
He took a step closer, putting his hand on the door. “I’m Crane Adams.”
The name was said as though it were unneeded. “I’m supposed to know you, aren’t I.” It was a statement of fact.
Quick shrug from him, and the ease, his calm, soothed me. “It would have been good,” he said with a smile. “But it’s okay that you don’t.”
“You’re not pissed?”
“At you? Never. I’ve never been mad at you.”
“Have we known each other a long time?”
He nodded. “Yep, we have, a really long time.”
I continued to stare at him for a moment before I offered my hand.
He enfolded it in his. “I’m your bah-set.”
I breathed through my nose, trying to stay calm and steady. “I don’t know what that is.”
“That’s okay,” he said affably, easing me outside onto the small porch. His hands holding mine seemed natural, not carnal in any way, simply comforting and kind. “It’s a fancy word for best friend, is all.”
“How do you spell that?”
“Just like ‘best’ except with an extra e after the s.”
“So really like ‘best.’”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
I took a breath. “They told me that only my semel would be allowed to see me.”
“Yeah, but that’s because they didn’t know you had a beset.”
“But you just said it was only a fancy word for best friend.”
“I did, and what I should have said was that you picked your best friend to be your beset. I think most reahs do—makes sense, right?”
“I would think so.”
“Yeah, so you did, and I’m it, but a beset is also a station like semel, reah, sheseru, or sylvan. As your beset, I can go anywhere you are at any time. It’s against panther law to keep me from you, and they know that.”
“So you just came to the door and explained who you are?”
“Of course.” He winked at me.
“But I don’t understand. I mean, you don’t have a card or something that says who you are? What if you were lying?”
He shrugged. “I could be, I guess, but all they’d have to do is call Logan Church and ask him, or call Domin Thorne and ask him, to clear up any confusion. But really,” he said, his voice dropping conspiratorially as he leaned close to me and waggled his eyebrows. “I’m kind of a big deal.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him; the man was so charming, and it was simply infectious. “Are you?”
“Oh yes,” he assured me, narrowing his eyes and nodding. “I’m Crane Adams, beset of the reah who’s also a nekhene cat. Once people know you, they know me.”
“You keep me in line, do you?”
“I stand at your side and remind you of your humanity when sometimes circumstances make it difficult.”
“It sounds like you keep me from killing people,” I teased.
“Sometimes,” he agreed.
I was startled. “I’ve killed people?”
“Only when they deserved it,” he explained. “The law is finite. Those who choose to ignore the law have to be punished.”
“We can do whatever the fuck you want,” he apprised me. “Do you wanna go to a hotel or something?”
“No, I just want to come and go whenever I want.”
“Oh, I see. They were keeping you here because the semel’s responsible. Makes sense, but now that I’m here, you can do whatever you want. Even though we’re in another semel’s territory, your safety falls to me until Logan gets here.”
“So I’m free because my best friend is with me.”
His grin was wicked. “Exactly.”
My breath caught, and I had the urge to hug him, but I wasn’t sure if that was all right.
He opened his arms for me. “Come on.”
“Is it correct?”
“I’m yours,” he answered, his grin becoming a warm smile. “You say what’s right. I’m your beset, you’re my reah. Do whatever you want.”
I lunged at him, and he wrapped me up tight, so tight, his head down on my shoulder as he began to tremble.
A sense of relief swamped me, and even though I had no idea why, I felt safe. It was like, finally, after so long wondering what was going to happen and the fear that ate me up day and night… finally… I wasn’t alone anymore.
“Man, wait until Logan gets a load of you,” Crane said, chuckling, his hands sliding through my hair over and over. “You’re so skinny, and this haircut is wild.”
I pulled back to survey his face. “Please tell me about what happened to my son.”
He squinted. “Maybe we wait for Logan, huh?”
“But I—”
“He’s okay, yeah? Ilia, he’s in his panther form at home, and we need you to come back so he’ll shift.”
“He won’t shift back?”
“No. He won’t. But Logan has a theory.”
“Which is?”
Crane smiled again, and just seeing the dancing eyes, the curl of his lip, and the way he arched one eyebrow, I found myself grinning in return. I liked him so much.
“He thinks Ilia needs to see you because you’re what ties him to his humanity. Logan is what ties him to his strength, to his primal drives, to the animal he is. Logan’s his father, but he’s also his semel, and so Ilia is responding to the power and nothing more. But you… you’re the softness, the gentleness, and so when Ilia sees you, he’ll want to talk to you and sit with you, and so he’ll shift back.”
“A semel can be gentle and kind as well,” I reminded Crane. “Are you telling me that your semel is not?”
“The semel-netjer, your mate, is the best man it’s possible to be,” he told me. “Really, you won’t find better. But still, innately, he’s the power, right? The reah is the comfort. Logan can’t shut off the strength that rolls off of him any more than you can stop your innate kindness and tenderness.”
I nodded.
“We’re in new territory here,” Crane said, chuckling. “Ilia is a brand new creature with your nekhene blood rushing through him, and Logan’s semel line. He’s terrifying and combustible, and only we’re not afraid of him.”
“Who’s we?”
“Us, your family. We.”
I nodded. “How come you’re not afraid?”
He scoffed. “I can’t be scared of Ilia; I was the third person to hold him after he was born. He loves me, and I know that, but still I’m cautious when you’re not there because he could hurt me without meaning to.”
“But when I’m there, he can’t?”
“When you’re there, he won’t.”
“And yet there was an incident.”
He shrugged. “We really want you to remember what happened naturally, ’cause the doctor said it would be better to remember the trauma and not be told. But I will say that it was his grandfather’s fault, and that it had nothing to do with Ilia not listening to you and everything to do with how nuts things got.”
“Oh?”
“He’s just a little boy. He can’t be expected to have control when he hasn’t even learned any yet.”
I nodded. “So now you’re careful with him because I’m not home?”
“We all are.”
I took a breath. “How old is Ilia?”
“He’s five.”
“Oh, he’s so little. How can he be so young and shift? My understanding is that werepanthers don’t go through their first change until adolescence.”
“I told you, Ilia’s special.”
“Yes, you did.”
“And he’s so frickin’ cute with his big gray eyes and his black hair. You wanna see?”
“Please.”
Crane pulled up pictures on his phone and then passed it to me.
Ilia Church was beautiful. He’d been an adorable baby, and the pictures of me holding him, his chubby little hand wrapped in my long hair, brought tears to my eyes.
“Do you have pictures of me and my mate?”
He grimaced. “I do, but I’m not supposed to show those to you. You’re supposed to pick your mate out from a lot of other people. That’s why the semel—what’s-his-name—Boucher has all these people over here.”
“Is my semel here?”
“No, not yet. He will be soon. I was in Florida—that’s why I’m here already. I was mediating a sit-down between two of Martine Soto’s akers.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know who that is, and I’m not sure what an ‘aker’ is, either.”
He sighed. “That’s weird.”
“Why?”
“Normally you’re an encyclopedia of panther law.”
“I am?”
He nodded. “You are. Your father was a sylvan, and he taught you everything, way more than just what you needed to survive.”
“And is my father still living?”
“No, he’s not.”
“And my mother?”
“Your mother committed suicide two years ago.”
“Oh.” It was sad news.
“You weren’t close.”
“Do I have siblings?”
“You have a brother who lives in New York now.”
“And are he and I close?”
He shook his head. “No. You’re only close to your own family.”
“What you just said makes no sense.”
“I mean, your family that loves you.”
I was struck by how serious he sounded. “And that’s you?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re closest to Logan and Ilia and me, but there are a lot of other people you hold dear and who you call family.”
I took hold of his hand. “Would you sit and tell me?”
“Of course,” he replied, beaming at me.
God, I really liked his smile.
We sat down on one of the benches as a beautiful woman came charging through the courtyard with two men following her, one taller than the other, both heavily muscled. The crowd parted for all three of them. She was dressed in a white suit complete with a white patch over her right eye, and both men were in suits: the taller in navy without a tie, the shorter in black with a yellow one.
Crane rose and held out his hand as the woman rushed to his side. I stood slowly, watching as she filled his arms for only seconds before she pulled free and flung herself at me.
I was startled by the ferocity of the embrace and by her immediate tears.
“Oh,” I whispered. “You missed me.”
“My reah,” she said with so much emotion in her voice that I could hear the tiny tremors. “I have more than missed you.”
“Are you part of my family?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly, forcefully, stepping back, her hands on my face. “I am. I’m Yusuke Adams, and I’m the mate of your beset and the ma-ahn of your tribe.”
I hated not knowing what that was, so I asked her to please spell it and explain.
“Most large tribes have either a maahes, or prince of their tribe, or maahen, which is what I am, the princess of your tribe,” she said, smiling at me. “And even now, your s
on runs with my daughters and cares for them and protects them.”
“Aren’t you afraid of my son?”
She frowned. “I’m your son’s godmother, my reah. I would never fear him. He was curled in my lap two days ago.”
I exhaled sharply. “I’m so glad to hear that he hasn’t been alone.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s been hard for his father, as he loves and adores his son, but he was also the reason for you being gone, and a semel without his true-mate is only half of what he could be.”
“I’m sure he’s done everything for his son.”
“All that he is capable of, yes,” she apprised. “But my semel is still at the mercy of his beast and his standing, and without the other half of him, balance is hard to find.”
I had no idea how to respond but luckily I didn’t have to.
She stepped sideways, and I saw the taller man who had followed her was down on one knee, waiting.
“This is your sheseru, Artem Varda.”
He was stunning with his deep green eyes, short dark brown hair, and neatly trimmed beard and mustache. I had no idea they made suits for men with shoulders that broad.
“My reah,” he said kindly, his voice thick with feeling.
I stepped in front of him. “I don’t know what’s permissible.”
He took a quick breath. “With your former sheseru, Yuri Kosa, you used to put your hand on his shoulder.”
Slowly, I put my hand on him and felt, under my palm, the shiver run through his massive frame. “What did you have to do, to be my sheseru?”
“I had to fight and win a challenge.”
“Did you defeat Yuri Kosa?”
He scoffed. “No one but a semel could defeat Yuri Kosa in the pit.”
“But he’s not my sheseru anymore?”
“No.”
“Why did he leave?”
“To be the mate of the akhen-aten, Domin Thorne,” he explained. “He had to go live with his mate in Egypt. That’s the only thing that would have kept him from you.”
“Oh.” What a wonderful answer. He’d only left me to be with his love. How romantic was that? “Okay, so who did you have to fight, then?”
His eyes darted to Yusuke, who gave a nod of permission.
