by Mary Calmes
It felt like the air around us was charged with electricity, and then there was a pop like a fuse blowing, frightening everyone but Crane, Yusuke, Artem, and Andrian, the four of them being the only ones who didn’t cry out and drop back.
“Jin,” Logan said. His voice was deep and husky, resonating though me.
“I dreamed about you,” I confessed, taking a step closer, reaching for his face.
He bent into my hand, rubbing his cheek on my palm, and when his eyes closed, I saw that his lashes were wet. “As I did you.”
My breath hitched as I inhaled his intoxicating scent, filled my nose with it, my lungs, as he lifted my hand and pressed it over his heart.
My mate was tall, easily six four, powerfully built, with broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered to lean hips and long muscular legs.
He was stunning. I knew he would be, of course, because as soon as Yusuke had described him, the golden color of the man, I knew that I’d been dreaming about him. He was the reason I’d woken up, he was the reason I had hope, he was… everything. And honestly, if he was this gorgeous with the expensive bespoke suit clinging to him, naked in bed he would be breathtaking.
“You’re mine,” I whispered.
“I am,” he replied gruffly. “Always, as you are mine.”
I responded to him as my mate, as my semel, as the other half of my panther, of my beast. It was primal, his dominion over me, and I surrendered on instinct as I had not with any other. “My semel,” I moaned, lifting for him, not caring if it hurt, needing his hands on me, his mouth, wanting his claws and teeth, wanting him inside me more than anything.
He bent and kissed me, possessively, passionately, hands on my ass as he lifted me into his arms, squeezing tight, his mouth hot and devouring, his tongue pushing and stroking, showing me who was dominant, who owned who.
My mind flashed to the men who had played suitor with me, walked me home, touched me, tasted me, all tentative except the couple who’d wanted more, tried to take more. But all of them I had sent running; I was too scary, too cold, and too much trouble to woo. Even Luther Hockney, who had been so adamant to simply share a meal with me, had been easily dissuaded once my frigid nature became evident. I was always left alone, discarded but content to be alone, not caring enough to fight.
In that instant I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would kill anyone who tried to come between me and Logan Church.
He belonged to me.
The connection I had feared didn’t exist raced through my blood, sizzling in my veins, and my heart hurt with wanting. There was no part of me that could have denied his claim as the animal I was recognized its mate, without question, and yearned to lie down and submit. I wanted him all over me, holding me down, moving inside me, and my body heated with that raw, aching need.
The path to reclaiming my life began with him, and so the claiming became my singular focus. Perhaps it was always like this between us—a fierce, ravenous hunger—but I had no memory to compare it to and so simply gave in, because it was all I wanted.
The roar of desire exploded in my head, and everywhere he touched, I felt branded even as I began shivering with cold.
I was burning up and freezing at the same time, like my body had been asleep, lying dormant, and was now waking up, remembering what it was for—to touch and be touched by this man.
Breaking the kiss, I stared into his eyes and saw only gold, nothing else, even the part that was normally white was the same burnished amber. The man he’d been a second ago was gone, only his beast remained, and that part of him wanted only me. I whimpered loudly as I writhed in his arms.
“My claim is made,” Logan announced loudly, almost snarling, and even his claws that had sprung from his fingertips, digging into my flesh, were welcome. “Jin Church is my reah, and I remain, ever, semel-netjer, the mate of the only nekhene cat in the world.”
The cheer was surprising, and when he turned toward the garden cottage, I saw Crane dart out of it and hold open the door. His smile was dazzling as Logan carried me past him, and I heard Crane shut the door behind us. It was thoughtful and I would have to remember to thank him, but at the moment there was only my mate. Nothing else mattered; even regaining my memories paled in comparison to my desire to be claimed.
“Jin,” Logan gasped, and when I looked at him, he kissed me again.
I tightened my legs around his waist, and he wrapped one arm around my back and continued to squeeze my ass as he carried me into the bedroom.
I could feel the heat rolling off him, and the strength of the man, his innate power, made me quiver with anticipation. Was he a hard lover, or gentle? Would he hold me down and fuck me, or was I allowed to ride him?
As we tumbled down onto the bed, I squirmed free, panting as I stared at him. “What will you allow?”
“Whatever you want,” he promised, his voice gravelly.
“There’s been no one,” I swore.
“Of course not,” he growled. “You’re mine, Jin Church. There will only ever be me, just as for me, there will only be you.”
I couldn’t keep my hands off him and so crawled forward, straddling his thighs, grinding my ass down over his rock-hard erection that I could feel straining against the zipper of his dress pants. “And if I never remember who I am?”
His groan of need was pure agony. “You’ll remember when you’re ready. You always do everything at your own pace and never before.”
It struck me as I splayed my hands on his chest and bent forward, hovering close. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“What?” he asked, nuzzling the side of my neck, his hands busy tugging my shirt off.
“You—” I rasped, arching under his hands, my cock hard and leaking as he worked open my zipper. “It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”
“Or you me,” he whispered, slipping a hand behind my head to bring me down to him.
His kisses were drugging. I went boneless in his arms as he rolled me to my back and pinned me to the bed under him.
I could feel the beat of his great heart against mine, could watch the play of muscles in his chest and abdomen as he pulled off his jacket, then shirt, and could hear his words in broken whispers, that he loved me, could not live without me, and more than anything, wanted me.
How in the world had I ever managed to not only find this man, but to then make him mine? It was beyond all imagining that the blond from my dreams actually belonged to me.
“Jin,” he said softly, and I realized from the gentleness of his tone and the sudden tenderness in his eyes that Logan Church’s control was absolute. In the midst of desire that was scorching both of us, he was stopping to talk to me.
I swallowed hard, waiting.
“I need to mark you, and while it won’t hurt because I’m your semel and you’re my reah, I know you don’t remember how this all works, so I don’t want to scare you. There’s going to be some blood and—”
“I don’t care,” I rasped, lifting my arms, holding them open for him. “I know whatever we do, here, just us, is right. I trust the bond, and I trust you.”
“Yes, but—”
“And don’t say I just met you.” I sighed as he bent into my waiting arms. “Because the man may have no memory, but the panther inside is rejoicing.”
“As is mine,” he rumbled into my ear. He hugged me close, burying his face in my hair for only seconds before I felt his fangs where my neck and shoulder joined. It didn’t occur to me to be scared or to tell him to stop or to do anything that might make him hesitate or have to soothe me anymore. I wanted the bite; I wanted him to drink my blood; I wanted him to hold me down and sink his teeth into me at the same time he sank inside my body.
“Fuckin’ mark me!” I begged.
He lifted off and flipped me to my stomach, my jeans and briefs shredded under his claws before he moved fast for the nightstand.
When I heard the snap of the lube opening, I knew what Crane had put in the house and blessed him for his
foresight. It hit me then what Logan was about to do, and I had to see, so I twisted my head around to watch my mate coat his shaft in preparation.
He was magnificent. From the huge swollen head to the thick-veined shaft to his heavy balls, the man was beautifully made, gold all over, covered in rippling muscle that was sleek and sinewy over his arms and legs, and solid on his chest and carved abdomen. He was a shifter, so there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and everywhere was cut and hard. I was dying to kiss and lick and bite every inch of skin, wanting to simply worship his big, strong sculpted body.
He wrenched me to my hands and knees by my hair, yanking my head back so my spine bowed, and my ass lifted, and without spreading my cheeks or using his fingers to open me up, he simply pressed inside.
It felt like he was splitting me apart. The pressure, the pain, I clenched my hands in the comforter, gritted against the splintering, stabbing ache of the unending breach.
I couldn’t catch my breath. I opened my mouth to scream, to make him stop, to get him out and off of me, but he tilted on the next descent and rubbed the tangle of nerves inside me and sent electricity sparking across my skin in a hurtling wave. He then curled over my back and stroked me from balls to head, quick and dirty, bringing my flaccid cock back to aching hardness in seconds before his fangs pierced my shoulder.
“Oh,” I moaned, loud and hungry. The man knew me, knew my body, knew where to touch, knew how to incinerate me and then make me whole again.
His bite, the smell of my blood, my hole stretching around his enormous shaft, and his furious thrust and retreat, again and again, each time harder, more savage until he was buried inside me, balls to my ass, brought his name to my lips in a prayer demanding his pledge to never leave me.
“No,” he ground out, his voice changed, now a rumbling growl. “We will never be parted again, and I will make sure. You won’t like what I’m going to do, but there’s no choice.”
I wanted to ask, but my body was shivering with the beginnings of my orgasm, my muscles tightening around his impressive length, wanting him deeper even as he bottomed out inside of me.
“You ask too much if you expect me to live and not have your sweet eyes on me at every moment,” he husked, his lips on my ear as he pistoned inside of me. “You must be the first I see when I wake and the last before I sleep. It can be no other way, Jin… my heart can’t take any less. You are my reah first, before all else, and I demand your submission.”
“Yes, my semel,” I cried as he bit down, on the mark he himself had given me.
I came hard, splattering the comforter, my muscles clenching like a fist around him, and I could feel it as he emptied deep inside me, shuddering through his own release.
We stayed there, frozen, until he rolled to his back, bringing me with him, still buried in my body, not pulling out, my back to his chest, simply stroking my hair, my stomach, and finally, my spent cock.
“You need to pull out and let me clean you up, my semel,” I murmured, my voice thick with sated craving as I lay sprawled in languid recline.
He was silent except for the lazy in and out breathing, and I was there, draped across his body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under my back as he dragged his hand lazily up and down my shaft even as I turned and my forehead bumped against his temple.
We were cheek to cheek as he took hold of my ass and lifted and lowered me, at first slowly and then more quickly, his cock thickening inside of me as my own hardened with the feel of him under me.
“Take hold of your cock,” he ordered as he undulated beneath me.
“Please let me see you.”
A moment of quiet as he decided, then gently, tenderly, he eased from my body, thick, hot come seeping from my hole and running down between my thighs.
It was sexy and intimate, and I shivered with the awareness that he’d used me and was not at all done.
He was so much bigger than me, so much stronger, so I was lifted without effort and then pushed down onto the bed as he kissed me ravenously, intently, until I was breathless and clutching at him.
“You need to tell me if you want me to stop.”
“No, don’t stop,” I whined without meaning to, walking my feet up his wide chest to his collarbone, then waiting as he rolled forward so my knees hooked over his shoulders and he sank inside of me, driving in to the hilt.
His eyes never left mine, our gazes as fused as our bodies. As I rose to meet each thrust and he began his brutal, relentless pounding, I felt his hand snake down between us and capture my cock in a steely grip.
“How many times will you have me, Logan Church?”
“It’s not usually my appetite, Jin Church,” he answered raggedly, “but ours.”
I understood then that I hunted him often. Ours, he’d said. Our appetite, his and mine together. Ours was not a relationship where I waited on him to make the first move. My desire was apparently as rapacious as his, and he delighted in it, in our bond, in the fire that raged between us.
When I spurted over his beautiful chest, his laughter rolled through me before he took me hard, plunging deep at the end, spilling all that was left inside of me before collapsing into my arms, spent and sweaty and whispering my name.
He was made for me, born to be mine, and I would find my way back to him, of that I finally had no doubt.
EXHAUSTED AND sated, more content than I ever remembered being, I slept in the circle of Logan Church’s arms and breathed in his scent. When I finally opened my eyes, having rested soundly for the first time I could recall, I licked his salty skin and then sucked his cock until he woke hungry for me again.
He rolled me to my side and took me from behind, his big hand wrapped around my shaft, wringing my orgasm from me. When I came, coating his fingers, he licked his fingers clean and kissed me so I could taste myself on his tongue.
I lost myself in his mouth and his hands, in his hair and his skin. I had questions to ask and stories to hear, but I needed the connection with my mate before anything else. Everything he did, every touch, every kiss, when he sat in a chair and had me ride him, when he held me pinned to the wall and drove up inside of me, and when he shifted into a werepanther and took me over the couch, claws and fangs buried in my flesh as deep as his cock… all those acts informed me about our bond—but nothing else.
Food came in the early hours of the morning. I knew it was Crane and Yusuke caring for us, and I would have thanked them if Logan had let me out of the house.
We ate and drank, and he mourned my hair, and as we sat side by side at the small table in the breakfast nook, I told him it would grow back out.
“I like it on my skin when you’re riding me,” he confessed, and I vowed I’d grow it long again just so I could see his face when it touched him.
“You’re so beautiful,” I uttered gruffly, my voice still ragged from yelling his name, leaning close, my fingers tracing over a hard nipple before slipping down to his chiseled abdomen from his chest. “I can only imagine how many men and women have wanted to be in your bed.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Are you kidding?”
I squinted at him. “No, Logan, just looking at you, I promise that anyone in their right mind would want to be where I am now.”
His grin fired his gorgeous amber eyes, and I wondered if I’d ever get used to him. “No one would dare come near me.”
“You’re that scary?” I teased.
“Me?” he scoffed. “No, love, not me. You.”
I was surprised. “Me?”
He nodded. “Oh yes. You’re the scariest creature in the werepanther world. It’s not the semel-netjer who inspires fear, but the nekhene cat.”
“Are you serious?”
He chuckled as he pulled me sideways into his lap. “There are only three people on the planet that know you, know what you’re capable of, and don’t fear you.”
I waited.
“Me, Crane, and your son,” he apprised me. “Everyone else—some a little, some a l
ot—is frightened of you.”
“Why?”
“You’re very powerful,” he explained but didn’t elaborate; instead he lifted me off of him, wrapped the blanket around his waist again as it had fallen open, and then crossed the room to the window seat. It was raining outside, and as he sat, he moved the curtain so he could watch.
In my wildest dreams I’d never imagined that such a beautiful, strong, virile man would be mine. He was everything I’d dreamed of, gentle and sexy, a gifted and demonstrative lover with a kind heart. So it pained me to realize he was so obviously sad.
“You’re killing me,” I whispered.
He turned his head. “Why?”
“You seem so hurt.”
Valiantly he tried to give me a smile, but it simply wouldn’t come. When he went back to staring out at the rain, I got up to go to him, wrapping the sheet around me as I moved.
“You used to doubt me,” he said slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’d say, ‘You love me only because we’re mates. You weren’t even gay before me, so how can this be real?’”
I sat back down near him, listening.
“And I would tell you that the why didn’t matter, only the now mattered. You’re my mate, born to be mine, fated, destined, all that. I’m a semel, you’re a reah, and the chances of us ever finding each other were astronomical, a million to one.” He exhaled, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on the window glass. “In private, just between us, no one else, you were always so worried, and I told you it didn’t matter.”
“But it does, doesn’t it.”
His gaze returned to me. “I just thought that you’d see me and… I’d have you back.”
I understood. He wanted me, but he wanted my memories of him too.
“I enjoy this, us,” he husked. “And we move like I remember, but I’ve never been able to separate the two parts before. I met you, and that fast, I loved you. You were always able to say, ‘We react like this because I’m your reah and you’re my semel,’ and I never believed you because it wasn’t that way for me.”
