by Mary Calmes
Domin knew his law well.
“Get the fuck out,” he growled from low in his chest.
“So the maahes of the tribe of Mafdet commands,” Yuri said, his voice booming through the room. “On his word—out!”
I was panting with my devouring need and did not follow all the movement behind me, but when the door slammed shut, Logan withdrew his fangs and took a step back from me.
Whirling around, I lifted my face to his, and I saw that his eyes had bled to all gold. He had not shifted to his werepanther form, but he was trembling on the verge of it.
My body responded to the strength in him, his beauty and dominance. I got out of my clothes as fast as I could, kicking off my sneakers, unbuckling my belt, shucking out of my jeans and underwear until I was naked in front of him. He had watched me, not touching his own clothes, gold-slitted eyes instead locked on my body, running over it, never leaving me.
When he reached out a hand, I saw claws where there should have been fingers.
I fell to my knees and went to work on his belt.
“Nekhene,” he growled at me.
I loosened the belt, unhooked the clasp of his suit pants, let them fall, and then eased his briefs down until his enormous cock bounced free. I admired the curve of it, the bronze color, the length and girth, the prominent vein that ran down the side and the wide, flared tip before I rose up and took him down the back of my throat.
His cry of pleasure filled the room. A second later I felt the sharp claws in my hair, gliding over my scalp as he held me against him, making sure that his cock would remain buried in my hot, wet mouth.
I sucked hard, licked, swirled my tongue around the length of him, pulled back to trace the underside, leaned forward to bathe his balls, using my hand to tug and pull gently but firmly, swallowing the dripping precome before I took him in again from swollen head to base. He pushed in and out of my mouth, holding me there, his hand fisted in my hair.
When he pulled away, I tried to recapture him, but he used my hair like a leash as he lifted me to my feet and hurled me backward onto the bed. I hit it and rolled and he was on me, lifting my ass into the air. I heard him spit once and then again, and when his long, hard, rough tongue pushed into my opening, I cried out.
Normally there was lube, normally there were his talented fingers, but there was nothing, and he did not want to hurt me with his claws. He spit again, and I writhed against him as I felt his thighs brush the backs of mine.
“My reah,” he snarled as I felt the head of his cock at my entrance.
But that wasn’t me. I was a nekhene cat and I was free; no one owned me.
He felt me tense in rebellion and responded. “Mine!”
I hissed out a moan as claws were driven into my hips, holding me still as he pushed inside me, slowly spreading me open, easing past the tight rings of muscle, pressing deeper and deeper.
The nekhene in me stilled, quieted, waited through the welcome jolt of pain.
My mate.
The man was my mate, and I wanted to be claimed more than I wanted to breathe.
He pressed into me, pushing, never stopping until he was fully seated inside, buried to the hilt. I was so full, so stretched, and the pain was white hot even as it began to change from burn to pulse to aching, throbbing need.
“Logan,” I cried as my muscles clenched around him, spasming.
He pulled back, sliding slowly, and then he thrust back into me, hard and deep.
“Oh please,” I begged him, loving the feel of the man sheathed in me.
The action was repeated over and over, his rhythm set in seconds, again and again, fucking me, the length of him sliding easily in and out of my slick, clenching channel.
It was not tender, it was bruising, and I was held down, like a mating, the rutting that animals did, until he was coated in a sheen of sweat. What changed it to more was his hand, morphed from the clawed version back to human, on my face, turning my head, lifting my chin so he could take possession of my mouth as well as my body. Our lips melded together, and heat flared between us, his desire and mine exactly the same—to be one. He demanded surrender, and I gave it. When I felt his hand grip my cock, just that much pressure over sensitized flesh brought my orgasm roaring up out of me in a blinding rush. My muscles flexed around his hardness, tightening all at once, hugging his shaft and wringing his shuddering release from him seconds later.
He collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the bed under him, both of us heaving and spent, panting for air.
“Maybe you should take me with you from now on,” I finally said, smiling, turning my head to nuzzle aside his sweaty hair and kiss his temple.
His body was shivering with aftershocks, my channel still rippling around him, holding him tight. “Maybe,” he agreed before he started to laugh.
I could feel his heart beating against my back, the rumbling of his laughter, and his throbbing cock still buried deep inside me. Every part of me was sated and satisfied, and even the part that rebelled against the bond of reah and semel recognized the claim that Logan had just marked in my flesh with his teeth and claws.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shook my head as he pressed a hot kiss to the side of my neck.
“You belong to me, Jin; every part of you, every piece is mine.”
Yes. “Yours,” I agreed.
The deep, satisfied male grunt made me smile.
He eased gently from my body and rolled me over to my back before he lifted to his knees. I was naked, and so was he, from the waist down.
“You look like I had my way with you,” he said, smiling wickedly.
“You look pretty much the same.” I arched an eyebrow for his benefit.
He pounced on me, and I was laughing as he kissed me, wrapping me in his strong arms, holding me tight as he took possession of my mouth.
I kissed him back, tangling my tongue with his, tasting him, sucking and nibbling, arms and legs holding him tight.
“Say it,” he whispered breathlessly, taking a gulp of air so he could kiss me some more.
“Logan,” I gasped, panting, “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, his fingers combing through the long, thick hair that fell to the middle of my back. “I love nothing and no one more.”
I pulled him down for another kiss, and he chuckled into my mouth.
“Mine,” he breathed, and I was.
Chapter Seven
LOGAN had taken a shower after me, and so when he came out, I was again standing at the window, staring out at the night.
“Should I have some food brought up before we leave for the airport?” he asked gently.
“No.” I shook my head, my eyes flicking to his honey-gold ones.
“We’re going home, we’re not staying. Don’t be anxious or panic or think we’re not leaving, because we are.”
I nodded but said nothing, afraid I would dissolve into tears. I felt vulnerable suddenly, naked, because everyone knew what Logan had done to calm me and assert his dominance. I felt as though I was on display.
He crossed the room and took me in his arms, and pressing my face into his throat calmed me, the steady beat of his heart soothing, his hand cradling the back of my head, so gently, so tenderly, drawing the first tear from under my closed lids.
“Baby, look at me.”
I tilted my head back and looked up at him.
“There.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry about anyone else; you’re the reah of your tribe, no one can understand your heart except me, and I’m the only one who matters.”
But as everyone filed in and I saw their frightened faces, the wary looks, and the anger, I found that I had to look away. Even Artem, who had not shifted, looked scared.
“Let’s go,” Logan said after a few minutes, having changed out of the dress shirt and sweater he had been wearing earlier into just the sweater under his suit jacket. He pulled his wool and cashmere trench coat back on o
ver it before he took my hand in his and led me out.
Domin took care of my hotel bill, and I followed Logan outside and into one of four enormous black Hummer limousines. Normally I would have had some sort of snarky comment about how Hollywood it was, but today it didn’t matter.
I wanted to see Crane. I wanted to go home.
Inside the car, I sat beside Logan and was quiet, staring at his hand holding mine. The gold of his skin beside the olive of mine was, as always, noticeable. I heard yelling outside, and then Yuri was in the limo with us before Justin and Sean climbed in as well. I noticed that Miguel Garza and a woman were also seated inside.
“We’re just waiting for my sheseru,” he told us. “My sylvan will ride in the car behind us with my maahes, yours, and your other man.”
He meant Artem.
“May I present my yareah, Erin Ralston Garza.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Logan assured her.
Even if he had noticed before, as he had, he could never speak to her or even acknowledge her without her mate’s permission. The fault that it took so long for him to greet her was Miguel’s alone.
“No, semel-netjer, it’s mine,” she said. Then she turned to me. “I understand you are very powerful, reah, more powerful, even, than my mate.”
I didn’t answer her, as it was obvious that the taunt was meant as bait for Miguel and not me. Perhaps the women in his bed that he had spoken of earlier were not as welcomed by his mate as he would have had us believe.
“Here he is,” Miguel said too loudly, in obvious distress.
Taylor Pang, whom I had met earlier, whom I had dragged through a shift just as I had Sean, climbed into the car and took a seat beside Miguel. The man who had gotten out of the passenger seat to open the door, one of the khatyu, returned, and then I heard all the locks click as we pulled away from the curb.
It was quiet for long minutes, and when Logan finally broke the tension and silence, I would have startled if he had not moved his arm before he spoke and put it around me, drawing me in tight against his side.
“My mate is no longer making you ill, is he, semel?”
“No,” Miguel said quickly, “I don’t think so.”
“And you?” Logan questioned Taylor.
“No, semel,” he addressed Logan. “I feel different now.”
“Protective,” Yuri offered, his voice kind, as it normally never was.
“Yes.” Taylor’s dark eyes flicked to my sheseru.
“My reah’s scent is now as it normally is.”
“Oh,” Taylor said softly.
“For you, semel,” Logan said softly, “if you just breathe past his smell, past the need to protect and dominate him, your head will clear.”
The silence returned but was broken seconds later by Miguel.
“Fuck.” He exhaled sharply, looking across the space at Logan. “That’s what a reah feels like regularly?”
Logan nodded.
“And he’s not my mate,” he said, squinting, “but I can feel the—that’s crazy. I mean, just for a second there I wanted to—”
“Kill me,” Logan provided calmly.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“How do you—”
“All my friends told me I should be afraid of you, reah,” Erin said sharply, ending all conversation in the car, “and I don’t know why.”
I didn’t have the time or the energy to discuss what a reah was compared to a yareah. I especially didn’t feel the need to speak to a trophy wife.
She was perfect. Nails, eyebrows, tan in the middle of winter, clothes that cost more than my car; her hair, with the pouf, was immaculate. The Chanel purse sitting at her feet matched her diamond-encrusted watch. Her makeup was flawless, and her jewelry was big and flashy. She reminded me of a rich, pampered housewife, and though I was normally much kinder, less judgmental, I was depleted of my normal goodwill.
I turned my head, burying my face in Logan’s shoulder.
“My reah is exhausted,” Logan began, and his voice, his really wonderful, smooth, mellifluous voice, hushed the car. “If you would allow me, I would answer your question, yareah of the tribe of Deshret.”
I turned my head a fraction of an inch so I could see her.
She smiled at him. “Please.”
Every woman smiled at Logan. It was a given; he was gorgeous. The man was gold all over, gold hair, gold skin, gold eyes, and the way he walked and carried himself, you knew you were looking at strength and virility and delicious soul-singeing heat. But there was more to him than just what you felt and saw. It was the calm you felt in his presence and the way the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes deepened when he smiled. He took in pain and confusion or anger and rage and breathed back out soothing quiet. It was what was needed in the semel, the leader of the tribe, but not often found.
“Your friends probably feared for you because an unmated reah, if they were to come across a semel mated to a yareah, could possibly end up being that semel’s mate. There is always the chance that a semel mated to a yareah could still find his true-mate, his reah.”
“So somewhere in the world could be Miguel’s reah.”
“Yes.”
She let that sink in. “That is really scary,” she told him. “I mean there you are, a yareah, and you’ve put years in with your mate, maybe had kids, and then one day he’s walking down the street and he just runs into his reah and your life is over.”
Logan nodded.
“I mean, that’s what you’re telling me, my life could end tomorrow if he finds his mate.”
“No, you would become taurth, second-mate.”
“It sounds horrible.”
“Some female werepanthers refuse to even be considered as yareahs for that very reason,” he told her. “Better to never love a semel at all than lose him.”
She nodded.
“But they’re foolish,” Logan told her. “The chance of a semel ever finding a reah is miniscule at best.”
“Spoken like a man.” She smiled at him, pointing at me. “Because there sits your reah, and even though my mate is straight, he has not taken his eyes off him since he got into the car.”
“What?” Miguel snapped at her.
He had obviously not gotten around to telling her what he had planned between him and her and I back at the hotel.
“I understand,” she said as she nodded, smirking at him before returning her eyes to Logan. “But a mated reah, why do I care about a mated reah?”
“Precisely.” Logan smiled at her. “A mated reah is no threat to any yareah and should be seen only as a friend.”
She looked at Logan hard. “Were you mated when you met your reah, semel-netjer?”
“No, I was not.”
Her smile was huge. “That’s good, so no lives were lost in the forming of your partnership.”
“No,” he said, chuckling at her wording. “I was very fortunate.”
“I’m sure an unmated reah would be someone that a yareah might even want to kill.”
“Yes, but most yareahs will never even see a reah in their lifetime.”
“It’s hard to imagine a reah being so rare when I can see one right in front of me.”
He was quiet.
“I am curious to see if the power is really as great as I’ve been told.”
“Unfortunately a display of my mate’s power in this car would get us all killed in the ensuing chaos.”
“He is that powerful?”
“Ask your mate,” Logan said, which basically brought all chitchat to an end.
At the airport, Logan thanked the semel for his hospitality and told him that Mikhail would be in touch about reparation and the arrangements for the transfer of funds that would be decided on. The semel seemed uncomfortable, and I was certain that now, late in the night, when the anger and pain and humiliation had dissipated, the idea of having Logan pay him for his own weakness and that of his men seemed petty.
“Perhaps inst
ead I might be allowed to visit with my household, and we could hunt with you. I have not been on one in years.”
“Your tribe must hunt together,” Logan told him, “or one of the most basic of bonds is lost. And I would be honored, semel, and so would my house.”
Miguel Garza’s face lit up, and he bowed, and then Logan bowed and everything felt better. I noticed that the semel still could not meet my eyes, and unlike his yareah, he didn’t want to touch me.
Erin offered me her hand, which I took. Eyes that had been combative had softened, and when I smiled at her, it was returned.
When they were gone, the semel and his household, Domin and Artem joined us for the walk toward the doors that led inside the airport. Logan was ahead of me, with Yuri and I behind, my sheseru’s hand on my shoulder.
It was nice that now we were mated, Logan allowed others of his own household to touch me and be close to me. I reveled in his trust.
Logan promised to call Justin if he needed help with the challenges that he would face during the sepat and of course to tell him if he became semel-aten.
“It seems like a dream to even be talking about this,” Justin sighed. “Do you even want to be semel-aten and live in Sobek?”
“I don’t, no, but there are probably choices I don’t know about yet that the priest will make me aware of if I actually win.”
“I have no doubt that you’ll win,” he told him. “You’re the strongest semel I know, and all your men, your maahes, your mate… you’ll win.”
Logan stepped into him without permission, all the rules gone suddenly, just two old friends saying good-bye. Justin smiled as he was grabbed tight and hugged Logan back just as hard.
I cleared my throat, and all eyes were on me. “May I make apologies to your sheseru?” I asked Justin.
In answer, he stepped aside, and I was faced with Sean Li.
“I’m so sorry, sheseru of the tribe of Qebui, I did not mean to—”
“Reah,” he interrupted me, having lifted his hand. “I learned a great deal about myself this night. When I shifted, I didn’t lie on the floor gasping and flailing as did others; I did not have to be held down by my semel. I shifted, yes, but I held to my duty even in the shift. I have far more control than others have credited me with having. Thank you for showing me that there is still more to learn and ways I may better myself. We all have power inside that needs training.”
