Trusted Bond, page 13
“No one but members, soldiers of the Shu, may enter the barracks. It is strictly forbidden by the priest.”
“But your semel is the master of Sobek.”
“Yes, but the temple of Satis, as well as the barracks of Ra-Horakhty, are the under the rule and protection of the priest, and it’s sacrilege to be there without permission.”
“Then how come I got in?”
His brows furrowed. “Jamal told me that you sought sanctuary, is that not so?”
Jamal had been the only good guy in the whole mess. I was not about to screw him over. “No, that’s right,” I said quickly. He nodded slowly, looking for the lie on me. “Only at my semel’s insistence and the phocal’s acquiescence were you delivered here. Jamal seemed concerned about leaving you even though I explained that you had called me, that I was your sheseru, and that I would protect you from any harm.”
“Even from your own semel?”
His brows furrowed. “Pardon? My semel would never harm a reah… especially not a reah, and especially not one like you.”
“One like me,” I repeated.
“You are the only male reah in existence, truly unique, truly one of a kind.”
Which made me, what, worthy of caring about? Already I had an idea about the semel-aten—he sounded arrogant, like he wanted to help me because of what I was, not who I was. Not because it was the right thing to do. “My reah”—Roshan cleared his throat—“may I come in?”
“I’m not your reah,” I snapped at him, watching as his face crumbled.
“But I am you sheseru.”
“You are until I see Yuri Kosa again,” I told him. “Go read your law,” I finished, closing the door in his face. I didn’t want to talk to him, deal with him; I was sick of the drama my life had become. I wanted it back the way it was. I wanted to be annoyed over scheduling problems at work, about Crane moving to Vegas, about Logan turning my house into a fortress. More than anything, I craved having a knock-down, drag-out fight with my mate. To hear him growl my name, roll his eyes and lecture me. I missed the normality that marked my day-to-day existence. I just wanted to go home. “And I want my goddamn clothes!” I yelled at the big, beautiful, ornate area filled with crap that didn’t impress me at all. Marble and gold, the room looked like the summer home of a king, the murals from floor to ceiling depicting scenes right out of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. I saw Anubis; he was the only one I knew on sight, just like most people. Stalking back out to the pool, I took off the robe and shifted to my panther form. In moments I had scaled the rock wall to the trees and made the short leap to the roof. I was surprised to find a garden. There was a small pond filled with brightly colored fish, stepping stones that one would use to cross it, and finally lilies that were blooming in the dark water. The sounds were comforting; the lazy buzzing of insects, the soft chirping of songbirds, the trickle of a fountain bubbling over polished rocks, and the drifting aroma of quince tea. Walking to the wall, I was about to leap up when there was gentle throat-clearing. Turning, I saw a man reclining on a chaise, a cup in one hand, saucer in the other. “I know that you survived a leap of much higher just days ago, reah, but I fear there are no canopies here to slow your fall.”
I studied his face as he stared back at me. His eyes were green, and with how dark his complexion was, I didn’t expect it. But they were the eyes of a cat, that green-gold that was unmistakable and ringed with thick black lashes. Wavy black hair fell over his forehead and down the nape of his neck to a set of broad shoulders. Dark bronze skin made a stunning contrast against the gauzy white cotton button-down, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up muscular forearms. When he put down his tea, he swung his long legs off the chaise and stood up. The linen drawstring pants were rolled up at the bottom. He looked like he should have been walking the beaches in Jamaica.
“I have heard quite a bit about you, reah.”
I just stood there, frozen, staring at him. “I’d like us to talk before I figure out what to do with you.”
I bristled at his words.
“I can feel the frustration rolling off you. You must shift so you can speak to me, as I want nothing more than to talk to you.”
I would not be naked in front of one more person. I wouldn’t. “I have placed clothes for you in your apartments. Though they are not what you would find yourself wearing at home, I believe they will fit nicely, as I had you measured. My seamstress is excellent.”
My head lifted, and I took a step backward. “I assure you, reah, she was very discreet. She is also close to eighty. Your virtue was not compromised.”
Annoying that he felt it necessary to say that to me, like I needed to be soothed like a child.
“There is more than one gallibaya there for you, as well as the abaya, if you want an extra covering,” he said gently. His voice was deep and resonant, mellifluous; I felt it almost like a caress. “There are trousers there as well for you to wear underneath it.”
I waited.
He smiled at me. “A gallibaya is like a long shirt that falls almost to your feet. It is quite comfortable, I assure you.”
I had no idea what to do. “Why not return to your quarters, where you came from, shower and change, and then we will dine together, you and I. I would very much enjoy that, reah.”
I ran. Any degree of normalcy, just taking a shower, washing my hair, would be heaven. The entire ordeal had taught me a fundamental truth: as much as I prized my freedom, there was nothing—nothing—as important as my mate and my home. As I shifted back to human form, back to me, the room blurred through hot, fresh tears. The drawers of the antique golf-leaf armoire were filled with clothes, and even though they were not familiar, they were mine. I chuckled when I saw the boxers. I had not worn anything but briefs since I was old enough to choose, but it didn’t matter. Just the novelty of having underwear made me so happy I almost broke down. And it was stupid, but I was really close to going right out of my mind. After I ran from the room back to where I had woken up, I went immediately to the bathroom to shower. I stood under the water until it ran cold, and when I finally stepped out and wiped away the steam from the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person looking back at me. There were dark circles under my eyes, my face was gaunt, my eyes flat, and my throat and collarbone were blotchy with purple and yellow bruises. Farther down were cuts and tears and scrapes. I drew back, not wanting to inspect myself any further.
The amenities on the sink—deodorant, lotion, lip balm—seemed trivial, but to me, after being filthy and covered in blood, they were like the grail. Brushing my hair was a religious experience. Feeling the bristles on my scalp was soothing; I ran the length of it until the silky slide was like water running through my fingers. When I tugged on the light cotton pants, I didn’t have to fight them, and once buttoned, they slid down low on my hips. I had lost weight, having moved from lean to just plain skinny. Logan’s mother would never stop cooking for me once I got home. Just from taking a shower, standing for so long, I was tired. After pulling the midnight blue cotton gallibaya over my head, I adjusted the length, making sure it fell properly without bunching, and then finally left the bathroom. I ended up staggering out to the bedroom and flopping down onto the chaise at the end of the enormous bed. “Reah.”
The man from earlier was leaning against the doorframe that led from the bedroom out to the pool. When I had gone into the shower it was dusk, but now it was after twilight, the sky the deep royal blue that it became right before it turned black. “I had the patio lit so we could dine outdoors.”
There were lanterns floating in the pool and many more lit in all corners of the private grotto. They were burning oil instead of kerosene, and the smell reminded me of honey and sandalwood and amber. It was exotic and comforting at the same time. “Are you ready to eat?”
I was. “Yes, please.”
“Follow me.” The table he led me to was small but big enough for the two of us and the trays of shish-kabobs, jasmine rice, and mounds of fruit. He poured ice water into a large goblet for me and smiled as I drank it. “Do you know who I am?”
Everything was fuzzy for a moment as my stomach rolled with hunger. After seeing Roshan Tabir, there was only one man he could be. “You’re master of Sobek, the semel-aten of the tribe of Rahotep.”
His smile made his eyes glow. “I am, yes. Do you know my name?”
“Ammon El Masry,” I answered.
“Excellent.”
I released a quivering breath as I gently, carefully, so I wouldn’t spill, put down my water goblet. I could feel myself shaking. “Do you know how many reahs I have met in my lifetime?”
“No.”
“I have met two. One other and you.” He smiled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The smile was not warm. It was predatory and cold.
“Were you aware that the law says that the second you were discovered to be a reah you were supposed to be brought before me?”
I did know. All reahs were to be “presented” to the semel-aten in Sobek, but as the tribe I had belonged to had called for my blood the moment my true nature was revealed, I had not ever had time to ask about it. “I thought I was, but I wasn’t sure.”
He nodded. “Every reah comes to Sobek to see the semel-aten in hopes that they are his mate first.” He clipped his words. “This practice dates back to the time of the pharaohs. Always, without fail, every reah comes to Sobek.”
He sounded annoyed. “And if the reah is not the mate of the semel-aten then, if the semel-aten wills it, he may decree that the reah in question becomes his wosret.”
Consort. Wosret was consort, and not something I would ever be. “But that would make no sense in my case,” I clarified for both our benefits. “No, it would not,” he agreed after a moment. “But I understand that your semel, your mate, had never been with a man before meeting you.”
I forced a smile. “Nope. Just goes to show you how strong the bond between true-mates really is.”
After a moment, like he was considering my words, he nodded. “Indeed.”
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. “Are you afraid of me?”
Without thinking, I scowled.
“No?” He seemed almost annoyed. I could not get a read on the man. Did he want me to fear him or like him?
“Not yet.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be frightened of me, reah.”
But he did, a little. It was there in his tone, the way he looked at me. He was used to people cowering, and he wanted that from me. I cleared my throat. “Thank you.” I indicated all the food. “I needed to eat.”
“I know you do. I can feel it.”
“Can you?”
“Yes,” he assured me, leaning forward, gazing into my eyes. “In fact, I have felt all that you have since the moment you were brought here to my home.”
“The phocal”—I cleared my throat—“Jamal. He was very kind to me.”
“I care little for the priest’s muscle, but it is good to hear the words from your lips. Was my own sheseru not kind as well?”
“He was,” I told him as I started on one of the shish-kabobs. “I just scared his mate.”
“She turned murderous eyes on you, reah.”
I shrugged. “She didn’t really even look at me.”
“She will now,” he said ominously. “When she begs your forgiveness as she kneels at your feet in two days’ time—she will look at you.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“What’s that?”
“The begging? Can’t we just let it go?”
He tipped his head, smiling at me. “My dear reah, you are quite confused about your place and your worth, and the list of people I blame for this is long.”
“I don’t under—”
He raised his hand, and I went instantly silent. He was not a man to be argued with. “Your life should have been completely different.”
I just waited… and ate. I really couldn’t just sit there and be respectful and silent. I had to eat. My body needed the protein, plain and simple. “I blame your father first. As sylvan of your tribe, the moment he knew you were a reah, you should have been brought here to me. Failing that, your semel should have brought you to me when your father did not. Neither of those men followed the law; neither acted honorably toward you. They have broken the law, and I will ask the priest to pass sentence accordingly.”
I focused on breathing.
“They tried to kill you instead of bringing you to me when they discovered you were a reah.”
I had one shot to save my father. I didn’t care what happened to the others, but Mitchell Rayne, him I still loved. “My father thought me an abomination, still does, and as he had only the greatest, deepest respect for you, semel-aten, he never even thought to denigrate you with such as me.”
His eyes were locked on mine, searching, looking for the truth. “If he knew I was with you now, in your presence, he would be sick.”
After long moments, he nodded. “I will speak to your father.”
I started breathing again. “I think that everyone is confused and somehow considers that normal rules do not apply to you because you’re a man.”
“But they don’t apply.”
“They most certainly do. Even your current tribe does not understand your value. Your semel, Logan Church, even he is blind to the treasure he has.”
I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t. You didn’t argue with a semel in his own house.
“Laurent Bruyere kidnapped you from your home because after two years of looking, he was accidentally told your whereabouts by the aset of your tribe. He had no idea that you were mated, but that does not excuse him taking you by force and holding you against your will and torturing you. He and his tribe, I am certain, will answer to the priest for this atrocity.”
“No, please.” I leaned forward, and without thinking, I covered his hand with mine. “Don’t let him do that. Talk to the priest. Laurent’s whole tribe shouldn’t be punished just because he’s a psychopath. Even his sheseru had no idea what Laurent was doing, and neither did anyone else. It’s not fair to make everyone accountable because a few guys screwed up.”
He closed his eyes, and in that second I realized that I was touching him. When I tried to move my hand, he took it, holding tight, keeping me close. I searched his face, saw the muscles working in his clenched jaw and his furrowed brows, like he was working hard to remain in control. Of what, I had no idea. We sat like that for several minutes before his eyes opened and I was swallowed in spring green. “What do you do, reah? Why try and soften my command when you know it is law?”
“I’m a reah; if Laurent Bruyere’s sheseru had ever been anywhere near me, he would have tried to help. Maybe some of the members in his tribe would have helped me too. You can’t know what is in their hearts; neither can the priest, so he shouldn’t pass judgment on them, and you shouldn’t ask him to. Laurent will get what he deserves from Logan, and so will his brother and his sylvan. But no one else should be held responsible.”
“Your mate will not be the one punishing them, reah. The priest will have the Shu deliver his judgment.”
I shook my head. “That’s not his right.”
He growled and released my hand, getting up and stalking halfway around the pool. I watched him as I continued to eat. I felt like a stray dog wolfing down food in case I didn’t get another meal. “Reah, the priest of Chae Rophon may—”
“Logan Church is my mate. He’s the only one who defends me and punishes in my name.”
“My sheseru—”
“I have my own sheseru.”
“Roshan told me that you called him, so now he is your sheseru.”
“No.” I shook my head. “In times of distress, another sheseru may be called or asked to champion a reah, but the right returns to the sheseru of the reah’s mate as soon as the danger is past or when the reah is reunited with their sheseru.”
There was a sharp exhalation of breath from him. “You quoted that almost exactly.”
It was what I was hoping for. “My father is a sylvan; I was going to take his place until I didn’t. I would hope his lessons stuck.”
“That was the plan for your life?”
“Yes, it was.” I sighed deeply, watching as he walked back to the table. “Please, when can I see my mate?”
“Soon.”
“When?”
“I want you well and rested before you appear before anyone.”
“My mate is not just anyone. I belong to him.”
“You belong to whom the priest says you belong, and at this moment, he calls you my guest and nothing more.”
I squinted at him. “Reah—”
“I will heal that much faster if you let me see my mate,” I pleaded, feeling the need well up in me, nearly drowning me. How could I explain to him so that he understood? How did I make an emotion clear? That for me to be me, I had to have Logan’s hands on my skin. If my mate saw me, I would know I was really alive. Everything would be real. I felt strange, detached, like I was living in a dream, almost outside of my body. Logan grounded me like Crane used to. Like Crane always had. “Oh shit,” I nearly gasped, realizing that just as Logan had wanted, he had replaced my best friend. Logan was my touchstone, he was it. My need to see him was nearly unbearable, whereas it had always before been Crane. “What’s wrong?”Ammon asked as he was suddenly at my side.
He didn’t need to hear about my epiphany. “I really need my mate.”
“There are other concerns first.”
Which made no sense and didn’t sound good at all.
“I want to see Logan. I—”
“Reah,” he said sharply, “you will see your mate when I allow it, not before. Should you continue with your incessant badgering, I will relegate you to my home in Edfu until you have learned patience and humility.”
A wave of cold hatred washed over me, and any warm feelings I had for the man evaporated. “As you say.” I carefully formed the words, all my attention returning to my plate. I concentrated only on eating and drinking, but I was aware of him watching me intently.
