Trusted Bond, page 27
“You better fuckin’ hug me, you shit.” I laughed into the side of his neck, unhinged suddenly, sounding strange, manic. He grabbed me, clutching me tight, and I felt the tremor that ran through him. “Jin. Say it. Say you believe me; tell me you’ll let it go.”
“But––”
“Jin!”
“All right,” I promised him. “If you’re really okay with how things are, then I’ll be okay with them for you and not try and fix shit that ain’t broken.”
He nodded before he took a step back out of my arms. “That’d be a nice change.”
I flipped him off and he arched a wicked eyebrow for me. We rejoined Logan, and he eyed us both. “Are you two all right?”
“Yep.” Crane grinned at him. “Aces.” I gave him the thumbs-up. His smile made his eyes glow gold fire. It was breathtaking before he turned to face the kneeling men. “Give us your news, your grace,” he prompted the priest as he reached for my shoulder and drew me in close to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding tight as I too faced the priest. “From this day forward,” he told Logan, “you will no longer be semel-re, for I have confirmed Jin’s existence as a nekhene cat with the council of the Ennead, and we are all in unanimous agreement. Your reah, who is your true-mate, is also one of the most powerful panthers we have ever seen, and so therefore you will be known from this day forward as semel-netjer. We will make the announcement together, all of us, tomorrow at—”
Logan interrupted. “No, please, your grace,” he said, clutching me tight to him. “If I may speak?”
“Of course.”
“I would prefer to remain as I am, semel-re, if it would please you, as I wish to be first identified as the semel who has found his reah.”
The priest regarded Logan. “On your own land, semel-netjer, you may refer to yourself as you see fit, but here, as well as in all matters that concern your tribe’s interaction with others, the title will be semel-netjer. Surely you understand, as a nekhene cat is much more rare than even a reah. This too answers the question for everyone as to why Jin is male and not female,” he said, smiling. “Nekhene cats are only ever male, and so as he was born nekhene first, reah second, the more powerful trumps the weaker. A nekhene cat is far more precious, and—”
“To you,” Logan assured him, “but I can promise you that to me, after having to endure a forced separation, that I would only ever be semel-re, even though I am one of two, I understand.”
The priest looked confused. “You are the only semel-re I know of, Logan Church.”
“But I thought—the semel-aten told my mate that his wosret, Amirah Fehr, found her mate in—”
“Oh.” His voice lowered. “No.” He turned to look at all the kneeling men. “You are all excused. Return to your suite or the heru-ur, you’re dismissed.”
My father looked at me, the hatred there clear as day, and Crane’s father was the same. Only Archer, their semel, looked like he wanted to speak to me. “You’re dismissed,” the priest repeated loudly. The men left under the watchful eye of Jamal Hassan. They moved quickly, no one wanting to tangle with the phocal of the Shu. Once they were gone, the priest turned to look at the room. Everyone had packed in close to listen.
He cleared his throat. “It seemed that Amirah Fehr wanted away from the semel-aten more than anything, and so when she saw Terrance McCord, she used all her power, her pheromones, her beauty to entice him. He thought she was his reah, she made him believe it, and so he claimed her as such.”
“What happened?” Logan asked him. “Six months ago, I received word that the semel had killed his reah and his sheseru as he had found them in his bed together.” The priest took a breath. “The bond between the semel and his reah was a lie, but that between a sheseru and a reah never is.”
“When he found them,” I sighed, “he must have been devastated.”
“Yes, reah, as he knew in that instant that the bond had never been real.”
“How?” Delphine asked.
“A reah truly mated,” Logan told her, “would never sleep with another; they only ever hunger for their mate.”
“He killed them both?” Christophe asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought no one was allowed to hurt a reah.”
“Except their semel,” Logan told him. “A reah can be put to death by their mate.”
Christophe shivered. “I feel for Amirah and her sheseru, but I feel for her semel as well.” He looked at the priest. “He killed himself too, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Three lives destroyed by one act of infidelity,” Justin sighed. “If the pull is really that strong, I don’t know if I ever want to find my reah.”
“You do,” Logan assured him, his fingers tangled in my hair. “Believe me, you do.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Your grace,” I said quietly to the priest, “would you bless our union now?”
The room went as silent as a tomb.
“But my reah, you—”
“Please,” I told him, “right here, right now—all the people I care about except Logan’s mother are here. We don’t have rings, can’t have them because of the shift, so… please, your grace.”
He looked at me, deeply into my eyes, before looking at Logan. “It is by your word, semel-net—semel-re, if you would have this so.”
“Please,” Logan sighed, “I would have it so. Only my reah wants to be mated on the night of a giant orgy.”
The priest laughed, and so did everyone else.
Twenty minutes later, Logan and I were on our knees in front of the priest. Justin was beside Logan as his khonsu, second, and Crane was next to me as mine. Hamid used one of his own sashes from his robes and wrapped our hands, speaking the words in Egyptian, ancient Greek, and finally English that would seal us together, bind us, until death. As I looked into Logan’s eyes, he blurred, and I felt my tears seconds later. “My mate,” he said, reaching up, cupping my cheek, his thumb wiping away the salty drops. “I have never loved anyone or anything as I do you. If I hadn’t found you… if you were… it would have been the end of me.”
I nodded. “Same.”
“Okay.” He smiled, leaning in, tipping my chin up as he sealed his mouth down over mine. I parted my lips and sucked his tongue inside, kissing him ravenously, letting him feel my need, the heat, the hunger.
The growl in the back of his throat made me smile against this mouth.
“Ass,” he growled, pulling back, shoving me off him I arched an eyebrow for him and turned to look up at the priest.
He was amused. “You are delightful, reah, playful and frightening all at once.”
I had never been considered scary before. It was sobering. “The sash is my gift. Keep it as a token of your bond and the blessing I bestow on you”—he turned to Logan—“semel-netjer, semel-re, and on you”—his eyes returned to mine—“my reah.”
I would have it framed when I got home. As male werepanthers, we wore no jewelry, as we were supposed to be able to shift at any time. If you shifted with a ring on, you could lose a knuckle when the blood flow was constricted so suddenly. I would have wanted to wear a ring, to show the world I was mated, married, but as fast as I shifted, it was dangerous. The sash was a testament to the bond that I shared with Logan Church.
We all stood, and as Logan turned to accept congratulations from Justin and the others, Crane turned me around to face him. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me too,” I told him, bumping him with my shoulder. “Thank you for being my khonsu.”
“Who else but me?” He scowled. “God, you’re such a douche.”
I looked over at Jamal, who was apparently very startled by Crane’s lack of respect.
“What?” Crane almost snarled at him.
Jamal looked at me. “My tribe is kinda different,” I told him.
“Yes, Jin Rayne, it is.”
And I liked it just the way it was.
Chapter Nineteen
ON THE last night of the feast, all the mates of the semels were allowed to attend the evening meal uncovered but in traditional dress. When I walked out of the bathroom dressed in the ceremonial robes, Logan caught his breath.
“What?”
He rose up off the bed, and I watched the muscles in his jaw clench, saw him lick his lips.
My eyes narrowed. “This can’t be hot, Church.” I smiled at him. “I’m all covered up,” I said, smoothing my hands down the front of the gold-and-white high-collared robe that was closed with toggle-clasps down the entire front to my waist and then fell in to the floor in a drape of heavy white-lined silk. “If I were dressed like a slave boy, I’d get it.”
He moved forward slowly, coming to a stop in front of me, hands on my shoulders as he looked me up and down. “Oh, I see.” I grinned up at him. “You like me all pristine in public and hot in your bed.”
He only nodded. I stepped forward, lifting up on my toes to reach him, pressing a kiss to the wildly beating pulse in his throat.
“It’s nice to know that I can still cause this sort of reaction in you.”
“Still”—he coughed, his hands sliding down to my biceps, his fingers tightening—“always.” I stepped closer, pressing against him, rubbing.
“No,” he croaked out, moving me back out to arm’s length. “We hafta go.”
I had no intention of going anywhere. But duty prevailed, and Logan and I together embarked on the final evening of the feast. It was unbearable. What made it excruciating was the proximity of my mate coupled with the knowledge that it would be hours before I could have him. My body was tense and aching, I was desperate to get the man alone; it was all I wanted, all I could think about, and the event, the people, made it impossible. I was nice, polite, engaging. I put on my public face, but just beneath the surface, my stomach was in an anxious knot, my heart was racing, my skin flushed, and I could, at any moment, become breathless with anticipation. Logically, I knew that the pheromones in the room coupled with my constant craving of my mate had created a ravenous need in me, but even being aware of it did nothing to dissipate my hunger.
Drinks were served before the parade of food began, and then the endless mingling commenced. The faces became a blur, the conversations blending together, and the second I could, I fled to a dark alcove I had noticed earlier, where I could see out but no one would notice me. I waited for Logan to realize I was missing, staring at the broad shoulders and long, muscular lines of my mate. I loved looking at him, seeing the power and beauty of him, the ease of his smile and the way the lines in the corners of his eyes crinkled. It warmed my heart to watch him become aware that I was missing, lift his head, and sweep those golden eyes around the room. I saw him take a breath, that breath, the one you draw in right before you start to worry, and it was then that I leaned out, waved so he’d know where I was and quickly hid myself again. He was there blocking my view of everything but him minutes later.
“What’re you doing?” He grinned at me because I was dear. All the love was there shining in his eyes, and I shivered just a little. “Meet me in the room in five minutes,” I said, trying, and failing, to sound playful, the flutter in my chest just standing so close to him making it hard to breathe. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, scolding me. “We can’t just—”
“We can,” my voice hitched, “and after you fuck me and I can think again, we can come right back down here and mingle.”
“Honey—”
“But if you don’t come with me….” What could I say that wouldn’t sound like a threat, not be like a demand? “You’ll be sorry.”
He squinted at me. “Why would I be sorry?”
“Because I’ll start without you,” I assured him.
“Start without… what?” He was confused.
I slipped around him and dashed for the door. As people called my name, I explained that I would be right back even as I didn’t stop moving. I never once slowed down until I was back in our suite. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The fact that he had stayed right behind me, never losing sight of me, was very telling. I heard the door close and lock, and I smiled as I faced the balcony, the curtains open to reveal the starry night sky. We were too far up for anyone to see into the bedroom, and I liked that. Making love in bed with the evening breeze on my skin would be heaven. “Did you hear me?”
I nodded, turning to walk to the edge of the patio. “You g’head and go back if you want. I just need to release some tension before I go.”
“But I… want… us….” I had reached into the folds of the robe and slid my hand down under the elastic waistband of my briefs and freed my hard, throbbing cock. Just being with Logan Church all evening, watching him, seeing him smile, noting the play of muscles under his clothes, had me dripping, and I used the leaking precome to coat my shaft and slide my fingers over my sensitized flesh. It felt more than good, and I groaned low in my throat. I let my head fall back as I increased the friction. “Jin.” I heard the growl behind me.
“Just….” I trailed off, slowly unfastening the toggle clasps one by one, still fondling my heavy cock, feeling how tight my balls were. When the robe fell open, my chest and abdomen bared, I slipped two fingers into my mouth. I licked them until they were dripping with saliva and then bent forward just a little, reaching around behind me. “I just need to come, and then we can… go.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, having moved really fast, his breath down the side of my neck making me break out in goose bumps. “Is that all you need?” The back of the robe was suddenly lifted and my briefs tugged to my knees. “Logan,” I moaned.
Hand on my back and I was shoved forward, my head on the window, my fingers splayed on the glass on either side. When his tongue slid between my cheeks, I yelled his name.
“I don’t think you have any idea what you fuckin’ need,” he said, his voice husky and low as he spread the globes of my ass, sliding his tongue in deeper, in and out of my tight, fluttering channel. He licked and sucked, and when a finger replaced his tongue, pressing, swirling, I begged for another. “Oh please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, semel-re.”
The second finger slid inside me, and the two together were scissored in and out, opening me up, stretching me, making me ready for him. “Logan!”
“Fuck, Jin, the way your ass swallows my fingers, you need more?”
“Oh God, yes.”
The third finger burned, but his tongue made everything wet around them, and I shoved back against him, wanting the pressure, needing it. “Logan, please… fuck me, I wanna feel you deep inside, as deep as I can take it.”
I heard the low snarl, and then I was suddenly picked up and launched toward the bed. I came down with a bounce on my back, laughing hard.
“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ brat,” he said hoarsely, yanking the robe fully open, lifting the draped skirt of it, taking hold of my dripping cock, fisting it in his hand.
“But I’m your fuckin’ brat.”
“Yes, only mine.”
“Oh God.” I bucked up into his hand, pushing in and out of his callused grip. “Logan.”
He bent over and took my cock down his throat from head to base, swallowing around it as I came undone. The man had no gag reflex at all, because, as a werepanther, he was used to biting off large chunks of meat without chewing. While I didn’t want him biting anything off me, my shaft was no cause for choking. As he made everything slick and wet and hot, I whimpered and writhed under him. “Logan!”
He lifted up to look at me. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, ya know that?”
“I need to come.”
In answer, he stretched out, pulling the lube out from under his pillow where it had been stashed the night before. I watched him flip open the cap, squeezing some of the slippery gel into his palm before he tossed it away. I gasped when two icy cold fingers slid inside my quivering hole. “Mine,” he growled before he grabbed hold of my thighs, folded me in half, and buried the long, hard length of him inside me. I howled my pleasure.
“Now you can come,” he rasped, pulling out only to plunge back into me as deep as he could, buried to his balls in my ass. He rammed in and pulled out of me, pushing in deeper with each stroke. “You feel so good inside; you’re squeezing me so tight,” he said, increasing his rhythm, the force he was exerting. “Fuck, Jin, you feel so good!”
He was the one who felt good, the pressure inside, the way the second he shifted his angle, I was hit by a wave of pleasure as he slid over my prostate. “Oh, I felt your muscles clench around me,” he said, his voice so sexy. “My reah… you’re not even gonna be able to walk.”
I shivered with the promise as he leaned forward; lifting my legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, he sheathed himself inside me, squeezing my cock at the same time and taking desperate, hungry possession of my lips. I bucked up off the bed, shuddering with my release as I came so hard I thought for a second I passed out.
My orgasm was endless. I felt myself coming, semen spurting over the hand, wrist, and sculpted abs of my mate. His smile was like he was drugged, dazed, as his head fell back, and I felt the flood of hot come in my ass. “Being buried inside you, feeling your heartbeat when I’m this deep….” His head rolled forward as he looked down into my eyes. “Jin, I know you’re mine. Even if you weren’t my mate, I would have seen you, I would have needed you, had to have you. I know you think it’s bullshit, but… feel me inside and tell me it’s not the truth.”
No one ever demanded my submission, was possessive of me, and yet let me stand on my own like Logan Church.
“Tell me,” he said, bending forward, still buried to the hilt in me. “Say it.”
I reached up, my hands on his face as I eased him down to me. “You love me not because of what I am but who I am.”
“Yes,” he said, our breath mingling before his mouth took possession of mine. And I finally, really, believed it.
