Honored Vow

me.
    “Mine,” he whispered in a voice more animal than man as fangs
    were driven deep into my skin, holding me there hard, pinned, under his
    teeth.
    I whimpered and whined, my cock so hard and needy that, that fast, I
    was leaking in my jeans.
    “Clear the room!” Yuri commanded.
    I pressed back against Logan, rubbed, and ground against the now-
    hardened bulge in his dress pants, sliding my crease over his arousal.
    “No.” Justin’s voice was cold and hard. “The law states that any
    semel may watch another semel take his mate at any time. Miguel and I
    will remain.”
    “Yareah,” Domin Thorne answered him, his voice just as icy as
    Justin’s had been moments before. “Not reah, never reah. No one shall
    bear witness to a semel taking his true-mate.”
    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

    76

    Mary Calmes

    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.

    Honored Vow

    77

    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,