Honored Vow

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.

    Honored Vow

    81

    “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.”

    82

    Mary Calmes

    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