Trusted Bond

to go.‖
    ―He probably wanted to take you.‖ I snorted out a laugh. ―Being in a
    big room with everyone fucking in every direction is like doing it in the
    middle of a porno.‖
    ―Jin!‖
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    239

    ―So I understand.‖ I laughed at her. ―Plus the opium mixed with
    wine.‖
    ―The what?‖
    I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. ―Go take care of your man.
    The doctor said that as long as he eats and drinks he‘ll be good by
    morning.‖
    ―He was whining about missing the heru-ur,‖ she snapped at me.
    ―He just wanted to get his kink on with you.‖ I waggled my
    eyebrows at her.
    ―Jin!‖
    ―Go,‖ I groaned, walking away from her.
    A half an hour later, I was alone. Logan had to go, as did all the
    semels, and sit through the meal and entertainment before the bacchanal
    began. As far as I could tell, after a feast and pageantry that was right out
    of The Ten Commandments or Cleopatra , big-budget costumes, hundreds
    of dancers, the show turned into an orgy. It began at sundown and went
    until the following morning and was held in the main hall and spilled into
    the private baths.
    As a reah, I was strictly forbidden from attending. In fact, no yareahs
    were allowed, either, but every semel was. The double standard was not
    lost on me, but I hardly cared. Logan had to attend up until the dancers
    started writhing on the floor, inviting people from the audience to come up
    and claim them. As soon as the sex began, he could, and would, excuse
    himself. I told him that he could stay and watch—men liked to watch, and
    I was no exception; it was like porn—but Logan had given me a pained
    look and said that he would rather come back and get in bed with me.
    Much rather. And the way the heat in his eyes flared to life left no doubt
    that the idea of him and me alone in our room was absolutely the hottest
    thing he could think of.
    So I was awaiting his return, relaxing in the huge hammock, when I
    fell asleep. It was dark when I woke up, only the moon illuminating the
    room. As I walked around flipping on lights, I wondered where Logan
    was. Thinking about the man made me smile, and as I ran down the
    possible reasons for his absence, my smile got bigger. Just imagining how
    annoyed he was at that moment was fun. He was probably growly and
    grouchy because he was missing me and….
    I froze in the middle of the floor, the truth hitting me like a landslide.
    240

    Mary Calmes

    I wasn‘t worried that he had found someone he liked better. I wasn‘t
    scared that he was fucking some nameless woman on the floor of the hall.
    I wasn‘t concerned at all. I trusted the man implicitly, and I knew, beyond
    the shadow of a doubt, that I was the only one he wanted.
    I didn‘t second-guess him anymore. I didn‘t think about him being
    straight or gay, I thought of him simply as Logan, my mate and the man I
    loved. There was only me for him, and I got that, finally, because of how I
    submitted to him. If he didn‘t love me, didn‘t truly, deeply, completely
    love me, then there would not be, in me, the willingness and want to
    succumb to him. He was my mate and my friend and my love. I was very
    lucky.
    ―Jin!‖
    And he was suddenly out in the hall.
    As I turned, the door flew open to reveal the love of my life filling
    the doorway. He gripped the frame hard, his knuckles white as he stared in
    at me.
    ―Semel-re,‖ I greeted him with a wicked smile, seeing how unsteady
    he was on his own feet. ―How was the wine?‖
    ―Fuckin‘ Kellen Grant.‖
    ―What?‖ I chuckled.
    ―Fuckin‘ Kellen fuckin‘ Grant,‖ he grumbled. ―He fuckin‘ went
    whining to the priest and begged him to be released from fighting me in
    the pit.‖
    I was thrilled. ―Oh?‖
    ―Yeah,‖ he said thickly. ―Fuck. He‘s gonna do it like they… he‘s
    offering tribute, menat , instead of fighting me, like this is fuckin‘ Rome or
    some shit. He‘s transferring funds and—and I told the priest, but he… and
    Kellen said he was sorry like a million times, and he said he‘d mark Abbot
    and Ian and that he‘d find Sean Baker, the fourth guy who attacked you,
    but—‖
    ―He‘s afraid to meet you in the pit,‖ I told him.
    ―No,‖ he bellowed, ―he‘s afraid of you! Everyone‘s fuckin‘ afraid of
    you; it‘s all anyone‘s talking about.‖
    If my metamorphosis kept my mate from the pit, it was fine with me.
    ―Oh yeah?‖
    ―Yeah,‖ he said as he calmed.
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    241

    ―But not