Trusted Bond

face.
    Think on it while I‘m gone.‖
    I watched him rise out of the chair from where he had been keeping
    his vigil and walk toward the door. Once he was through it, I steeled
    myself for his reaction when he returned. I shifted at the same moment a
    door slammed open on the opposite side of the room.
    ―I knew it! Filthy whore!‖
    My head swiveled at the noise, my long hair swirling around me,
    obscuring my face. A woman was striding across the room toward me, six
    men fanning out around her, moving fast with purpose.
    ―You think I didn‘t know what my mate was doing in here holed up
    for a week? You think I don‘t know his appetite for pretty young girls?‖
    she snarled at me, her voice loud, shrill, and filled with seething anger. ―I
    don‘t give a shit what he does elsewhere, but this is my home! Mine! I am
    mistress here, and my word is law! You dare sleep with my mate here!
    Touch my mate here! I will have you torn apart, you stupid fucking
    whore!‖
    Her intent was murderous; I felt her fury like a whip abrading my
    skin. It hurt to even hear. I shifted and was on the floor in seconds.
    Everyone froze, and I knew why. The shift, as always, was fast, scary fast,
    and even though I was already close to being drained, my adrenaline was
    pumping. She was going to have me killed, and I wouldn‘t even be able to
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    Mary Calmes

    get out enough words to save myself. She hadn‘t even noticed that I was a
    man, seeing only what she wanted to, my long hair and lean frame. And
    maybe I should have stood up on the bed so she could have really seen me,
    but between the curses she was hurling and the rage I could feel, she was
    beyond listening, beyond reason. If what she said was true, she had
    simmered for over a week in pain and rage and sharp, stinging betrayal.
    She was incensed, and I was the cause. I would be lucky to escape with
    my life.
    ―Lock the door, shift now, and kill her! Kill her! She has violated my
    home! Violated your sheseran! Kill her!‖
    The mate of Roshan Tabir, the sheseran, was a fearsome creature.
    She would eviscerate any who came near her mate. And while I admired
    her possessiveness, since I had no idea the violence I would be capable of
    unleashing if any tried to tempt Logan from me, she was still making the
    biggest mistake of her life.
    I bolted toward the window because it was the only escape route I
    could see. I had no way of knowing how high off the ground it was. I
    hoped that I was on the first floor but somehow doubted it even as I
    leaped. There was no other option.
    It was dark outside, cool, and I registered that a moment after I
    crashed through the glass and sailed out into the night. There was only air
    for seconds and then the inevitable drop, tumbling, falling, twisting in
    circles before I tore through one canopy, then another and another. Down,
    down, down, each one slowing me until I hit the last one, bounced,
    tumbled, rolled, and hit the dirt street with a hard slam.
    Winded, lying there under the stars for long moments, it took some
    time to register that I was looking at people eating. Tilting my head, I
    looked around and had no possible clue where I could have come from.
    A man shuffled toward me, gesturing for me to move. He spoke in
    rapid Arabic, the same word over and over, trying to shoo me away. I was
    again reminded that I was in Sobek, between Giza and Cairo. There was
    one road that led in and out of the town, the only entrance patrolled by
    heavily armed men. This was private land, deeded to the family of El
    Masry from the time of the pharaohs. Anyone in the town, living in the
    town, or visiting the town had to either be a werepanther or bonded to the
    family of a werepanther. Outsiders were strictly and absolutely forbidden.
    The punishment for a violation of the law was death.
    Trusted Bond

    103

    In Sobek, the tribe of Rahotep, and those who served them, lived and
    worked. I had never wanted to visit. I felt it was more like an American
    Indian Reservation, a place forced on people, not a home. Once a year,
    during the feast, every semel in the world brought a contingent of people
    with him and visited. It was the only time the town received outsiders.
    Due to the fact that I was in Sobek, the man waving me away from
    his business saw me as merely an annoyance, an irritation to his guests and
    nothing more. He wanted me to go away so his patrons could get back to
    ordering food and wine instead of wondering about me.
    Slowly,