Trusted Bond

face
    crumbled.
    ―But I am you sheseru.‖
    ―You are until I see Yuri Kosa again,‖ I told him. ―Go read your
    law,‖ I finished, closing the door in his face.
    I didn‘t want to talk to him, deal with him; I was sick of the drama
    my life had become. I wanted it back the way it was. I wanted to be
    annoyed over scheduling problems at work, about Crane moving to Vegas,
    Trusted Bond

    119

    about Logan turning my house into a fortress. More than anything, I
    craved having a knock-down, drag-out fight with my mate. To hear him
    growl my name, roll his eyes and lecture me. I missed the normality that
    marked my day-to-day existence. I just wanted to go home.
    ―And I want my goddamn clothes!‖ I yelled at the big, beautiful,
    ornate area filled with crap that didn‘t impress me at all. Marble and gold,
    the room looked like the summer home of a king, the murals from floor to
    ceiling depicting scenes right out of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. I saw
    Anubis; he was the only one I knew on sight, just like most people.
    Stalking back out to the pool, I took off the robe and shifted to my
    panther form. In moments I had scaled the rock wall to the trees and made
    the short leap to the roof. I was surprised to find a garden. There was a
    small pond filled with brightly colored fish, stepping stones that one
    would use to cross it, and finally lilies that were blooming in the dark
    water. The sounds were comforting; the lazy buzzing of insects, the soft
    chirping of songbirds, the trickle of a fountain bubbling over polished
    rocks, and the drifting aroma of quince tea.
    Walking to the wall, I was about to leap up when there was gentle
    throat-clearing. Turning, I saw a man reclining on a chaise, a cup in one
    hand, saucer in the other.
    ―I know that you survived a leap of much higher just days ago, reah,
    but I fear there are no canopies here to slow your fall.‖
    I studied his face as he stared back at me. His eyes were green, and
    with how dark his complexion was, I didn‘t expect it. But they were the
    eyes of a cat, that green-gold that was unmistakable and ringed with thick
    black lashes. Wavy black hair fell over his forehead and down the nape of
    his neck to a set of broad shoulders. Dark bronze skin made a stunning
    contrast against the gauzy white cotton button-down, open at the collar
    with the sleeves rolled up muscular forearms. When he put down his tea,
    he swung his long legs off the chaise and stood up. The linen drawstring
    pants were rolled up at the bottom. He looked like he should have been
    walking the beaches in Jamaica.
    ―I have heard quite a bit about you, reah.‖
    I just stood there, frozen, staring at him.
    ―I‘d like us to talk before I figure out what to do with you.‖
    I bristled at his words.
    120

    Mary Calmes

    ―I can feel the frustration rolling off you. You must shift so you can
    speak to me, as I want nothing more than to talk to you.‖
    I would not be naked in front of one more person. I wouldn‘t.
    ―I have placed clothes for you in your apartments. Though they are
    not what you would find yourself wearing at home, I believe they will fit
    nicely, as I had you measured. My seamstress is excellent.‖
    My head lifted, and I took a step backward.
    ―I assure you, reah, she was very discreet. She is also close to eighty.
    Your virtue was not compromised.‖
    Annoying that he felt it necessary to say that to me, like I needed to
    be soothed like a child.
    ―There is more than one gallibaya there for you, as well as the abaya,
    if you want an extra covering,‖ he said gently. His voice was deep and
    resonant, mellifluous; I felt it almost like a caress. ―There are trousers
    there as well for you to wear underneath it.‖
    I waited.
    He smiled at me. ―A gallibaya is like a long shirt that falls almost to
    your feet. It is quite comfortable, I assure you.‖
    I had no idea what to do.
    ―Why not return to your quarters, where you came from, shower and
    change, and then we will dine together, you and I. I would very much
    enjoy that, reah.‖
    I ran.
    Any degree of normalcy, just taking a shower, washing my hair,
    would be heaven. The entire ordeal had taught me a fundamental truth: as
    much as I prized my freedom, there was nothing—nothing—as important
    as my mate and my home. As I shifted back to human form, back to me,
    the room blurred through hot, fresh tears.
    The drawers of the antique golf-leaf armoire were filled with clothes,
    and even though