Trusted Bond

didn‘t smell like scented oil. She was not dusted in glitter and
    decorated with henna. She walked slower, and then I saw the flash of
    metal.
    The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I registered the deadly
    intent. And it was strange, but I saw and tracked only the woman and the
    man directing her in the sea of people.
    Falling to the ground, I tore off the keffiyeh and was out of my dress
    pants and linen shirt in seconds. I thought, Snake —I had no idea why—
    and felt myself glide over the ground, so much faster than possible, and
    176

    Mary Calmes

    making no sound, not wanting to alert the assassin in case she turned and
    rushed Logan instead of following through with the stealthy attack that
    was planned.
    ―By Ra,‖ Ammon shouted, turning to look for me and finding me in
    my panther form.
    ―Jin.‖ Logan was alarmed, turning to face me, and missed the knife
    driven forward toward his abdomen.
    I roared, flinging myself forward with a bolt of speed, intercepting
    the assassin, driving her down to the floor, her knife buried in my chest.
    Her scream died in her throat as I crushed it with my jaws. The
    shouting, the yelling, began instantly.
    ―Jin!‖
    I lifted my head, felt the blood dripping off me as I saw the man.
    And then the other. It was chaos then, as the throwing blades came
    whistling through the air. I leaped away, back, snaking around bodies to
    leap at Logan, hurling him down to the polished wood under my paws. His
    hands clutched at my fur.
    ―Stay,‖ he ordered, and I felt the power in his hands as he began his
    shift to his werepanther form. Once he had shifted, he would be even more
    powerful than I was in that form, but in this instant, speed, not strength,
    was the key. ―Jin,‖ he growled, his voice bottoming out.
    I was distracted by the glint of thread, like fishing line in the air, and
    watched as people were cut to shreds around me. The wire, when wrapped
    and pulled, was razor sharp, and there was blood everywhere.
    Charging forward, I ran, stopped, froze as the wire slithered by me,
    and then rushed forward, following the first man up the wall, closing my
    jaws on his ankle and just going limp, letting my weight slam us down
    hard to the floor now easily twenty feet below.
    He rolled free and faced me, arms moving in the air, making circles.
    It would have looked ridiculous if I couldn‘t see the traces of wire in the
    light. Others charged forward, unseeing, and with just a flick, they were
    bleeding, cut quickly, gashes crisscrossing their faces, slicing through
    clothes to the vulnerable skin underneath. I coiled and leaped, I felt myself
    entangled, felt the wire yanked so that it cut deep, but it was too late, he
    had let me too close, not thinking I was as dangerous as I was. He missed
    his jeopardy. I tore out his jugular and left him choking to death in his own
    blood. Someone had sent assassins for my mate, and I would kill them all.
    Trusted Bond

    177

    The third man ran. I saw his foot for a second at the edge of the
    ceiling. I flew forward, claws in the wood as I went up, wrapping around
    the pillar, scaling it fast, and was on the roof seconds behind him. He was
    running for his life, scuttling away, shedding clothes, but he wouldn‘t
    make it. We were running out of tiles, nearing the edge. The leap would
    need to be made in panther form from one rooftop to the next. A man
    would not make it. I pounced, soaring further than I thought I could from
    so short a distance, and the man slammed down under my paws, my jaws
    snapping shut inches from his cheek. My breath was hot and wet; there
    was blood on my whiskers, on my muzzle. The smell made him choke.
    ―Ammon El Masry wants your semel dead,‖ the man confessed
    breathlessly.
    I moved sideways to look at him, and the second the pressure was
    gone, he scrambled out from under me and hurled himself from the roof. I
    heard the fall, the crash, and didn‘t have to look to know he was dead.
    Either way, though, the moment I had caught him, he was gone. An
    assassin who failed never lived.
    I stood still, listening, breathing, and feeling the hot wind on my
    face. After a moment, I sank down. The fear and panic was gone, the
    bloodlust finished, the rage dissipated, and all that was left was the loss of
    blood and the stinging pain. Like that first bite of water on a razor cut, it
    took my breath away.
    The weight on me pressed down hard so I couldn‘t bolt. When my
    head snapped up, the pheromones