Trusted Bond

and sweat. Reahs
    didn‘t hunt, so I didn‘t have that experience of trapping a life. Now I did
    and understood the allure. The surge of power was a rush.
    I had a moment of clarity and understood that it was the men, turned
    to panthers, that I was dismembering in the room. And it occurred to me
    for a second that they could have run. They should have run. Sane
    creatures would have run. That they did not, their intent solely directed on
    murdering my mate, took choices from me. And then, that fast, my logic
    drowned.
    Normally I ruled the animal that lived in me, but my control had
    succumbed to cold terror. If I could see the threat, my brain worked; I
    could plan an attack and remain in command. But simply faced with a
    threat, to go from calm to alarm in seconds, there was no time to think and
    process, so I didn‘t, I couldn‘t. My beast came rushing out of me ready to
    defend and attack.
    Instinctively, I flexed my claws, closing my killing grip. A shriek
    blasted through me, and then there was silence once more. Something else
    moved, and I pounced, again and again until nothing else stirred in the
    room. And then there was a sound and a trace of fresh air for a moment
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    Mary Calmes

    before wet earth and blood once more. The smell was moving, and I
    followed after it. I hunted it like the predator I was, like it was prey.
    I kept pace with my quarry, and when it leaped, I was a second
    behind, the smell so strong, like a rare steak that you wanted to bite and
    chew, grind between your teeth. But I didn‘t want to eat it. I wanted to kill
    it. The thing, creature, panther, man, wanted to kill my mate, had tried to
    take my mate from and leave me barren, without life or love or hope. I
    would slaughter every panther that tried to take Logan Church from me; I
    would leave none alive.
    I couldn‘t see; there was only heat, red splotches in the sea of cloudy
    white that I was trying to look through. I was struck, rammed; panthers
    collided with my legs, but I was too big to knock down. Teeth found no
    hold, claws could not hook, ineffectual, causing only a moment of
    confusion before I found my bearings again. A volley of something pelted
    my face and body, sharp as they struck me and bounced off. Perhaps they
    were the darts I had experienced before, but they did not embed in fur and
    skin, as I suddenly had neither. I couldn‘t see what covered me, still blind,
    but as I collided with walls, I knew my body was hard, had a shell, and
    that I was moving on more than four legs. I was scrambling, scuttling, like
    an insect or a spider. I was not in possession of my usual seamless speed;
    there was a jerking, darting quality to my advance.
    I was blasted with the rank smell of bile and rotting meat, and I
    sprang forward, catching my prey, the odor or decay telling me I had come
    to the end of the trail. I felt my talons sink through flesh and hit bone.
    There was screaming, a high-pitched wailing, ear-piercing screeching,
    squealing, yelling from everywhere at once. I couldn‘t siphon the sound; it
    was endless and loud. The surge of adrenaline tore through me, and I lifted
    up, prepared to tear apart what was under my claws.
    Rain.
    I smelled rain.
    I stopped, took a deep breath in. I wanted the smell in my lungs,
    filling me.
    I loved rain. Loved to be inside on wet, cold days, loved to sit in
    front of the fire and read or sleep or lay beside my mate.
    Rain was soothing, calming. I felt myself still as I waited.
    Moments passed, and the scent heated.
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    Fire on a crisp fall day, wood burning outside. I tingled with the new
    scents and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs. I froze and breathed, in and
    then out, slowly, rhythmically, feeling my pulse decelerate, the vise on my
    heart ease, the panic and fear subside.
    The scent changed again, became freshly cut grass and clothes dried
    in the sun. I took in sea air, tasted salt on my tongue, salt from sweat, salt
    on… skin, hot, sweaty skin, golden, sleek skin I wanted to lick, touch,
    press against, rub against, feel along mine, feel all over mine, rolling over
    mine, all of it because it was… Logan.
    My mate.
    The throbbing, aching need in me for my mate, and I was hot and
    ready for him. I wanted him to fuck me and hold me down. Where was
    he?
    My eyes opened or cleared or un-fogged, unclouded, I didn‘t know,
    didn‘t care, I just suddenly saw him.
    There.
    ―Jin,‖ he breathed out, and I realized I was above him, looking