Honored Vow Read online

  Copyright

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  382 NE 191st Street #88329

  Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Honored Vow

  Copyright © 2011 by Mary Calmes

  Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]

  Cover Design by Mara McKennen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  ISBN: 978-1-61372-217-6

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  November 2011

  eBook edition available

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-218-3

  Dedication

  For all those who have come along with me

  on Jin and Logan’s journey, thank you.

  It’s been a privilege.

  Glossary

  Aker A leadership position in a large tribe that is fought

  for. The position reports to the maahes. Akers are

  always appointed in sets of twos, as manu and

  bakhu.

  Amenta A panther who lives in the territory of a tribe not

  their own without permission

  Aset The appointed mate of a semel in the event of the

  death of their reah. An aset can only be chosen,

  made, by a reah.

  Beset Companion of a reah

  Duat A panther who has promised, on pain of death, to

  live only as human and never shift

  Khatyu The soldiers of a semel

  Maahes Prince of a tribe, the emissary of the semel

  Mastaba Mistress of a semel’s home, normally the widow

  of the previous semel

  Maat Balance, harmony, correct action

  Phocal Leader of the Shu cats, an elite group of

  werepanthers that serve the priest of Chae Rophon

  Reah True mate of a semel

  Semel Tribe leader

  Semel-aten Tribe leader of the werepanther capital city of

  Sobek

  Semel-re Tribe leader blessed with a true-mate, a leader

  who has found his reah

  Sepat Honor challenge

  Sheseran Mate of a sheseru

  Sheseru (Flail) Enforcer of the tribe, guardian of the mate of the

  semel

  Sylvan (Crook) Teacher of the tribe, counselor to the semel

  Taurth A yareah who has been cast aside because a semel

  found his true-mate.

  Wosret An unmated reah claimed by the semel-aten as a

  concubine.

  Yareah The mate of a semel that is chosen, not their true-

  mate

  Chapter One

  AS I walked down the long, cold gray corridor behind the medical examiner, I realized that my heart had stopped beating. I had no idea when the organ that pumped blood through my body had given up, but I suspected it had been the day before, when I had received the phone call that my best friend, Crane Adams, was dead. Everything inside me had ceased working. I had stopped breathing at that moment… I just hadn’t noticed.

  I could not drag air into my lungs, form words, or, for one terrifying moment, see. Not that the terror had been able to be conveyed, as I was mute. Funny how quickly your life gains perspective when something real happens, something that changes everything.

  “Jin?”

  Never could I be expected to be the same from that moment on.

  “Love?”

  I turned my head to look up into the honey-colored eyes of my mate, the semel, leader, of our werepanther tribe, the tribe of Mafdet, Logan Church.

  “I can go in alone.”

  It was what he wanted, but there was no way. I had to know; I had to see for myself. I shook my head—it was not even a possibility.

  “Mr. Rayne?”

  I looked back at the man we had followed from the front desk. We had all stopped at a door. It was steel, and there was a small window cut at eye level for someone at least my size of five eleven.

  He cleared his throat. “Just you, Mr. Rayne, and Mr. Church,” the man told us, glancing at Domin and Yuri. “You both will need to stay out here.”

  “Sure,” Yuri agreed fast, his eyes flicking to mine.

  He was worried, had been since the day before, when I had stopped talking.

  “We’ll be right here,” Domin assured me gently.

  And when my eyes met his, I found that between his steady gaze, the cadence of his voice, and his musky, sweet scent, I could momentarily stave off a breakdown. His presence was soothing, girding.

  That revelation was disconcerting, because we weren’t friends and I knew he was only there out of duty but… after we picked him up, just the calm that washed over me when he sat down in the back of the limo, the way his hand slid over my knee as he moved by, had helped. And we weren’t friends, we weren’t close—the maahes, or prince, of my tribe and I were more like roommates than anything else, or had been before he moved out. Now, when he came to see Logan on tribe business, we barely had two words for each other, so it was weird that his being there meant anything at all. Yuri made more sense; he was my sheseru, there, as always, to protect me, keep me safe, and so his solid presence comforted me. But Domin, that he mattered at all, especially since his duty was to Logan and not to me, was confusing. Why being swallowed in the deep dark-brown gaze shored me up I had no clue.

  Logan put his hand gently but firmly on the back of my neck before he told the man that we were ready. As I walked into the antiseptic-smelling room, I realized that his touch was the only thing keeping me vertical. If Logan were not standing beside me, I would have been on the floor. I had no strength of my own, only his. As werepanthers, touch was always comforting—animals craved contact—but at that moment it was all there was.

  Inside the room we were introduced to Althea Nelson. She was the assistant medical examiner for Clark County, and she began with an explanation.

  “There was a fire, his townhouse burned, so I want you both to be prepared for what you’re going to see.” She was a small woman, thin, compact, with clear, piercing brown eyes. Her look managed to be sympathetic and matter-of-fact all at the same time. “Are you ready?”

  The body of my best friend was lying under a black plastic sheet on a cold metal table in a brightly lit room. I had never been less ready for anything in my entire life. My heart hurt.

  Two hands came down on my shoulders as I felt my mate’s chest press against my back. There was more of his strength coming my way, transferred by heat and touch through my clothes, through my skin, deep into me. It was all I had.

  The sheet was folded back.

  It took a second because my brain questioned, but my stomach rolled, and so I was briefly overwhelmed, drowned under a landslide of emotion before the scream tore through my brain. Because I was the reah of my tribe, one of my gifts was that during the change from human to animal, I normally retained my logic. Being a reah was the only reason that I was able to take a breath and finally speak. In that moment the cat in me, and not the man, was more useful.

  “That�
�s not Crane Adams.”

  Seconds of time clicked by before the assistant medical examiner figured out what she wanted to say to me. I watched her, saw the concern flit across her sharply cut features. She probably heard disbelief a lot. “Mr. Rayne, you—”

  “This man looks like him.” I coughed because my throat was dry from not being used. “But that is not his face.”

  She cleared her throat. “Mr. Rayne, how can you tell what—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m positive. I’ve been looking at him since I was six years old. It’s not him.”

  “Mr. Ray—”

  “And if you check for an appendix and find one, then you’ll know you’re looking at the wrong man too.”

  There was thundering silence.

  I heard the clock on the wall. It was one of those white faces with black numbers, nothing artsy about it, function being its only offering.

  “Mr. Adams had his appendix out?” She looked startled. “That wasn’t in his health records that we received from Chicago.”

  “Because it happened in Arizona when he was twenty-one,” I informed her, and even though it was horrible and some poor man was dead, my relief was overwhelming. A whimper passed my lips as I recalled Crane insisting that he was not hungover, he was really sick this time, goddamn it! The whining had gone on for hours before I finally broke down and took him to the emergency room. He had been way up on his high horse as they wheeled him into surgery, all that righteous indignation because for once I was wrong. The last thing I’d heard as the doors swung closed was that I was a self-righteous prick.

  “Do you remember the hospital, Mr. Rayne?”

  “Good Samaritan,” I told her.

  “Let me see if I can get those records to confirm, but if you’re certain….” She trailed off, leaving the question for me to confirm.

  “I’m very certain.” I sighed, and it was a long drawn-out one, because from the look on her face, I was guessing that the man lying there in front of me still had his appendix. “I was there.”

  “Mr. Rayne—”

  “Does this man have an appendix?”

  Her eyes met mine. “Yes, he does.”

  “Yes, he does,” I echoed her before I turned around, lifting up to wrap my arms around Logan’s neck, pull him down to me.

  My mate buried one hand in my hair; the other was pressed to the middle of my back as he held me tight.

  “I’m so sorry for putting you through—”

  “No,” Logan cut her off as his arms tightened around me. “You were doing your job.”

  “I’m just so sorry.”

  So was I, since my brain was starting to wrap around a new truth. Leaning my head back, I looked up into his face.

  “I know, love,” he said, nodding. “We’ll find him.”

  Slowly, insidiously, I started hyperventilating.

  “I swear, Jin. We’ll find him. Please breathe.”

  And I had to believe him, since he’d never let me down before.

  I HAD known Logan Church for a year and a half, but in that time my entire life had gone through a drastic metamorphosis. I had changed from being a loner, traveling from place to place, town to town, with my best friend, Crane Adams, to finding my mate and having a home. I was the reah of my tribe of werepanthers, the mate of the leader, the semel, and my voice was second only to his. I went from having nothing to having it all.

  Normally reahs were women. Since I wasn’t, when my father and my old tribe discovered what I was, I had been beaten and exiled from the home and family I had grown up in. The only person who remained loyal, who loved me and stayed with me, was my best friend, Crane Adams. And first he’d been dead, and now he was missing. I was barely holding it together.

  When the door opened, I rose from where I had been sitting on the couch in the luxury suite at the Venetian in Las Vegas, flipping channels on the TV. Domin came in first, holding open the door for those that followed him, a stream of people, some I didn’t know, before finally Logan was there. I would have crossed the floor to my mate, but Yuri Kosa, the sheseru, enforcer of my tribe and my guardian, put a hand on my shoulder, holding me where I was.

  “They all come to you here, even your semel.”

  And I knew that. The hotel room was like a home away from home, and as such, Yuri was there with me, as was Artem Varda, his second. Because we were in the territory of a semel who shared a bond with Logan, Yuri did not bring any more men with him to guard me. But still, when strangers were entering the room, Yuri kept himself at my side, and everyone moved forward to me. I wasn’t allowed to defer to anyone, being seen instead as the power player. It was stupid werepanther posturing, but there were rules that had to be observed, so I minded my sheseru without question.

  When Logan was close enough, I reached for him, and he took my hand in his. He did not look pleased.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly.

  Quick shake of his head before he turned to look at Domin. I saw the maahes of my tribe holding court, facing the men who had followed him into the room.

  “I present my reah,” Domin said, acknowledging me with his hand.

  I watched as they all knelt in front of him. I recognized Calvin Reynolds, the semel of the tribe of Opet, the tribe that called Las Vegas home; his sheseru, Roger Tsang; and his sylvan, Amanda Dove; but no one else. I assumed the other ten or so men were his khatyu, fighters. As my eyes traveled over those on one knee in front of Domin, I found my gaze drawn to Amanda. She had a good face and gave me a trembling smile when she noticed my regard.

  I had been surprised that in the two tribes I had regular contact with—my own, and the tribe of Pakhet, that of Christophe Danvers, who lived in Reno—there were not more women in one of the two roles that served as counsels for the leader. In my travels across the country with Crane, I had seen many tribes that had a woman as either the sheseru, tribe enforcer, or sylvan, tribe teacher. In Logan’s tribe, both places were held by men, as they were in Christophe’s. It had struck me as odd.

  Certainly Logan would have chosen the person most qualified, but I didn’t know about Christophe. I wasn’t sure how antiquated his ideas were about women. And he had a scary, jealous mate who probably wouldn’t have liked another woman living under her roof. Normally the sheseru and sylvan lived with their semel until they found mates of their own.

  “Jin.”

  I looked up at my mate. Usually I could find myself in his amber eyes, find any needed salvation right there in his loving gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Calvin will tell you,” he said, gesturing back to the semel of Opet, who, having shown me the proper respect as befitted my station as the reah of my tribe, was now standing. All the others were still kneeling, as Domin had not given them permission to stand. Only Calvin didn’t have to wait.

  I lifted my eyes to his.

  “My reah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m so sorry that I let you walk into the morgue thinking that your friend was dead, but the men from the tribe of Anuket had my daughter up until an hour ago, when they released her for my compliance in this charade.”

  If Logan hadn’t grabbed me and tucked me under his arm, against his side, I would have dropped to the ground.

  “Anuket, that’s your old tribe, right?” Calvin asked.

  “You know it is,” Logan told him. “Finish so we can go.”

  He let out a deep breath, took a step closer to me. “Jin, they kidnapped my baby and held her and threatened to rape and kill her if I didn’t let the whole thing play out. I’m so sorry, but we’re talking about my child.”

  I nodded fast, hating him and being completely sympathetic at the same time. I thought about his daughter Jacqueline: Jackie, Jack, J…. She was cute and adorable. She got straight As and was captain of her swim team. Since I had been the captain of mine back in the day, back in high school, we always had lots to talk about. I loved her sweet face, her huge chocolate-brown eyes, an
d her bubbly personality. With Crane living and working in her father’s territory, I had been seeing a lot of him, and her. She had confessed to me that she had it bad for a guy at school.

  “He’s a white boy, Jin; can you see me with a white boy?”

  I told her I could. White, black, any color, any flavor she wanted. “Your dad won’t care,” I told her, certain I was right. Calvin had every color of the rainbow in his tribe, just like Logan did, just like most did. What you were on the outside didn’t mean anything to him, to Logan, just as long as you were—

  “But he’s not a panther.”

  —a panther on the inside. “Oh crap,” I had breathed out.

  “Oh God,” she’d moaned, hurling herself back on her bed. At sixteen, it was the end of her world.

  “Jin?”

  I shook my head, clearing it. “I get it, Cal,” I assured him. “I do. Just tell me what they said.”

  He coughed softly. “You need to call, or I should say that Logan was directed to call Archer Pike as soon as you realized you weren’t looking at Crane Adams.”

  “Who—” I coughed. “Who was that at the morgue?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Not one of your cats?”

  “No, I was told he was not a panther.”

  “He was a panther,” Logan told him. “I suspect you’re missing someone.”

  The look on his face was like Logan had hit him. I didn’t understand that. Whether the man was a panther or not, I didn’t care. Human life or panther life, both were precious and sacred to me. In my mind, and I knew in Logan’s, as well, there was no difference.

  “Jin.” Logan said my name, drawing my attention. “We have to call Archer Pike.”

  I nodded.

  Logan had to get on the Internet, which he did from his phone, access the secure database, and look for the number he needed. It took only moments.

  “Are you ready?” he asked me softly.

  My nod let him know that I was.

  Minutes later, we all sat around the phone in the living room listening to it ring. Logan had put it on speaker.