by Mary Calmes
He shook Koren’s hand—didn’t hug him, that would have meant letting go of Justin—gave him a radiant smile, and wished him all the best with his intended.
Koren nodded to Justin, who did the same in return before tugging Danny gently after him. To Danny, it was a new adventure with the love of his life; for Koren, I suspected it was hard to see his best shot at happiness claimed by a man everyone knew to be far too smart to ever let Danny go.
I thought that people would want to talk to Logan, touch his hand, say good-bye, but they all stood back and just watched us walk with Ilia. I didn’t understand it. Logan looked resplendent in his black suit, gold tie, and white shirt. I would have taken any opportunity to put my hands on him.
“Should I say good-bye to Dedushka?” Ilia asked me as we got closer to Peter and Koren, and Russ and Lydia.
“You do what you feel,” I told him.
As we closed in, Peter snubbed us, and even when Ilia called his name, he ignored him. Koren knelt and held out his hand to my son, and Ilia, though still visibly hurt, bottom lip quivering, eyes filling, took it and smiled.
“Good-bye, Uncle Koren,” he said quickly, gaze flicking up to Peter and then to Logan, who bent quickly and lifted his son into his arms.
Ilia hugged Logan tight, head down on his shoulder as Logan skipped everyone else, father, brothers, their mates and intended, and headed to the car.
He was utterly and completely done with all of them, and I understood. I had no parting words to share either and simply trailed after my mate. It must have been such a relief for everyone to see me leave, the same as it was for me to be going.
“Never, never?” Ilia was laughing when I got into the car, and I realized I’d missed the beginning of some discussion. One of Domin’s khatyu closed the door behind me, thumped the roof, and then we were moving, driving off the property for the very last time. “No matter what?”
“No matter what,” Logan promised.
“What if I burn down your house?”
“You’re not allowed to play with matches,” Logan reminded him.
“Oh yeah.” Ilia considered that. “What if I break your favorite watch?”
“I’ll get a new one.”
“What if I make Papa go away again?”
“Papa will never go away again, and that wasn’t your fault, like I told you before.”
“But you were mad at me.”
“I was sad, and that’s all. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”
“No matter what,” Ilia repeated the word from earlier, beaming up at Logan. “You’ll love me forever and ever.”
“Yes, I will.”
Ilia swiveled to me. “Dedushka doesn’t love me anymore, but Daddy does and you too, huh, Papa?”
“Yes,” I answered, choking up, wishing only ill on Peter Church.
“Uncle Crane loves me; and Auntie Yusuke and Babushka and you love me too, huh, Uncle Yuri?”
“Yes, I do,” Yuri assured him.
Ilia’s glance fell on the akhen-aten, and he bit his bottom lip. “Uncle Domin?”
Domin turned slowly, as though bored, lifting his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Do you love me?”
He appeared to be considering the matter.
Ilia fidgeted in his seat. “Well?”
“Of course,” Domin answered, as though the whole conversation were ridiculously insignificant. “The question’s utterly beneath you.”
But all Ilia heard was the “of course” said with absolute authority and truth, and so he got up and plowed over to the other side of the car and tumbled down into Domin’s lap.
Acting as though Ilia were covered in lice, he tried to shove him away and into Yuri’s lap, but my son was already smitten and refused to go. After a moment of fixed regard, Domin scowling, Ilia grinning, the leader of the werepanther world sighed loudly and tucked my child up against his side, kissed his head, and then asked if he wanted to play a game on his phone.
After Ilia got comfortable, Yuri took hold of Domin’s free hand, and I took hold of one of Logan’s and breathed. I was finally going home, and I couldn’t wait.
“Oh, by the way,” Domin said with a smirk. “Miguel Garza demanded two hundred and fifty thousand dollars of menat.”
Logan scoffed. “Good luck getting that from Peter,” he said. No more “my father,” no more any of that. Peter turning his back on Ilia had closed the door forever between the two men. Logan would forgive many things, but never that.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Domin said, smiling. “When you have open records, you can make a fair and equitable demand.”
“How would he have gotten the tribe records?” I asked.
“I’m sure I have no earthly idea.”
“Speaking of money,” Logan said, leaning forward to look at Domin. “All my accounts were joint ones with Peter because of the tribe, so they were closed and drained. I’m not quite sure what we’ll be doing for funds in Sobek.”
“That’s all been taken care of,” Domin explained. “You’ll see. Everything’s with Taj, who’s meeting our plane in New York. You’ll have passports, credit cards, and bank statements. It’s all done.”
“I’ve worked all my life, Domin,” Logan insisted.
Domin chuckled. “What makes you think you won’t be working, semel-aten?”
Logan did a slow pan to me.
“I’m thinking running the only werepanther city in the world might be a bigger job than you thought,” I teased my mate.
Logan glanced back at Domin, who cackled before he went back to playing a game with Ilia.
“You should always read the fine print before you make a deal with the devil,” Yuri chimed in, arching an eyebrow for Logan’s benefit.
I could not help laughing, he was so indignant.
“Jin!”
I couldn’t even breathe, and Yuri’s snickering was not helping in the least.
Epilogue
CRANE BOLTED past me, his girls following moments later, squealing with laughter; then Dmitri, who was flying after them with Ilia in his panther form beside him; and then Mikhail’s twin boys, Emad, after Samani’s father, and Josef, after Mikhail’s; and finally an enormous golden panther, so big there could be no mistake that I was looking at Yuri Kosa. As I watched, they all spilled down the grand staircase to the bottom where Yusuke was standing with Mikhail and shaking her head as they all flowed around her and then past.
“This is a palace, not a park!”
She was going for stern, but the effect was completely ruined by the smiling.
What I noticed more than anything, though, was the smiles on the faces of all the staff watching the kids and adults as they ran by.
It was different in Sobek, and I’d been stunned. When I had come once before, it had been first as a prisoner and then as a guest who only wanted to leave. Now I saw it for the beautiful place it was, with people who accepted me and my family unconditionally. There was so much freedom to be ourselves, for our son, and it was not something I’d ever take for granted and would fight to keep with everything in me.
“You know,” Logan said as he walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his face in my hair. “Seeing Ilia in his panther form, free and happy, acknowledged and accepted by everyone who sees him… already that’s worth any sacrifices that needed to be made.”
“Yes,” I agreed, suddenly breathless.
He sighed as he folded me back against him. “These past six months have been such a blessing. You’re so content here, you’re radiating happiness. Do you know that, my reah?”
I nodded. I felt it, my overwhelming love for my mate, my child, my friends, the place I lived now, and the people of my tribe. I thought I was home before, but it turned out the priest had been right all those many years ago. I belonged in Sobek, and so did everyone I loved.
“We’re going to be all right,” he said as he bent and kissed me tenderly, achingly, because he loved me, and m
y heart swelled that much more. “We’ll make this home.”
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “It already is. You’re with me, and so that makes it home. Always.”
“Always,” he repeated and then slipped out of my hold, reminding me we had people to receive in the grand salon, taking my hand to tug me after him.
“Yes, my semel,” I said softly, and even though he didn’t hear me as he rushed us down the stairs, it hardly mattered. Only together did.
About the Author
MARY CALMES lives in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband and two children and loves all the seasons except summer. She graduated from the University of the Pacific in Stockton, California, with a bachelor’s degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She loves buying books and going to conventions to meet her fans.