Crucible of Fate

muscle; it was thick over wide shoulders, pecs, arms and legs. Under his clothes, he was massive and hard, but he could also wrap around me so tight, engulf me in warmth and….
    Yuri.
    It was all shit except for him.
    Suddenly I wanted him naked in bed with me more than I wanted to breathe. I needed him—his closeness could fix things I never thought possible. Every other lover I’d ever had was treated to me being in charge behind closed doors.
    All except him. I could submit to Yuri.
    “Come with me to—”
    “Are you seeing this?” he asked abruptly, tipping his head, indicating the courtyard below.
    I was surprised to see Ebere El Masry, the previous semel-aten’s yareah, getting out of a stretch limousine, servants there instantly to welcome her home.
    The servants brought a bowl of water for her to wash her hands, a towel, as well, and then lifted an enormous palm-frond shade to keep the sun off her face. It was all still overwhelming for me—the protocol, the training, the standard of service in my home.
    “You should go greet your mastaba,” Yuri suggested, patting my hand before twisting in place. The warmth in his eyes as he gazed at me… God. I was supposed to walk away from him?
    “Domin?”
    It had only been six months since I’d claimed him as mine, and I found that every passing day what I felt got stronger, more desperate and clinging. I barely wanted to be parted from him. I would cut out my tongue before I admitted it to him. Confessing my heart was not something I did. I was cool—cold, even—speaking of what lay beneath… no good could come of that.
    “My lord!”
    “I’m coming,” I snarled at the servant who had come to let me know Ebere had arrived.
    She recoiled from me. I saw the hurt that I had raised my voice, both in her demeanor and posture, suggesting that I had taken a hand to her, not simply been sharp with my reply.
    “Your semel will be right there,” Yuri promised her, his tone full of infinite patience and kindness. Funny that he had been a sheseru, as Taj was now, because there was no trace of it left in the man, no enforcer, no punisher. He was simply my rock, and that was all.
    “Yes, sekhem,” the woman said, bowing and stepping back, her body language conveying that he had smoothed what I had ruffled.
    “Why do you take the time to do that?”
    “What?” he prodded gently, facing me as I stepped away from him.
    It was only then that I noticed what he was wearing. It was like he was dressed to go on a safari; the only thing missing was the big-ass hat. “Soothe their— Where the hell are you going?”
    He squinted. “Domin, I’m leaving with Constantine in twenty minutes. I thought you came and found me to say good-bye.”
    “Shit,” I groaned. “That’s today?”
    “That’s now ,” he said, his lip curling up in the corner.
    I— breathe —how was I supposed to function without my mate? “Why do you need to—”
    “The semel of the tribe of Tegeret, Ehivet Milar, says that he is being kept from his son, Garai, who he sent to speak with the semel of Feran, Hakkan Tarek, a month ago. Repeated messengers, even a trip to Ipis, has not yielded any results. The semel refuses to see him and—”
    “What? One semel cannot refuse to see another.”
    “I know, which is why he is asking you to intercede on the point of law.”
    “How does this—who again?”
    “Hakkan Tarek.” He supplied the name, his eyes gliding over my face like they always did, with such obvious appreciation. I loved the way he loved me.
    I cleared my throat. “How does Hakkan Tarek not let this semel see his own son? That’s insane. He can start a tribal war that way.”
    “Yes, I know,” he agreed in his low and gravelly voice. “So before things escalate, Ehivet asked for help. And he’s being very gracious. He thinks that because of the ongoing conflict Hakkan Tarek has on his own land that this is the reason for the semel’s distraction and inability to answer him.”
    “What conflict?”
    “Apparently in Ipis they have some kind of land dispute that the semel-aten will need to lend a hand resolving.”
    “I—but why do—”
    “The tribe of Feran makes their home close to the catacombs of Abtu, and apparently the catacombs themselves are in dispute. Ehivet says that he’s heard of a few fatalities.”
    “Why would this man send his son to such an unstable tribe?”
    “He had to. Years ago, he agreed to a covenant bond with Tarek, that when their