Gates of Rapture(18)

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“I’m in shock. This is amazing. Okay.”

“You said that.” But Endelle was enjoying herself. These moments that happened so rarely—when she took the time to savor what was a feeling of tremendous hope. She was sure there’d be more assfucking in the days to come, but right now the possibility that the war might just end had her heart still flying about wildly.

Once more, she looked up at Alison. “I want Kerrick off warrior duty. I’ll let Luken know. Your man is now assigned to you indefinitely. Get your flight skills up, and be ready for anything. And in your off-hours, I want you to work with Grace like you did with Fiona. Help her get her obsidian power up to speed.”

Alison tapped her pants pocket and said, “Call me when you need me. As soon as I get back to the house, Kerrick is taking me to White Lake. You’ll find us there for the next several hours.”

“Good. That’s good. And let me know if you see any sign of the vortex.”

Alison left, which meant Endelle was alone with Marcus, but she could do little more than grin, and he kept turning in a circle. She knew his mind. He was no doubt plotting all the ways he could make use of this information to tighten his hold on the High Administrators who’d been making noises about joining Greaves and his bullshit Coming Order.

She was not surprised when he suddenly took off running back down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, “I have calls to make.”

Now that she was alone, Endelle let the moment play itself out. Her heart was on fire, revved up because for the first time in a long time, she had hope—beautiful, wild, shining hope.





Breathe, my beloved,

Take my essence into your soul,

That you might live

Forever in my arms.

—Collected Poems, Beatrice of Fourth

CHAPTER 3

Leto didn’t understand where he was. He opened his eyes slowly and drew in a long breath, which of course brought a powerful memory flooding back, of coupling with Grace, of taking her while in his beast-state.

Oh, God.

He was facedown on some kind of mattress with extremely soft sheets. The light from the window was faint, even dull, very dull. He lifted up, glanced at his wings, and was stunned to see that he was still in full-mount.

He flexed his shoulders slightly and breathed a sigh of relief. He was no longer in his beast-state with his back and shoulders swelled to ridiculous sizes, like he’d been built to swing about five maces at once.

He levitated very carefully to his feet, taking pains not to tweak or bend his wings or feathers. He’d been fortunate that during the unexpected mount he hadn’t broken any of the panels.

He drew in another deep breath, and with the practice of many centuries he began drawing his wings into his back. The feathers narrowed to super-fine points and the superstructure melted into the wing-locks as though being absorbed into his body. The process raked his nerves because it took longer now. Even his wings had changed. At least he could manipulate them whether he was in his regular vampire state or in his larger version.

He glanced at the pile of clothes. He’d had enough sense to disrobe before he transformed.

He looked around then back down at the sheet. There was blood near the head of the mattress. He’d savaged Grace’s neck. That much he could remember.

He shuddered, remembering with pleasure the taste of her blood and the fire it put in his stomach. Her blood had given him stamina, and he had lasted long enough to bring her repeatedly. That she had thoroughly enjoyed herself was clear to him, so he wasn’t too worried.

On the other hand, she’d left the basement.

He put a hand to his forehead. He had no idea how long he’d been out.

The light at the small window had dulled some. The day must have advanced.

More than anything, he wanted a shower. But before he left his basement prison, he sent a telepathic thread in multiple directions, hunting: Grace, are you there?

A moment later, her soft melodic voice returned within his mind. I’m walking in the forest. Don’t worry. I’m within the confines of the mist. Had she sensed how tense he was? Or did she just know intuitively that he would worry?

She added, I just let Marguerite and Fiona know that I’m back.

We should talk.

I know. There’s a lot of ground to cover. I’m going to swim in the hot spring at the rise above your cabin. Come to me when you’re ready.

For a moment, he grew so still he wasn’t sure he was even breathing. One of the reasons he had built the cabin in this location was because of the spring. He’d carved out a small bathing area, enough for him to relax in if not to swim laps. He often soaked there trying to forget his misdeeds, God help him.