Duties to attend to.
He stood up. With a wave of his hand, and with long practice, he donned flight gear, all heavy, battle-worthy black leather, a kilt that was as familiar as air, battle sandals, shin guards, silver-studded wrist guards.
Time to speak with Grace. May I fold to your position? he sent.
There was a slight pause and his body tensed. Why the silence? Was something wrong? Was she in trouble?
Yes, of course you can come, but … I want to stay in the hot spring. Is that all right with you?
Even thinking about her in the spring to the north of his cabin brought pleasure gripping his cock. The location wasn’t far, just a hundred yards, no more, in a cluster of rocks. And Grace had found it. He sighed. Perfect.
Leto?
I’m here. Sorry. The images. But I wish to speak with you before I head to the games, and later I’ll want you to have a contingent of Militia Warriors around you while you fold to the landing platforms.
He heard a mental sigh. As you wish.
Sometimes the way she spoke, her word choices, surprised him. As you wish, for instance? But then she’d been convent-trained for a century.
See you in a few, he sent.
Grace floated in the small, decadent, heavenly pool of steaming water. The mountain air was cool in early September, the water hot and relaxing. Wisps of mist floated and swirled from the water in continuously moving patterns. The forest was beautiful at twilight. She ached in so many wonderful places that all she could do was smile up into the sky. She felt safe and free.
Leto had worked her neck fiercely, taking her blood. She touched her neck and rubbed a finger over the swollen tissue. She didn’t want it to heal too fast. She wanted to savor the memories as long as she could.
She flapped her hands just a little and moved her body in a circle. There was enough room to stretch all the way out, and she would have done that now, but not with Leto coming. She thought it imprudent to greet him with her breasts bobbing above the waterline like two small islands, a pebble in the center of each.
The image made her smile.
Dear Leto.
She had missed him. She understood that now. She had missed him as much as life itself. She had known him all her two thousand years, even if their paths crossed infrequently. Even so, he’d been a constant in her life and an excellent friend to Thorne, having served as Thorne’s mentor until recent decades. Leto had also inspired her erotic poetry at the Convent—the one signal, even to her own committed and devoted mind, that perhaps she needed a different life than the one ordered by the dogma of the church.
So here she was.
“Grace?”
Leto.
She turned in an easy circle, flapping one hand more than the other, her knees bent to keep her chest below the water. When she was in position to face him, she smiled and a soft vibration flowed through her body. She let loose another sigh, deep and carrying a slight groan. Was that her obsidian flame power or just her desire for her breh? How strange her life was right now.
Because of her heightened vision, she saw Leto as in a glow. Her man was in warrior gear. With his hair tight in the cadroen, he looked fierce, handsome, god-like, and powerful. Made for war.
He was an amazing vampire, a philosopher and a warrior combined.
Lest she get caught in his beauty, she asked, “You wanted to talk?”
“I thought we should.” But his gaze drifted to her chin then her shoulders and chest. His lips parted and the air smelled even more of the forest than before. What an elegant scent.
She smiled. “Maybe you should sit down on the spring’s edge.” A hand-hewn stone shelf rimmed the entire pool.
He sat down with his back to her. His shoulders dipped a little. “Why did you return?” he asked. “Why now?”
So he wanted answers. She would try hard to be as honest with him as she could. “Because I heard you calling to me. I have all along, you know. From the time I left Second Earth five months ago.”
“What do you mean?”
She remembered the sounds of his beastly roars. Even between dimensions that sound had reached her, burrowing into her heart, reminding her that she had left behind a warrior who carried a breh-scent meant just for her. “When you roared in your pain, I could hear you, all the way to Fourth. No one else could. Just me. But I heard you. That’s why I came to you today. And … it was time.”
She watched him nod. His leather cadroen bobbed. “You’re very powerful.”
“And we have a connection,” she said. “Though I don’t understand it.”
“I don’t, either, but there is something I must know. Did I … hurt you? Earlier, I mean.”
Grace drew in a sharp breath. “Of course not. You must never think that what happened between us wasn’t consensual, or that I didn’t savor every second of it, or that you hurt me. I promise you, I’m uninjured.”