Gates of Rapture

CHAPTER 12

Several hours later, Grace awoke to a strange sensation that she couldn’t place at first: a kind of rumbling. She thought, Tank, maybe? But as she came more fully awake, she realized that Leto was snoring, his head facedown on his pillow.
She smiled and rubbed his shoulder gently. How normal this seemed.
The snoring jerked to a stop, and he lifted his head. He blinked a couple of times, then rubbed his face with both hands. “I couldn’t breathe. I was dreaming I was flying way too high and there wasn’t enough oxygen.” His eyes rolled as he turned to look at her. He blinked some more.
She continued to rub his shoulder slowly back and forth. “I’m not surprised. I think you were suffocating against your pillow.”
He dropped his head back down on the pillow. He chuckled, shifting to look up at her. “I sure hope I wasn’t snoring.”
“Not at all.” She didn’t mind lying.
The wrinkle between his brows relaxed. “That would be wretched, indeed. Nothing so unromantic as a loud snore. But I must say, you’re a terrible liar.”
She chuckled, stretched, and turned to look out the back window. Dawn had broken. “I always forget how high up in the foothills of the White Tank Mountains Antony’s villa is. I can see a lot of the peaks from here. Oh, look, there’s a deer on the lawn. A doe.”
Leto shifted on his side. Because of the breh-bond, she could feel the sheet tug at his legs until he kicked the tangle away. He moved closer and stretched out beside her. He draped his arm over her stomach.
His forest scent drifted up and teased her nostrils. Desire, always so close to the surface because of the breh-hedden, swirled through her body.
“Meadow,” he whispered. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then her throat, and moved lower to her breasts.
She didn’t protest when he pushed the sheet to her waist and began to feast. It was so strange to experience what he felt, just how soft her breast was against his lips, and the feel of her hardening nipple when he began to suckle.
All the dual sensations increased her need.
With one hand she held on to the headboard. She used the other to pet his head. He suckled her breast, tugging on the nipple. His hands pushed at both breasts. His shoulders hunched. God, I love feeling what this feels like to you.
“I know what you mean.” She drifted her hand down the back of his head, over his long hair, the exposed and always sensitive wing-locks.
She slid the tips of her fingernails over a lock, and he writhed. She did, too, because she could experience what that felt like. She added just a little pressure, and he sucked harder on her breast.
I can feel the sensation of my mouth on your breast, what it feels like to you, he sent. One more suck and she clenched.
Experiencing both at the same time brought desire rushing, but she didn’t want to rush. So she worked at blocking his experiences, which helped her to settle down a little.
But an idea slipped through her mind, one she couldn’t resist. “Leto, there’s something I want to do to you.”
That got his attention, and he popped off her breast, looking up at her. He didn’t smile, though. Instead, a beautiful dark glitter filled his blue eyes. “Anything,” he said, his voice as low as she’d ever heard it.
She smiled and pinched his wing-lock. His body writhed beneath hers. Wing-locks were extremely sensitive, and the act of mounting wings was very close to sexual release.
“On your stomach,” she said.
He groaned as he shifted to lie down beside her. He pushed the pillows out of the way.
“And now, I need your beast.” She kissed his shoulder. “Will you give me your beast?”
“You want my beast? As in, you want me to change into the larger version of myself.”
She sighed deeply. “Yes.” The word left her with a soft rush of air. “I mean, if you want to. Do you want to?”
He groaned. “If you want me to, God, yes.”
She felt him take a couple of deep breaths. She could feel the vibration slide down one of his legs, then the other.
When his muscles began to enlarge everywhere, she sat back on her heels and watched the transformation. Her lips parted. Her breaths grew uneven. She realized that this was pure sex to her, that he grew, got bigger, became more of what he already was. Only instead of just his cock growing, his entire body grew, becoming more heavily muscled and gaining a couple of inches in height.
Meadow, Grace. Does this turn you on?
More than you will ever know.
I don’t know if that’s true, because I can feel all your responses. He groaned again.
She put her lips on his shoulder, kissing him softly, moving back and forth over his skin. She could feel the muscles swelling. A soft vibration passed through her.
He hissed softly. “Your scent.”
“Your skin, your muscles.” She slid her hand from the inside of his elbow up his arm slowly.
Chuffs left his throat, and she shivered. Her fingers touched more swelling flesh. She overlaid his bicep with her hand and licked his shoulder as everything beneath her continued to grow, shift, change, become larger.
She loved it. The feel of all this movement and energy beneath her hands and her mouth. His skin was hot. She licked. All that warmth and flavor, of Leto tasting like the forest, sent ripples down her body, little waves lapping at the shore, teasing her, tempting her.
He trembled.
“What’s wrong?” She licked again.
I want—
She cut him off. “Use your words, Leto. I need to hear your voice in this state. It’s much deeper, sexier. It gives me a thrill.”
“I want to flip you over, throw you on your back.”
She massaged the growing bicep. “I know. Don’t care. You have to do as I say, at least for now.”
A small piece of laughter, like it had broken off from the rest, barked from his throat. He sighed.
His shoulder pushed at her lips, dragging away from her. She opened her eyes. Leto was getting taller. She licked down his arm and nursed on his bicep. He grunted. She knew this was torture. Again, she didn’t care.
This was her turn.
She left his bicep, then, using both hands, she began at the top of his back and slowly descended, stroking each weeping wing-lock, taking all that moisture with her, down and down to his waist until her hands were sopping.
He gave a shout and whirled to face her. But she moved with her newly acquired speed and was fifteen feet away, at the door of the bedroom. He was off the bed before she could blink, but she held up one hand and he stopped.
“What are you doing to me?” His voice was so low, so resonant, she found it hard to remain where she was. “Let me come to you.”
She wept from between her legs. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him, and sink herself on what was very hard and very big.
Her hands were dripping with the moisture from his wing-locks. The scent tempted her. With one hand held out to him to keep him away, she lifted the other to her lips. She settled her gaze on him and licked her palm.
The flavor seemed to reach inside her and give a hard tug. “Oh, Leto, you taste of heaven to me.”
He palmed his erection and slowly stroked himself. She could feel what his hand felt like touching his cock, and her body clenched with need.
Her gaze fell to what belonged only to her, and her lips parted as she dragged air into her lungs. She put her moist hands on her breasts. Her nipples drew into hard beads. She drifted her hands lower over her sensitive navel, and lower still.
His hand moved faster as she descended.
“Please, let me come to you,” he said, his gaze almost frantic.
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She was enjoying this too much, having this kind of control over him. She felt heady as her fingers slid into her pubic hair and pushed. The sensation was delightful.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “I can feel what that’s like for you, the pressure of your fingers, the pleasure it gives you.” He was close.
She had an idea. With a burst of speed, she was on her knees in front of him and her lips closed around the crown of his cock.
He gave a strangled cry. His hands suddenly on her head, he pushed his cock into her mouth. She took him as deep as she could. Using both her hands, she sucked and stroked him at the same time.
Leto, how wonderful my mouth feels to you.
“I can’t wait.”
Let it all go, Leto. Give me what you’ve got.
His body jerked forward as he began to pulse. She kept stroking and stroking. His cock released into her, and she drank what tasted of the forest and of Leto. She drank and drank.
But she knew him and she knew that he wasn’t done, even when his movements slowed and he pulled out of her mouth.
“You’re glowing,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean your skin. You’re glowing. You have a blue aura.”
She rose slowly to her feet and looked at her arm. She laughed. “So I am. It’s almost iridescent.”
He dipped down and kissed her, driving his tongue deep. Her hands found a pair of biceps that were huge. I taste myself in you.
It’s so beautiful, making love like this.
And I’m not repulsive to you in this state?
Sexy, Leto. You’re sexy. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and his heavy arms embraced her, pulling her off her feet and against him.
She worked her arms to slide them around his neck and held him fast. Your hair is moving over my arms. Even his hair was different.
He pulled back and met her gaze. His eyes were so blue, so intense, his black lashes thick. His cheeks were more prominent in this state, and as he held her dangling above the floor, she pressed her forearms into his shoulders to give herself a little leverage. She lifted up just enough to run her tongue across the increased line of his cheek. “You’re bigger everywhere.”
She dropped down that couple of inches and saw that he was smiling, a crooked smile. “Everywhere?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes.” She let her arms fall away and arched her head back so that he was holding her without her help.
He chuckled and swung her in a circle, then another and another. Here was all this man, all this sex, all this enormous body, and she felt light and feminine, all six feet of her in his arms as he continued to swing her.
He stopped and drew her in close once more, pressing her head into his shoulder, still holding her off the floor. “You have made me so happy,” he said. “I didn’t think I could be this happy in this beast-state. I thought it was a curse, but how can it be a curse when you seem to like me like this?”
“Leto, here’s the truth that I know about who you are: You could turn into a raving ghoul, and you would still be the finest man I have ever known.”
He grew very still suddenly, so she continued, “I can remember the first day I met you. Of course, this was so long ago, but I was fighting with Thorne, begging him to be more careful. He had just joined the Warriors of the Blood, and I feared for him every day because he was reckless. He had come home, and just as I punched his arm, you folded into the room, into my home in Rome Two, so many years ago. Do you remember?”
“I do,” he said. “You were so angry and you glared at me.”
“I blamed you for introducing him to Endelle, for making him a Warrior of the Blood.”
“‘So you must be Warrior Leto.’ I’ll never forget your icy tone,” he said.
“But you merely smiled and looked at me, and I looked back. I … I’ve never told anyone this, but I had the worst crush on you.”
“You did not.” His eyes were wide, disbelieving.
“I did, and it lasted decades,” Grace said. “I made excuses to be near you. Did you ever think of me—back then, I mean?”
“Yes, I admit I did. Don’t you remember that I would always talk to you? Always ask how you were doing?”
“I thought you were being polite,” she said, smiling.
“I was smitten. You were so beautiful and so compassionate even then. But you were young, so very young. It wasn’t right. By then I was twelve hundred years old.”
And there was another truth of his character as he held her a foot off the floor, his body altered into the beast-state. He hadn’t pursued her because she was young.
With a rueful smile, he added, “And you know Thorne would have taken me apart if I’d courted you.”
She chuckled against his shoulder. “Yes, he would have. He was always very protective of me. Of both Patience and me.”
He held her tight, his arms compressing some of her wing-locks in the nicest way. She felt secure, even safe. Now, there was a novelty—that she felt safe, if for just this moment, in a world at war.
He drew back and let her slide to plant her feet on the floor. He smiled. He was so beautiful. He kissed her, then said, “I want to feel the backs of your knees over my shoulders. How does that sound?”
She blinked very slowly, and as soon as she understood his meaning, she squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered, a full-body shudder that went all the way down into her heels. She opened her eyes. “I would like that, Leto, very much.”
He kissed her again, and his tongue pierced her mouth. He moved in and out seductively. He sent, Can you feel that even my tongue is bigger?
She didn’t have time to answer him because suddenly she was airborne as he lifted her over his shoulder. He thumped across the floor to the bed and tossed her on her back. She bounced and laughed, but he didn’t so much as smile. He caught her ankles, and as he pulled her toward him, he dropped to his knees beside the bed and split her legs wide.
Her laughter drifted away because suddenly the room was full once more of forest scent and his head was easing down in the right direction until he was chuffing, making that resonant growling, huffing sound that somehow relaxed her pelvis. He brought her legs across the new breadth of each shoulder, and the fit was perfect.
She threw her arms back and closed her eyes, drowning in his scent.
Then he went to work on her.
*   *   *

Leto was being educated right now. When his beast-state had begun to rise five months ago, he would never have believed that it would have led him here, to a point that he felt comfortable in his skin. He was relaxed in his beast-state as his tongue plowed his woman, his breh.
He was getting used to the feel of his body, and, yes, parts were bigger. His tongue felt thicker, which made talking a challenge, but there was definitely an advantage as he licked in a wide slow path over Grace’s flesh, pressing his tongue into her folds, drawing away, then pressing and licking some more.
He used one arm to keep her hips seated because she was enjoying his attentions and kept moving around, her hips arching into him. It also stunned him just how sensitive she was, more than he had thought possible, but with each lap he could feel what she was experiencing. Add to that her sweet meadow scent, and his cock was a missile again. But what he wanted still involved his tongue.
He dipped low, and as he entered her, driving deep, Grace let out a cry and a whimper all in one. He plunged now, and used the muscles of his tongue to change the position. He could feel her tight walls dragging over him, and he could feel what it was like to be invaded in that way. Her hips rocked steadily now, that motion as familiar as time, explaining the exact way he could please her.
Her gasps and cries grew steady and rhythmic. He wanted her to come. He slid his free hand beneath her waist and caught her lowest left wing-lock. Her cries turned low and guttural. “Yes” came out as a hoarse plea.
He rubbed first, then reached the sensitive aperture and flicked back and forth with the tip of his finger as he continued to drive his tongue ruthlessly.
He felt her come, the quick pulses deep within, the sudden jerks of her body, and the way she screamed from deep within her throat, as though his movements had set her on fire. Her body began to glow again so he drove deeper and harder. This time he pinched her wing-lock until she was thrashing on the bed, her heels pounding into his back. Her hands were now on the back of his head pushing as he thrust so that his tongue and chin slammed into her.
He loved it and only stopped when she stopped, when her body grew slack and her legs grew quiet.
“Oh, that was good,” she whispered, breathing hard.
“It’s amazing to feel what all this feels like to you.” He was breathing hard as well but for a different reason. He was ready for her again. He wanted to take her, to thrust into her with his hips pistoning fast. But he wanted something else, he just didn’t know what.
He rose up so that her legs fell to the sides, now draped over the bed. He stood in front of her looking down. The two inches of added height gave him a different perspective. She looked a little farther away, which made her appear more fragile. He loved how different they were, that she was woman, and in a physical sense more vulnerable than he would ever be. He leaned over her and planted his broad hand on her chest, his fingers spanning her, reaching easily from nipple to nipple.
He looked at her neck. He needed her blood, that much he knew, and he would take it … soon.
But he still wanted something more.
Using both his hands, he started at the top of her head, and in a long smooth gliding stroke swept down her body, caressing her neck, her shoulders, her arms, then back up the undersides of each to catch her ribs and rub down to her waist, her hips, the outsides of her thighs, her knees, her ankles, even her feet.
He savored doing it, but he also loved that he could feel the pleasure his touch gave her. Incredible.
He flipped her over. Ah, this was what he wanted. He wanted to take her from behind as he had that first time in the basement of his cabin. Now, however, he had control.
He caressed the back of her head, her wing-locks that were still moist, the mounds of her buttocks, which he kissed each in turn, then dragged his hands down the backs of her thighs, her knees, her heels. He stretched out on top of her, his cock pressed between her legs. He felt her laugh—a giggle really, a warm sound.
How had this come to him, this banquet of sensation? How? He didn’t deserve Grace, not even a little bit. Yet she was here, with him, so completely, 100 percent. And she filled him, filled his soul and warmed him where he had been cold and dead, a metaphorical vampire, for how many decades, how many centuries?
He took her arms and spread them out, his own on top of hers. “Spread your legs,” he urged.
She spread them, and he did the same on top of hers.
“We’re flying.”
We certainly are, she sent. I’d say the words out loud, but they’d be muffled by the bed.
“Are you comfortable?”
She sighed so that his chest rose and fell with her. Very.
“I need to take you, Grace. This body, this state, has very definite needs. I need you in this position.”
Leto, you can have me in any position you want.
He shuddered. He let his legs fall between hers and—as he had done when she had first returned to Mortal Earth—he lifted her up so that she was on her hands and knees. He got behind her and made serious use of his tongue once more until she was groaning and pushing back into his face. Her meadow flavor streamed over his tongue.
He rose up and positioned himself at her opening. He held himself steady as she pushed back with her hips. He entered her an inch at a time, pressing into her, watching his cock disappear and at the same time feeling what that was like for her. The dual sensations almost made him come, so he took a few deep breaths.
The rough time in the cellar had been amazing. But this was different, taking his time, watching his beast-sized body connect with hers as only a man can connect with a woman, his cock being drawn into the well of her, into that place built for him.
When he reached the end, he took hold of her hips, kept her steady, and slowly drew back. He groaned the entire distance just as she groaned. He moved his hips back and forth, he arched his pelvis, he teased her as he drove in and out.
He paused and leaned down to reach her back. He licked the weeping wing-locks, as many as he could reach from his position. Each time his tongue swept over a lock, and took in her juices, her body shuddered and her hips twitched, which of course rolled a new sensation down his cock and into his balls.
Sex had never been like this before.
“Take my blood, Leto,” she called to him, her voice hoarse. “I need you to take my blood.”
He almost lost it, hearing the words spoken aloud. To offer up one’s blood was a sacred gesture, the most loving, the most intimate. He licked over her neck, sustaining a slow drive into her body at the same time.
She rose up on one arm and swept her hair away from her neck. She had done the same thing the first time he’d taken her, and somehow that memory rushed forward—of how rough he’d been and how good it had felt—and his hips started to pummel her.
She was vampire-strong and stayed with him, so that when his lips found her neck and his fangs emerged, she held her head perfectly still. He struck, and the taste of her blood brought him in a sudden rush. He groaned and cried out as he sucked, the sounds garbled against her neck.
But he felt her grasp him and pull deep as she held her upper body still so that he could drink and shove himself into her and come and come and come.
*   *   *

Grace felt all this muscled warrior slamming into her and coming and sucking hard at her neck. She was hurting, but it was a good kind of hurt, and it seemed to intensify the sensation of her own orgasm as she held herself immobile. She screamed, long and loud, pleasure streaking through her like flames burning and shooting along every nerve.
Her body seemed so strangely fit for Leto in his beast-state, as though all previous encounters had been paltry. She felt alive, as she’d never felt alive before, as though he was beating new life into her with each heavy thrust. As though with each draw on her neck as he continued to drink, and continued to pulse into her, the act of giving of herself was strengthening all that she was.
The color blue rushed at her from all sides, enlivening her soul, enriching her heart, her thoughts. Her mind was swept with blue and more blue. She felt as though she could soar in this position, take to the skies, with Leto servicing her from behind and taking her blood, as though she could speed straight to the stars and explode into a fireball of blue light, as though she could take her place among the heavens as in the myths of old.
This was ecstasy, oh, yes, a blue heaven of ecstasy.
*   *   *

Later that afternoon, Greaves folded to the Seers Palace, straight to the pit. He needed another hard look into the immediate future so that he could plan his next moves, but what he found was a mess. He wasn’t generally given to profanity, but in this moment he let loose with a couple of very sincere, very descriptive words.
Stannett lay completely naked, his body crusted with red, pink, and white residue. Greaves approached his mind slowly and felt the man’s usual massive shields.
But Greaves wasn’t who he was for nothing. He shaped his mind into a missile and punched hard. He almost fell inside and found a wide sweeping vista of bliss and nothing, as though the man’s mind had been erased.
He didn’t think that was possible, so he began to prod around and found the remnants of more orgasms than a man should ever have. Stannett was in some kind of sexual coma and of no use at all.
All six powerful Seers were dead on either side of him.
Greaves grunted his displeasure. Stannett was one of the most gifted men, the most preternaturally powerful men, he’d ever known. But he had an addict’s psyche and would always let his need for mental relief outweigh his rational mind. Stannett had recently forfeited a perfectly elegant setup at the Superstition Mountains Seers Fortress, not because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, but because he couldn’t make sufficient use of his rational mind to keep his schemes on the down-low.
So here Greaves was, cleaning up another mess. He needed pure vision now more than ever. He’d almost succeeded in tearing Grace away from her breh—and had he done so, all of his plans would have finally clicked into place. The value of this expensive Seers Palace was proven in his mind, but not with Stannett in his state of excess.
He drew his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and called his command center at the Estrella Mountain Complex. He spoke with an aide, who suggested sending one of his more sadistic Section Leaders over to get Stannett on board. He knew the one, a woman with real potential and strong preternatural power, physically capable of dominating Stannett.
Greaves thought it an excellent plan.
A few minutes later, the woman arrived, a female Militia Warrior with her red hair cut short and pressed flat against her head. Both his army and Thorne’s had the same components: Division and Section Leaders and Militia Warriors. Greaves had added generals at the top so that he need only deal with a handful of military men himself.
Greaves swept a hand in the direction of the pit. The woman moved forward and glanced down. Her lip curled. He had the feeling that if she’d been alone and seen this sight, she would have spit. “Is this the man who raped all those women out at the Superstitions?”
Greaves smiled. Apparently the woman had issues, which meant she would be quite perfect for this task. “The very one. I’d like you to whip him into shape, and I do mean literally. He tends to give himself to pleasure when he should be working.”
The curl of her upper lip turned into a smile, and the hard light in her eye deepened. “With pleasure, master.”
Lovely manners.
He gestured to the corpses. “These will need to be disposed of and more strapped in. You’ll find the cells are full of excellent replacements.”
“Very good, master.”
“As for Stannett, I need him awake and sober. Whatever you need to do to get him to that state—feel free to do.”
“Yes, master.” She jumped down into the pit and folded into her hand a leather whip with silver spikes hooked to the tip.
The sounds of Stannett’s sudden screams accompanied Greaves as he lifted his hand and folded once more to Estrella Mountain and his Command Center.
When he arrived, one of his aides hurried forward with good news. “We have most of the colonies mapped. The rest are close to discovery.”
Greaves had gone over the electronic grid that showed the entire globe of Mortal Earth. He had identified an almost invisible signal that marked the hidden colonies. Once he recognized the signature, his team had created the transmitters as well as the system by which each colony was being mapped using negative space. The process had been more successful than he’d hoped.
This was good news indeed.
“Excellent.” He moved to the deep end of the room, which held several large screens constantly in play. One showed the Mortal Earth colonies; another showed the various locations of his army. A third screen detailed troop movement based on his most recent orders, including minute-by-minute status updates.
He scanned the numbers. Below him, in the underground tunnels of his complex, the bunkers were filling up. He had been a visionary, and right now it was paying off. He had tens of miles of bunkers, drilled deep into the mountain range, large enough to house and feed half a million Militia Warriors for several weeks at a time.
He had seven ambitious generals, all committed to the Coming Order. Each had been chomping at the bit for a real battle for decades. The spirit in the room said everything. There were no squabbles; just a wonderful tense excitement, like a storm building and building.
The Seers reports out of Bogotá showed a battle over White Lake and another odd kind of spectacle event, both of which would take place within the next two to three days.
He smiled as he watched the screens, as he moved from general to general and listened while each orchestrated the movements of the army, either to the bunkers here in Estrella or to several key places in the world for easy dispatch to annihilate the Mortal Earth colonies.
Despite the presence of the obsidian triad and that Casimir was making it almost impossible to kill Leto, Greaves found he was breathing more deeply than he had in a long time.
And, yes, he was smiling.
*   *   *

Grace sat in the kitchen at the villa island and sipped her coffee. Leto stood opposite her near the sink, mug in hand. His hair was loose and shiny all down his shoulders, arms and back. He wore a black tank, jeans, and no shoes. Though he was no longer in his beast-state, he looked … edible.
Her lips parted but no words came out. Just air, a sigh full of desire. Had the breh-hedden done this to her, made her want him like she’d never wanted any man before? Probably, and yet she’d always desired him.
His eyes were so blue and clear now. Five months ago, they’d been clouded with pain and despair, the remnants of his life working with Greaves.
Had the breh-hedden worked this miracle as well? His healing both within and without?
She eased up on the mug and set it down with a clink on the stone surface. He seemed preoccupied, which didn’t surprise her given the task set before him.
“You’re so quiet,” she said at last. “And you’ve been staring at the faucet for at least a minute. Should I be worried?”
Leto glanced up from his own mug. He chuckled, at least for a moment, then his expression grew somber once more. “I’ve just been thinking about Greaves’s army—or more accurately, the kind of logistics required to bring his army under my command. What I fear is that if I move the divisions in bits and pieces, Greaves will catch wind of what we’re up to, and then all hell will break loose. We’d lose a huge portion of the ranks, and maybe even provoke a battle we would absolutely lose.”
“How many Militia Warriors we talking about? I know you spoke with at least a hundred Division Leaders.”
At that, Leto smiled. “Grace, I’m almost afraid to speak the words out loud, but I honestly think I could bring over a million.”
Grace’s brows rose. “Half Greaves’s force?”
Leto nodded. “I just can’t seem to figure out a way to fold that many troops to safety without Greaves knowing.”
Grace wanted to help. It was a simple as that. She stared at her mug, wondering if obsidian flame could be of use to Leto. She had thought her involvement in the war would somehow mean physical battle. Yet as she sipped and pondered, her thoughts turned to Thorne and his aides bent over the grid tracking the enemy’s movements; to Marcus launching web PR all over the world about the attack on the Seattle Colony; to Leto’s training of the colonial militia.
Overt battle was only one facet of war preparation. Right now, the logistics of how to move a million warriors had become the focus.
He rounded the island, setting his cup down as he drew near. He sat on the stool next to her and rubbed his fingers over her arm. She could feel what that felt like to him, the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. She sighed again. And she felt grateful.
“You are a hard thinker, Grace. Even the muscles of your cheeks feel tense.”
She met his gaze and touched his face with her hands. He’d shaved, and his skin felt so smooth. She could feel how warm her fingers felt to him. “I’ve always been this way. You need to know that about me. I think about everything.”
“No problem,” he said, searching her eyes. “Just try not to shut me out.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?” She set her cup on the island and shifted toward him, one knee between his legs.
He tapped her forehead with his index finger. “Here. I suspect when you think this hard you believe you’ve spoken aloud, but you haven’t.”
“Oh. You may be right.”
“So…”
She blinked, and once more felt her brow furrow. Enlightenment dawned, however slowly. “I should share more.” Maybe that was part of her ghost ways: Her life was internal, and she rarely communicated her thoughts with anyone.
“Please.” But his eyes were lit with laughter so she did the only thing that made sense. She leaned into him and kissed him on the lips. As she drew back, he followed and captured her mouth, kissing her back and catching her around the waist.
She could feel his body light up. How quickly his maleness responded to touch, to sensation, to his tongue deep in her mouth. And because she could feel the pleasure riding him so quickly, she melted against him. In a way, his pleasure had become hers.
I feel your nipples against my chest and my chest against your nipples. This is so strange. Wonderful, but strange.
She drew back and planted a hand on his chest. How quickly sex could fire up between them. She kept her hand firmly in place and at the same time set up a quick succession of blocks to stop from feeling all that his body experienced.
“I’m feeling you very low,” he said. “How your body responds to me.”
“Hush,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?” This time he frowned.
“Leto, I could so easily fall back into bed with you, but for the last hour I’ve been thinking about the doe that I saw on the villa lawn this morning.”
“You have?”
“Yes, because the moment I saw her, that was all I could see. She’s not the usual desert sight, a deer out in the open. I kept watching, completely distracted from everything.” Her obsidian flame power vibrated from deep in the earth.
Leto gasped and even looked down at the floor. “I don’t know if it’s because you have your hand on my chest, but I can feel that.”
She smiled. “I think it means I’m on the right track.” Chills chased up and down her arms. “I have an idea that might be exactly what’s needed. It would put pressure on Greaves on several fronts at the same time.”
He overlaid her hand with his own. His lips curved. “What’s on your mind?”
“Remember how, in Moscow Two, Greaves tried to have a military review?”
“Yes. Thorne and the Warriors of the Blood stopped it right in the middle.”
Grace nodded. “What if we had something similar, only featuring obsidian flame, a large very flamboyant spectacle event. We could demonstrate the triad’s power, we would give Marcus another PR tool for holding on to Endelle’s High Administrators … and … we could do some serious folding.”
His eyes widened. “The doe on the lawn.”
Grace smiled. “Do you see? While we’re giving a demonstration in public, which would be a huge distraction to the enemy, we could also be folding your divisions wherever you wanted them.”
“Dear Creator, it’s a brilliant idea. But can the triad do something like that?”
She opened her obsidian power, letting all that rumbling power flow up and over her.
Leto enfolded her in his arms. “What you’re experiencing is incredible. So much power. I can feel the vibrations along your skin.” He drew back slightly and kissed her.
I think your idea is brilliant, he sent.
Grace felt something deep inside her begin to warm. His praise meant the world to her. She could help. She wanted to help.
Of course, with so much power now rippling from her and with his mouth sealed to hers, Grace started forgetting about the topic at hand. Her hands slid up his back and his body curled around hers until his embrace was all that she cared about.
Leto. She whispered his name through her mind.
Grace.
He drew away slightly to look into her eyes. Her breathing sped up, but not just because she wanted him. His eyes were on fire, a blue fire that spoke to her. “What is it?” she asked. She wanted him to say the words out loud.
He caressed her face, kissed her lips again. “Everything seems to be changing. You are. I am. Do you think it might be possible…” He kissed her again slowly, then once more pulled away to look at her.
Grace’s heart thumped heavily in her chest. He hadn’t finished his thought, but she understood him. Would love be possible between them? Something deep and real, something not clouded by the war or his fractured state or her ghostliness. All these years, all these centuries, she had moved like a spirit through the world, much like her apparition-self, always studying and hoping, but for what she didn’t know.
Yet as she looked into Leto’s eyes, hope soared. Could she become real in his life? Could he give himself to her despite the ugliness of the war or his guilt over the past century of serving a monster?
If every step she took from this point forward brought her closer to a true union   with Leto, she vowed that if called upon, she would throw herself into the depths of hell just for the chance.
“Let me call Thorne,” he said, releasing her. “We have a strategy to put in place, but at some point, I want to sink inside you, all the way, to find out what this can be between us.”
“All the way,” she returned.

Beware the dog twice bitten.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth