He drove harder now, arching over her.He was tall enough that he could plant his arms above her shoulders so that he made a wave of his back, his hips, his buttocks.With each thrust she gave a cry.
He felt her shift, and her arm appeared next to her head, beside her wing.She turned and presented her wrist to him.
The angle was awkward, but like hell he was going to turn that down.He supported himself with one arm and took her wrist, carefully as he positioned his fangs then bit her.Again, she cried out.
As he began to drink, her blood powered him further so that now he was slamming into her, a hard missile.Her cries turned to heavy grunts and grew louder until her wings moved with every quick thrust.When he could feel her coming again, his body reacted as though she’d taken her fingers and pulled on him at just the right pressure.
He released her wrist, arched his back, and shouted at the ceiling.He came and came and came.
By the time his body settled down, Grace was completely lax on the table.Her wings even drooped toward the floor.She giggled.“Oh, that was perfect” came in a rush of air out of her mouth.
He didn’t want to leave her body, but he also wanted to make sure that he didn’t accidentally hurt her wings.They were strong yet fragile.Plucking a feather hurt like a bitch.
He slipped out of her, and her knees buckled for a moment.She caught herself and carefully began drawing her wings in.When her back muscles had thinned out, she finally stood upright.
She folded a towel into her hand, and without apologizing or showing any sign of embarrassment, she cleaned up.
He stood smiling at her, like an idiot, his wings still at full-mount and flapping lazily.
He was happy, so goddam happy.
She grinned in response.
He spent the next hour with her in the bathtub, soaping her up, rinsing her off, kissing her, and making love to her all over again, but this time very slowly.Even then, he ended up sloshing most of the water onto the floor.
When he helped her out of the tub and passed her a towel, he realized she’d grown quiet, almost still.She was thinking hard again.
“What is it?”he asked.
She met his gaze as she dried off.“Just thinking about our last conversation in the kitchen and about becoming more real in your life.I keep thinking how we completed thebreh-heddenso early in the process.I worry that in not connecting fully we’ve made ourselves vulnerable, if that makes sense.”
He tossed his towel onto the sink, crossed to her, and took her in his arms.“I think about it as well, and I agree with you that we’re vulnerable.I feel it, too.”
“We’ve both had it rough,” she whispered.
Death vampires had disrupted their lives early on, perhaps forcing each to draw inward, to fail to connect on a deep level with others.
He squeezed her again, and she grabbed his arms and returned the hug.“We’ll stick close right now,” he whispered, kissing her hair.“And just keep talking to me.I’m here.”
***
The next morning, Greaves paced the long conference room in his Command Center at Estrella Mountain.He’d come to consult with his generals once more, but the level of vampire testosterone bouncing around the room had given him a headache.
For the first time in months, he missed Leto.He hadn’t really understood the warrior’s value until precisely this moment when his generals were shouting one another down and crying for blood, insisting on launching every weapon within the Estrella Complex right now, at this very moment, to blow the Camelback Parade Grounds all to hell so that the spectacle event would have to be canceled.
He wanted to torch the room, burn them all alive, and start over, maybe create a new life for himself.
He rarely felt like this, as though he needed to question every aspect of his life and, yes, to start over.His mother, Beatrice of Fourth, had invited him to partake of her baptism program and be redeemed through her graded pools in the way Casimir had.If he’d understood the process, he would experience within these baptisms every wrong he had ever committed against another human or ascender, followed by searing remorse.
He smiled at the idea.That would be a lot of remorse, indeed.
He glanced briefly at the men shouting at one another across the table.One of his generals threw a sheaf of papers into the air, another who was much given to profanity let loose with a string of beauties, while a third had been yelling so long and so loud that his face was beet red and his eyes were bulging.
Greaves continued his pacing.The bombast and railing fell into a muffled background noise as he pondered what he should do about the forthcoming obsidian flame spectacle.
His generals wanted him to attack, but would that be wise?
What would Leto have recommended?Patience, then more patience, to be wary of a trap, to be careful with public relations, and to never underestimate Endelle.
