Then the vision sort of faded away.
“That’s it? My sister in a cage?”
Marguerite turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I know. But I’m not myself right now. I’ll try again.”
Thorne got a really bad feeling. “We need to get to the villa.”
He slid from bed and in a quick wave of his hand folded on jeans, loafers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Marguerite followed suit and within another two seconds, she was dressed in her jeans, a red sweatshirt, and a pair of black flats. She ran her fingers through her hair a couple of times then nodded. “Let’s go.”
He folded her back to the villa, to the foyer.
“Leto,” he called out toward the south rooms, his voice booming the length of the hall.
Leto moved in from another hallway that led to a couple of guest suites. He was showered, shaved, glowing with health, blue eyes crisp, his long black hair secured in the cadroen. He also wore jeans and a blue plaid short-sleeved shirt. “What’s the hell’s going on?”
“Marguerite had a vision of Grace in a cage. Where’s my sister?”
But Leto paled and began walking toward them. “What kind of cage? You mean like a circus animal cage?”
“Yes,” Marguerite said. “Black wrought iron. There was straw on the floor.”
“Oh, shit. Greaves has a pair of white tigers in cages for the review. Can’t be a coincidence.”
Thorne felt himself weave on his feet. Oh, God. “Okay, but where is she? I take it she’s not in the house?”
He waved a hand in the direction of the front door. “She went to the formal garden to meditate, I think. Is there something wrong with that? I thought with Endelle’s mist, we were safe here.”
Thorne shook his head. “I don’t know.” He didn’t wait to discuss the matter further; he just wanted to make sure Grace was okay. He folded to the garden entrance near the pool. He felt Leto on his heels, Marguerite as well.
But trouble had already arrived.
The Fourth ascender had made his way through the mist. He had Grace in his arms and she was nestled into his shoulder. Had he put her in thrall?
“She has chosen to come with me,” Casimir called out.
“Grace?” Thorne started to run. Leto blurred past him but by the time he got to her position, she was gone.
Leto tried several times to follow the trace, but was bumped back repeatedly.
Thorne whipped his phone from his pant pocket and called Endelle. If the Fourth ascender was involved, he needed her level of power to help get Grace back.
The phone rang and rang.
* * *
Endelle heard her phone ringing as if from a great distance. She pushed up with both hands then fell right back down on her chaise-longue.
At least she knew where the f**k she was. In her meditation room. But why was she here? Shit, she just couldn’t remember.
Her bones were on fire and she had one motherfucker of a headache.
The room was dark. Why was it dark? Why was she here? What time was it? Where the hell was her phone?
She reached for it through nether-space, seeking it out, hearing the annoying ring, though faint, until she located it in her bathroom a couple of rooms away.
With a thought, she brought it to her hand. Alison had reset it to an old-fashioned phone sound. It about burst her head wide open when it rang next to her.
She touched the screen. “Yeah.” Her voice sounded thick, like she hadn’t used it in forever.
“Endelle?”
Thorne. Fuck. She cleared her throat, or tried to. “Well, if it isn’t Your Majesty.”
“What’s wrong? Are you drunk?”
“Maybe.” Had she been drinking? Her mind was fuzzy, like she’d had few shots of some really bad tequila. She rolled onto her back and became aware that she was stark naked. She rubbed a hand down her stomach and felt between her legs. Some moisture, but nothing more, nothing a male would leave in her or even on her. The back of her neck was killing her. She leaned up on her elbows.
Holy hell, why couldn’t she remember what happened?
“We have a sitch, Endelle. You need to get over to Medichi’s villa. Grace is gone.”
“Where’d she go?”
A long pause. “Would I be calling you if I knew?”
That kind of made sense but she really didn’t like his f**king tone. On the other hand, she just wasn’t thinking clearly enough to tell him to go f**k himself. “No, I guess you wouldn’t have called if you knew where she went.” Her mind blanked out.
“Endelle?”
Why did Thorne’s voice sound like it was at the end of a long tunnel? And why was she so tired?
“Okay. Give me five. I’ll get my shit together and meet you over there.”
What was that thumping noise? Oh, her phone just hit the floor. Whatever.
She struggled to her feet and with a wave of her arm folded to her bedroom. She touched down in front of her full-length wardrobe mirrors, but she had no knees to speak of and sort of crumpled until she was lying in front of the mirror staring at herself.
She lifted up on an elbow, a very wobbly elbow.
She had crusted blood in dried rivulets down both sides of her neck, and her hair looked like she’d walked through a wind tunnel.
She touched the back of her neck and winced. She’d been mangled back there. The skin was swollen and when she turned her head left or right, everything hurt.
Who had done this to her?
Part of the memory came back. Braulio.
Braulio.
That goddamn motherfucker, getting his kicks at her expense.
But what exactly did he do?
She couldn’t remember much of anything except his weight on her, a lot of pleasure, then pain, so much pain all throughout her body. Maybe it was some kind of Sixth Earth coupling, which still didn’t make sense.
She lifted her left hand and stared at it. Had he kissed her fingers?
Well, wasn’t this one of the finest days of her life. Thorne took her apart this morning and the same day her former lover, Braulio, rapes her, or whatever the hell it was he did to her, and leaves her with a love-bite the size of the Sonoran Desert on the back of her neck.
And maybe he kissed her fingers. How f**king precious.
But she knew him and rape didn’t quite fit. He was one randy sonofabitch and powerful as hell. If he’d wanted her, he’d have taken her. And he hadn’t. She’d felt his c**k rubbing up and down her ass, but nothing more. No, this had been about breaking skin and marking.
Marking.
He’d marked her, but what the hell for?