Angelbound (31 page)

The Earl of Acca rises to his feet. He runs his plump hand through his thinning red hair. “Perhaps the Scala Heir will honor us with a song?”

“Of course, Father.” Adair slides off her bench and walks over to the minstrel. She wears a long white cloak, just like the old Scala. The room grows quiet. “I know you’re all wondering what it’s like to be the Scala Heir.” She glances dramatically about. “Of course, it represents a massive power shift for the House of Acca.” She gestures to her father. He grins so hard his cheeks must hurt.

Adair folds her hands into her cloak’s long sleeves. “I’m now more than a thrax, maybe even more than a mortal.”

I roll my eyes. This is worse than the ‘can I feel your muscle-y muscles’ line. This girl needs a healthy dose of reality.

“Tonight, I wanted to share my personal Scala journey with you all.” Adair inhales a long breath and looks to the minstrel. “I’ve written a song to the tune of ‘Are you going to Scarborough Fair?’” She gestures to the lute player who plinks out a quiet melody. All faces are locked on Adair and her song.

Now’s my chance.

I creep along the dining room’s main ceiling beam, my evil cargo in hand.

Adair clears her throat, then sings with a warbling old-lady voice:

Who will worship the Scala Adair?

All the thrax if given the time

My powers are great, my face is so fair

Who won’t want the love that is mine?

She stares directly at Lincoln’s face when she sings the ‘love that is mine’ part. His features subtly twist into a ‘yikes’ face, a movement that makes him raise his eyes. He sees me and winks.

Warmth blooms through my chest; a smile curls my lips. Lincoln’s way different than I thought. Funny, handsome, sexy, and—let’s not forget my favorite attribute—able to hold his own and compete with me. Part of me wonders if I’m going too far, too fast, feeling things for a guy who I thought was a major jerk only a few days ago. Good thing another part of me takes the worrying part out back and kicks the shit out of it.

The lute player strums another few bars, then Adair sings again.

My powers are great, my face is so fair

Who won’t want the love that is miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine?

Lincoln glances in my direction and mouths the words ‘no way.’ I grin. A weight falls off my shoulders that I didn’t know I carried. I guess part of me was worried what it meant that Lincoln and Adair were angelbound. I’d hate to think of
him as stuck with that dingbat forever.

Speaking of the dingbat…I smile, then mime showing off my arm muscle to Lincoln. I soundlessly move my lips while saying ‘Can I touch you?’

Lincoln scowls, his head shaking from side to side. Angling his forehead in my direction, he pointedly smoothes his eyebrow with his middle finger. I have to bite my fist not to laugh out loud.

Adair raises her arms. “Thank you, my people!” The room breaks into enthusiastic applause, no one more than the Earl of Acca. Lincoln claps politely. After that, he gulps a mouthful of wine.

Waving, I catch his attention. I point to the box in my hands, and then to the small window at the other end of the wooden beam.

Lincoln nods slightly and stifles laughter, his cheeks still full of wine. He tries to swallow his gulp and starts coughing instead.

Avery rushes to his side. “Are you alright, your Highness?”

Lincoln clears his throat. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Was there something in the rafters that bothered you?” She tilts her head upwards. I freeze.

Crap, I’m going to get caught.

He grabs Avery’s hand. “No.” Her attention locks on his face. “There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you, um, Avery.”

Avery’s already-large eyes open wider. “Oh, my. Whatever you want, your Highness.”

“How are you…” He bites his lips together.

“Yes? Yes?”

“Enjoying…Your dinner?”

“Oh, it’s very good, your Highness. I always like brisket.”

“Well, okay then.” He releases her hands and nods gravely.

Grinning ear to ear, I open my little case of Reperio demons.

Here it comes.

The nasty little buggers skitter across the ceiling beams and down the walls. The tiny paper men hop onto the feasting tables, kicking over wine glasses and stomping through brisket. The pencil-ladies twist the silverware into little lewd sculptures.

The thrax go completely berserk. No one brought weapons and everyone’s sworn to fight demons, even though Reperio are more mischief than danger. There’s a lot of fork chucking and potato-throwing.

I quickly scoot across the beam, jump out the opposite window and land outside the hall. Lincoln easily slips out the door in the confusion. I grab his hand and run for it. His grip is warm and firm, sending prickles of excitement through me. We reach the stables and pause.

I laugh so hard, I wrap my arms over my stomach so I don’t fall over. “Did you see the look on Adair’s face?”

“Adair? I was watching the Earl of Acca. I think he was going to cry.”

“Do you need to go back and help?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been sprung. Is there a part two for this plan?” His brows raise and that warmth curls back into my belly with a vengeance.

“Of course.” I gesture to Nightshade and Bastion, all saddled and ready to ride. “We’re going to break into the Ryder botanical gardens.” There’s a pause where Lincoln’s face is unreadable, then his mouth winds into a smile.

“Nice.”

We gallop over the darkened countryside to a great greenhouse that’s three stories tall and made entirely of glass. A huge tree pops through the building’s ceiling, ending in a massive canopy of leaves.

“Here we are.” I slide off Nightshade and try the door. It’s locked.

I frown. “Well, I should’ve seen
that
coming.”

Lincoln turns to Nightshade “Do you mind helping us out, girl?”

The horse whinnies and the doorknob disappears. That’s right; I forgot Nightshade does magic.

I push open the door and step inside. Moonlight glints off the trees, vines and shrubbery that line the greenhouse floor. My mouth winds with a satisfied grin. This place is closed to the public, so, of course, I’ve wanted to break in for ages. I steal a glance at Lincoln; my heart kicks.
It’s nice to have a partner in crime.
Tiptoeing around the greenery, I lead him toward the massive tree at the building’s center, all the while thinking how we’re alone, it’s dark, and he looks mighty handsome in the moonlight. My heart rate goes through the roof.

“And here we are.” I bow slightly. “The very rare and beautiful Tumtum tree.” Reaching out, I brush my hands down the old tree’s gnarled bark, feeling the life and energy under its skin. “You only find them in Purgatory.”

Lincoln nudges me with his elbow. “You’re trouble, Myla Lewis.” He leans
forward, his mouth curling into a snarky grin that turns my insides into goo.

My eyes narrow. I’m not gooey enough to let that comment slide, however.

Stepping back, I fold my arms across my chest and slap on a look of righteous indignation. “I am
not
trouble. We’re here on a mission of mercy.”

“Really now?”

I point to a white sign nailed to the center of the trunk. “See? This poor thing has a huge ‘do not climb me’ sign, and that’s just not right. If anything ever screamed ‘climb me now,’ it’s this particular tree.”

Lincoln leans back on his heel. “You have a point.”

“Of course, I do.” I grip the knobby trunk and start to climb. Lincoln scales the opposite side.

I swing myself so I balance standing on a horizontal branch. “First one to touch the ceiling wins.”

Lincoln finds a new toehold in the bark and scales upwards. “You’re on.”

A jolt of excitement runs through me. He’s not telling me to leave and be safe, he’s not chickening out; he’s actually racing me to the top. I’m so distracted and happy, I almost tumble off the branch, catching myself at the last second. I return my attention to the trunk and begin to climb.

As we race along, I know this is one competition I should win easily: I have an extra appendage, after all. But I keep holding back, angling for a better view of Lincoln’s firm thighs and muscled back as he scales higher. Bands of heat writhe within my core. Finally, I stop moving altogether and admit the obvious truth. My inner Furor demon is wrath
and
lust. For some reason, Lincoln’s the guy who
brings them both to life.

Man, am I in trouble.

Voices sound from the countryside. “Prince Lincoln!” I look out the greenhouse window. Torch-light appears on the horizon.

There’s a search party out for Lincoln. Yipes.

Lincoln slides down the trunk, landing at the base of the tree. He turns to me and reaches upwards. “Do you need a hand, Myla?”

Honestly, I’m perfectly capable of jumping off this tree all by my lonesome. I stare at Lincoln’s ropy arms and firm chest, my lust demon roaring ever louder inside me. Suddenly, I want to touch him so badly, I’d use any excuse at all.

“Sure.” I scale down for a bit, then step off the trunk and into Lincoln’s arms. My body slowly slides down his. Each contour of his chest brushes against my breast and belly. Desire ricochets through me, heating my core.

Hellooooo, lust demon.

I lick my lips slowly. “Thanks, Lincoln.”

“You’re welcome.” Up close he smells earthy, all forest pine and leather. He winds his hands around my waist. “I meant what I said today, Myla.”

My face flushes with surprise and heat. He’s not talking about
that
again, is he? Our almost kiss? “You mean when we were talking about beating?”

His hand slides up my back; a shiver of desire runs through me. “About beating as
challenging
. My subjects complain, but no one pushes me to be better. You did that, even when you hated me.” He smiles. “
Especially
when you hated me.” His fingers weave through the hair at the base of my neck. “Does that make
sense?”

I meet his mismatched eyes and realize yes, I know exactly what he means. I’ve spent my life hoping the way my world runs would be
tolerated
, not looking for someone to race me. Who knew anyone like Lincoln was possible? I want to say all this, but my throat tightens. I only manage five words: “Yes, it does. Very much.”

His eyes almost glow with intensity. “I like this. Feeling like I have a peer, a partner.” He cups my face in his hands. “I like
you
, Myla.” My knees turn watery beneath me.
I like you, too.

He pulls my mouth onto his and damn, it feels good. His lips are soft and the touch of his tongue along mine is electric. My heart starts thudding like crazy. I grip his t-shirt and ball the fabric in my fists. Our kiss deepens. Off on the horizon, a bolt of lightning strikes the earth, followed by a low roll of thunder. The flash of light snaps us out of the moment. We step apart.

I shake my head. “That’s weird. It’s not supposed to storm tonight.”

“Prince Lincoln!” The voices outside grow louder.

Lincoln sighs. “We better go.”

We leave the greenhouse, remount our horses and ride back to the thrax compound. All around, voices call for Prince Lincoln. More torches flash in the darkness. Lincoln rides up beside me and grabs Nightshade’s reins. “Your cottage is past those trees. You should go; I’ll take care of Night.”

I give Lincoln a silent thumbs-up and tiptoe to my cottage door. The room is cozy, warm, and inviting. I change into my new nightie, slip under the covers, and
quickly fall asleep, smiling my face off the entire time.

***

I awaken the next morning to the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s not happy, which means one thing: I’m in trouble.

“Myla.” Mom taps my shoulder. “Come on, wake up.”

I open my eyes, looking as innocent as possible. “Good morning, Mom.”

Her mouth thins to an angry line. “What happened yesterday?”

She’s getting right down to business. Correction: I’m in
deep
trouble.

“Nothing. I just sat in here, minding my own business.” I force myself to cough. Twice. “Recovering. Why?”

“Reperio demons were released at the Scala winter feast last night. The same ones that went missing from your school yesterday. It caused quite a ruckus.”

“A ruckus, huh? They should have better security.” I do my best to shiver. “I heard the screaming around dinnertime. It was so frightening; I stayed in here and did homework.”

Mom’s brown eyes narrow. “I see. What kind of homework?”

“Very important…Homework.” I’m not exactly a wiz thinking on my feet, unless it involves killing something.

“Humph. The Ryders reported that someone broke into their botanical gardens last night too.”

“No way. That’s shocking!”

“You’re a terrible liar, Myla.”

I shoot her a grin and maybe it’s a bit too cocky. “Hey, I have my story and I’m
sticking to it.”

“We’re going home. Now.”

My smile fades. I guess I knew it would end this way all along, but it’s still a bummer to leave early.

Mom grabs my little pile of things and walks out of the cottage. I slip into my sweats and follow her outside. Everyone’s awake and peeping their heads outside their windows or fancy tent-flaps. Lincoln stands in front of his cottage, leaning against the doorjamb. He wears a fitted white t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. My hands itch to touch his chest. Now.

Mom marches over to Betsy and revs her engine. I follow her to the car, feeling Lincoln’s eyes on me. I shoot him a glance as I slide into the front seat. He winks; I blush. Damn, yesterday was a lot of fun.

We drive past a long line of cottages. The Great Ladies stand outside them, each one wearing a long nightgown in her house’s color. If looks were needles, I’d be a pincushion right now.

I’m going home a day early, but that was worth it. Absolutely.

Mom taps the steering wheel with her nails. “If you’re well enough to cause trouble, you’re well enough to learn. I’m dropping you off at school.”

I open my mouth, ready to explain why I need to spend the afternoon recovering and watching TV. “Well, I…You have to understand, it…”