I stifle the urge to groan. Without escort? Really?! How about with the ability to kick ass? They need to leave the Middle Ages, STAT.
Straightening my shoulders, I step through the doorway and head to the center of the reception room. Maybe it’s me, but it seems like the hall suddenly turns super-silent. Each click-clack of my heels on the tiled floor sounds deafening. Although hundreds of eyes stare at me, I only focus on two: one slate-gray and the other wheat-brown.
Lincoln stands within the sea of faces, his body flanked by a group of beautiful young ladies. He’s wearing black leather pants, silver mail, and a black velvet over-tunic. A glimmering eagle is sewn onto his chest; a silver crown glistens atop his mop of brown hair. He stares at me with fire in his eyes, his full mouth slightly open.
A minute passes before I realize that I should do something other than stand in the reception hall looking like a dumbass. The guests pass anxious looks and giggles. I scan for Cissy and some direction on what to do next, but she’s already disappeared into the ballroom.
The herald blares his trumpet once again. “Miss Myla Lewis without escort.” My brain freezes. I have a feeling he’s hinting at something, but can’t guess what.
The giggles grow louder, the stares more disbelieving. I glance toward the front door, calculating how long it would take to sprint to my car.
Lincoln steps out from the crowd, offering me his arm. If I thought the giggles were loud, that’s nothing compared to the outright gasps that now echo through the room. Smiling, I grip his arm tightly, feeling the warmth and solid muscle under my palm. We step into the ballroom.
“I think we shocked your nobility.”
Lincoln grins. “They need to be shocked every so often; keeps them on their toes.” He nods toward the dance floor. “Speaking of which…”
I stare at the synchronized lines of dancers on the floor. While a violinist plays a jig, the thrax all jump about in a medieval hoe-down of complex movements.
“I don’t know that dance, Lincoln. I’ll sit this one out.”
“Let’s see what we can do about that.” Lincoln snaps his fingers at the violinist. The musician instantly looks our way. The Prince makes a slicing motion across his throat. The lively jig transforms into a sultry tune.
“Ah, a slow dance.” Lincoln leads me toward the floor. “Anyone can do that.”
I stifle a grin. “That’s a neat little trick.”
He arches his brows. “It’s good to be the Prince.” We reach the center of the dance floor. “Shall we?” Bit by bit, Lincoln pulls my hands up to his neck; I weave my fingers through his wavy brown hair. Sliding his fingertips down my back, his hands settle about my waist. I shiver, remembering his touch in the stables, his kiss in the botanical gardens. My skin flushes. Our bodies sway to the slow tune.
A new sea of faces stare at us, but I only see the Prince’s eyes and the play of light on his high cheekbones and strong jawline. The room feels empty, only us two. A smile tugs at Lincoln’s full mouth. “I have a secret for you, Myla.”
“Really? What is it?”
“I can’t whisper it when you’re all the way over there. Come closer.”
I move my body nearer to his; we’re almost touching. “How’s this?” I tilt my head so he can speak in my ear.
“Closer.”
Smiling softly, I press my body against his, sensing every firm contour of his chest and hips. We freeze. My breath catches. I scan Lincoln’s face, feeling the intensity of his stare. His palms stroke the small of my back and we sway to the music once again. It’s taking everything I have not to kiss him.
I tip my head to one side. “And now?”
Lincoln’s breath tickles the shell of my ear. “A girl like you…In a dress like that…Should always dance this close.”
I glimpse around the room, finding a lot of wide eyes, loud whispers, and not-so-polite pointing in my direction. The Earl of Acca looks red-faced and ready to burst with rage. Adair sits at a nearby table, her gaze locked on me and filled with loathing. “I’m not sure the thrax agree, Lincoln.”
The Prince slides his hand up my back. His fingertips brush the bare skin on my shoulders. I bite my lip, stifling the urge to make an ‘mmm’ noise. The Prince sets his lips by my ear. “Time to start causing trouble, don’t you–”
“Prince Lincoln!” It’s Gianna, rushing toward us in a purple gown. “It’s urgent! A demon patrol’s under ambush!” As soon as there’s an inch of room between us, Gianna inserts herself, grabbing Lincoln’s hand and trying to pull him from the dance floor.
A man with a purple-crested tunic steps up to our group. “If it pleases your Highness, I’ll keep the young lady company tonight.”
“Thank you, Aldo.” Lincoln turns to me. “If the patrol’s under attack, I’ll be unable to return.” His face turns stony and solemn. “Making the trip to Earth takes some time.”
“I understand.” My body and mind feel numb. “Protect your people, of course.” I watch him leave the room with Gianna, my forehead knit in confusion and not a little measure of shock. How did things change so quickly?
My skin prickles with awareness. Something about this doesn’t feel quite right. I scan the ballroom, finding the Earl and Avery standing nearby. Both look downright happy now. That can’t be good.
Before I can figure out what’s happening, the slow music kicks back up to a furious jig. Grabbing my hand, Aldo spins me around the dance floor. As I twirl and sway, I’m handed off to a succession of men with yellow, blue, purple, and pink crests. Adair, Nita, and Keisha always seem to be nearby. Either those Great Ladies are the worst dancers in Antrum, or they’re purposely stepping on the back of my dress every few seconds. This goes on for a while until I realize something.
It’s very chilly in the ballroom…But just on my backside.
I reach around to test the back of my dress, only to find out that it’s no longer there. I gasp. All the back panels of my gown are gone. Those little multi-colored creeps figured out how to pull out the stitches on my dress. No wonder they were playing around with it until a few hours before the ball. Adair, Nita, and Keisha stop dancing and start laughing their silly little heads off.
Twisting about, I try pulling the two side panels of my gown together to hide my bum, but there simply isn’t enough fabric. The entire dance floor starts laughing. My face turns at least eighteen shades of red.
Cissy appears out of nowhere. Standing behind me to cover my backside, she sets her hands on my shoulders and shoves me toward a bank of windows along the far wall. Once there, she points to an arched panel of glass. “This is a door to the hedgerow maze. Flip up the lock and twist that handle.”
I do as she instructs; we quickly step outside. Grabbing my hand, Cissy leads me to the mansion’s opposite wing. There, in the safety of the shadows, she sets me onto a bench by one of the maze entrances.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.” Cissy frowns.
My body feels numb. Did that really happen? Who pulls out the backs of dresses, honestly? “Don’t beat yourself up. How could you have known they’d do something like that?”
“It’s not that part, it’s…” Cissy bites her bottom lip.
A chill crawls up my spine. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there?” I press my palms to my eyes, feeling my stomach tumble to my feet. “Lay it on me.”
“Well, you know how your thrax underwear had black lines on it this time?”
“Yeeeeeeeeah.”
“When yours were on, they spelled something in Latin.”
“Latin?” That lying, sneaky, backstabby Adair and her doofus father.
“Yeah. I guess all thrax can speak it.”
I open my fingers to look at her out of my left eye. “And what exactly is written on my ass right now?”
“Cunnus. C-U-N-N-U-S. I heard the thrax talking. I guess it means…”
“I know what it means.” I rebury my head in my hands. “Cissy! You should have said something!”
/>
“Okay, it totally looked strange. But you were so twitchy about the underwear. I didn’t want another diplomatic snafu.” Cissy crinkles her bottom lip.
I grip the edge of the bench like I’ll snap it in two. Rage boils through my bloodstream. “I love you Cissy, but you’ve been nothing but a high maintenance nightmare for months now.” I tick off her misdeeds on my fingers. “First, you go crazy with envy that Lincoln’ll get my attention when you’re waaaaaay too into Zekie. Second, you give me the silent treatment for what’s basically no good reason. And third, you neglect to mention that I’m walking out the door with CUNNUS written on my butt. This hurts in a serious way and it’s got to stop.” My eyes flare red. “Not to mention the fact that it’s ruined my last night with Lincoln.”
Cissy’s eyes grow large; she pops her hand over her mouth. “I’m soooo sorry, Myla.” Her bottom lip quivers. “You’re right; I’ve been a really bad friend.” She sits down beside me on the bench. “Talk to me. Please. What can I do to make it up to you?”
I speak through gritted teeth. “Go back to the ball and have Zeke drive you home. I want to be alone for a while.” A weight settles on my chest. Lincoln’s off on demon patrol, somewhere on Earth. We had a fun night planned and now this. Man, do I ever need to kill something.
Cissy gnaws on her thumbnail. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know.” My voice drips with frustration and rage. “I need some time, that’s all.”
“Okay.” She glances toward the mansion’s distant lights. “If I ride home with Zeke, you’re really fine driving Betsy back alone?”
“Yup.” Leave already.
She takes a few hesitant steps away. “Call you tomorrow?”
I ball my hands into fists and nod. If I say anything else, I’ll lose my temper for sure. Then Cissy’ll have a black eye to match the one I gave Zeke all those years ago. Cissy’s footsteps slop in the muddy grass, growing more distant with each stride. Soon they disappear altogether.
I jump to my feet. That freaking sonuvabitch Earl and his dippy daughter, ruining everything. The fires of wrath spark and coil inside me. Resting my weight on my right leg, I kick the bench with all my strength, breaking the wooden planks in two neat halves. That makes me feel better.
“Nice kick,” says a familiar voice. I scan the shadows, seeing a figure step into the clearing: Lincoln.
I’m pretty sure I gasp. Loudly. What in blazes is he doing here?
“Hello, Myla.” He rakes one hand through his brown hair. He left his crown back at the mansion. I have a feeling that means something, but I’m not sure what.
I grin from ear to ear. “Shouldn’t you be on Earth right now?” My rage melts away, replaced by a tingly feeling in my stomach.
“Why ever would I do that?” He smiles, and the butterflies in my belly turn rowdy. “That was the worst fake emergency I’ve ever seen.” Switching his stance, he scopes out my dress, or lack thereof. “Looks like there was more to their master plan, though.” He lets out a puff of air. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t see that coming. Rather elaborate scheme, don’t you think?” His gaze rakes over my backside, desire flaring in his eyes. “Not that I’m complaining.”
The fire in his eyes rouses my lust demon. She purrs inside me, pumping heat through my veins. Then I remember what’s written on my ass. Ugh.
“No fair peeking.” I spin about, trying to cover my bum with what’s left of my dress. Not that I mind Lincoln checking out my butt so much, but the CUNNUS sign is a little awkward. Okay, a lot awkward.
“They did us a favor, you know.” He taps his temple. “That’s why I played along.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “I’m so sure.”
“Think about it. We could have spent a few hours at the ball, irritating certain people. But this way, we can be alone.” He steps closer. “It’ll be some time before they figure out I’m not on Earth.” His full mouth winds into a mischievous grin. My insides get all gooey. “Want to get in trouble?”
Yes and no. “I’m not going anywhere dressed like this, except home.” No way am I walking around the mansion grounds with CUNNUS written on my bum. The entire thrax nation is lurking nearby, not to mention Cissy, Zeke, and his parents. Nuh-uh.
Lincoln purses his lips. “So, if you had something to wear, you’d be interested in a little stroll?”
“I would.” Not sure where he’s going with this.
Lincoln leans forward, pulling his velvet tunic over his head. “This should work fine.” He only wears silver chain mail over black leather pants.
“What?” I poke at the long over-shirt with my finger. “You want me to wear that?”
“Why not? You’ll be covered.” He winks. “Mostly.” Extending one hand, he offers me the garment.
I eye it carefully. It could actually fit me pretty well. I screw my mouth onto one side of my face. “Where would I change?”
“How about behind the hedges?” He tosses me the tunic, then turns his back to me. “I promise not to peek.”
I jog beyond the wall of green and swap out my gown for Lincoln’s tunic. I spin about, eyeing the fit. It looks good, but I’m showing a lot of bare leg.
I bite my lower lip. “I’m feeling a bit exposed, Lincoln.” I kick off my heels. The ground chills my bare feet.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
I tiptoe past the line of hedges. There I see Lincoln standing in his black leather pants and…Nothing else. They hang low on his hips, showing off the vee of muscle below his stomach. Whoa. Desire zings through my system.
Lincoln eyes me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on my legs. “Now we’re both a bit exposed.”
I gesture to him in a ‘hey you’re not wearing a shirt’ kind of way. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” It’s not like half the thrax aren’t partying nearby.
“Why not? I won’t return to the ball.” True, and I’m probably about to ruin his tunic to boot.
Grinning, Lincoln kicks the pile of chain mail with his bare foot. “Plus, this stuff weighs a ton.” He links his arms across his chest. “And I was promised some trouble, remember?”
That settles it.
I bow slightly. “Alright, you got me. Where to?”
“I have a specific spot in mind.” He laces his fingers with mine. A thrill of connection zings in my palm. “Let’s go.” His mismatched eyes twinkle in the moonlight. My tummy goes all tingly again.
At this point, I’d follow him pretty much anywhere. As we walk along, my heart thumps a mile a minute, my breathing turns low and shallow, and my lust demon definitely wants to come out and play. Lincoln steps into the hedgerow maze, picking his way with uncanny accuracy. We soon reach the fountain at the labyrinth’s center. It’s turned off now, so it looks like one large, still pool of water.
My brows arch in confusion. Out of all the places in the Ryder grounds, why would Lincoln take me here?
The Prince guides me to sit on the lip of the fountain. I hop up onto the edge, feeling the warm stone beneath me, my legs dangling below. Stepping back, Lincoln examines me, his eyes glistening with wonder.
“There.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his leather pants. “That’s how you looked when I first saw you by the lake.”
I nod. That’s right; he found me fighting Doxy demons in the water. “So, that’s why you brought me here?” I scratch my cheek. That’s a little strange.
“Well, I think about that night all the time. Maybe too much.” He shoots me a shy smile. “That sounds kind of crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Depends.” I move my mouth to one side, considering. “What’s the interest?”
He rubs his neck with his hand. “It’s a bit of a story, actually. I was chasing down some Doxy demons at the Ryder stables. I thought you were another thrax, tracking the same pack.”
I mock-frown. “Another guy, of course.”
He sets his hand on his bare chest. “Guilty as charged.” He steps closer, my heart thuds har
der in my rib cage. “You disappeared into the water. I thought you’d be drowned, but you came out fighting.” He pauses before me, setting his warm hands on my bare knees. A thrill of heat whirls about my belly. His palms are calloused in all the right ways for a warrior.
With gentle pressure, Lincoln guides my legs apart. My heart rate goes through the roof. “You were fighting like a demon yourself, eyes glowing red in the darkness. And you were laughing.” The Prince presses his firm body against my soft curves. My breath hitches. Damn, that feels good.
Lincoln notices my little gasp and smiles. “I saw you were a woman, a warrior.” He leans in close, his mouth a breath above my own. “A force of nature. From that day on, I’ve thought of you, that night, and the water.”
I inhale deeply, ready to say ‘I never met anyone like you before, either. You make me crazy, too. In a good way.’ I speak, but two words only: “I understand.”
His voice comes out low and husky. “Good.”
Our mouths meet, fierce and rough, every flick of the Prince’s tongue driving more heat between my legs. My arms slide about Lincoln’s bare shoulders, sensing his velvet-soft skin over solid muscle. Suddenly, I want to run my hands over every inch of his body. Lincoln’s fingers press around my thighs, tracing the hem of my tunic. Desire rockets through me.
A thin bolt of lightning strikes the ground a few yards away. Low rolls of thunder shake the air.
My head snaps to the spot of grass where the lightning hit. It’s a smoldering patch of black by the fountain’s edge. “Did you see that?” This is the third time lightning strikes when I feel strong emotions around Lincoln. Even I’m having a hard time pretending it’s a coincidence.
“No.” Lincoln kisses my neck, then gently bites my earlobe. My legs go wobbly beneath me.
“But Lincoln, aren’t you worried about the–”
He frames my face with his fingertips. “No.” Fire burns in his mismatched eyes. “Kiss me, Myla.”
A smile tugs at the edge of my mouth. That’s one helluva good idea. I lean in and taste him, my need flaring hotter. Lincoln grips my waist, grinding our hips in rhythm. I feel his length, hard and ready, pressing against me through his leather pants. Each new thrust is a jolt of raw pleasure. The world collapses until there’s nothing but our mouths, our bodies, and longing. He leaves in two days for Antrum. Who knows when I’ll see him again, taste him again? No time to wait. My lust instinct runs wild, its power overriding anything else.
Angelbound Page 29
