I walk over and give my father a quick peck on the cheek. “Morning, Dad.”
He positively beams. “Morning, uh, daughter.”
I return the smile. “You can call me Myla or—if you must—Myla-la.”
He nods. “I’ll remember that, Myla-la.”
I lean against a stretch of counter beside him, grab a Demon bar, and munch away. “Did anyone else visit me when I was asleep? You can always wake me up, you know.”
Mom sips her coffee. “Myla, it’s not like Lincoln can just phone or stop by.”
Sometimes, I miss the old days when she had no freaking clue what I was thinking. “Why would I ask about him?”
“Weren’t you?”
I chew and swallow another bite. “Okay, yeah. I totally was.”
Mom sets down her mug. “You know how it is with Antrum and security. No phones, no television, no computers. He can’t call ever. He can only write once a month. Ghouls can’t portal in or out. It could be a year before you hear from him again.”
My stomach twists. Maybe I shouldn’t have inhaled that Demon Bar. “Thanks for being so encouraging. I thought you liked him.”
“I do, just don’t expect him to step through that door.” She takes another long sip of coffee. “And this stuff about being angelbound. It doesn’t mean you have to be with him. There are other men out there.”
What the? This is the guy who stood by my side to fight the freaking King of Hell. I have blue eyes because we share this crazy energy together. Is she on meds now? I am not going to waltz out there and find anyone else like him, ever. My bottom lip puffs out. And besides, I don’t want to anyway.
I crinkle the bar wrapper in my fist. “I just asked a question. I don’t need a lecture on how my relationship with Lincoln is impossible. Walker covered that already, thanks.”
Mom and Walker exchange a long look. I can imagine this was a big topic of conversation while I was out of it. Mom sighs. “Whether you like it or not, you two essentially rule very separate realms.”
I turn to Dad. “What do you say?”
He frowns, considering. “I’d say I’ve never seen anyone take on a greater demon for more than a few seconds, except an archangel.” He picks up a coffee mug from the counter, and then takes a long sip. “Your children would be unbelievable warriors.”
Mom slaps her palms on the tabletop. “Not helping, Xavier.”
He shoots her a smirky grin and winks. Mom blushes her face off. I bob my head approvingly. It’s nice to have a dad around.
Mom smoothes back her hair with her palms. Blush response or not, she’s not letting this one drop. “All I’m saying is that you should think about your options. Maybe we can find you a thrax who isn’t the crowned Prince?”
“Sure. I’ll go to the thrax store and pick out a new one.”
She wags her head. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s the truth.”
Crap. Part of me knows she has a point. The Earl of Acca wants the High Prince to marry his daughter. Although Lincoln has a plan to defeat him, nothing is guaranteed. My eyelids feel heavy. All this reality is making my head spin. “Truth later. Sleep now.” I step out of the kitchen with Mom close behind.
Walker waves to me over his coffee mug. “Goodbye, Myla.” He offers me a sympathetic smile.
“Bye, Walker.”
Xavier rushes toward the door. “Does she need any help?”
Mom shakes her head. “I’ve got her. Enjoy your coffee.”
Mom walks me back to my room and helps me settle into bed, kissing me gently on the cheek as I fall asleep. My mind hovers between dreams and consciousness. It’s a place that’s dark, empty, and peaceful.
The sound of a portal awakens me. I open my eyelids a crack. The sky outside my window is pitch-black. Walker stands at my bedside.
“Hi, Walker.” I peep at the alarm clock. 2 AM. “What are you doing here?” My brain’s a sleepy jumble. “Am I called to serve?”
“No, Myla. That’s all over with now.”
“Okay.” I curl under my blankets and shiver. This room’s so freaking cold. “Night, Walker.”
“I brought you something.”
“That’s nice.” I try to open my eyes but can’t. “You’re the best.”
Suddenly I feel warm and cozy for the first time in days. I fall into a deep sleep and dream I’m back in the thrax stables. I kneel on the soft hay as Lincoln gently rubs my back. My eyes flutter open. The world outside my window is still dark.
I awaken with a start and realize something: the High Prince lies behind me, his arms wrapped around my belly.
Unholy Moley. I fidget and scan the room. We’re alone.
Lincoln’s voice sounds low in my ear. “Hello, Myla.” A lovely shiver runs down my spine.
I twist about to face him, sensing the warmth and firmness of his chest against mine, the cozy feeling of my head on his arm, and the comfort of heavy blankets encasing us. “Hi, Lincoln.” I grin through a hazy brain. “How did this awesomeness happen?”
“Walker brought me here from earth. I’m playing hooky from demon patrol.”
“Mmm.” A sense of peace washes over my sleepy mind. I close my eyes and nestle my head into the crook of Lincoln’s arm. “Walker brought you all the way here to cuddle?”
“No, this is my idea.” I hear the smile in his voice; feel his warm breath circle the shell of my ear. “I decided it has therapeutic value.”
“It does. Thanks for sneaking away.”
He gently kisses my forehead. “I can’t stay long. The Earl of Acca’s threatening war.”
“That family is hell on toast.” I force myself to focus on his face. Acca is threatening war? I have a sinking suspicion what the Earl really wants. “Is he still pushing for you and Adair to get married?”
Lincoln nods. “But I’m recruiting more of the lesser Houses to the Alliance. I’ll stop him, Myla.” He exhales a long breath. “Actually, I’m supposed to be on demon patrol with the House of Gurith right now, convincing them to join up. I’m afraid I must leave in a few minutes.”
A heavy pause hangs in the air. A few minutes. “I’ll miss you, friend.”
“This doesn’t have to be goodbye. Walker told me your summit begins in a few weeks. If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you can visit Antrum before everything starts.” His thumb strokes my upper arm. “Maybe we visit the House of Striga, find a way to remove the igni.”
I pause, biting my lower lip. Not so sure I want my powers removed anymore. For the first time, I wonder if Lincoln’s ever faced the same question. I scan his mismatched eyes. “Do you ever think about leaving Antrum?”
He glances around the room, considering. “Sure. I have my days.” He leans in closer, offering me a shy grin. “I have a fantasy that you and I go to Earth and find a tropical island.”
Hmm, this is rather specific. Color me interested. “What do we do there?”
He blushes and it’s so cute, I can’t stand it. “Fool around, fight demons.” He runs two fingers up my arm like they’re a pair of legs. “Have little thrax.”
Wow. He wants to have a family with me someday. I can’t decide if that’s scary or sweet. Hmm…Sweet, definitely sweet.
I giggle. “And how do we do stuff like make money or find food?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that kind of thing. I put a lot more thought into what you’re wearing and the demons we kill together.” He bobs his eyebrows up and down.
Cheeky monkey. “So, you have thought about leaving.” My smile fades. “Why don’t you?”
“The same reason you’re not interested getting rid of the igni anymore.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “You aren’t interested now, are you?”
It’s my turn to blush. How does he read me so well? “No. Definitely not.”
The Prince raises his brows in a look that says ‘so, tell me.’
“I’ve complained about life in Purgatory for ages. But the problem’s bigger than being told how t
o dress or serve. The way the ghouls ran things, a lot of good souls were destroyed. Now that I’m the Scala, I think I can change things. I need to stay here and prepare for the summit.”
Lincoln nods. “I understand. You can make a difference, so you have to try. Not everyone gets that chance.” He lets out another long breath. “I know the feeling well.”
I run my finger along his jaw, and then over his lower lip. He’s staying in Antrum for the same reason I’m staying in Purgatory, and somehow that means we’ll be apart. Doing the right thing can be such a pain in the ass.
Lincoln’s mismatched eyes search my face for a long minute. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “As Scala, you’ll have diplomatic duties to attend to, eventually.” He slides a strand of hair behind my ear. The sensation sends a pleasant shiver through my belly.
I mock-frown. “None that I know of.”
“Perhaps you’ll be surprised by an invitation to Arx Hall.”
“I don’t know, unexpected invitations haven’t worked out for me.” In my mind’s eye, I picture the embossed invite for Zeke’s party that arrived six months and a million years ago.
Lincoln sets his knuckle beneath my chin, gently guiding my mouth toward his. Our lips brush; warmth blossoms though my chest.
On second thought, maybe unexpected invitations work out great in the long run. “But if the thrax High Prince asks me, I suppose I can’t say no.”
Lincoln slides his hand up my neck, pressing us into a deep kiss. “Come to me at Arx Hall.” His voice is low and sweet.
“I really don’t know when I’ll–”
“Whenever you can. I’ll be waiting.” Tilting his head, he looks at me from his slate-blue eye. “Say yes.”
Warmth and love radiate through me. “Yes.”
The story continues in the second book of the Angelbound Series. Pre-order your copy now for delivery on May 13th, 2014 by visiting: www.inkmonster.net/angelbound
Acknowledgements
If you’re reading my freaking acknowledgements, chances are, I should thank you for something. So, for the record: you are awesome, dear reader. In the unlikely event that I forgot to thank you, it’s only because my manuscript was due to conversion two hours ago and I’m a wee bit frantic. My bad.
That said, huge and heartfelt thanks must go out to my husband and son for their rock-solid support. Writing Angelbound meant a lot of early mornings, late nights, long weekends, and never-ending patience from you both. You two are the best guys in the universe, period.
After that, I must thank the extensive network of readers and reviewers who helped me build my writing chops in general, and this book in particular; that would be Aileen Latcham, Aileen Latcham, and Aileen Latcham. You are the Editorial Monster extraordinaire; I simply would never have done this without you.
Finally, deep affection goes out to my late, much loved, and dearly missed Aunt Sandy and Uncle Henry. You saw the writer in me, always. Thank you, first and last.
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