Angelbound (30 page)

A smile dances in Lincoln’s eyes. “Much better. He still hasn’t changed form, but we moved him to the palace infirmary all the same.”

“I’m glad.”

Nightshade trots up beside me, tossing her bluish-gray head from side to side. I get the feeling she’s anxious to run. Gripping her saddle, I haul myself onto her back.

Lincoln does the same with Bastion. “Ready?”

My heart decides that now is a good time to beat so hard, a whoosh of blood
sounds in my ears. Ready for
what,
exactly? Friendship, trouble, something else?

I grip the reins more tightly and work hard at acting cool. “Sure. Where to?”

“Follow me.” Lincoln clicks his tongue. Our horses take off at a gallop.

Nightshade’s hooves thunder beneath me as Lincoln and I tear through the compound. Thrax poke their heads out tent flaps and windowsills as we ride by. They don’t get cable out here, so I guess the Prince’s afternoon ride qualifies as entertainment.

The ground opens up into rolling hills covered in greenish-yellow grass. Smooth gray clouds cover the sky. Nightshade and Bastion fall into in a slower rhythm, every breath and hoof-fall in perfect sync. A line of hedges looms ahead.

Lincoln glances over his shoulder, smiling in a way that I feel down to my toes. His wavy brown hair dances across his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and firm jawline. He nods to the low wall of green. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to–”

I dig my thighs into Nightshade’s barrel. “Hyah!” My horse races toward the hedge.

Behind me, Lincoln clicks his tongue. The thrum of Bastion’s hoof-falls sounds behind me, drawing nearer by the second. The hedges close in. Nightshade shifts her weight onto her back legs, and then springs forward. There’s the weightless joy of flying through the air, followed by the heavy thud as we hit the ground. Lincoln lands a second behind me. I pull Nightshade’s reins so we circle Lincoln and Bastion. “And that is
me
kicking your butt!”

He laughs. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”

My face beams. Okay, how awesome is this? Normally, I hang with people who obsess that I’ll hurt myself—
or them
—with the warrior stuff I do. Case in point: if Cissy complains one more time how I chipped her tooth in grade school, I’ll scream. Now, here’s Lincoln, trying to beat me over the hedge wall, then laughing when he loses.

I guide my steed so we’re side by side. “To a warrior, everything’s a competition.”

Lincoln eyes me carefully. “Are you really prepared to all-out compete with me?”

I stick out my tongue. “Do your worst.”

“Good. I will.” Grinning, Lincoln clicks his tongue again. Nightshade and Bastion head off in a new direction.

We scale up a hilly path. The horses slow to a walk. The trail narrows, ending on a cliff that overlooks the Gray Sea. We dismount, guiding the horses to sip from a nearby pool. I plunk down at the cliff’s edge, letting my feet dangle off the rock lip. The desert stretches off to the horizon, its charcoal-gray ground touched by a silver sky. I feel like I live in this place, I see it so much in my dreamscapes from Verus.

I shield my eyes from the updraft of sand. “How often do you come here?”

Lincoln sits beside me on the ledge. “Whenever I need a break from court. Maybe once a week.”

“The Gray Sea is lovely in a…” I bob my head up and down, trying to find the right words.

“Bleak desert kind of way?”

“Exactly.” I smile softly. No one’s ever finished a thought for me before. It’s kinda cool. “So, what’s it like to hunt demons on earth?”

Lincoln winces. “A bit grisly. Most of the ladies in court ask that I skip the more gruesome bits, so I usually cut the description short and simply say that—”

“Well, if one of those ladies shows up, you can stop talking.” I shoot him a sly look. “It’s me here, Lincoln.”

“Right.” He jumps to his feet. “Let’s say I’m the demon. I’m on earth’s surface causing all sorts of trouble, only humans think I’m a storm or an illness breaking out or whatever.”

My jaw falls open. “Humans can’t see demons?”

“Nope.” He points to his blue eye. “Thrax only see them as part of our angel nature, and you probably see them from the demon part in yours. You be the thrax.”

I rise to my feet. “Grr.”

Lincoln chuckles. “And a ‘grr’ to you, too.” He gestures toward me. “So you find out demons are causing trouble somewhere, let’s say it’s a forest. You get your team together and suit up for demon patrol.”

“Do you wear those tunics to fight demons?”

“Nope. The one place thrax go high-tech is on demon patrol. We have the latest in body armor, night vision goggles, that kind of thing. The Rixa bring one traditional piece of equipment.” He pulls two small silver sticks from the belt of his jeans.

I break out into a grin. “I was hoping we’d get to this part.”

“They’re called baculum.” He tosses them to me.

“This I know.” I hold the two sticks in one hand, the way I saw Lincoln do at the tournament. I imagine the baculum turning into a broad sword made of white fire, they become one in my palm. I change the fire-sword into a net, spear, trident, and in general, have a jolly old time.

“These things are amazing.” I jump toward him, wagging a trident at his chest. “Taste death, evil demon!”

Lincoln shoots me a sly grin, his right eyebrow arched. “Did you just ask me to ‘taste death?’”

I blush. “I might have gotten carried away.”

He grins. “No need to blush, although it looks good on you.”

Fuuuuuuck.
That comment only made me blush deeper.

“Taste death.” He taps his chin in mock-contemplation. “I can work with that.” Lincoln staggers about, clutching his heart. He falls onto his back, twitches dramatically, and lays silent.

“Excellent performance, your Highness.” I picture the fire-trident disappearing and it does. Leaning over Lincoln, I set the silver sticks onto his stomach. Light reflects off the intricate runes carved into the surface. “Thanks.”

He looks at me out of his right eye. “You’re welcome.” The Prince sits up, rubbing his chin. “How’d you do that? Only Rixa can use baculum.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Did you ever test these with quasis? Maybe we’ve always been able to.”

He nods slowly. “Sure, maybe.”

I sit down beside him, the dry grass scratching against my hands. We don’t speak for a time. Energy crackles around us. One thought keeps running through my mind: I reached my left hand out only a few inches, I could touch his thigh. My fingers twitch anxiously.

Whoa, there. Find something else to do with your hands, Myla.
I pull up a fat, yellow blade of grass. Holding it straight between my thumbs, I blow through my palms. The blade lets off a blast as a make-shift trumpet.

Lincoln stares at my hands for a moment. After that, his gaze shifts to me. His look is heavy with desire, and my pulse goes through the roof. The Prince rounds his mouth into a sly grin, and I have the sinking feeling he knows exactly why I made a pretend trumpet: so I wouldn’t reach out and touch him. I decide my best move is to play it casual. I let out another blast from my make-shift trumpet.

Lincoln pulls up his own blade of grass. “I didn’t know grass could do that.”

I wink. “You don’t know a lot of things.” This is getting too intense, so I lean back on the grass and stare at the cloudy sky. The extra distance between us feels better. Another change of subject could help, too. “So, what are you doing tonight?”

Lincoln lays down beside me, staring up at the same overcast view. There goes my safe zone of extra space. My fingers start twitching again.

The Prince sighs. “Official state dinner. Prince stuff. Boring.”

I turn to him. “You got me out of school. The least I can do is return the favor.” His face angles toward mine. We share a smile. My stomach lurches.

He raises his eyebrows. “What exactly will you do?”

My mouth curls into a Cheshire cat grin. Sure, I’ve had my share of lame master plans in the past. However, the one that’s appeared in my mind is so incredibly awesome, it only needs that final touch of secrecy to make it absolutely perfect. “I have some ideas…But I want it to be a surprise.”

“Fine. Just get us both in
big trouble
.”

“You got it.” I stare at him for a long moment, then I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re the same guy I met before.”

“I’m not.” His mouth quirks into a different kind of smile. I blush.

He laces his hands behind his head. “I saw you once before the Ryder ball, you know.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure you did.”

He chuckles. “You were chasing a pack of Doxy demons through the woods by the mansion’s stables, as I recall.”

I shoot him a mischievous grin. When we met at the ball,
that’s
why he asked me if I visited the Ryder stables. He knew I had a sideline killing Doxies. And why would
that
have made such an impression on him? One reason only. “I killed the demons first, didn’t I?”

He mock-frowns. “Yes.”

Ooooh, I love it when I win.
“Let’s see, now. That means I beat you in jumping the hedge and killing the Doxies. That makes not once, but twice.”

Lincoln quirks his brow. “Is that a challenge, Myla?”

I roll my eyes. “With you? Always.”

In the blink of an eye, he flips his body to rest atop mine. I gasp, feeling his firm muscles press against my soft curves in all the right ways. Warmth gathers in my core. His mouth hovers just above mine. “Are you sure?”

For a second, I consider kneeing him in the groin, jumping to my feet, and running for Nightshade, but only for a second. I’m Myla Lewis, and I do not back down. I can handle this. Friends wrestle and goof around. This is fine. “Sure, I’m sure.”

He raises his hand, sliding his finger down my cheek. Heat pools between my thighs. “I don’t mind the thought of you beating me, Myla.” His arms are braced on either side of my head, his knees straddle either side of my hips. “Not at all.”

I stare at his full mouth. Every cell in my body wants to touch him, kiss him.
What the hell is happening to me?

He offers me sneaky smile. “Want to know
why
that doesn’t bother me?”

A roll of thunder shakes the air. Maybe a storm is coming. Maybe I’ll get blasted into a million bits by lightning. Maybe I could care less. My inner lust demon has kicked to life with a vengeance. I open my mouth, hoping something snarky and cute will come out. Instead, I just nod. Total fail.

Lincoln leans in closer, licks his lips. “I don’t care because…” There’s a moment where I’m sure I’ll get my first kiss. “Because I’m about to beat your ass back to the stables.” Leaping to his feet, he races up to Bastion and mounts his horse.

I jump to my feet, a mixture of sexual heat and rage flowing through me. “You bastard! You lying sneaky evil sonuvabitch bastard!”

Lincoln rears Bastion, the horse balances firmly on his hind legs. “Catch you later.” He winks.

I stomp my foot and shoot him dirty looks, but all the almost-kissing-stuff has me flustered.

Lincoln leads Bastion onto the ground, then glances over his shoulder and grins. Setting his heels into Bastion’s barrel, he takes off at a gallop.

That clears my head in a hurry.

I’m not letting some hottie Prince bastard distract me with nasty talk that totally makes me wonder what he looks like naked. And on that topic, since when do I think about
anybody
naked? Well, except for Lincoln, whose bare belly must be particularly ripped.

I shake my head from side to side.
Focus, Myla.

I race across the open ground and hoist myself onto Nightshade. “Let’s get him, Night.” Before the words are out of my mouth, she’s off at a gallop. I urge her onward, but we soon lose Lincoln and Bastion in the forest. I catch up with them both back at the stables.

The Prince stands by Bastion, an overly-satisfied grin on his full mouth. “Hey, loser.”

I pull Nightshade’s reins so we circle Lincoln and his horse. “Hey, cheater.”
You’re never getting away with that Mister Sexy trick again, my friend.
I point directly at his nose. “Besides, if I were you, I wouldn’t poke fun at someone who’s about to get you out of an evening of suck.”

“True. And you’re
still
one up on me, after all.” He bows slightly at the waist.

“That’s better.” I bow my head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of prep work to do for tonight.” I lean back in the saddle and twiddle my fingers at him.

He chuckles. “Have fun.”

“I will.” I pat Nightshade’s neck. “Girl, take me to–” She’s off at a run before I finish my sentence. As we speed across the countryside, I keep thinking one thing: this is going to be sweeeeeeet.

It’s dark by the time I return to the thrax compound. I settle Nightshade into her stall, then steal over to the mead hall, my evil cargo in tow: a cooler filled with the Reperio demons from my Biology class.

This is so awesome; I can’t stand myself.

I tiptoe up to a long wooden building with an arched roof. The only windows are two high vent-holes, one on either side of the building. I pause and adjust the collar on my fighting suit. Light flickers in through the window-holes. From inside the hall, the air echoes with the chatter of voices and clinking of silverware. Thrax are feasting inside.

Taking a deep breath, I position myself under one of the vent-holes. Using the thick outer planks, I scale up the building’s side and settle myself onto the window’s ledge. In front of me, the ceiling is filled with a network of heavy wooden beams.

I smile. It’ll be easy-peasy to crawl along the main beam.

I scan the hall below, careful to hide in the ceiling’s shadows. Two long
wooden tables line the floor, both surrounded by thrax. The men wear crested tunics; the ladies are dressed in formal gowns of their house’s color. At the far end of the building, a minstrel sits beside a crackling fireplace, playing a soft tune on his lute. Servants bustle around, refilling wine glasses and plates. Mid-way along the far-right table, the King, Queen, and High Prince sit in throne-like chairs. Lincoln wears his black leather pants, silver chain mail, and black tunic.