Maxon (10 page)

She offers me a sly smile. “The Tärkein do.”

“They can escape easily enough. It's getting back inside that's the problem.”

Another lie, but a little one
. I sneak back and forth all the time. As the High Prince, I'm a special case.

“Come on, what do you say? Want to visit?”

“Thanks,” she says slowly. “I'd like that.”

“Me too, beautiful.” For once, that isn't a total line to get in her pants. Only partial. I extend my arm in her direction. “Need a hand up?”

She slips her palm onto mine. Something in my chest tightens again.

Oh, yeah. I'm definitely in trouble.

Lianna

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Crap, I looked. And Maxon caught me at it, too.

Smooth, Lianna. Really smooth.

I know I shouldn't keep glancing at Maxon, but I can't help it. I don't meet a lot of hot guys, and my hormones want a peep show. What sucks is that Maxon's probably another good-looking creep. I mean, what was that nonsense before? I nearly had to tear the guy's head off for him to take me seriously. At least, he's stopped calling me ‘girl.'

Still, I can't stop stealing glances and making comparisons. While Fisk is handsome in a spare and elegant kind of way, Maxon is raw power. He's got a few inches on Fisk and he's broader, too, with all sorts of muscles that I didn't even know existed. More than that, Maxon gives off a sense of coiled energy. The way he talks to the guys and they hang on his every word. How he carries himself like he can handle anything. I have to admit he's magnetic, even if he is another jerkoff.

He catches me staring. Again.

Can I be more of a loser?

“You okay?” he asks.

Look away, Lianna.

Look away.

Finally, I look away. Go me.

“Yup, I'm fine.”

“Need some more water?”

“No, thanks.” For the last few minutes, we've been marching toward the transfer station—‘we' being Maxon, his buddies and me—and during that time, I've drained everyone's canteens.

“What's on your mind, then?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

He gives me a knowing smile. “You keep looking at me like it's something, beautiful.”

I blush so hard, I feel it down to my toes. Does my blue skin now hide that kind of thing? It's something to hope for.

“Well,” I tilt my head from side to side, trying to find the right words. “You're not at all what I expected.”

“Oh, that.” He laughs, and it's a low rumble that I like very much indeed. “Yeah, most people think I'll be a charming little Prince.”

“Aren't you?”

“I'm still charming, only now I charm demons out of their lives and to do that, I can't prance around in a crown and watch my language.”

I smile. He's got a sense of humor, too. We stare at each other until someone clears their throat.

It's Uther.

“What's up, Uth?” Maxon doesn't break eye contact with me while he talks to his friend. For some reason, I can't look away either.

“We've been standing here for five minutes,” says Uther.

I make an embarrassing noise that sounds something like “ack.”
Five whole minutes?
Now, I look away and fast. Suddenly, it's very important to straighten the neckline of my blue monarkki robe.

“Right,” says Maxon. If he feels uncomfortable, he hides it like a pro. “We're here.”

Sure enough, our little group is standing beside a tall gray rock, or it looks that way to humans. To thrax, it's a small, round building made of poured concrete. The words ‘Pulpitum XXVII' are carved outside in large letters.

Maxon waves to the guys. “Go on ahead. Lianna and I'll go on to Antrum ourselves.”

Ty's mouth falls open with surprise. “Striga has an enchanted hunting cottage. The cloaking spell there is impenetrable. I was talking to the guys. We all think she should stay there.”

“Nope. Arx Hall.”

All the guys stare at me like I just sprouted extra arms and legs. Maybe even a second head. I know they don't see elementals often—and a monarkki maybe never—but there's something more to it than that. I get the feeling that Maxon doesn't take guests home too often. Girls especially. And that fact is way more satisfying than it has any reason to be.

Reign it in, hormones. No more hot losers.

Zee shakes his head. “Arx Hall is crawling with people. We need to keep a low profile on this. I mean, look at her. She's blue.”

“Lianna can change that.” Maxon turns to me. “Right?”

“Sure,” I say quickly. I whisper a fast incantation so I look like a regular thrax in jeans and a T-shirt. “Do I need to wear something else? I haven't figured out how to conjure different outfits yet.”

“Nah, you're fine,” says Maxon. “I'll tell Transfer Central that you're a Tärkein that I caught sightseeing on Earth. Happens all the time, and the Tärkein always dress modern when they sneak away.”

“Still,” says Uther. “She'll cause a frenzy. You don't bring home, you know… Guests.”

Ah ha, knew it!
I can't help but smile a little bit.

“We'll be fine,” says Maxon. “I know hidden passageways to the South Wing.”

“The South Wing?” repeats Uther. His stance wobbles as if he'll pass out from shock.

“Yeah,” says Maxon.

Now it's Nizam's turn to repeat those three words. “The South Wing.”

“I said yeah, didn't I?”

“Those are your private chambers,” says the guy with the hunting hawk. “Even we don't go there.”

“Come on, guys,” says Maxon. “You all make it sound like I'm bringing her into my bedroom or something. The South Wing is huge. A castle in itself. It's not that big a deal.”

Uther kicks at the sand with his boot. “I've never been to the South Wing.”

“And my hunting lodge would be far more secure,” says Ty.

“How about we let Lianna decide?” asks Maxon.

Five sets of eyes fix on me. The urge to run for cover is almost overwhelming. Ever since I can remember, I've avoided crowds and attention. I slow my breathing and do my best to look cool. I should probably stay at the hunting lodge. It's secure and I don't find this Tyberius guy attractive. I should do the safe thing.

My mouth has other ideas, though.

“Arx Hall sounds fine,” I say. “I'll stay there.”

“See? Arx Hall.” Maxon gestures to the transfer station. “Now get.”

The guys slowly walk into the Pulpitum. After a minute, a flash of light comes through the station's arched doorway. That must mean they've been transferred to Antrum.

“We're up,” says Maxon.

I stare at the darkened arch, a nauseous feeling settling into my stomach. Suddenly, a hunting lodge in the middle of nowhere seems like a much better idea than some castle packed with strangers. I've lived my entire life inside an isolated cabin or in hiding. What if the thrax find out who I am? Will I be mobbed?

Maxon laces his fingers with mine. His skin is warm and a little rough. Really comforting. I decide that since this is a neutral, non-sexy activity, it's totally fine to keep holding his hand.

“Come on,” says Maxon. “I'll take you.” He grins, shows his dimples and, yeah, I'd follow him over a cliff. He probably uses this move all the time to seduce the unsuspecting. Or in my case, the totally suspecting who can't help themselves anyway. A heavy wind bursts in from nowhere and I couldn't care less. Thoughts of Zephyr feel miles away. Being near Maxon, it's like nothing bad can happen to me. In fact, it's the first time I've felt secure in I don't know how long. Since before my parents died, probably.

We walk into the Pulpitum, hand in hand. The moment we step inside, torches burst to life along the walls. The floor lights up into concentric circles of white on a large silver disc.

A smooth female voice echoes around the chamber. “Greetings, Prince Maxon.”

“Hey, Diana. How's life at Transfer Central?”

“Boring until you came along. Who's your guest?”

“Runaway Tärkein.” He winks at me, so I don't correct him.

“Another one?” asks Diana. “Wait a minute. I'll pull the alert.”

“Hold off on that, will ya?”

“The transfer won't start otherwise.”

“Hit the system reboot on your console. You'll have sixty seconds to transfer me with no record.”

“I could get in deep trouble for that.” The woman lets out a long sigh. “Why can't I say no to you?”

“Cause it's impossible.” He smiles and shows off his dimples. “Arx Hall delivery station VI, Diana.”

“Just for you.” Her voice gets all husky. “Just this once.”

I roll my eyes
. How about we ‘just' stop saying ‘just?'

“Wait for my signal.” Maxon turns to face me. “Know how a Pulpitum works?”

“In theory, sure.”

“But you've never ridden one.”

I shake my head.

“Antrum is miles underground. The lit-up circle under your feet is a disc that we'll ride into the Earth. We need to stay at the center and hold on tight.”

My mouth falls open. “Hold on to each other, you mean?”

The hint of a smile rounds his mouth. “Yeah.”

You can do this, Lianna. Don't act like it's a big deal. Thrax ride these things every day.

Trying to act casual, I slide my arms around his waist and learn a valuable lesson: It's one thing to see that someone's ripped. It's another to touch them through their very stretchy body armor. My skin tingles with awareness.

It's only a body. He's only a guy. I'm sure half of Antrum looks like him. Don't over-react.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

Maxon gives me another one of his rumbling chuckles. This time, I can feel it in my thighs, too.

“That works, yeah.” Maxon slides his arms around me. Now, we've got full body-on-body action going, and mine doesn't want to stop with a hug. I have this crazy desire to wrap my legs around his waist, grab his hair, and kiss Maxon for all I'm worth.

Clearly, my hormones and I need to have a little talk.
I have bigger things I should be thinking about, like avoiding Zephyr, claiming my crown, and ruling the water elementals.

“On my mark,” says Maxon. “Launch in three, two, one.”

The disc under our feet tumbles into the ground. Soil, rock, and lava fly by as we lurch deeper into the ground. I lean into Maxon's shoulder and enjoy the ride until a jolt hits us and we stop. I scan the space, seeing that we've arrived in a large brick room. The place looks totally deserted. Piles of wooden shipping boxes are strewn everywhere. Cobwebs drip down from the ceiling.

It takes some serious concentration, but I force my arms to unwind from Maxon's torso.

Clearly, my hormones require way more than a talk. I'm thinking total smack down.

“This dock hasn't taken any shipments for years,” says Maxon. “The Pulpitum still works, though. I use it to sneak in and out of Arx Hall.” He points to a far wall. “The hidden passages to the South Wing start over there.”

Once again, he takes my hand. My heart does a flip-flop in my chest.

Maxon opens a creaky wooden door that leads to a long, thin passage. Together, we sneak through a maze of hidden walkways. Every so often, we step through dark rooms that Maxon calls larders. Basically, they're underground refrigerators without any electricity. Arx Hall has a ton of them, too. Butter, meat, jam, salted fish… The list goes on and on. Finally, the passage empties out onto an ornate wooden hallway. The place is overflowing with pennant crests, suits of armor, and medieval knick-knacks. More torches burn along the walls.

I try to keep a straight face. Inside, I'm more a little shocked. When I see the thrax on Earth, they're always tricked out with the latest demon-fighting armor and gizmos. Down here, they're definitely stuck in the middle ages. I heard about this from my parents but I figured they were exaggerating.

They weren't.

We pause before a huge set of golden doors. Guards stand on either side, both wearing silver armor. In unison, they flip up their visors and stare at me like I came from another planet.

Subtle, guys. Really subtle.

“Your Highness,” says the first guard.

“You're home,” says the second.

“And you have someone with you,” adds the first.

“Listen carefully.” Maxon's voice comes out all low and serious. “You don't see me, you don't see her. Got it?”

They both flip their visors down. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Maxon pushes open the door. Together, we step inside, straight into another time warp. Instead of the middle ages, I've now returned to the modern era. Everything's done up in some combination of black, white, granite, steel, or leather. There's recessed lighting, funky abstract art, and a huge home theater system. Plus, the kitchen's got every gadget I can think of, and a few that I didn't even know existed.

Whoa.

“Why are you the only one here with electricity?” I ask.

Maxon grins. More dimples. More yum.

“Noticed that, did you?” he asks.

“Hard to miss.”

Maxon steps into the kitchen. “I'm a special exception to the middle ages rule. Ty charges a generator for me. Built me some other goodies, too.” He opens a huge industrial-grade fridge. “Want something to drink?”

“Water, thanks.”

Maxon pulls out a beer and hands me a bottle of water. He leans against the counter, flips off the cap with his tail, and takes a long sip. “I was thirteen when I stopped joining demon patrols. Only Class C jobs wait around for thrax to pick them off. Trouble is, the Class A demons are always the real killers, and they hide out in human cities. I decided to go after them. That means spending months undercover, and nothing says ‘I'm really a thrax' like not knowing how to use a cell phone or some shit like that. So, I get every new gadget sent here and practice between missions.”