For a long time, my mind hovers in an empty space between sleep and dream. The pain in my back is gone. The tournament and stables seem a thousand miles away.
My dreams finally come into focus. I find myself standing on the windy floor of the Gray Sea. Dreamscape. A circle of white flame flickers on the ground by my feet. Within the fire, sand rises into the form of my mother in her senate robes. The ring of flames flares higher, then disappears. Mom’s sand-made body transforms into living reality.
Mom sits on a bench in the marble senate chamber. She clasps her hands tightly in her lap, her back is stiff and straight. Around her, senators, aides, and ambassadors cram onto benches and crowd along the walls. There’s hardly room to breathe, let alone move. At the front of the chamber, Senator Adams stands before the speaker’s podium, his elephant tail swinging slowly behind him. He speaks in a low and craggy voice.
“None wish to see Senator Lewis impeached, but her words against Ambassador Armageddon show a tenuous grip on reality. She needs treatment, not a role in government.”
A handful of Senators leap to their feet, shouting for Mom’s impeachment.
A stunned gasp escapes my lips. They’re really going to do it: impeach my mother for telling the truth about Armageddon.
“Now, now.” Senator Adams raises his withered hands to shoulder height. “Let’s give Senator Lewis a chance to explain. Perhaps her words have been taken out of context.” He gestures to Mom. “If you please.”
Mom slowly rises to her feet, her mouth set into a firm line. “Thank you for the opportunity to speak before this chamber.” She scans the room, her brown eyes filled with steely resolve. Xavier leans against the back wall in his crisp gray suit, his face pale with worry. Tim hovers by the chamber’s exit. A muscle twitches along his gray neck.
Mom inhales slowly. “I’ve been asked to recant my words about Armageddon and the ghouls. If not, I’ll be the first Lewis Senator in eight hundred years to be impeached.” Mom scans the crowded Senate floor. “The truth may be something you choose to see as lunacy, but I won’t back down. This is a legitimate threat. Whatever the cost, I accept it.” She retakes her seat.
All the breath leaves my body. That’s about the bravest thing I’ve seen anybody do, ever. I’m torn between wanting to give her a high five and curl her up into a comforting hug.
Senator Adams shakes his gray-haired head. “Then, it’s the sad duty of this body to declare you, Camilla Lewis, to be–”
A low hum fills the chamber. A portal opens beside Senator Adams. Through it steps Armageddon, O-72, and a pair of hulking Manus demons. Standing six feet tall and almost as wide, the Manus are covered in shaggy black fur. Their hefty arms scrape against the floor. Pointed yellow tusks hang past their chins.
Holy Hell! I’ve seen Manus demons across the Arena floor before, but never this close. These beasts are the thugs of the demon world: massive, ruthless, and absolutely terrifying. They have one rule when in battle mode: leave none alive. Adrenaline courses through me. Run, Mom!
Senator Adams clears his throat. “Ambassador Armageddon, what perfect timing. We’re removing Senator Lewis from office due to her unstable attitude toward you and our ghoul allies.”
Armageddon’s long black face curls into a smile. He folds his gangly arms over his thin chest. “Oh, there’s no need for that.”
Adams smiles. “You’re too gracious, Ambassador, but we’re concerned for the Senator’s sanity.”
Armageddon gently touches Adams’s shoulder. “No, I’m not gracious at all. Senator Lewis is right. I’m about to attack Purgatory.” Armageddon’s eyes flare bright red, his three-knuckled fingers curl into the Senator’s shoulder. Adams freezes in place. Little by little, the Senator’s body and robes turn smooth and black as stone. “Starting with you.” Armageddon lifts his hand. Adams crumbles into a pile of ash.
My limbs quiver with shock. I knew Armageddon drained the souls of his victims, but watching him do it? Something else entirely.
Screams erupt from the Senate floor. The crowd makes a mad rush for the exit. I try to spot my mother in the frantic mob, but can’t find her. Terror crushes my rib cage, shortening my breath.
Armageddon’s eyes flare bright. “Go to work.” He waves his three-knuckled hands at the pack of Manus demons surrounding him. “Leave none alive.”
The demons swing their heavy arms high, attacking nearby Senators. More portals open. Ghouls step out, red-eyed Manus demons beside them.
Somewhere in the crush of bodies, Xavier appears, his arm wrapped protectively around Mom’s shoulders. I let out a ragged breath. She’s alright, at least for now.
Xavier drags her through the frantic press of bodies and demons. There are so many people in a frantic rush, no one seems to move at all. A group of Senators struggle to press through the main exit, their bodies stuck as everyone ties to leave the chamber at once. Raising its massive arms high, a Manus demon smashes through both the Senators and the granite wall, creating a larger exit. Mom and Xavier squeeze through the new doorway and race down the marble corridors beyond. Tim follows closely behind.
I watch my father scurry behind my mom and Xavier, my upper lip twisting with disgust. When Mom needed him, Tim was nowhere to be seen. But now that she has a way out, he’s the first to follow behind. It’s humiliating to share DNA with this worm.
Mom, Xavier, and Tim race down the corridor as portals open all about them. Manus demons and ghouls stream into the hallways, attacking every quasi they can find. The air rings with thuds and screams. Xavier turns down a quiet corridor and presses on the marble wall.
“There should be a panic room somewhere around here.” A marble panel pops open, revealing a small dusty space behind the wall. Xavier pulls Mom inside.
“Wait for me!” Tim squeezes in behind them.
I grit my teeth. What a douche-move from Tim.
Xavier slams the marble door shut. “You’ll be safe here for a while.”
Mom grips Tim’s arm. “My family’s waiting for me outside the cloak room. Can you portal to them and get them out?” Demon roars echo through the air. All the blood drains from Mom’s face. “Hurry.”
An image appears in my mind’s eye: the smiling Lewis faces from Mom’s swearing-in ceremony. My heart sinks. Of course, they’d be here today, supporting her through impeachment. There must be some way to save them. Mom’s family can’t die here.
Tim closes his large black eyes. “Our Group Think has changed. New voices claim to be the Oligarchy.” His forehead lines with thought. “Demons are overrunning Purgatory. All the Senators and their families are being killed.” His eyes slowly open. “I’m not authorized to open portals anymore.” The Manus howls grow louder. The walls and floor shake as they prowl and attack. Tim steps toward the wall, his lower lip trembling with fear. “I’m sorry, Camilla.”
I have the unladylike urge to spit at him. Coward.
“Fine. I’ll get them.” Mom turns to the marble door and starts prying it open with her fingernails.
Xavier wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back. “The hallway’s crawling with demons. You can’t go out there.”
“But I have to help my family!” Mom writhes under Xavier’s grip. Her eyes are wild and brimmed with tears.
I hug my elbows. Pangs of sadness strike my body like so many stones. There’s no way to stop this. Soon, Mom’s family—my family—will be destroyed.
A young girl’s screams echo in the outside hallway. Mom claws frantically at the door, her irises flaring red. “Dani!”
I remember the little wisp of a girl who was Vice President of Fun for the Lewis Family. The weight of my grief presses in harder and heavier, crushing something deep within me. Please, no.
Xavier wrestles Mom away from the door. “Camilla, you can’t go out there. You’ll be killed.”
“That’s my niece. She’s just a child. You have to let me go!”
Dani’s screams grow louder, then fall silent. The pounding and howls of the Manus demons fade.
Mom collapses onto the floor, sobbing. “They came here to support me through impeachment. What have I done?”
I grip my elbows so tightly, I’m surprised my bones don’t crack. My arms ache to reach into that past reality and hold her close, whispering I’m sorry, Mom, so sorry. I never could have imagined the horror of Armageddon’s war.
Xavier kneels beside her, his hand gently rubbing her back. “It wouldn’t have mattered where they were. You heard Walker. Demons have overrun Purgatory. All the Senator’s families have been targeted.” He rises to his feet, setting his hand on the marble doorway. “My heart goes out to you, Camilla.”
Mom looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Where are you going?”
Tim cowers against the wall. “They’ll kill you too, Xavier. You’re a quasi sympathizer, an enemy of the new state.” His voice breaks. “We’re all enemies of the state now. I hear it in Group Think.” His fingers shiver as they grip his robes.
I watch my ghoul-father tremble and realize that Tim did a brave thing in working with Mom. Most ghouls don’t consider quasis a legit form of life, let alone a potential boss. He took a risk because he cared about her, and now his life’s in danger.
Xavier presses his ear to the marble wall. “I helped build this place, remember? I know ways to leave without being seen. I’ll go to Armageddon and see what can be done.”
Mom looks up, her bottom lip quivering. “You mean the angels, right?”
Xavier shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You said you’d speak to Armageddon. You must mean you’ll talk to your people. The angels.”
Xavier offers Mom a sad smile. “Yes, of course. The angels.”
My forehead creases with confusion. Mom’s way too upset to notice, but the way he answered her question was a little suspicious. What did he mean by saying that he would talk to Armageddon?
Mom rises to her feet. “I’m going with you.”
“No, I do this alone or not at all.” His fingers glide along the marble panel, looking for the mechanism to open the door. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
The scene before me freezes. The figures change from flesh and bone back into sand. Little by little, their bodies crumble onto the Gray Sea. My dream fades into a place that’s black and empty. Sadness seeps into my heart.
Mom’s voice calls to me from the darkness of my dream. I awaken.
“Myla, can you hear me?”
I open my eyes. I’m lying on a plush bed inside a small and sturdy wooden house. The room’s filled with gilded furniture and delicate sculptures. Oriental rugs cover the floor. Mom stands beside me. The low chatter of many voices echoes in from the opened windows and door.
I shake my head from side to side, my brain still muddled with sleep. “Where am I?”
“The Queen’s cottage,” says Mom. “The thrax have been camping throughout this area.”
I pull myself up to sitting. “How long have I been here?”
“Since last night. I came as soon as I learned of your injury.”
My foggy brain tries to process Mom’s words. I must have passed out after Lincoln healed my back. And I’m just waking up now? “What was wrong with me?”
“You ran a high fever fighting the infection.” Mom presses her hand to my forehead. “But it broke about an hour ago. Did you sleep alright?”
Memories of Armageddon’s attack flicker through my mind. I grip Mom’s hand. “I had a dreamscape last night.”
I might as well have set off a bomb in the Queen’s chamber. At the sound of the word ‘dreamscape,’ the lively chatter of servants falls into perfect silence. The figures milling outside my window freeze. Expectation fills the air.
My mouth droops into a frown. Nice move, Myla. I’m in the Queen’s bedroom because the High Prince put me here. Everyone must be dying to know why. Now I’m talking about dreamscapes, aka super-rare angel stuff. If I hired a carnival barker to stand outside my window and sell tickets, I couldn’t have a more interested audience.
Bending over, Mom whispers in my ear. “Can it wait until we get home?”
She doesn’t need to ask me twice. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Mom stands up straight, her voice steady and strong. “You were very fortunate, Myla. The doctors said you could have died.” She pauses, holding up one hand, waiting for any reaction from our hidden audience.
The silence around us turns deafening. Hells Bells. I’m still the marquee act in today’s performance of ‘what does the Prince want with that girl?’
Mom lets out a frustrated puff of air. “Show’s over folks. Get back to work or I call the Queen.”
Instantly, bodies begin to move again outside my window. Low chatter resumes in the hallway. I shoot Mom a hearty thumbs-up. She’s acting more and more like her old self every day. It’s awesome.
I flip off the covers and set my bare feet on the cold floor. “So, when do we leave?”
Mom rushes to my side, guiding my body back to lay down. “The doctors say you need to stay here and rest for a few days.” She tucks the covers under my chin.
“I feel fine. Really.”
Mom sits on the edge of the bed, her voice low. “Does this have to do with that thrax boy you were telling me about? I can’t imagine you’re thrilled to finish your recovery here.”
“No, it’s not about him.” But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s totally about him. After my weird lust-filled encounter last night, I want as much distance between us as possible. “I’m ready to go home, that’s all.”
Mom fluffs a pillow under my head. “Doctor’s orders, Myla-la. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. Maybe you can go home then.” She rises to her feet. “Get some rest, promise?”
I snuggle under the covers and grin. “Promise.”
Once Mom is gone, I slide out of bed and stretch, catching my reflection in a mirror. I’m now wearing a white linen nightgown. When did that happen?
I shrug. I suppose it’s better than waking up in my armor. I step about the elegant space, running my fingers over the heavy wallpaper and staring at the delicate sculptures. I walk up to the opened window. Rows of cottages stretch off into the distance, followed by a much larger network of fancy tents.
A knock sounds at the door. “May I come in?” It’s Lincoln.
My breath hitches. “Sure.”
The door opens and Lincoln steps inside. “Hello, Miss Lewis.” My body turns gooey. This can’t help my recovery.
“Hi.” I scope out his outfit: jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and leather boots. “Wow. You know about the twenty-first century.”
“That’s right, you’ve only seen me at official court events.” He gestures down his torso. “Welcome to my day off.”
“I like it.” I make the same gesture over my white sheath. “Welcome to this random nightgown someone put on me.” I frown. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
He grins. “I’ll never tell.”
A dumb part of me wants to smile back, but I stop myself and look out the window again. He’s still a creep.
Lincoln’s voice sounds behind me. “I wanted to check that you’re okay. Things were a little touch-and-go last night.” He lets out a long breath. “And you look fine.” There’s a long pause where I keep staring out the window and not talking to Lincoln. Don’t forget that he’s an ass, Myla. Not to mention that weirdness in the stables last night. I must’ve had an allergic reaction to the neurotoxin. My inner demon is wrath only, end of story.
The floorboards creak softly as Prince shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll take my leave now.”
His footsteps thud as he walks away. Something in my rib cage tightens. For some reason, I don’t want him to go.
“Hey.” I spin around to face him. He stands by door; his hand grips the handle. Our gazes lock. “Thanks for…You know.”
He arches his brows. “Saving your life?”
“Yes, that.” I half-smile and realize something: it’s hard to hate someone who saved your life, especially if that someone gives a mean massage.
“No problem.” He folds his arms over his chest. “We’re running a special this month on magical horses and lifesaving.”
I full-on grin. “You have a sense of humor. Somehow I didn’t expect that.”
He looks at me out of his slate-blue eye. “Well, it’s not like I wowed you with my dazzling personality when we met.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No, you didn’t.”
“In fact, I was closed-minded and awful for far too long. I’m very sorry.”
I screw my mouth onto one side of my face. He’s not getting off the hook that easily. “No more nasty ‘demon girl’ comments?”
Straightening his stance, he sets his hand over his heart. “Never again.” He winks. “I got a stern talking to from my mother about that.” His full mouth winds into a crafty grin. “And you know how she can be.”
Dammit, he just got off the hook. “Yes, I do.” I laugh.
He steps closer. “How about we start over?” He bows slightly. “Hello, I’m Lincoln.”
I pause, eyeing him carefully. Why not?
“Myla Lewis.”
He offers his hand. “Friends?”
I set my palm on his. “Friends.” His skin feels warm and firm. I remember his touch on the small of my back, then quickly drop his hand. “I guess I’m stuck here for the next few days.” I shrug. “I don’t feel all that sick though.”
“I have a very over-protective court physician.” Mischief dances in his mismatched eyes.
I poke him in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Did you get me out of school?”
He leans against the wall, hitching his right leg across the left. “If I did, it would be justified as an extra tournament reward.”
“So, what’s there to do around here, friend?”
“Want to take Nightshade for a ride?”
I pause, tilting my head to one side. Memories of his touch simmer in the back of my mind. I need to be careful. No more bizarre lust demon episodes, particularly with guys who only just proved they aren’t total jerks. But hey, friends do stuff like ride horses around. We can do that.
I nod once. “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll have some riding togs sent over.”
“Pants, please.” I’ve seen these thrax ladies riding side-saddle in long dresses. Not my thing.
He grins. “I’ll make sure they offer you a wide selection.”
“Great.” I yawn and stretch. “See you at the stables in an hour?”
“You don’t need more time to get ready?”
I sniff. “Do I look like that girl to you?”
He chuckles. “No, you don’t.” He swings open the door. “In an hour, then.”
Lincoln steps out the door. An army of servants pour into the cottage, all wearing traditional gowns and tunics. They bring me food, things to wear and fill up a copper tub for a bath. I wash, have a snack, and decide to dress in brown leather pants, tall black boots, and a corseted red blouse. My long auburn hair is tied back with a black velvet ribbon.
I find the stables. Lincoln stands outside with Nightshade and a sleek black Arabian horse.
“I’d like you to meet Bastion.” He gestures to the black horse.
“He’s a beauty.” I pat the horse’s neck. “Another from the House of Striga?” I comb my fingers comb his silky mane.
“Yes. I didn’t raise him, but we’re still very close.” He adjusts Bastion’s saddle, and then runs his hand through the horse’s mane as well. Our fingers brush; the touch is a shock of connection.
I pull my hand away quickly, my heart thudding at double-speed. I catch Lincoln’s gaze, seeing intensity there. His hand didn’t move against mine by accident. Suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Focus, Myla. You only want to be friends with this guy. Time to change the subject. “How’s the Furor?”
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.
“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.