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.
I slide off the lip of the fountain, landing on the cool grass. Looking down, I curl my hands around the bottom of my tunic, ready to strip it off.
That’s when I feel it. Heat around my eyes. My irises are glowing red. That’s never happened before when I’ve felt lust, only wrath. Although, come to think of it, I’ve never really felt lusty about a guy before.
I stop moving, careful to keep my head down. This is the dark side of inheriting both the classic Furor traits: wrath and lust. I stare at my fingers as they clutch the tunic’s hem. “I think we should stop now.” My breath is low and shaky. I’m no wiz at controlling my wrath, and I’ve been working at that all my life. Now lust? My first kiss was weeks ago. Tonight, I almost stripped down and did who-knows-what with Lincoln. That’s not who I want to be.
Lincoln sets his hand on my arm. “What’s wrong, Myla?”
I bite my bottom lip, careful to keep my head down and eyes hidden. Part of me wants to run for it, the other part wants to kiss him again. Badly. Stupid lust demon.
Lincoln sets his knuckle under my chin. With a gentle nudge, he tries to guide my gaze to his. I’m having none of it.
“That’s not a good idea, Lincoln.”
The Prince leans over, twisting so he can peep into my face. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Your eyes are changing. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s my Furor lust side.” My voice shakes a bit. “I’ve only ever felt wrath before.”
He links his fingers with mine, his voice gentle. “Let’s take it slowly, then. We have all the time in the world.”
I exhale. “Yeah, that would be good.”
He tilts his head to one side, listening. “Especially since they haven’t sent out a search party yet.” He grins. “Shall we find another way to cause trouble?”
“Sure.” I give his fingers a squeeze. “How about exploring more of the maze?”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “That is a great idea.”
Chapter Twenty
I sit in Betsy’s shabby front seat, still wearing Lincoln’s tunic. The evening sky is giving over to morning; a soft glow lines the horizon. I think through last night with Lincoln and smile my face off. We walked through the maze for hours, talking. I now know his favorite kind of music (jazz), least favorite word (moist), and nastiest all-time fear (invasion of Antrum). We debated which demons are hardest to fight, easiest to track, and have the worst personal hygiene. I explained to him at length why Frankenberry cereal rocks, Cissy and Zeke can get annoying, and reruns on the Human Channel are the bomb. Poor guy doesn’t even have a phone, they’re so nuts about security in Antrum, let alone television. I felt it my moral duty to educate him.
I bang the steering wheel with my fist. Damn, I forgot to ask him how he knows Walker! Note to self: ask that next time for sure.
Twisting the key in the ignition, I rev the engine. Betsy doesn’t buck or cough smoke as I drive off. I grin. Sometimes, everything goes your way.
The good luck continues once I get home. I tiptoe around the back of the house and fiddle with the bathroom window. It slides open without a hitch. Awesome. I shimmy inside and sneak into my bedroom. Slipping off Lincoln’s tunic, I throw on a gray nightie and slide into bed.
I’m feeling quite proud of my sneaky self when my bedroom door swings open. Mom’s outline appears in the darkened threshold. “Where have you been, Myla Lewis?”
She’s using my full name. I’m in trouble.
“I went to a party with Cissy.” I fluff my pillow under my head. “I know I should’ve told you.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“Now I’m back and safe. I have school tomorrow. Can we talk about it in the morning?”
Mom pauses, then lets out a long breath. “I suppose so.” She wags her finger at me. “But you’re in big trouble, young lady.”
Her threat bounces off my wall of inner bliss. “You got it, Mom. We’ll talk in the morning.” I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.