Angelbound

Lincoln’s face is unreadable. “May I ask a question?”


I pretend that it’s very important to check for dust on my ghoul robes. Anything not to look in his eyes at this point. “Sure.”

“Do you love me?”

Holy cow! I did not see that coming, at all. “Um, well, I…”

Fuuuuuuuuuck. I have no idea what to say right now.

“Alright, I’ll ask a different question.” His face stays still as stone. I have no idea what he’s thinking and damn, that’s annoying. “When did this happen?”

Okay, that question I know how to answer.

“It’s been happening for a while, but I didn’t know it. The ceremony at the Arena actually awakened me, not Adair. Then, I was angelbound last night when we—” I bite my lower lip.

Lincoln watches me for a long minute, then his mouth does something impossible: erupt into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. He rushes toward me, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me against him. “That’s wonderful, Myla.”

Wait a minute.

I look at Lincoln out of my right eye. This is unbelievable. “So, you’re not worried about what I just said?”

“No. Should I be?”

Although it’s not in my best interest, I’m not dropping this point for some reason. “But I have to go into hiding. Who knows when I’ll resurface? Don’t you want to, you know, move on?”

He grips my waist tighter, spinning me around in a circle. I can’t help but laugh. He kisses me once, gently. “Of course, not. You’ve made me very happy.”

At those words, the light bulb in my brain clicks to ‘on.’

“You just heard blah-blah-blah ‘getting angelbound means Myla loves me like crazy’ blah-blah-blah. Am I right?”

“Yes.” We’re so close, I can feel his heart beat against my chest. “And I love you too, Myla. Like crazy.” His mouth brushes along my jawline. Desire churns through me. “Now you say it back to me.”

I stifle a grin. He can be such a hot bastard sometimes. “I love you, Lincoln.”

“There now. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” His hand cups the back of my head, gently guiding my lips onto his. Our mouths meet in a slow kiss. My knees go all wobbly again.

“Ahem.” A voice sounds from across the room.

Lincoln frowns. “That would be Mother.”

Did he just say ‘mother?’ My face burns about a thousand shades of red. “I didn’t hear anyone come in.” I pull my hood low and take a huge step away from Lincoln. “Does she always sneak around like that?”

“Pretty much.”

I pat my cheeks; my killer blush isn’t going away any time soon. This wasn’t how I pictured the Queen finding out about me and Lincoln. I was hoping for more of a ‘let’s meet up after battle practice’ scenario versus her catching us snogging in the dark. Ugh. Not to mention my new powers. Lincoln may not mind that I’m the Scala Heir, but who knows what his parents will say?

Octavia stands by the closed door, her body stiff and tall in a black velvet gown, her brown hair pulled back into a twist. “It seems we’ve much to discuss. This way.”

I stand in the center of the feasting hall, my body perfectly still. A knot of emotion forms in my throat. I keep telling myself to walk and my stubborn self keeps ignoring me. An official audience with the King and Queen? Right this very second? I’ve already had a ‘very special’ twenty-four hours as it is.

Lincoln steps up behind me, setting his firm hands on my shoulders. His mouth brushes the shell of my ear. “We can do this.”

I wrap my fingers with Lincoln’s, feeling the warmth of his skin. Yes, we can do this. Together, we open the door and cross the threshold, following Octavia to a massive tent made of black tapestry woven with silver eagles. Tall wooden poles hold the structure upright, each topped with a line of thin golden banners. A guard in black armor stands by the entrance flap.

Octavia wags a finger at him. “No one gets within twenty yards of this place, no matter what.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

The Queen turns to me. “We use this for official audiences.” Flipping about, she disappears into the folds of the tent.

Once Octavia’s gone, Lincoln grips my hand. “Just a minute, Myla.” He pulls me out of earshot of the guard, stopping a few yards from the tent entrance.

I stare into Lincoln’s mismatched eyes, my head tilting to one side. “What’s wrong?”

He gently sets his hand on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing my skin in a soothing motion. “I don’t want you to be surprised. My father may be a little gruff with you.”

I suck in a fast breath. That little factoid was a shocker. Suddenly I’m very happy about the mini-shoulder massage I’m getting. “Why? He doesn’t know me.”

Lincoln smirks. “You’re the greatest warrior in Antrum, everyone knows you.”

I mock-frown. “That’s not what I mean.”

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