Angelbound

“There.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his leather pants. “That’s how you looked when I first saw you by the lake.”


I nod. That’s right; he found me fighting Doxy demons in the water. “So, that’s why you brought me here?” I scratch my cheek. That’s a little strange.

“Well, I think about that night all the time. Maybe too much.” He shoots me a shy smile. “That sounds kind of crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Depends.” I move my mouth to one side, considering. “What’s the interest?”

He rubs his neck with his hand. “It’s a bit of a story, actually. I was chasing down some Doxy demons at the Ryder stables. I thought you were another thrax, tracking the same pack.”

I mock-frown. “Another guy, of course.”

He sets his hand on his bare chest. “Guilty as charged.” He steps closer, my heart thuds harder in my rib cage. “You disappeared into the water. I thought you’d be drowned, but you came out fighting.” He pauses before me, setting his warm hands on my bare knees. A thrill of heat whirls about my belly. His palms are calloused in all the right ways for a warrior.

With gentle pressure, Lincoln guides my legs apart. My heart rate goes through the roof. “You were fighting like a demon yourself, eyes glowing red in the darkness. And you were laughing.” The Prince presses his firm body against my soft curves. My breath hitches. Damn, that feels good.

Lincoln notices my little gasp and smiles. “I saw you were a woman, a warrior.” He leans in close, his mouth a breath above my own. “A force of nature. From that day on, I’ve thought of you, that night, and the water.”

I inhale deeply, ready to say ‘I never met anyone like you before, either. You make me crazy, too. In a good way.’ I speak, but two words only: “I understand.”

His voice comes out low and husky. “Good.”

Our mouths meet, fierce and rough, every flick of the Prince’s tongue driving more heat between my legs. My arms slide about Lincoln’s bare shoulders, sensing his velvet-soft skin over solid muscle. Suddenly, I want to run my hands over every inch of his body. Lincoln’s fingers press around my thighs, tracing the hem of my tunic. Desire rockets through me.

A thin bolt of lightning strikes the ground a few yards away. Low rolls of thunder shake the air.

My head snaps to the spot of grass where the lightning hit. It’s a smoldering patch of black by the fountain’s edge. “Did you see that?” This is the third time lightning strikes when I feel strong emotions around Lincoln. Even I’m having a hard time pretending it’s a coincidence.

“No.” Lincoln kisses my neck, then gently bites my earlobe. My legs go wobbly beneath me.

“But Lincoln, aren’t you worried about the–”

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.”

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