Angelbound

“Give it a few seconds.”


Suddenly, the skin on my back blazes with pain. Hurt explodes from my shoulders until every nerve ending in my body screams in agony. “Son of a bitch!” I jam the blanket into my mouth and bite down hard. I crouch forward, my head almost touching the stable floor.

“You’re doing great. Just a bit longer.”

The agony blasts through me again, then one by one, my nerve endings return to normal. The pain melts away. I pull the blanket from my mouth and exhale slowly. “Okay, it’s better now.”

Lincoln leans in closer. His warm breath glides down my bare neck. “Good.”

That’s when it hits me.

It’s the middle of the night; I’m half-naked in a deserted stable; the guy I hate most in the universe is massaging my back; and damn, his touch feels crazy-awesome.

I try to stand up. “I’m totally fine now.”

Lincoln’s hands grip the bare skin at my waist, pulling me back to the floor. The touch sends fire through me; I shiver.

“You’re not fine. Stay still.” The Prince’s fingers move in a relentless rhythm, starting at my shoulders. There my muscles flush with heat and loosen. His palms slide down the sides of my torso, then press against the small of my back. I bite into the blanket again, but not with pain. Heat and desire pool into places where I didn’t even know I had nerve endings. My inner Furor demon howls with a new sensation:

Lust.

The situation’s quickly heading into uncharted territory for yours truly. Massage skills aside, this guy’s still a pompous jerk. And since when do I get lusty about anybody? I only inherited the wrath side of the Furor lust-and-wrath combo, didn’t I? With every expert flick of the Prince’s fingers, another image flashes through my mind: Lincoln’s hands cupping on my breasts, gliding across my belly, sliding up my thighs. What the Hell is happening to me? I flat-out panic.

“I think I can–” I try to stand again. Waves of nausea hit me. The world turns fuzzy, then everything blurs into a white haze.





Chapter Fifteen


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–”

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