Still, I did the right thing. Me and my igni posse got rid of Armageddon in the long run. That said, it doesn’t change my favorability ratings with the thrax. Considering the fact that I’ll rule these folks for the rest of my unnaturally long life?
Being looked at in abject horror gets really old, really fast.
But I am not deterred. No, I have a coping plan for dealing with my future thrax subjects. In my opinion, that plan involves avoiding unpleasant realities and stalling anytime I have to visit Antrum. Right now, it also means looking for another demon bar. Opening the fridge, I root around in the sketchy bottom pullout drawers. There’s one hidden under a bag of mushy apples. “Score.”
“Myla, we should leave soon.”
I tear open the second wrapper. “Absolutely.”
“Which means we need to change our clothes.”
“Fine.”
“And considering we were both fighting a pair of rather nasty demons, we should also shower.”
I bite off another chunk. “Yup. Any minute.”
Lincoln grips the waistline of his shirt and pulls it over his head, inch by yummy inch. I toss my half-eaten demon bar on the countertop and stare my eyes out.
Damn, my guy is gorgeous.
Lincoln is all muscle-y without being obnoxious. And he has all these battle scars from fighting demons, too. Delish.
Lincoln undoes the top buttons of his camo pants. They’re almost low enough where I can see something interesting, but not quite. My inner lust demon roars to life inside me, draining all coherent thought from my head. My mouth falls open as I manage to squeak out one word. “Hey.”
A smug grin rounds Lincoln’s mouth. “Let’s get ready.” He steps closer, stopping only when our bodies are inches apart. My heart is pounding so hard, I can hear my pulse whoosh-whoosh in my ears. He leans in until his mouth is right above mine. “I’m taking a shower. If you come with me, perhaps we could discuss our bet.”
With that, he saunters out of the room.
Damn.
Bastard.
He’s totally going to get me to stop stalling, follow him, and smooch. Lincoln killed the dyad demons. That means I should really make him use up his “next kiss” request at the very first opportunity, or he’ll torture me for ages.
I stare at my half-eaten demon bar. He also wants me to stop eating crap. I’m no dummy. This is all part of a huge plot against my Myla-ness. Well, I won’t put up with it. Folding my arms over my chest, I rest my hip against the counter. “I’m not following you, you know.”
The distinct rip of a zipper sounds from the next room.
Stay strong, Myla. I’m a competitor. A winner. Lincoln does this all the time. Manipulating me with my lust demon. I won’t stand for it anymore.
I will not give in.
The rush of water sounds as Lincoln turns on the shower. My lust demon roars in my head. All my resolve crumbles into nothingness as I rush from the kitchen and speed over to my parents’ bathroom.
Now, let the record show that my parents have a truly epic shower. It has about a million nozzles that shoot the perfect temperature of warmness from all directions. I’ve been wanting to try it out with Lincoln for ages. Sure, I may be a virgin and have limited experience with men, but I have a vivid imagination and a hot fiancé. Total lust demon bonus.
I step inside the steamy bathroom. The place is all white tile and stainless steel fixtures. The shower is a clear glass number, so I can easily see Lincoln’s naked backside. This moment is basically lust demon nirvana.
At last. I can truly ogle his glutes with abandon. And his back and arms, too. Let’s not forget about those.
Lincoln glances at me over his shoulder and smiles. That’s what you call a boudoir grin. A come-hither look.
I am so coming hither.
I grip the handle to the shower door. Lincoln rakes his hand through his brown hair, which is all wet and streaky, just like his skin. Wow, that’s a great look on him.
“Myla?”
“Hmm?”
“Your clothes.”
I look down. Damn, I forgot about my jeans and zip-front sweater. I give Lincoln a sly smile. “You know exactly what you do to me, don’t you?”
He winks. That’s a yes.
Reaching to my throat, I start unzipping my sweater at the neckline. That’s when the worst words in the English language echo into the bathroom.
“Hi, honey! We’re home!”
Ugh. I really need to get my own place.
Lincoln chuckles and nods toward the door. “You better get out of here.”
My lust demon isn’t having any of this. “But we’re getting married on Sunday anyway. It’s now Wednesday. That’s less than a week. We’re pretty much hitched.” I’m actually mighty proud of myself. Despite being mindless with lust, I got out a somewhat logical argument.
Lincoln shakes his head. “Even after we’re married, we won’t have love showers with your parents around.” He turns away from me again and douses his hair under the spray. The guy looks like a shampoo commercial. It’s hypnotic.
“Myla baby?” Ack. Mom’s voice snaps me out of my trance. I rush out of the bathroom and close the door behind me. My parents stand out in the hallway, looking really smug. That’s when I realize my sweater is zipped down past the point of decency. I pull that sucker up and fast.