My face flushes with surprise and heat. He’s not talking about that again, is he? Our almost kiss? “You mean when we were talking about beating?”

His hand slides up my back; a shiver of desire runs through me. “About beating as challenging. My subjects complain, but no one pushes me to be better. You did that, even when you hated me.” He smiles. “Especially when you hated me.” His fingers weave through the hair at the base of my neck. “Does that make sense?”

I meet his mismatched eyes and realize yes, I know exactly what he means. I’ve spent my life hoping the way my world runs would be tolerated, not looking for someone to race me. Who knew anyone like Lincoln was possible? I want to say all this, but my throat tightens. I only manage five words: “Yes, it does. Very much.”

His eyes almost glow with intensity. “I like this. Feeling like I have a peer, a partner.” He cups my face in his hands. “I like you, Myla.” My knees turn watery beneath me. I like you, too.

He pulls my mouth onto his and damn, it feels good. His lips are soft and the touch of his tongue along mine is electric. My heart starts thudding like crazy. I grip his t-shirt and ball the fabric in my fists. Our kiss deepens. Off on the horizon, a bolt of lightning strikes the earth, followed by a low roll of thunder. The flash of light snaps us out of the moment. We step apart.

I shake my head. “That’s weird. It’s not supposed to storm tonight.”

“Prince Lincoln!” The voices outside grow louder.

Lincoln sighs. “We better go.”

We leave the greenhouse, remount our horses and ride back to the thrax compound. All around, voices call for Prince Lincoln. More torches flash in the darkness. Lincoln rides up beside me and grabs Nightshade’s reins. “Your cottage is past those trees. You should go; I’ll take care of Night.”

I give Lincoln a silent thumbs-up and tiptoe to my cottage door. The room is cozy, warm, and inviting. I change into my new nightie, slip under the covers, and quickly fall asleep, smiling my face off the entire time.

I awaken the next morning to the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s not happy, which means one thing: I’m in trouble.

“Myla.” Mom taps my shoulder. “Come on, wake up.”

I open my eyes, looking as innocent as possible. “Good morning, Mom.”

Her mouth thins to an angry line. “What happened yesterday?”

She’s getting right down to business. Correction: I’m in deep trouble.

“Nothing. I just sat in here, minding my own business.” I force myself to cough. Twice. “Recovering. Why?”

“Reperio demons were released at the Scala winter feast last night. The same ones that went missing from your school yesterday. It caused quite a ruckus.”