Yuck. Those Striga nut jobs are worse than regular doctors. Maybe I should go back to my theory that it’s my igni screaming. At least, that didn’t involve the magical medical community. If I keep calling to igni in my nightmare, maybe they’ll explain everything, no doctors involved. Sure, they haven’t answered me yet, but that’s got to be better than getting a physical.
I purse my lips, making a great show of contemplation. “You know, come to think of it, I’m absolutely positive it was my igni.” I slap on my biggest, toothiest grin, the one I know that Lincoln adores. “No need for any check-ups, here.”
“For a badass warrior, you’re a baby when it comes to your own health.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Lincoln rubs his chin for a minute. “Last night in your dream, did you talk to your igni while you were still asleep?”
“Sure.”
“You haven’t done that before. Well, not successfully anyway. Maybe they only hear when you’re awake.”
“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Another shiver rattles my spine as I recall the shrieks that filled my nightmares. “Well, whoever or whatever it was, their cries kept getting worse and worse. It was heartbreaking.”
Lincoln studies me for another long minute before nodding to himself. “My Queen, I believe you could benefit from a royal distraction.”
Royal distraction? The morning’s looking up.
A smile tugs at my mouth. “I could, huh?”
Under the crisp white bed linens, Lincoln slides his left hand up my bare stomach. I close my eyes, lean back into my pillow, and enjoy the delicious sensation of his touch.
“For the record, I like where this distraction is going.”
“Well, it’s the least I can do, considering you’re heartbroken and all.” Lincoln’s fingertips slowly circle around the base of my right breast. My inner lust demon stirs, sending heat to my core.
“Is this where it hurts?” he asks slowly. “Your heart?”
I mock-pout. “Oh, terribly.”
A mischievous smile sounds in Lincoln’s voice. “Want me to kiss and make it better?”
“You know, that could totally help.” Moments like these are why I’m so very-very glad that Lincoln and I don’t believe in pajamas.
Bit by bit, Lincoln pulls the sheet down, exposing my bare breast. Cold air teases my skin; heat spikes through my bloodstream. Leaning forward, he presses a gentle kiss at the very top of my breast, aka the farthest you can get from my nipple and still technically be on my chest. He does so love to torture me.
“So, how worried are you about these nightmares?” Lincoln’s voice is all low, sexy and growly. My favorite.
“About medium-worried.”
At this point, it’s obvious that Lincoln’s using his classic sexual-distraction maneuver, the one where he gets me all hot and bothered so he can talk me into doing something practical. And in this case, practical means doctors. But the joke’s on him this time. I’m not some mindless lust demon who he can manipulate with kisses. I’ll simply walk away.
Kiss. This time, Lincoln’s lips move lower, a sweet inch closer to my nipple. More heat pulses in my core.
Walk away, Myla. Walk away.
Kiss. This time, Lincoln’s hand glides down my stomach, too.
I don’t walk away.
“Have your igni said anything else to you since the dreams started? During the daytime, maybe?”
“Yeah, well…” I try to focus on the question, but I’m having issues because Lincoln’s fingertips have reached my thigh. Damn, that’s good stuff.
“Uh, Myla?” He flashes me sneaky smile. “I asked you a question.”
“Right. A question. What was it, again?”
“Any daytime messages from your igni?”
“Oh, that. No, nothing during the day.” I slip my fingers into his messy mop of silky brown hair. “I know what you’re doing, by the way.”
Kiss. His lips reach my areola, which puckers under his touch. A lovely ache rolls through my center. “And what is that, my Queen?”
“Using sexual torture to learn more about my nightmares. Next, you’ll get me to agree to all sorts of junk I’d never consider unless I was under the influence of my lust demon.”
“Sexual torture? Manipulation?” He wears a look of mock-shock. “Really?”
“Really-really.”
Lincoln moves in for another kiss, but then pauses just above my nipple, where his warm breath feels especially yummy.
I might hate him a little, right now.
“Although, a visit from the royal physician is probably in order, don’t you think? We’re anointing a new Earl of Acca tomorrow, and I don’t want to take any chances. Plus, you never know, there could be some sympathizers still running around, wanting to show their support for the former Earl by casting a bad spell on you or some such nonsense. I’ll have the Striga Elders send one of their healers over, too, just to be sure. Agreed?”
“Ugh. I hate doctors.” But I love how you’re massaging my inner thigh.
“You’ll still see them today, though. Am I right?”
Lincoln accents this last point by gently brushing his bottom lip across the very tip of my nipple. My inner lust demon goes berserk.
“Okay. I’ll see the doctors, just—”