Scala by Christina Bauer

by his collar, ready to slice the shirt right off. Man, it would be so easy. Nakedness could be ours.
    Lincoln leans in close, his mouth just above mine. “In case you’re wondering, I hate this shirt.” Translation: If you want to slice this off me, feel free.
    The arrowhead end of my tail toys with his shirt-collar. Lincoln closes his eyes, soaking in the feel of my dragon-scale skin on the nape of his neck. Inside me, my lust demon instinct grows stronger. The drive to tear everything off him is almost irresistible.
    And I can control my lust demon. Possibly.
    My tail slides around to Lincoln’s throat, tugging right below his chin. We’re here. And all of this feels amazing. Plus, there are no guarantees about our crazy futures. Why wait? My eyes flicker red with lust.
    Lincoln lowers himself on his forearms, stopping when his mouth’s a breath above my own. “That’s it, Myla. Set her loose.”
    All right, big fella. You asked for it.
    A knock sounds on my bedroom door. We freeze.
    The knock repeats. Someone’s here.
    Aw, fuck fuck fuckity FUCK fuck.
    A muffled voice sounds through the thick wooden door. “Myla?”
    No question who that is. “Hi, Cissy.”
    â€œYour Mom’s been calling and calling. I have a limo waiting outside for you. We need to go to an emergency press conference. Guess who’s gone public with her complaints about the Ghost Towers?”
    Ugh. That would be Adair.
    â€œAlright, Cis. Be right out.”
    Lincoln gives me one last kiss before rolling off the bed. “I’m afraid I must meet your lust demon another time.”
    I open my mouth, not sure what to say. On one hand, I’m colossally bummed out that Lincoln and I aren’t kissing anymore. On the other hand, I can’t say I’m too upset that I can keep right on avoiding my inner lust demon. Which hand is the right one?
    Tough call, really.
    I straighten my Scala robes and decide to worry about my lust demon later. Right now, it’s time for my first serious press conference.

Chapter Eleven
    Cissy, Lincoln, and I sit in a limousine on our way to Adair’s so-called emergency press conference. Lincoln’s in a fine mood, especially since minutes ago, he almost met my inner lust demon again. He starts rolling the windows up and down, picking through the wet bar, and in general playing with every button, lever and knob in the limo. He even rolls open the skylight and stands up through it as we drive along. I pull on his pant leg.
    â€œDown here, honey.”
    He crouches over. “Wow. Not that I don’t like riding Bastion, but limousines are phenomenal.”
    Cissy and I exchange a look of disbelief. Sure, Lincoln lives underground in a locked-down version of the Middle Ages, but I figured he’d ridden a limo at least once before. After all, he is royalty.
    â€œHave you ever been in a limo before?” asks Cissy.
    â€œNo, why would I?” He stands back up in the skylight.
    I tug on his pant leg again. “Down here, still.”
    Lincoln crouches once again. “Yeah?”
    â€œEmergency press conference planning going on here. You need to participate.”
    â€œRight now?” He looks so disappointed; I hate to burst his bubble.
    â€œHow about this? One of these days, we’ll ride around in a limo for as long as you want. How’s that for a deal?”
    â€œI like.” Lincoln plunks back onto the seat beside me, a silly smile on his face. “Alright. Ready to focus on the emergency press conference.”
    Cissy hands us each manila folders. “It’s being held at the Thrax Embassy.”
    Lincoln’s grin melts away, along with any sense of playfulness. “I wasn’t made aware of it.” He flips through the pages inside the folder. “Acca informed Father, though.” The muscles along his jawline tighten with rage.
    I scan the documents myself. “Adair’s formally