Angel’s Guilty Pleasures

 

Angelfire
by Christina Bauer
(Angelbound Lincoln, #5)
Publication date: February 8th 2022
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult

Synopsis:

Someone is making life hell for our favorite royal couple, Lincoln and Myla. Natural disasters have the after-realms falling apart. Humans are going to war left and right. And the hottest couple ever can’t find two minutes alone. Sheesh.

The problem? Lincoln’s evil brother.

Yes, you read that right. Brother.

Turns out, Lincoln’s father was a busy guy in his youth… and now Connor’s secret son, Truman, wants his share of the throne. Even worse, Truman is as awful as Lincoln is noble. When it comes to claiming royal power, nothing stands in Truman’s way. Sure, Lincoln is tied by angelic blood to his half brother. But will that connection link them together… or ultimately tear the after-realms apart?

Angelbound Lincoln Series
Stories from the perspective of Mister the Prince
1. Duty Bound
2. Lincoln
3. Trickster
4. Baculum
5. Angelfire

Perfect for teen and young adult readers who want their book series to deliver: badass world building, angels, demons, paranormal romance, fresh themes from contemporary fiction, LOL romantic comedy, gods and goddesses, dark fantasy, strong girls and women as heroines, themes about loners and outcasts, the best laughs in humorous literature, general coming of age whackery, and (most importantly) truly unusual epic fantasy.

Purchase:
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LINCOLN

AGE TWENTY-ONE

I am one man with many titles.

Some call me King of the demon-fighting Thrax. To others, I’m Husband and Consort to Myla Lewis, the Great Scala. More than once, I’ve been celebrated as the Greatest Warrior in Antrum, which is my homeland hidden deep below the Earth’s surface.

Yet the finest title of all will soon be mine.

Dad.

Myla is heavy with our first child. Humans might say we’re too young to be parents. But we thrax fight demons on the Earth’s surface. My people know that life can end quickly—and if you anger the wrong monster, it most certainly will—so we marry early and start families fast. And as Myla would say, if you make yourself happy, at least that’s one person.

For this momentous occasion, I carry my wife to the Arx Hall infirmary, honeymoon-style. Together, we move through a section of the palace called the Gilded Abbey. This hallway always gleams, from the golden murals on the ceiling to the shiny tiled floor. But today? Every inch seems especially bright. And with each step forward, more adrenaline and excitement course through me.

This is really happening.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” snarks Myla. “As I’ve said many times.”

“Not a chance,” I counter. “You know how humans transport their brides over the threshold? The King of Antrum must always carry his pregnant queen to medical care in the same manner. It’s a thrax tradition.”

Myla shoots me the side-eye. “Thrax tradition, my ass. You just made that up.”

I wink. “Absolutely. Call it royal prerogative.”

“You’re a fibber.”

“And you are beautiful.”

Which she is. My wife is extra-curvy now, a look that only enhances her long auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and whip-fast tail.

Myla pretends to size me up. “You’re… okay. I guess.” I’m tall and broad-shouldered with short brown hair and mismatched eyes.

“You think I’m crazy-hot. Don’t deny it.”

Now, it’s Myla’s turn to wink. “Maybe.”

At this point, Myla’s tail comes out to ruffle my hair—which is its way of saying, I love Lincoln.

“Maybe, huh?” I grin. “Another part of you seems to disagree.”

“Ugh.” Myla rolls her eyes. “My tail is such a traitor.”

In reply, her tail bobs up and down. It’s literally dancing with joy over the idea of having bested Myla. Such a character.

Myla cuddles against my shoulder. My wife may talk about hoofing it to the infirmary, but on this occasion, she clearly likes being carried. And it’s no problem for me to do so. I’m used to toting about heavy chain mail and tunics in my everyday outfit as king. Myla is far lighter by comparison. Today, we’ve both jettisoned medieval styles for dark cotton pants and T-shirts.

“How long?” asks Myla.

It’s a short question, but I get the full meaning. How long since my last contraction?

“Two hours,” I reply.

We both know what that means. Our doctor explained everything when Myla’s first became very pregnant, very quickly. The experience is what I’d call surprising, but not a shock. After all, Myla and I are both supernatural. There’s no rule book for how our offspring should grow. Right after her belly rounded out, Myla felt some contractions, but those soon ended.

The doctor estimates that a few weeks remain before the baby’s born. However, our physician also wants to check Myla out in a more formal setting, just to be sure.

Which brings us to the present moment. Myla and I have changed clothes, freshened up, and are now on our way to the infirmary…

 

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