Golden Stair (20 page)

Without his fear to hold him back, Adonis’ gave himself over to the woman possessing him. He raised a hand to cup one of her golden-hued breasts, flicking his thumb across her nipple until she cried out and thrashed her head from side to side. He repeated the motion with her other breast, loving the way passion twisted her features. Pleasure grew in their bodies until it towered over them. Then suddenly it was there and they both roared their release.

Energy erupted from Ivy with the force of a volcano. The energy poured into him, filling every pore, invigorating every sinew. His nerves sang with it and he laughed, a deep, chest-rumbling sound, half-drunk with power. When the last ripple finally released him from its grip, he collapsed, boneless against the sheets, smiling as Ivy sighed and folded on top of him.

For several bone-melting moments, they lay there, catching their breath and letting their hands wander over each other’s bodies, working off post-coital energy.

“Do you have a plan now, Adonis?” she asked.

“What?” Adonis mumbled, opening his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them.

“A plan. For us.” Ivy raised her head and folded her hands on his chest so she could rest her chin on them and look into his eyes. Her irises were once again a warm golden brown, the brunt of her energy gone.

It took Adonis a moment to process what she meant.
Oh, yes, the plan.
“Zeus’ lightning, yes. I told you the plan, didn’t I?” His brain seemed to have melted, taking his ability to think and speak with it. He figured he had maybe seconds left to form words before he turned into a pile of demonic goo.

“Marriage, right?” Ivy guessed.

He nodded, so vigorously he feared permanent neck damage.
Gods, she has to stop talking before she finds out what a simple-minded fool I am. Even an incubus needs time to process after sex.

“And will you take me to all the places you told me about?” she prodded.

“Yes.”
I think my brain is floating in golden wine.

“And will you paint with me so that we can surround ourselves with all the wonders we see?” She eased forward, brushing her breasts against his chest.

Adonis sucked in a breath at the erotic caress of her nipples across the shivering muscles of his chest. “Yes,” he choked.
Oh, Aphrodite help me if she wants another go. If I take one more drop of energy, I’ll explode.

“And will you trust me to make my own choices, and promise never to think you know what’s best for me?” she breathed against his lips.

“Oh, gods, yes,” he growled.
What’s life without risk? One more drop can’t hurt.

Suddenly someone cleared his throat from across the room. “Ahem. Adonis?”

Adonis hissed as Ivy shrieked. He rolled them over, covering her body with his and jerking his wings down to further shield her nude body. He glared over his wing at the source of the voice. His eyebrows shot up as he found Kirill standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here, Kirill?” Adonis asked warily.

Kirill sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is my bedroom, Adonis. Wouldn’t the more pertinent question be, what are
you
doing here?” He inclined his head slightly toward the bed. “And a pleasure it is to see you, Ivy. I’m so pleased you’re well.”

There was a moment of quiet and then Ivy shifted. Adonis looked into the cocoon he’d created to see Ivy watching him with wide eyes.

“Is that Kirill, as in the vampire prince from
Dacia
?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Adonis confirmed. His gaze drifted down her body.
Gods, she’s beautiful.

Ivy turned, breaking his concentration as she lifted the edge of his wing and peeked at the vampire standing in the doorway. Kirill gave her a slight bow.

“He doesn’t look like a mindless killer to me,” she murmured.

Adonis snorted, hiding his amusement from Kirill by ducking his head past his wing.

“You flatter me,” Kirill said dryly. “Dare I ask why you two are in my bed? Or should I say, what’s left of my bed?”

“Your bed?” Adonis looked around, realizing for the first time where they were. Now that he thought about it, the blackened windows really should have been more of a giveaway. And the midnight blue brocade curtains were much heavier than the gauzy bolts of fabric that graced the windows of his own room. He looked at Ivy. “Ivy, try to make this room into a desert.”

A few moments later, nothing had happened. Ivy shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Well that’s odd,” Adonis mumbled.

“Adonis, is that you?”

Adonis offered Irina a brilliant smile as she came into the room, stepping around her husband to see what all the ruckus was about. Her pale skin looked ethereal in the dim light of the vampire’s bedroom, her midnight black hair even darker in comparison. Dressed in a fur-lined crimson gown, she was a vision of beauty. The silver daggers strapped to either hip with artfully embroidered sheaths added an enticing tone of danger to her beauty. She smiled back half-heartedly in return, curiosity etched in her porcelain features.

“Um, Adonis, what…what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Well, apparently, when I tried to use the magic of the painting world to give us a more appropriate setting, the magic responded a little more enthusiastically than I’d anticipated.”

“You thought my bedroom was an ‘appropriate setting?’” Kirill dead-panned.

Adonis shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly putting a lot of thought into it. I was concentrating on something else at the time. I just used the first image that came to my mind.”

“Charming. Will you be leaving for your own bedroom soon or should I tell the servants there will be two more for dinner?”

“Is he being sarcastic?” Ivy whispered.

“I think so. It’s hard to tell. He’s not the most expressive person at the best of times.”

Adonis eyed Kirill, glancing from him to Irina, who seemed to be trying not to laugh. “Thank you for your generous offer,” he said finally. “But I think we’ll take our leave.” Ivy shifted beneath him and arousal crackled to life along Adonis’ skin. He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Unless you’d like to give us a little more time…?”

Kirill’s face darkened. “Irina, tell Isai we need an exorcism.”

“You smell like saltwater and fish.”

Adonis paused, taking a moment to sniff his arm. Salt-dust tickled his nose and he closed his eyes and shook his head, trying not to sneeze. Kirill crept ahead of him, weaving through the decrepit tombstones without making a sound. When Adonis was sure he had the sneeze under control, he leapt into the air, flying just over the creeping vampire, careful not to impale his wings on the sharp points of some of the more pretentious gravemarkers.

He eyed one in particular. A massive stone littered with warrior angels bearing wicked, curved blades as they appeared to defend the rotting corpse in the ground beneath them from…well, whatever their master feared, Adonis supposed. He perked up. Perhaps when Kirill finally went back to the earth, he could have his weapons incorporated into his tombstone. He would have the deadliest grave of all.

“Could you make a little more noise, please?” Kirill said under his breath. “Between your clothing and your smell, it will be a miracle if there’s a person left in Nysa that doesn’t know we’re coming.”

“Ivy wanted to spend our honeymoon at the ocean,” Adonis informed Kirill. “I couldn’t get her out of the water, so I was forced to spend most of my time there as well.” He glanced down at his clothes, frowning at the heavy metal clasp holding his shoulder piece over his tunic. “And Ivy wants me to start wearing clothes when I leave the palace. She couldn’t be talked out of it.”

“Then put a little more thought into it, will you? Metal should be sparse, and always surrounded by fabric that will keep it silent.” Kirill spared him a withering glance. “And there is no excuse for a belt made of coins.”

“Ivy likes it.”

Kirill paused. “Well then, it’s unavoidable, I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly. He glanced back at Adonis. “How is she doing?”

“Better, but it will be a long road before she’s completely herself again. She still has nightmares about what she did to the witch. Logically she understands that Gothel was evil. For the gods’ sakes, she spelled a doppelganger for the tower. All this time Ivy thought her mother was there with her at night and it turns out that most of the time it was just an elaborate glamour. The witch actually had the nerve to tie the spell to Ivy so she was feeding her own delusion.”

“Evil, yes, but one has to admit that Dame Gothel was a very ambitious woman. The sheer amount of power she attained is astounding.”

A snap of his wings carried Adonis to Kirill in one sharp jerk and he landed hard on the ground in front of the vampire. Anger clouded his vision as he stepped into the vampire’s space, jabbing a curved black claw at Kirill’s pristine black tunic.

“Your tone is sadly lacking in disgust when you speak of the woman who enslaved my wife,” Adonis hissed. He opened his mouth, stretching his jaw as his teeth lengthened into the sharpened points of a predator. “I’ve been sitting up with Ivy at night, holding her after the nightmares and watching her cry because even though that witch was nothing but evil, a small part of Ivy will always think of her as her mother. You have no idea what that’s like.”

“With any luck,” Kirill said calmly, “I will someday.” He canted his head. “Though I must say, I don’t believe I will suffer Ivy’s nightmares after killing my father.”

Adonis blinked, warily eyeing Kirill’s calm expression. “You really are a cold man at heart, aren’t you?”

Kirill lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “My heart hasn’t beat in a very long time, Adonis. And I am dead, after all.”

“Ha,” Adonis scoffed. “For all your family issues, you and I both know that you’re not so dead when Irina’s around.”

“Perhaps if you speak a little louder, you can alert the necromancer of our arrival?” Kirill suggested. “Give him some time to kill us before we reach him?”

The mention of the necromancer brought Adonis back to the present. He looked into the distance, searching for the sprawling mausoleum that the death-keeper called home. “Ah, yes. The little bird that whispered in Gothel’s ear.” He narrowed his eyes, idly flicking through all the ways to kill a necromancer. “Let him try.”

“It astounds me that you’ve lived this long,” Kirill muttered.

“Just because I don’t cower in fear from a human with a little death-magic, doesn’t mean I’m not a survivor,” Adonis argued, trying to lower his voice despite the rush of adrenaline heating his blood.

“A survivor would not have told a necromancer that he is inhabiting a dead body.”

Adonis beat his wings, lifting himself into the air again. “Hey, now—”

Kirill whirled around and Adonis was shocked to see real anger glowing in his eyes. “A survivor would not have let the necromancer follow him to the home of his lover. A survivor would have some
sense
—would pay attention to his surroundings apart from whether or not there’s a
female
around.”

The last comment was a low blow, and well below Kirill’s usual insults. Adonis frowned. “For the gods’ sakes, Kirill, why are you so mad?”

“Because you’re jeopardizing your life,” Kirill seethed, stroking one of his daggers like it was a worry-stone. “You told a necromancer that people were trying to kill you and that if that happened, the entire kingdom would be plunged into war.”

“So?” Adonis furrowed his brow.

A muscle beside Kirill’s eye twitched. “War brings death, Adonis. Death. Which for a necromancer means…”

Adonis scowled. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.” He landed, folding his arms as he settled his wings behind his back. “At the time, I needed help, so I asked for it. There was no way I could have known that the miserable snitch was going to follow me to Ivy’s, and hang around to tell her mother that I’d visited.” He flexed his claws into his arms, imagining the feel of the necromancer’s neck in his hands, his eyes rolling back as Adonis slowly squeezed the life from his body. He relished the image with a smile. “I’ll be rectifying my mistake tonight. And I don’t need your help.”

“I have no intention of helping you,” Kirill retorted. He turned back toward the mausoleum in the distance. “I intend to rob him while he dies. If he has as much power as you say he does, then there could be valuable bargaining chips to be had there.”

“You have a strange way of building alliances,” Adonis commented.

Kirill snorted. “At least I have political alliances.”

“Define ‘political alliance.’”

“Having ties with someone who will come to your aid even when your enemy is great and the risk of death imminent,” Kirill responded automatically.

Adonis smirked. “In that case I have a political alliance with the rusalki, the dryads, the sirens, the mermaids, the goblins, the trolls, the fey, and the naiads.”

“Having sex with them doesn’t make them political allies,” Kirill said, rubbing his temples. “As a matter of fact, sleeping with several women often fosters jealousy—and a worse poison for political alliances does not exist.”

“There is no jealousy among the lovers of an incubus,” Adonis corrected him smugly. “Think about it. I drain energy from my lovers. Don’t get me wrong, they’re happy to see me come, but they’re just as happy to see me go.”

Kirill froze except for the growing twitch beside his eye. “Don’t say it.”

“Did you see what I did there?”

“Adonis.”

“It was a double entendre.”

“I’m warning you, demon.”

“Demons
love
double entendres.”

The vampire clenched his hands into fists at his side and for a moment Adonis waited for him to strike him. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the tension vanished. Kirill brushed his hands over his clothes, his fingers pausing here and there—caressing his weapons, no doubt.

“When we are finished here,” Kirill said finally, “I am going to go directly to Sanguenay and apologize to Etienne. He is an absolute pillar of self-control compared to you and I feel the sudden need to congratulate him.”

“A bit testy though,” Adonis said thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder about his political alliances.”

“They need work.”

“Maybe you can help him.” Adonis grinned slyly. “Seeing as you’re
so good
with political alliances and all.”

“A touching sentiment, Your Highness, but sadly I don’t believe either you or the esteemed prince of
Dacia
will be in a position to help anyone after tonight. Except me, of course.”

The oily voice seemed to slide over the ground to wrap around them like the coils of a particularly unpleasant serpent. Adonis and Kirill both whipped around to see the necromancer standing behind them, a shroud of deep blue fabric surrounding a pale, drawn face. The death master stood in front of a towering tombstone, the wings of the stone angel casting strange shadows on his face.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your revenge,” Kirill bowed slightly to Adonis. “Do call if you need anything.”

“You’re too kind, Your Highness,” Adonis said formally, offering a bow in return. “But I don’t believe I’ll need your help this night. He is merely human after all.”

“Indeed.” Without another word, Kirill vanished in the direction of the mausoleum, supernatural speed making him a veritable blur of shadows.

Adonis turned to find the necromancer holding a hand out toward Kirill with a look of shock on his face.

A gruesome smile played across Adonis’ lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you trying to control Kirill? Perhaps you expected your power over the dead to help you? How embarrassing. Let me explain. Kirill is the undead, yes, but unfortunately for you, his wife is not.”

The necromancer’s face darkened. “He’s bonded,” he spat.

Adonis smiled wider. “Indeed. As am I, so…”

Fresh from his honeymoon, Adonis had the weight of enough power inside him to wipe the entire graveyard from the face of the kingdom. His body was a volcano, home to a roiling river of heat and devastation, just waiting to burst forth and consume his enemies in a painful tide of ash and searing pain.

Adonis let his power spill out over his skin, strengthening his flesh and sharpening his claws as it clung to him like a second skin. The sad truth of the matter was, he didn’t need much power to kill the necromancer. Traditionally, puppet masters such as the small man before him hid behind an army of the dead when they made a power play. This one, well, this one would no longer be an issue after tonight.

The sound of moving earth tickled Adonis’ ears and he sighed. Apparently the necromancer was a traditionalist after all. “Zombies? Isn’t that a bit cliché?” he chastised.

“I prefer to think of them as classics,” the necromancer sneered.

“You don’t really think I can’t take care of a few zombies?”

“Oh, but that’s just it, Your Highness. It’s never just a few zombies. Zombies, by nature, are terrifying for their numbers. And you are in the largest graveyard in Nysa, full of loyal subjects from centuries past. Granted, they are not as vibrant as the zombies I would have created after the war…”

Adonis’ stomach heaved as the necromancer’s eyes got a faraway look in them. Almost like he was mentally living a wonderful fantasy.

“War is a necromancer’s fondest dream,” he murmured. “All those people dying violent deaths, going to the ground with fear and hatred. Such splendid emotions to twist on their way out of the dirt. The things I could have done with an army of fresh zombies. I’m sorry…the things I
will
do…”

A dead hand closed on Adonis’ shoulder and he roared and whirled around, severing the zombie’s head from his shoulders with one slash of his claws. The hand on his shoulder continued to squeeze, unmindful of its body’s sudden separation. Adonis growled and picked up the entire body, throwing it into a few of its peers. He flew into the air, cursing as he looked around at the swarm of dead bodies milling around every inch of the graveyard.
This is going to take forever.
He clenched his hands into fists.
I
hate
delayed gratification.

The necromancer waved a few fingers at him. The miserable traitor was surrounded by zombies, and thanks to the necromancer’s short stature, he’d be nearly impossible to grab without being snared by one of his deceased soldiers. Adonis sighed and resigned himself to a night of bludgeoning dead bodies.