Golden Stair (6 page)

Adonis shrugged. “I’m a demon, I’m not going to apologize for my appearance.” He pointed at the werewolf and the vampire wrestling around on the ground amidst blood and darker fluids. “But you got those two wrong. The King of Sanguenay is a brown wolf, not black.” He pointed to the other figure. “And the king of
Dacia
—if you’ll excuse the pun—wouldn’t be caught dead fighting his own battles. He would turn fresh vampires every night for breakfast if it meant keeping his own lily-white ass off the field.”

“You focus on details, but the picture is still true,” Ivy declared. “My mother told me about the war going on outside our dimension. She fights in that war every day, and every day I have to sit here and wonder if she’ll come home.”

The maiden’s voice broke and for a split second Adonis almost felt sorry for her. Whatever her delusions, the girl believed what she was saying. His wings drooped slightly as his anger bled away. The girl was obviously deluded. Punishing her for attacking him would serve no purpose, certainly not until he discovered who had been filling her head with such grisly lies. He eyed the circle of stones still holding him prisoner. If she wanted him dead, she would have let him burn to ashes. There was still a possibility that he could get out of this.

“I don’t know what war you’re talking about,” he said finally. “Nysa has been at peace with
Meropis
,
Dacia
, Sanguenay, and Mu for decades. The last great war ended, though not so long ago that you shouldn’t remember it.” He eyed her again, searching her face for some sign of dishonesty. “You must be over a century old, yes?”

Ivy jerked back. “I’m twenty. If I were over a century, I would be old and grey, are you daft?”

“You’re a sun elemental,” Adonis returned. “You’ll be just as young and beautiful five hundred years from now.”

“I am not an elemental!”

Adonis shouted as Ivy’s body erupted into golden light. He fell to the ground as the energy bounced off the circle’s boundaries, protecting him from the heat if not the light. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he cursed and blinked. After he could see again, he found Ivy crumpled on the floor, sobbing with her arms limp at her sides.

Curiosity rose inside Adonis and he crept closer to the edge of the circle. He tucked his wings against his back as he settled into a comfortable sitting position as close as he could get to the crying woman. As the last vestiges of his rage left him, so did the adrenaline. His body grew heavier, tired. If he didn’t renew his pool of energy soon, he might not make it home…ever.

Everywhere Ivy looked, the world had a blinding golden glow. Furniture, the sky, even the incubus curled up in the circle beamed like somehow the sun itself had leaked its radiance all over them. She could hardly see, could hardly think.

He’d called her a sun elemental. It was ridiculous, impossible. And yet, now that the words were in her head, she couldn’t help but look at the sun. Its rays caressed her like an old friend, its soothing waves brushing against her skin as soft as a mother’s touch. She couldn’t deny that sunlight had always refreshed her, always revitalized her in a real, tangible way.

But it couldn’t be true. Surely her mother would have told her—

Her gaze zeroed in on the remains of the chair Adonis had fallen onto then darted up to the trapdoor in the roof. Her mother had built that for her. How many times had Dame Gothel guided Ivy to that chair, told her to sit in the sunlight? As if she knew…

Ivy focused her attention to the broad ceiling of the main room of the tower.

The crystals were full. Ivy held her breath, staring open-mouthed at the crystals that covered the ceiling, hanging like shining stalactites. Her mother had planted them there, telling Ivy they would be nurtured by the sunlight that shone in the tower. As each one absorbed the light and became a shining beacon of flame, Ivy harvested them and packed them for her mother to take into battle. Her mother claimed they helped to power her spells.

Now they were all full.

The ceiling was like a blanket of flames, a kaleidoscope of yellow, orange, red, and white burning fingers. A layer of power, if her mother was to be believed.

Because of me.
The epiphany fell like a lead weight onto Ivy’s shoulders as she remembered the brilliant bursts of light that had exploded from her body. There was no other explanation for the crystals. She had harvested some yesterday, she knew that only a few of them had sparkled—she certainly would have remembered if they had all mysteriously burst to life at once. Was the incubus right? Was she a sun elemental? Why hadn’t her mother told her?

“I don’t envy you the thoughts you’re having.”

In a daze, Ivy faced the incubus, her attention drawn by his voice. It had changed, grown smoother, almost physical like the slide of silk over skin. The rage of moments earlier had vanished, replaced by the seductive tones he’d used when he’d first arrived.

Seductive.

She looked away, trying to get a grip on her hormones and the completely incomprehensible fact that she did not find him frightening—not at all. Bit by bit, she slid her gaze back to the circle.

Her mother had told her about the demon many times. Ivy had painted him more than once. And it wasn’t that the details were wrong, per se. Somehow they just…came together differently in real life. His broad shoulders were well-rounded with thick muscles, tapering down a smooth, hairless chest to a solid waist. She swallowed hard and jerked her gaze away before she could look any lower. As it was, her cheeks were burning hot enough to make her thoughts plain for the demon to see.

He sat inside the circle, dark eyes intense as he scrutinized her. His skin appeared completely healed, free from the hideous burns she’d inflicted on him. Goosebumps erupted on her flesh as she remembered the way he’d screamed, the scent of burning flesh that had filled the room after that first burst of light had shot from her body. Even the memory sickened her and she quickly shoved it away before the taste of bile rising in her throat could grow worse.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” she said aloud, trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

“I don’t. But the pain on your face is clear. Do you want to talk about it?”

A harsh laugh burst from Ivy’s lips. “Do I want to talk about it? With you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see anyone else here.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “They must be having trouble finding this special pocket dimension that only you and your mother can find.”

Ivy clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. “Do
not
mock me,” she ground out. “I don’t know how you found this place, but if I were you, I’d be thinking about what’s going to happen to you now that you’re here.”

Adonis waved, brushing aside her threat. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. Obviously you want me around for some other reason.” He rolled onto his back, reached his arms over his head, and stretched like a lazy tomcat, bowing his naked body out slightly.

Ivy cursed herself for zeroing in on the muscular planes of his chest, following the faint dusting of hair down the sculpted lines of his stomach…and lower. Heat burned her cheeks, and this time it had nothing to do with the sun—magic or otherwise. She sputtered for a moment before she could make her voice work.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groused finally. “Do you really think you can manipulate me that easily? You think you can just wave your—” The burn in her cheeks grew hotter and she clenched her teeth as Adonis raised his head, staring at her with renewed interest.

“Go ahead, you can say it,” he teased.

“It’s not too late for me to throw you over the balcony,” she growled out through gritted teeth.

“I’ll bet you couldn’t even drag me to the balcony,” Adonis retorted.

An image of her trying to haul the incubus across the floor filled her mind. She imagined she could feel his warm skin against hers, the solid muscle of his body against her palms…

She took a step forward. Something flickered in the incubus’ eyes and he leaned forward. There was something eager about his body language and it sent a tingle down her spine. The sensation ripped her out of her daze and she scowled.

“Attempt to enthrall me again, demon, and I’ll make you wish I’d thrown you over the balcony,” she threatened.

Adonis propped his chin up on his hand. “I wasn’t trying to enthrall you.” He gave her a sly smile. “If you were attracted to me, it must be my magnetic personality.”

He tilted his hips and Ivy looked down before she could stop herself. His flesh twitched under her gaze and she jerked her attention away to avoid embarrassing herself any further. “Stop it,” she snapped.

The incubus pouted and flipped onto his stomach. “You’re awfully cruel to me considering we’ve only just met.”

Crossing her arms across her chest like a physical shield, Ivy steeled herself against the wounded look on his face. He would not fool her into letting her guard down. She’d almost killed him. Even if he wasn’t the monster her mother claimed he was, no one was that easy going.

“I don’t have to have met you personally,” she said evenly. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Adonis smirked. “I highly doubt you’ve heard any complaints.”

Ivy put a hand to her forehead. “You are beyond arrogant. You think because you’re a handsome prince you can waltz in here and I’ll believe every word you say, do whatever you want. My mother leaves every morning to go fight in the Great War. I see her wounds, I heal her. I have to wash her blood from my skin and hear her moans as she fights to overcome the damage caused by you and the greedy kings who think more of land than of people. If you think you can smile at me and gain my goodwill, then you are sadly mistaken.”

He grinned. “You think I’m a handsome prince?”

Fury sizzled along Ivy’s nerves along with a desperate desire to wipe that smug satisfaction off his face. “I think you’re a rapist and a monster, just like my mother says you are,” Ivy whispered.

For a split second, Adonis’ eyes flared, two burning coals in a face as dark as pitch. Then a moment later that image was gone. Ivy held her breath, waiting for him to yell, to try and defend himself. When she’d insinuated he was a rapist earlier, he’d flown into a rage. Now he just sat there and stared at her. Minutes dragged by and still he remained silent. Ivy bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself. The fighting she could handle, the fighting felt right. But the silence… The silence gave her mind way too much time to wander. A dangerous situation when faced with an incubus and no chaperone.

Adonis’ hazel eyes darkened until it was like looking at the rich brown and green of the forest just outside her tower in the moments leading up to sunset. She looked into his eyes and she could imagine what it would be like to roll over in bed and see those eyes right next to her, feel his warm body pressed against hers. Heat spread from between her legs all the way to her face. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle, but she could feel his desire.

She was right next to him.

Ivy shrieked and threw herself backward, her gaze never leaving Adonis. He sprawled on his side in the circle, peering at her, a small quirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rested a hand on his hip, drawing Ivy’s gaze…

The heat inside her grew, pulsed. Her heart leapt into her throat, her head swimming in a strange haze. She closed her eyes, trying to block it out.
Stupid, stupid girl
, she cursed herself. He was an incubus. Even in the magic circle he could ensnare her, call to her. Her mother had always warned her about incubi. They didn’t need power to coax women closer, it was just part of who they were. Ivy had let herself forget that.

She opened her eyes, about to call the demon out on his manipulation. Before she could get out a syllable, Adonis gestured behind her.

“Bring me your paints and a canvas?” he asked.

Her scathing words died on her tongue. “My paints?”

“Please?”

It was such an odd request that Ivy could find no reason to deny him. She retrieved the materials he’d requested, pushing them into the circle, careful not to disturb any of the stones. She watched, intrigued, as Adonis began to paint.

Colors flew across the canvas, guided by his finger, his claw and, occasionally, a brush. He dipped his hand in the paints as if he could draw out the essence of his subject from the medium. His fingers danced over the surface and a picture emerged like it had been called from the depths of the canvas itself.

The king and queen of Nysa. Trepidation filled Ivy as the monarchs emerged from the swirls of color. They stood facing one another, one of his arms around her waist and the other reaching up to touch a short dark curl with the tips of his fingers. Her arms were draped around his neck, the gold and champagne gown blending with the cape he wore over a vivid purple tunic. They stared into each other’s eyes and even through the filter of paint and canvas, Ivy swore she could feel their love. They looked so happy.

A tear trickled down Ivy’s cheek and she wiped it away in shock. She looked to Adonis. The incubus was staring at the painting, a soft look on his face and one corner of his mouth tilted up.

“The look on your face,” she said softly. “You love them.”

“They’re my parents,” Adonis responded, without taking his eyes from the painting.

“I didn’t think lust demon parents were particularly affectionate.”

Adonis shot her a grin. “I’m so pleased to be in the presence of an expert on incubus child rearing.”

Ivy blushed and cursed herself for it. “Sorry,” she muttered. After a moment of silence, during which both she and Adonis continued to admire the painting, Ivy gathered the courage to speak again. “The way you look when you’re painting—the way you look at it now—reminds me of how I feel when I paint.”

“Like you’re bleeding onto the canvas?”

“Exactly,” she said excitedly. She sat on the floor next to the circle. “You put so much life into this picture, I feel like they’re right in front of me.”

“They are so in love,” he murmured. “I’ve never known such happiness. To be near them when they’re together is to get a rare glimpse into something beautiful.”

Ivy tried to resist, but she couldn’t help but feel the truth of his words as she viewed the painting. The part of her mind that believed her mother’s warnings searched the portrait for some hint of sexual deviancy, some sign that the demon was the monster Dame Gothel had always claimed he was. She looked for the lust that would surely be present in a painting that came to life at the hands of a ruthless incubus. No one who painted with the intensity and abandon that he had could hide the piece of themselves that bled out through the paint. There was proof of his true nature in the painting, proof that what her mother said was true.

But she couldn’t find it. The king didn’t paw at his wife, he didn’t leer at her with crude lust. His hands around her waist were gentle, but with a loving firmness that spoke of how badly he wanted to keep her with him. Likewise, the queen looked up at the king as if the very sight of him brought her the greatest joy. Ivy could feel a kiss in their future, as if Adonis had captured a true moment in time. Somehow, she knew that the kiss would be pure, the type of kiss that only true love could produce. Or maybe that was just her fanciful imagination.