Read Online Golden Stair by Jennifer Blackstream - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Blackstream
Tags: Romance, Paranormal
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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
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
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