Golden Stair by Jennifer Blackstream

the shoulders of the sculpture. “You don’t believe me.”
     
    “You are a very desirable demon, I’ll give you that. But for all your claims that incubi are about true love, I haven’t seen a romantic bone in your body.”
     
    It took a great deal of effort to keep his face passive while inside he felt as though she smacked him in the face. He should let the comment go, shrug it off as he did so many insults from those who looked down on his carnal lifestyle. But this was Ivy. He couldn’t let that lie.
     
    “Perhaps because I am not so masochistic as to invite what I can’t have.” He slid his hand down the side of the sculpture, idly wondering if Ivy was ticklish. If he did this to her actual body, would she laugh? He glanced up at her, catching her watching his hands. The pulse in her neck throbbed so hard he could see it, could count her heartbeats if he wanted to.
     
    “Prince Patricio—the death angel, to you—feels much the same way about me as you do.”
     
    Ivy jerked, her eyes a little too wide. She started to speak, but no sound came out. Part of Adonis wanted to be amused that his gestures with her sculpture had distracted her so, but the conversation had veered into territory that even he wasn’t inclined to laugh off. He gave her the time she needed to gather her thoughts.
     
    She cleared her throat and tried again. “Oh?”
     
    “Yes. He’s quite judgmental, very high and mighty, not out of character for someone who’s worshipped by everyone who sees him. His condemnation doesn’t bother me though.”
     
    “It doesn’t?” Ivy’s voice had dropped to a whisper, and she wasn’t bothering to pretend she wasn’t watching his hands anymore.
     
    “No.” He dropped his hands and strode forward. She trembled, but she didn't step back. He stopped an inch away from her, just before the brush of her body could tempt him further. “Your condemnation bothers me,” he said quietly.
     
    “Why?” she asked, so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
     
    “Patricio is making himself miserable, and his venom toward me is just a sign of his own unhappiness. He’s a grown man, and he has everything he needs to be happy if he would just make that choice. You, however. You are here, alone, with a mother that tells you horrible, horrible things about the outside world. Your condemnation bothers me, because it’s symbolic of an ugliness that doesn’t suit you. Hatred leaves a mark, anger leaves a mark.” He took her hands in his, pleased when she didn’t fight him. He almost smiled when he saw the paint under her fingernails, the smudges that never really came off the hands of an artist. “Don’t paint yourself with those colors if you don’t have to.”
     
    “I… I can’t leave the tower,” she said hoarsely.
     
    “Very well, no leaving the tower.” He closed his hands around hers. “There is another way.”
     
    The spark of interest in her eyes made his heart ache. There was a hint of desperation to the way she held herself now, clutching her arms as if she was fighting a physical urge to dart forward at his insinuation. She was eager, willing. Whatever her mother had taught her about the outside world, she hadn’t completely managed to snuff out the flame. There was still hope.
     
    “Can you bring me a mirror? Any mirror, it doesn’t have to be big.”
     
    Ivy tilted her head for a moment, but strode to a small staircase between the kitchen and one of the bookcases. Adonis was tempted to follow her up, but quickly cast that idea from his mind. She was trusting him, however tentatively, and he didn’t want to push her. Why he was here instead of off finding that naiad that had gotten away from him yesterday was a subject he didn’t want to dwell on.
     
    Besides, he had plenty of energy, he didn’t need sex. Not that he was here for something more than sex. He paused. Wait.
     
    “Mystery and adventure,” he said aloud, trying to block out the argument in his