Golden Stair by Jennifer Blackstream

dryad’s nose. “I have no intention of following the nosy fey. However, that particular firefly cost me a great deal of blood a week or so ago, and I intend to have words with it.”
     
    “It won’t have words for you,” the dryad pointed out, rising up to recline on her tree branch again. She stretched her arms over her head, bowing her slender body to beautiful effect.
     
    Adonis spared her an appreciative glance. “I suppose you’re right,” he murmured, already reaching up to haul himself back into the tree. “I—”
     
    The will o’ wisp appeared directly in front of his eyes, so close he could almost see the tiny fey body hidden in the sphere of light.
     
    “Oh, go away,” Adonis snapped. “I’ve decided not to take revenge out on you. Be grateful and get lost.” He started to raise his hand, but the will o’ wisp surged forward, straight into his head.
     
    The forest vanished, replaced with an image of Ivy standing at the balcony of her tower, brown eyes locked on the valley below. In his long life, he’d seen a sea of women staring out their windows, searching for him with lustful longing in their eyes. That lust touched him, called to him, but it was a mere whisper in the dark compared to the achingly sweet song of Ivy’s desire. It was just him she wanted, him she lusted after. She searched for him as if he were the only color on her palate, the only means for her to brighten the blank canvas her mother guarded so fiercely. She looked at him like he was the answer to excitement that went beyond the bedroom.
     
    The picture in his mind was so real, so crystal clear that Adonis couldn’t keep from reaching out to try and touch her. His body stirred to life as he remembered the kiss they’d shared, the eager way the virgin had clutched at him. Her inexperienced mouth had been no less devastating on his senses for its lack of sophistication. Quite the contrary, there’d been something pure and unfiltered in that kiss. He could only imagine what it would have been like if it hadn’t stopped there. If he’d kept going…
     
    Adonis blinked and shook his head, trying to dislodge the will o’ wisp and break the glamour it was holding over his mind. The fey remained stubbornly entrenched, infusing his mind with the image of Ivy. He stumbled back, putting a hand to his head. Emotions washed over him. Longing, fear, anticipation. She was waiting for him.
     
    “What’s wrong?”
     
    The dryad, Chrysopeleia, shifted in the tree, naked skin brushing the bark. The sound should have conjured up images of her naked body, open and waiting for him, but instead all he could see was Ivy. Her golden flesh, her twinkling eyes, her silky hair. Through the will o’ wisp’s glamour, he saw her in her lonely tower, staring out into the valley with a hunger that should be reserved for a lover. The sight tugged at something deep inside him, and he had a sudden strong urge to return to the golden shut-in.
     
    “Get out of my head,” Adonis growled. “She nearly roasted me alive, I’d have to be daft to go back there.”
     
    “Are you talking to me?” Chrysopeleia asked, her voice thick with confusion.
     
    “No,” Adonis barked. New images cascaded into his head with all the furious power of a waterfall. Ivy in front of him, her eyes drifting closed as he leaned in to kiss her. The flash of determination just before she’d grabbed him and hauled him closer for a bone-melting meeting of the lips. His hands twitched at the memory of her curves in his grasp and her velvet lips parting beneath his. Energy seared his insides at the flashback of the power that only came from a virgin, but that wasn’t what twisted his insides and jerked him forward as if dragging him back to Ivy’s side. No, it was the sweet taste of rebellion, the brief flicker in Ivy that had made her reach for something her mother had tried to make too fearsome to fathom. He’d seen the painting she’d created of him, seen the