Page 45 of The Curse of Golden Blood
The book was heavy, the leather cover supple under my fingers. I carefully turned the pages, their parchment so thin I could see the writing on the other side.
The ink on the page curled in graceful arcs, the letters foreign, yet beautiful. I didn’t know a single word, but the images stopped me cold.
They gleamed, illuminated in greens and golds, the pigment sparkling like a precious stone. Someone had made the colors shine as if the paper were alive, the iridescent ink seeming to ripple when I tilted the page.
It wasn’t battles or beasts. It was bodies. Naked, writhing bodies. Beautiful fae men and women locked together, lost in tangled threads of carnality.
A hot blush bloomed across my skin.
Thin golden lines crossed the limbs and faces of the figures. The illustrations were like something out of an expensive silk tapestry. Velvety smooth yet lustrous. A story told in images of perfect skin.
Clues! You’re looking for clues to find out more about-Even as my mind tried to bring me back to my senses, I couldn’t help myself. Blushing, I quickly flipped the pages. Mother above, Iwasn't a prude, but did they really have to put so much damned detail in the drawings?
Another turn of the page revealed a man’s hand gripping a woman’s throat, her head tipped back in abandon, her lips parted in a gasp I could almost hear. My fingers fumbled at the edges of the parchment, the blush burning hotter.
And that’s when a shadow spilled over the page.
I gasped, dropping the book. It slammed to the floor, spine snapping with a horrible crack. I winced, glancing up.
Zydar stood before me, arms crossed, an amused smile on his face.
My cheeks heated.
"Really, Zydar, you could've warned me! What are you doing here?” I asked, pressing a hand to my racing heart as I turned to face him fully.
“I could ask the same of you."
Zydar stood close enough that I could see droplets of rain still clinging to the black strands of his hair. He was shirtless again. I tried very hard not to look, but my eye slipped anyway.
"I... uh... I couldn't sleep."
His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “So you thought you’d rummage through my shelves for midnight entertainment?”
He picked up the book, its leather spine nearly split. His mouth quirked into a faint smile.
"You picked the perfect book to ease your frustrations."
I flushed as he pressed the book into my hands. My pulse was racing, and I had to focus to keep my breathing steady. "I... no, that's..."
He laughed softly. "Your heart is racing."
"Because you startled me," I said, swallowing hard. "It isn't... I was just..."
He laughed again, the low sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Use your words, Miralyte."
"I didn’t know what it was until I opened it. I didn't think it'd be like... Well, it's not what I was expecting, that's for sure." I stammered, but my explanation sounded weak, even to my ears.
He smiled. "You don't need to be embarrassed. We all have desires."
I blinked at him. "I'm not... I wasn't—"
He laughed. "Calm yourself, Miralyte."
Heat pulsed inside me. Desire wasn't the right word for the sensation that rippled through me. A more accurate term would be frustration, irritation, or yes, pure, unbridled rage.
His face was inches from mine. His scent, like cedar and lightning, filled my senses. He was so close I could see flecks of silver in the depths of his eyes, feel his breath on my skin.
Mother above... Give me strength.
