Sculpting a Demon Read Online Free PDF Page A

midnight black hair framed a face too beautiful for words. High cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips—in her wildest dreams she couldn’t have created a more perfect example of male beauty. However stunning his face, his eyes captured her total attention. Radiant and cobalt blue, they burned like wildfire. It was hard to meet the intensity of his gaze, but she refused to drop her eyes.
    The stranger propped himself up on the pillows, cradled his head in his hand and studied her as she studied him. “I said, certainly not.”
    “Certainly not?”
    “Not even close,” he answered. His grin was wide, wicked, mischievous.
    “What are you talking about?” No, that didn’t matter. “Who are you?”
    He tossed the sheet aside, got out of the bed and gracefully knelt before her in a formal bow. Like a knight of old before his queen. “I am Arien,” he said. “An honor to serve, my Master.”
    His black hair fell over his face, blocking it from her view, but she distinctly thought she heard a hit of mocking in his deep voice. “Master?”
    “Is it the custom in this land to repeat everything that is said?” he asked. She saw the edges of his wide smile from beneath his hair. “Or perhaps you were calling me Master?” His head came up, cobalt eyes flashing in the dim morning light. “I can’t say I would mind that.” That wicked grin again. “If that is what you desire.”
    I’m dreaming , she thought as she gaped at the man kneeling before her. I have to be. Otherwise, I’m totally fucking insane and I can only hope they have lots and lots of Thorazine on hand wherever they decide to lock me up. She pinched herself because that seemed to work for people in stories, but they only thing that accomplished was to make a bright red welt on her arm. “What—” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. Her head spun with too many questions. “How did you get in here?”
    “You called me,” he answered. As if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation.
    “I called you?” She shook her head. She really had to stop repeating everything he said. “How did I call you?”
    His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. He seemed to be considering something. Assessing. “You have no idea, do you?” he asked, smoothly rising to his feet.
    My God, he’s huge , she thought as he rose above her. It was then that she realized she was sprawled out before him like some kind of crazy crab and her cheeks colored. He extended his hand and she let him help her up, but even standing, she only came up to his shoulder. Her gaze slowly trailed over his magnificent body. Every inch of him was lean, steely muscle and her mouth watered as her eyes traveled down…
    She gasped and quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks now blazing. Her body was still all too hyperaware of his touch, and though she wanted nothing more than to leap back into his arms and beg him to take her to bed, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to lose control like that. Desperately searching for somewhere else to focus her attention, she frowned as her vision came to rest on the empty space where her statue should have been.
    “My sculpture,” she whispered. Her eyes swung back to him, to the empty platform, back to him. The air left her lungs in one harsh whoosh and she pressed her hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. “What is going on here?” she wondered aloud.
    In a flash, his arms were around her waist and he was gently guiding her toward the couch. “Sit,” he said.
    Strangely, she felt safe with those strong arms around her. She didn’t understand how that could be since she was certain that however attractive, this man was very dangerous. Not that she felt threatened, but he exuded a kind of raw sexual intensity that up close was very nearly overwhelming. And that wicked, lazy grin. Smiles like that only ever meant trouble. Her eyes swept over him again and her body tingled with the memory of his weight on her, his hard cock pressing