Page 49 of His in the Dark

“Do you?” I ask, mildly.

“I think you only have so much time.” Persephone’s eyes narrow.

Of course she is right. Secrets don’t last forever. The tips of my fingers slip over the rough pads of my thumbs as I stand in deliberation. I let none of this show. I have had much longer to practice self-control, though I will admit that Persephone’s presence destabilizes it in ways I couldn’t have predicted.

“And how much time is that?” I ask her.

The ferocity in her expression increases as my question reaches her, a curiosity reaching her eyes. Almost like it’s a game. “I don’t believe you know.”

I chuckle, a shiver of unease running through me. Regardless of what Persephone believes, her mother and father cannot come to the Underworld.

However, others can come on their behalf.

Has someone told her? Has someone slipped her that tidbit of knowledge without alerting me?

My eyes narrow as I pace slowly and we watch each other. My body responds to her even as my mind ticks through possibilityafter possibility. Who, and where, and when? There are many souls who would have reason, and cover, to visit my realm. Some of them may have the means to access my private rooms. The keeper of keys. Seers and fates would know and so easily tell as their loyalty is to truth and only such things. There are ways to keep them out, of course, but not every method is foolproof. There is more power in my realm than I can hope to control with absolute authority, so I must remain prepared for my realm’s weaknesses—few as they are—to be taken advantage of.

In the silence, Persephone’s cheeks grow more flushed and the color slips down to her chest. Her eyes search my face again and again with shrewd concentration. It is so different from the days she spent weeping on the rug and curling up into a desolate ball in the bed next to me. The change is one I have craved, yet now that it is here, I find myself cautious in reaching out to claim it for myself.

Cautiousandravenous. It becomes harder by the moment to keep my hands off Persephone. I make a point of drinking in the sight of her, collecting as much information as I can without feeling it under my touch.

Persephone swallows, then takes another quick breath. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders. Every individual part of her shines in contrast to the rest. The softness of her hair makes me want the sharp line of her jaw. The strength in her posture makes me want to turn her into languid pleasure, stretched out on my bed…or any surface with room to spread her out for my enjoyment. The hard, focused way she stares into my eyes makes me want the trusting, relaxed side of her that she only reveals when she’s deeply asleep.

The duality of the Goddess who will rule this kingdom with me. I crave all of her.

“What is it you desire from me?” A sensual note rings in her voice, the pitch slightly lower than it was before.

My cock throbs. “I believe that’s obvious, my queen.”

A rueful smile quirks the corner of her mouth, then fades away. “You say that as if you could ever have an equal.”

“You think so poorly of yourself.” I’d meant to say this lightly, with the same distance between us, but some of my anger finds its way in. “Who put those thoughts in your head?”

Persephone’s lips part as if she already had an answer in mind, but she hesitates, closing her mouth again, her brown eyes even more intense as she keeps them locked on mine. The tension between us demands that I move closer.

It feels as if we’re balanced on a precipice, and Persephone could fall in either direction—back into her desolate stupor, or into the power I am still offering her.

It is so obvious she is meant for the power and the darkness. How can she be so blind?

She takes a deep breath, then moves back half a step. My heartbeat is the loudest sound in all of the Underworld. Will she sink to the floor? Move to the bed? Throw herself against me in a futile attempt to fight?

Instead, Persephone reaches for the clasps at the shoulders of her gown. Without looking away from me, my gaze caught in hers, she undoes one of the clasps, letting the strip of fabric fall gently down to expose the round top of one breast. The gentle sound of the soft fabric falling is nothing compared to the hammering in my chest.

My mouth goes completely dry. I have slept next to her for many nights, but she has never revealed herself to me like this before. I have the strong sense that I am watching something miraculous. Like a fragile flower of the Gods opening for the first time.

Persephone reaches for the other clasp and lets it fall, pausing for a few moments in a maddening half-dressed state. It is a promise of what else she might offer me. Thisshouldbe anacknowledgement of her place in my realm—my queen, yes, but a queen who must rule at my side.

I cannot take my eyes off her. It’s not possible with the invitation before me. Her smooth skin and gorgeous curves. She’s bared to me and I can barely temper my desire.

Slowly, as if she is beginning to feel the power she holds in this moment, Persephone tugs her dress down and down until first one of her nipples is revealed, and then the second. The soft undersides of her breasts meet the light next, and I find that I am not breathing. This is nothing that I could not have taken from her, and yet this slow unveiling is charged with meaning and emotion beyond anything I hoped to experience.

Persephone does not stop.

She continues stripping off her dress, her hands careful on the fabric, bringing it down to her waist and over her hips. The silk clings to her hips for a moment.

“I do not think you care who put those thoughts in my head,” Persephone says softly, but I cannot take in her words. I can only take in the dip at her waist and the creamy skin meeting the fabric of her gown. “I know you do not care. You can’t take your eyes off me.”

I do not answer. My fascination with her is too obvious to deny. I am almost mad with the desire to see her with no clothing on at all. With nothing between us but air. And soon—nothing between us at all. My hands directly against her skin, tracing over that pounding heart of hers. Her pulse quickens, beating in the side of her neck, visible to me though she bears her nerves well.

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