Page 76 of His in the Dark

She does not hesitate when I turn to her and nod for her to give her sentencing. My Queen delivering a sentence of pain… will she do it?

“You will face the torture of knives.” There is no malice in Persephone’s voice. “They were chosen by you in your previous life, not by me.” She does not take pleasure in passing this judgment. What shocks me most is the note of empathy. “You cannot be allowed to forget what you have done. Think upon it well.”

“How long?” I ask her. The three judges could not agree and thus the reasoning for his summons here.

She glances at me, but then back to the soul who screeches in anger. “A thousand years,” she states lowly and I tell her, “louder.”

“Your sentencing is a thousand years,” she answers, her voice strong and the crowd goes silent as the soul is hushed with magic and draped in the tarp.

My breath catches as the soul is led out.

Yes. She is every bit a queen fit for this realm. Although she readjusts in her seat and unease is written in the way she picks at the hem of her sleeve, she did not cower. She was just. I am obsessed with her ruling.

I take over the judgements to let her breathe, but keep her hand in mine. She whispers a soft, “thank you,” when I take over.

I pray she knows how well she did. How honorable and righteous her judgements were.

This will tell everyone in the room, and soon everyone in the realm, how much I value Persephone. How much I trust her. How much power she holds, and not only because I offered it to her.

When she sits forward to offer her own judgment, I let her. Some souls she seems eager to deliver a verdict to. Mostly women. We trade off seamlessly. Persephone herself was the one who made herself this way. She took on the mantle of Queen and sat on the throne beside me. She has already taken responsibility into her hands, and her judgments are entirely her own.

When the last soul has been brought in, judged, and sent out again, I stand up, Persephone’s hand still in mine.

“We are finished here today,” I announce. For this court. For today. With Persephone, I am only beginning. I am onlyjustbeginning, and I will not allow it to be ripped away from me. I cannot. “May the days bring us peace and gratitude for each of us,” I offer as a parting word and keep my hand on Persephone’s as she rises. “You may leave,” I command to the room and guide her to walk beside me as the court rises.

Pride would be overwhelming if not the aching of my cock demanding attention. She is glorious. Gorgeous and fair, my equal and righteous half to the courts. Fuck, those lips. I will never forget today. I will pine for these first moments of her power being realized for centuries to come.

The voices on either side of us as we leave the court are filled with praise and thanks andgoodwill. I ignore them all, pushing past the stone door and leading her down the wall with haste.

We make it only three steps past the threshold before I guide her to the wall and kiss her.

I am too filled with pride to walk back to my rooms. I am too filled with awe to do anything but kiss her. I need her now. In this moment. Her flesh on mine. Her warmth and the sound of pleasure spilling from her lips.

She gasps the sweetest sound and then my name is spilled from her before she deepens the kiss, her hands reaching under my robe and gripping my back to pull her in close.

Persephone’s sweet mouth forces my lust to turn to need. Her hands lift and find my shoulders, and mine find her waist. I’m so hard that my whole body aches for her. It is a pain I would accept much more of in order to be close to her, but I do not need to.

My queen pulls herself up, braced against the wall, and I slide my hand up her gown and under her thigh. She lifts one of her feet and hooks it around my hip, her pale neck arched for me. Persephone’s crownclicks andscrapes against the wall. I hope it leaves scratches for all eternity. I hope the evidence of her as my queen never fades, no matter what may come to the Underworld. No matter what war may threaten us.

I cannot think of any future war with her body moving against mine. She rolls her hips, brushing against my hardened length, already leaking precum, through our fabrics. Her skin is so soft, so fucking perfect, under her gown. A groan of primal need leaves me and in that moment, she moans the softest sweetest sound fueling me for more.

I hitch it up to her hip and kiss her with desperate need as I explore the warmth between her legs with my fingers. She’s already wet for me and lets out a needy noise into my mouth I can’t deny.

“I need you,” I growl into hers.

“Yes,” she pants. “Yes.”

I want her as desperate as I. I crave her falling apart.

So I work my fingers over her clit, rubbing circles that deliver the sweetest sounds from her. At first, Persephone presses her mouth into the fabric of my robe to muffle her cries, but she forgets, and I do not care who hears her. I cannot spare even a thought for anyone else. The only thing I am aware of when Persephone is soaking my fingers with her desire is that I must give her more pleasure?—

And that no one has disturbed us. Not even my guards have come out of the court, though I know they must be hovering inside the door. It would only serve my cause for them to hear and bear witness to what she does to me and what I do to her.

In this moment though, I don’t care for their opinions or presence. This is my kingdom and she is my queen.

I lower my mouth to Persephone’s neck, kissing her there, sucking her there, and angle her over my cock. I get myself free from my clothes in a haze of her sweetness, get her positioned to take me, and pull her down onto my length in a swift thrust of pleasure. I bury myself to the hilt, feeling nothing but ecstasy.

Persephone lets out a loud, low moan as she takes my cock, then arches her back.

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