Page 82 of His in the Dark

“What is it?” Persephone whispers, intrigued and hopeful. It is obvious if she does not believe in herself, she does believe in what I tell her.

I wave my hand, and the room transforms. Persephone glances to the side, then turns around to look. No longer black obsidian, this room bares one purpose. The soft color palette of rose and peach in the luxurious velvet drapes add to the opulence and sensuality. A hundred candles or more take up the floor space and add a warmth no fire could compete with. In the antique mirror on the other side of the room, our reflection stares back at us. My darkness to her light and yet, we are perfect for one another.

“Hades,” she says.

“I crave to be bonded with you,” I murmur into her ear. “I need you to know that you are powerful enough to be bonded to me. You are my Queen, and I am your King. Let us make that true in every possible way.”

Persephone turns once again, her eyes searching mine. Her hand lays across her chest as if she must physically contain her heart. “Bonded? For eternity?”

“Forevermore.”

There is a moment when I think she might shake her head. When she might reject me. Distrust me. It would be like surviving in that pit of darkness again.

It would be worse.

But Persephone lowers her hand and kisses me sweetly, dearly even.

“Yes,” she says breaking the kiss, her eyes still closed. Then she opens them, staring up at me like I’m her savior, not the villain who stole her away, lied to her father and will soon offer her the seeds that will bind her here forever.

“Yes,” she murmurs and kisses me again. Whatever pain lays deep in my chest is numbed by her affections. By her love.

I undress her by candlelight, lifting her gown and undergarments off her soft skin as carefully as if I am dressing her for court. With each inch of her delicate skin that is revealed, my heart beats harder. The aching emptiness at the core of me is no longer a void that could consume everything. It is my hunger for her, and only Persephone can fill that space.

When I am finished, Persephone takes her turn undressing me, biting her lower lip as she concentrates. Her hands along my skin is like fire. I cherish the moments she lingers.

Neither of us is wearing anything when I take her hand and bring her to the bed, the white fur covering the four poster dark wood bedframe with silk drapes that glisten with the candle light that fills the room.

“My Queen.”

Persephone nods to me, trembling slightly, and accepts my help up onto the bed. A white fur has been spread out on the covers, and Persephone lays back, her hair flowing out around her head.

I lean down and kiss her gently, taking my time and knowing all too well what will happen after tonight’s deed is done. The knowledge is heady as is the floral scent of Persephone thatenvelopes me as I kiss her neck and then the soft spot just beneath her ear and then nip her earlobe.

My lips. Hers. Heat. Passion.

But there is more.

Flames spring to life around the bed, surrounding us. The magic of the underworld has come to oversee the ceremony. That is the only witness we need, other than the two of us.

“This is an ancient ritual,” I murmur into Persephone’s ear, stroking between her legs as I do.

“How will I know what to do?” she asks with all sincerity.

“I will guide us. And if I could not, the magic would guide us. This part—” I pull her earlobe between my teeth and breathe. Persephone shivers underneath me. “Will not be difficult for you.”

Her arms rest around my neck and she kisses me, tasting me, testing my lips, while I stroke her until she’s hot and tight on my fingers and writhing, her hips rock along with my touch, begging me for more. I do not rush. Completing the ritual on Samhain will add blessings to our bond, but I will not move forward until she has shaken off all the sadness of the past weeks and succumbed to pleasure. There is no sign of anything but the Goddess who is only submissive to me and rules over all others when I kiss her again.

She is mine. Truly and once the ritual is done, forevermore. Whether we part or not. She will always feel my love and I hers. She will always feel my pain, and I hers. In every life, we will be together, our paths destined to cross with the prayers that we will find one another or else our fates will not be complete.

I sink two fingers into her and find the rough spot that makes her moan with abandon, then stroke it in a slow rhythm until she’s gasping, unable to make a single coherent sound.

By then, my body demands hers. I would deny myself forever if the ritual called for it, but it does not.

It calls for me to have my Queen just as I like.

Persephone spreads her legs for me, wrapping them around my waist as soon as I have begun to enter her. She welcomes me, pulling me as close as she can and rocking her hips at a slow pace that quickens as my pleasure rises.

She feels like fucking heaven. The pleasure is unimaginable. Waves of heat crash down upon us with every thrust and I struggle to hold back my groans of unadulterated lust.

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