Midnight Kingdom by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-25T18:30:00+00:00

Persephone sits in the chair by the window, the glass clear so she can see the night. Empty hands, an empty face. My heart lurches farther outside my body at the sight of her so still, with no book balanced on her lap. Heartbeats become tense pulls between the place where the organ is supposed to be and where it is, which is wherever she goes.

It’s a wordless tension and walking through it is like walking into deep water.

Gladly. Fucking gladly.

I balance the diamond tiara in the palms of my hands. It’s the most delicate thing, perfect for Persephone, but strong. I stood over the work table while it was made, supervising every second of its creation. That man deserves a fucking raise. If I didn’t know better I’d think this was a spray of stars pulled down from the sky and set in platinum.

My heart beats harder, blood pumping through all the still-wounded parts of me, and finally Persephone looks up at me in her regal silence.

“Yours.” I let it catch on the starlight coming through the window, and her eyes follow its curves for so long I think she might slap it out of my hand. Try to crush it beneath her foot. But then those eyes meet mine again and she nods.

That nod is a fist. It’s a firm grip. She lets me settle it against the wild fall of her hair and brush one of the stray locks back from her cheek.

“Mine.”

She lets out a breath that’s a half-cry and her hand comes up to cover mine. Forgiveness is a current between our skin. She’s wrong to do it, of course. Too hopeful by far. The person I am has been beaten into me for long enough that I’ll never be different. But that’s never what this was about. It was simpler than that. It is simpler than that.

I’ll make it so.

Her dress comes off over her head easily, and I find that she’s wearing nothing underneath. The sight of her naked, sitting straight and proud with diamonds in her hair, etches itself into my memory.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

I kneel down in front of her, which causes a head rush of unbelievable proportions. History slams into my vision, overlaying everything with a strange aura, like gauze on a canopy bed. Fuck. Fuck. This is a terrible sign but I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t.

“You could call it worship,” I say, and then I spread her legs.

Persephone tastes like honey, like clear water, like a summer berry crushed between my teeth. Her hands find their way to my hair and she pulls me in close. As if she fucking needs to. I’m the one who needs this. I’m the one who’s starving for her. I have always been starving for her.

She hisses, hips rolling and bucking, and I’m forced to pin her down so she doesn’t throw herself to the floor. Yes, this. Yes, here. Now. There is no part of her I leave unexplored, no fold I leave unlicked.

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