Chapter 6
"Do you wish to return to the world above?"
She insisted on laying her head on his lap, and his thigh was beginning to turn numb. Still, she was warm and her hair was soft in his hand. She turned to face his stomach, and the shift in her position brought her head closer to his groin. He bit his lip at the growing pressure he was beginning to feel there.
"Sometimes," she replied, rubbing his lower stomach with her hand. She felt his muscles twitch and jump at her contact and she grinned. So sensitive. "I miss my mother, mostly. And my friends. I don't miss the satyrs." He chuckled at her words, though he stopped when he noticed her head was flush against his groin. Each time he moved, he felt her there. This is not good. She looked up at him and reached her hand towards his face. His jaw clenched painfully tight as she touched him.
"Why do you ask me, my lord?" His lips curled into a small smile and he traced the contours of face.
"I wish to know you." Immediately, he knew he had made a mistake, and his pale cheeks colored red. She gave him a wry grin.
"You wish to know me, my lord? Or you wish to know me?" His mouth dropped slightly open. He was not sure of what to say. Truthfully, he wanted to know her in both ways: who she was, this quiet girl – woman – who looked past his features, who did not show him fear; and he wanted to be with her. So he answered with the truth, because she deserved it.
"Both," he said, and he looked into her eyes as he said it. When she didn't respond, he shut his eyes again. Why did you say that? Idiot. He felt her hand on his cheek; her soft thumb rubbing over his lips.
"Don't shut your eyes, my lord." He struggled with opening them, but he did so. For her. Her hand curved around the nape of his neck.
"Why do you treat me so?" he asked. She seemed confused.
"Treat you so, my lord?"
"With kindness."
"Because you treat me with kindness."
He seemed utterly unconvinced. Her hands threaded through his thick, white waves of hair.
"You are . . . a good man, my lord." She placed her hand on his chest, pushing him down into the soft grass. Persephone straddled her legs over his hips and he looked up at her in wonder. She gave give him a soft kiss and laid her head on his solid chest; shut her eyes as the sun over them set.
"Persephone . . ." he whispered, holding her to him.
"Hmmm?"
"I think I love you." He buried his face in her hair. He was burning it, finally. He would burn in it forever, if he could. She nuzzled against his chest.
"I know I love you."
They were married the next day.