My vision blurred with happy tears as I stretched onto my toes and pressed a languid kiss where his wounds ran the deepest over the arch of his nose.
“You’re handsome as Lord of Bones. Scars and all.”
A rare, soft as silk smile bent his lips, curling against my own in a kiss that had me melting in his arms. “And I love you, until the world falls down, my little thief."
“Now, are you ready to bring your tree back to life?” he asked, offering me his hand with a fiendish smirk befitting every bit the devil he was.
Of course, I was ready. I’dbeenready. I was practically incandescent from the suspense.
Taking his hand, he led me to the center of the throne room.
With a snap of his fingers, a large clay pot appeared next to us on the ground. As I leaned over to peer inside, I noted a pile of ashes, and my heart lurched. It was the remains of my disintegrated Christmas tree I’d stolen from the human world.
It was really happening.
I watched as my demon king carefully added the three ingredients we’d procured to the pot in the order they were collected, placing them carefully on top of the ash pile.
“Watch closely.” His timbre came out low and simmering, commanding my attention.
I held my breath as he held out his hand, blue flames erupting from his palm. His fingers curled around the fireball, and he cast it into the pot, muttering what I assumed was the necromancy spell in Old tongue. I might not have understood the words, but I felt the power in them as they echoed through the throne room. The flames rose higher, burned brighter, until they extinguished in a blink. All that was left was a smouldering pile of charred black cinders.
Belial rose and took a step back in silence, his eyes glued to the pot while he waited for something to happen.
Then… It happened. Christmas magic—well, Christmas necromancy, technically.
The ashes in the pot began to stir, shifting and rippling before a branch with black needles emerged. It stretched and rose from the pile, joined by more branches sticking out in every direction, until a huge tree towered over us.
It was black as death, and more imposing than the original spruce had been.
My breath caught.
Holy shit. It worked. Not that I ever doubted Belial’s magic, or his seemingly endless collection of spell books, but seeing a pile of ash transform into this enormous, undead Christmas tree was more unbelievable than I’d anticipated.
Euphoria lit up my veins as I walked a wide circle around it, admiring the thing from every angle. I inhaled deeply, expecting the distinct spruce aroma that reminded me so much of the holidays. Nothing met my nose. I guessed it could have been worse; it could have smelled like the putrid blood oak.
“What do you think?” Belial’s voice caught my attention, and I turned to face him. He was standing off to the side, watching expectantly, waiting for my reaction.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed, completely awestruck.
He’d done it. My sinister, sexy demon lord had given me everything I wanted to make this holiday in Hell feel magical.
Sure, he'd made me work for it, even bleed for it, but without him none of it would have been possible in the first place. This would have been just another day in Hell.
And he’d done it all for me.
“Thank you,” was all I could manage as a lump formed in my throat. A torrent of emotions welled up, twisting my insides and making it hard to think.
Thankfully, Belial stepped forward and pulled me against his chest. My bloody dress had to be staining his crisp formal attire, yet he appeared completely unbothered.
“Anything for my queen,” he said, bending to press his marred lips to my forehead. “I would move mountains for you, turn the Hells inside out if you asked.”
His face hardened into an expression that had my heart clenching. “I’d even kill my own brothers for you.”
I knew in my bones everything my king was capable—and willing—to do for me, but it still robbed me of words and warmed my heart anytime he showered me with everything a dark god like him could give his queen.
A year later, it was still hard for me to wrap my head around, but his ice-cold heart had melted for me, and no one else.
“Should we decorate it now?” he asked, his stormy gray eyes locked firmly on mine.
