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I take stock of my feelings, surprised to find that deep cut of pain is gone. I reach to see if it’s hiding in some recess of my heart, but I don’t feel anything except unwavering love for this man.
I only know I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
“Yes,” I whisper back, locking my hands around his wrists. “If I didn’t love you, you’d have never been able to crush me the way you did.”
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ll never, ever hurt you again. I swear it.”
“I believe you,” I murmur, lifting my face so my lips brush against his.
And then, he’s kissing me hard. His arms wrap around me, and I sink into him, tears springing to my eyes at the familiarity of his taste and touch. Gratitude for finding something I’d lost and for the first time since leaving the Underworld, nothing but pure happiness coursing through me.
Amell lifts his mouth and peers at me solemnly. “Now… where do you want to live? My world or yours?”
Hmmm… that’s something I need to think about.
EPILOGUE
Amell
Nyssa struts downthe Bridge of Judgment, and while I know she’s not exactly comfortable in her outfit, she is indeed smoking hot. While she prefers the relaxed ease of her First Dimension jeans and T-shirts, she doesn’t mind the theatrics of head-to-toe black leather with stiletto boots, and she looks positively wicked. In her effort to win over the Dark Fae in this realm, she decided to play their game. Knowing how much they love to watch a judgment, cheering as each person is pushed over the edge, she decided to give them a better show than Calix ever did.
She twists her wrist—compliments of basic stone magic gifted to her and powered by the pendant hanging between her cleavage under the black leather bustier—and a scroll appears with the information about the recently departed.
“Listen, one and all, it is Judgment Day. Sitting before you is His Magnificence, King Amell, anointed by Zora, the god of Death. I am his wife, Queen Nyssa, and I shall reap you individually for the king’s consideration.”
That’s right.
My wife.
I married her in an elaborate Underworld ceremony the likes of which no one will ever see again. Marriages aren’t done here, and ours wasn’t performed with any nod toward religion. We don’t have legal marriage licenses in Hell. But I wanted a ceremony—held on the bridge for all of Otaxis to watch—so that everyone would know Nyssa is beyond special to me.
We didn’t exchange rings, as custom dictates in her dimension, but rather words.
Important words that rang out for all to hear, that she would rule by my side with equal weight and authority. Nyssa didn’t want that responsibility, but no one else needed to know that. My public statement was meant to help keep her safe and secure as she melds into this new life with me.
Lifting her chin and looking down at the fae watching the judgment on the other side of the river, she proclaims, “The recently departed will step forward, one by one, and receive the grace or vengeance of our esteemed ruler. Prepare yourselves.”
The guards pull the first wretch forward. I lean back on my throne, lazily resting my chin in my hand as I watch Nyssa do her job with a pride that makes my chest swell.
A young man, at most in his early twenties, is thrown at her feet. He looks up at her with fear and awe, tears streaming down his face.
“Alec Leonard,” she says as she consults the ancient-looking document in her hand. “You’ve been charged with the sin of rape, on not one but three occasions. How black is your soul?”
The man starts babbling, begging for mercy. Nyssa squats before him, a move that makes her ass look unfathomably good in those leather pants, and studies him. She’s looking into his eyes to see if there’s any chance of redemption.
Granted, since Nyssa started helping me on the bridge, she’s shown to have a softer heart than I do. Zora hasn’t seemed to mind the increase in requests for reincarnation, so I don’t begrudge Nyssa the tiny mercies she seeks.
The fact that this man is a rapist, though, is pretty much a guarantee he’s going over the edge. Her past can’t help but play a role.
However, even if she were inclined to grant him grace, I’m not going to do it. Every rapist goes into the river, no matter what.
Nyssa stands and looks at me. The crowd of Dark Fae below hold their breath as they watch her.
She holds out her arm, waits for a few dramatic seconds, and gives me the thumbs-down sign.
It’s an indication the fae are indeed starting to love Nyssa as they cheer before I even flick the guy over the edge. The roar of approval makes me smile, and I wave my hand, careening the doomed man off the bridge. His screams are barely heard over the whooping fae, who don’t quiet until after the ground stops rumbling in gratitude for the sacrifice.
Nyssa winks at me and turns to the next unlucky soul.
