Page 64 of Hunted By Fear

It’s imposing, with high ceilings and dark stone, just like the rest of the castle, but the only point of this room is to hold court. A dais, six stairs high, houses my throne; behind it, red curtains are draped down the wall, a red carpet runner leads up the stairs, with a ridiculously large chandelier overhead.

None of it’s me.

I’d made it because I was mirroring the style of the kingdom in Heaven; little did I know, most of it was made as a way to stroke his ego.

A howl sounds from deep in the castle, and I know my hounds are close, even before the screams of imps answer.

Hexsade, Brimstone, and Malice, or Hex, Brim, and Mal.

The closest things I’ve had to friends in centuries, and yes, maybe they’ve eaten a few imps…but who’s to say they didn’t deserve it?

Hex and Brim come flying into the throne room, damn near trampling over each other, tongues swinging, leaving a trail of drool behind them.

Mal is far too sophisticated for their antics and walks in slowly, watching them, eyes full of disgust.

She’s not fooling me, though; those two idiots are her idiots.

Mal makes it all the way to the throne before Brim or Hex can get it together, but when she sits at the foot of the stairs and lets out a growl that's more demonic than canine, both males snap to attention, quickly making their way to sit on either side of her before me.

I can’t help but smile as I look down at them. Mal is a queen, much like my own.

I need to introduce them!

The thought excites me, and I feel the shadows pulse around me, my form shuddering as my powers threaten to pour over.

Right. I need to burn some of this off first, hence calling my hounds to begin with.

I push out of my throne and make my way down the stairs, rubbing a hand over Mal’s head that makes her yip and the other two whine.

“You know I don’t have a favorite,” I tell them, and with a snap of my fingers, a huge steak drops to the floor before them.

If I expect them to help me torture souls, I need to ensure they are properly fed, or what kind of owner am I?

I watch as Hex and Brim snap at each other, feral and ravenous, but still allowing Mal to get the first of the meal.

At the door, I turn back, looking at my throne, and for the first time since I made this castle, I think I finally know what this room needs, what it’s been missing.

What I’ve been missing.

It only takes a moment to envision, as if it were always there, just out of reach.

With a snap of my fingers, I hear it drop into place, but even having pictured it in my mind, I’m not prepared.

The dais is larger now to properly fit both thrones, and while I’ve never cared for my own, I can’t help but see the beauty in them together.

Horns from demons either killed at my hand or fallen to the wars make up the back of the chair. Forged in the pits of lava in the lowest ring, obsidian coats them to keep them forever intact. A reminder of what this realm is, what it was built on. The cushions are blood red, plush, and more comfortable than they should be for how little they’re used.

Both thrones match; one just slightly smaller than the other but still fit for a queen.

Seeing the two thrones together, picturing her beside me…

A mate.

My mate.

Something wet nudges my hand, snapping me from my thoughts. I look down to find Mal at my feet, watching me, concern shining in her eyes.

“I’m okay, girl.” I rub the spot behind her ear that makes her go boneless, chuckling when she drops to the floor to give me her belly.