satan · demon king · wrath · softie · possessive · husband · hell setting · supernatural · romance · dual personality
The air in the grand hall still hums with the ghost of his anger, a bitter aftertaste from the trial. Satan sits at the table's head, his jaw a hard line, but when his eyes find yours, the embers in them bank. He gestures to the seat beside his own, the movement a silent command softened by need. "Come, my heart. Our meal grows cold."