Page 100 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“So my defiance excites you?” I said, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Then understand this: I’m done being just a pawn. If I’m to be used, then I’ll choose how and by whom. I’ll take what I want from this arrangement, just as you’ve taken what you wanted from me.”

A heady sense of power washed over me as I watched Kazimir’s breathing quicken, his gaze dropping to my lips.

“And what will you take, Arabella?” he asked, his voice rough with barely contained desire.

I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips, trailing down to the edge of his collar where I could feel the hint of scars beneath the fabric.

“Honesty,” I said, reveling in the way he leaned into my touch. “Respect.” My fingers moved to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. I tugged his head closer to mine.

“And?” His voice held a note of warning.

I surged up on my tiptoes, capturing his mouth with mine in a demanding kiss that released every ounce of pent-up anger, lust, and frustration.

Kazimir froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by my aggression. Then, the great and terrible Dark Lord’s control fractured. He answered with a near-feral groan, hauling me against him. A spark of dominion magic flicked against my skin like a live wire. My own energy thrummed. I bit his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp, and felt a surge of satisfaction when his grip tightened on my hips.

The kiss deepened, all pretense of restraint abandoned as I pushed him back until he hit the stone wall. His mouth left mine to trace a burning path along my jaw, down the column of my throat, stubble grazing sensitive skin in a way that made me gasp.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured against my neck. “To use anger as an excuse for desire?”

“Is it working?” I countered breathlessly, arching against him as his hands roamed over the silk covering my body.

Kazimir’s laugh rumbled with dark amusement. “More effectively than all my careful planning and seduction, it seems.” His thumb brushed over the front of my robe, grazing my nipple and sending a shock of pleasure down through my belly.

Gripping the collar of his shirt, I managed a ragged whisper. “Then stop planning and start fucking.”

His expression darkened. Without warning, he reversed our positions, pinning me against the wall with his body, one hand capturing both my wrists above my head while the other yanked the belt of my robe until silk slithered apart, baring my body to the chilly air.

“Careful, Arabella,” he warned, his gaze devouring every inch of exposed skin. “Once this starts, there won’t be any retreat.”

I met his gaze, feeling more powerful in this moment of surrender than I had in all my days of resistance. “I’m counting on it.”

42

CONSUMMATE THE MARRIAGE (FOR POWER, OBVIOUSLY)

ARABELLA

The moment the words left my lips, a dangerous light flared in Kazimir’s eyes. His pupils blew wide, until only a thin rim of gray showed, and the flickering shadows around us seemed to coil tighter, as though they sensed the final snap of his restraint. Strange how, in that heartbeat, I felt both a spike of fear and a wicked thrill.

His mouth crashed onto mine with a fury that stole my breath. The cold stone wall pressed into my back, and a startled gasp escaped me as he slid his hand beneath my robe to claim bare skin. His fingers traced along the curve of my breast, his calluses catching deliciously against my nipple before he rolled it between thumb and forefinger.

I arched into his touch, a moan tumbling from my lips. His response was a guttural noise that reverberated through his chest and shot straight to the pulse between my legs. When he finally released my pinned wrists, I half-expected him to step back again. Instead, he leaned back just enough to look at my exposed skin with a gaze so intense it nearly scorched me.

“You’re staring,” I managed, desire warring with a sudden burst of vulnerability.

“I’m admiring,” Kazimir corrected, voice rough with a desire that sent a fresh ripple of heat through me. His hands skated down my rib cage. “Big difference.”

Before I could fire back a retort, he lifted me effortlessly. Instinct made me lock my legs around his waist, which only brought our bodies flush, forcing a groan from deep in his throat. He turned, scattering maps and markers from the obsidian table with one swipe of his arm. I landed on its edge, my thighs stinging slightly at the cold stone. The rest of my body was pure fire wherever he touched me.

I noticed the flash of calculation on his face. The tactician in him, so rarely off duty. I gripped the front of his shirt. “What are you thinking?”

He flicked his eyes to mine, silver irises molten in the dim light. “I was wondering if I should take you somewhere more comfortable.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, that flicker of common sense urging me to pause. But the thought of letting him regroup, or of me second-guessing myself, made me desperate. “No,” I insisted, voice shaking only faintly. “Here. Now.”

A satisfied darkness settled in his stare. “As my lady commands.”

He kissed me again, and I realized that even at my most vigilant, I’d underestimated how intense he could be when he finally let himself go. His lips and tongue moved with a consuming, deliberate hunger that kept me pinned to the spot. Exploring. Tasting. Claiming. He cupped my ass, pulling me so close I could feel every ridge of his body beneath that infuriatingly elegant attire.

---