Page 108 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“How many?” she demanded, relentless in her assault.

I retaliated by rolling us over, trying to pin her arms, but she squirmed free in an infuriatingly agile move. The bed jolted, sheets tangling around us until we both tumbled off the edge onto the rug. I landed on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head. Her body was warm and pliant beneath mine.

“Twelve,” I admitted. “Give or take a few.”

Arabella’s eyes widened slightly. “Twelve? That’s fewer than I expected from a man of your… reputation.”

I let out a mock insulted sound. “Quality over quantity. Besides, conquering realms and chasing artifacts occupies a lot of hours in the day.”

She gave me an innocent look. “And all those virgins you supposedly stole? Did you count those?”

“No. That’s not funny.”

“If you can joke about putting aphrodisiacs in my food, I can joke about your villainous appetite. It makes me wonder if?—”

I seized her mouth in a slow, possessive kiss. She met me eagerly, her body arching as my mind went blank with need. When we finally broke apart, she was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and desire.

“Are we counting this morning?” she asked.

“This morning, last night, and however many more times I can have you before we’re forced to deal with the rest of the world.”

She was studying me intently.

“I’ve wondered something,” I said. “Why did you trust me not to touch you after we got married? Surely you didn’t think that absurd pillow wall would stop me if I’d chosen to break our agreement?”

She hesitated, clearly wrestling with something. Finally, she sighed. “I have... an ability. A truth-sense. I can tell when people are lying to me.”

I propped myself up on my hands to look at her. “And you didn’t think to mention this before?”

“It’s not something I advertise,” she said defensively. “My father... he didn’t like it when I caught him in lies.”

I let that sink in. She’d known all along if I was lying about my vow or exaggerating my desire to keep her safe. She’d read my half-truths about wanting—no,needing—her consent. A flush of grudging admiration warmed my chest.

“Useful,” I remarked, trying not to sound flustered. “No wonder you kept outmaneuvering my attempts at seduction.”

Arabella gave a sly smile. “Yes.”

I inhaled. Was I embarrassed that she’d seen through many of my manipulations? Possibly. I decided to bury that feeling and pressed her deeper into the rug instead, letting my body speak.

“Well,” I said finally, “I suppose that evens things between us. A little.”

“Hm. No comment.”

“You know,” I murmured, “there are ways to extract information without words.” I brushed my lips lightly along her jaw, eliciting a little gasp.

She whispered, “You’ve mentioned your interrogation techniques before, kidnapper.”

I continued a slow path down her neck, nipping gently while my hands explored the slight curve of her waist. “I can demonstrate thoroughly, unless?—”

Arabella’s breath hitched as my lips traveled down to her breastbone. She tangled her fingers in my hair, tugging impatiently. “Unless what?”

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Unless you’d like breakfast first,” I said. “We could share one, unlike my previous... arrangements.”

She gazed at me with a combination of shrewd calculation and desire. Then she hooked her leg over my hip. “Breakfast can wait,” she decided, pulling me back down to her. “I’m hungry for something else.”

45

CHANNEL YOUR RIGHTEOUS FURY (AND YOUR DARK LORD’S DESTRUCTION KINK)

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