Page 119 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t afford to consider that every delicious, gasping moment with Arabella might be causing further damage. Not when I craved her more with each passing day.

“What of Auremar?” I asked, desperate for distraction. “Any response to our message?”

Thorne set down his knife. “Nothing yet. The enchantment confirmed delivery, but the king has gone silent. No troop movements, no diplomatic overtures.”

“He’s up to something,” I said. “Men like Auremar don’t receive severed heads without retaliation.”

Sims smoothed the edge of a parchment. “Perhaps he’s reconsidering his position.”

I shook my head. “He’s gathering forces, deciding which allies to bribe or threaten. We?—”

The dining hall door burst open so hard it nearly tore off its hinges. All eyes snapped to Arabella as she strode in, draped in deep purple that clung to every curve I’d tasted last night. Her golden hair cascaded loose and wild around her shoulders, and the morning light caught the gold flecks in her eyes, making them blaze with an almost supernatural intensity.

My breath caught. Last night had been transcendent. But this was something else entirely. She radiated scorching power.

“Good morning,” she announced to the room, barely acknowledging my advisors before fixing those burning eyes on me. “Teach me everything you know about dark magic.”

Griffin choked on his tea, coughing with the dramatic flair of a man being strangled. Vex’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline. Thorne’s face remained carved from stone, but I caught the slight widening of his eyes.

I carefully set down my coffee cup, buying time as my body reacted to her command in ways entirely inappropriate for a breakfast meeting.

“That...” I cleared my throat, “might take a while.”

Arabella’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the golden flecks darkening in an approaching storm. She looked poised to unleash holy—or unholy—hell at any moment.

“When do you want to start?” I amended quickly, suddenly envisioning her looking like that while wielding shadow magic.

“Now.”

One word, delivered with such absolute certainty that it sent another bolt of pure lust straight through me. This was not the hesitant healer I’d kidnapped two months ago. This was something new—something that made my inner darkness purr with recognition.

My wife had woken up and chosen violence. And fuck me if it wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

I searched her face for any hint of doubt or fear, but found none. Only determination, hunger, and a fierce intelligence that matched my own. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up bending the knee to her for good. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made my blood sing.

Perhaps this was exactly what we needed. If the Heirloom was suffering from our uncontrolled magical surges, teaching Arabella to harness her powers might stabilize everything.

“Very well,” I said, rising from my chair with the calm deliberation of a man who was willingly going to his death. “Griffin, stay on Heirloom patrol. Sims, draft responses to our allies about potential Auremar scenarios. Thorne, double the patrols along the western perimeter. Vex?—”

“I’ll handle everything else,” she said, already gathering papers with resignation. “Go corrupt your wife, and try not to raze another wing of the fortress while you’re at it.”

I ignored the jab and moved around the table to Arabella’s side. “Are you certain?” I asked quietly. “Dark magic exacts a price.”

“So does ignorance,” she replied, her voice equally low. “I’m ready to learn.”

The raw potential radiating from her promised to become either the final piece of my power… or my undoing.

I smiled. “This might be my favorite day.”

There was something undeniably arousing about watching Arabella prepare for battle. She moved through the training room with coiled, lethal grace, stretching her limbs in the leathers I’d given her. The material clung to every inch of her body, flaunting a lean, honed strength that had a way of setting my blood on edge. And her eyes—gods, those eyes—glowed with a fierce purpose that made me anticipate disaster in the best possible sense.

I’d swapped out my regular tunics for plain black leathers reinforced with protective enchantments. Just in case. After all, the memory of my shirt going up in flames during our first training session remained vivid enough to put me on guard. And she’d grown exponentially more powerful since then.

Not that I’d mind if she scorched me again, so long as I got to relish that mix of horror and mischievous delight flashing across her face.

“Are you going to stare all day, or are we going to begin?” Arabella asked, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

I leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. “Patience, my lady. Dark magic requires more than just brute force. It needs the proper mindset.”

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