Page 121 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“I can’t go back,” she finished for me, meeting my gaze dead-on. “Iknow, Kaz.”

“Keep saying my name like that and we’ll skip straight to the advanced lessons,” I said, stepping closer until I could feel the heat from her body. “I know enough bedroom sorcery to make last night look polite.”

I brushed my thumb along her lower spine, exactly where I’d placed that rune.

She gave a heated little smile. “Advanced lessons should wait until I master the basics,Kazimir,” she said. “But I’m a quick study, as you well know.”

I reluctantly dropped my hand—neither of us would get anything done otherwise. My runes thrummed under my skin, alive with the same tension that fueled her. “And I suspect you’ll master this faster than anticipated. You’ve already mastered the art of driving me to distraction.”

I extended my hand, palm up, and summoned the shadows once more. This time, I let them dance across my skin, showing her how they moved, how they breathed, how they hungered.

“Now,” I said, “let me show you how to call the darkness. After all, if you’re going to be my Dark Lady, you should at least know how to make a dramatic entrance.”

50

RESEARCH THE RELIC (AND OTHER LIBRARY VIOLATIONS)

ARABELLA

“The crack in the Heirloom grew last night,” Kazimir said, not looking up from the ancient text he was reading across the table.

I paused, blinking at my own book. “By how much?” My stomach did a traitorous little flip when I finally glanced at him. Damn him. Even exhausted and rumpled from hours of research, he was still unfairly attractive.

He turned a page with more force than necessary. “It went from hairline to spiderweb.”

“That’s... concerning.”

He finally looked up. “Are you more concerned about the crack itself, or the possible reason behind it?”

He was referring, of course, to the theory that our nighttime… activities… were damaging the relic. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Have you found anything useful in that book, or are you just going to tease me all morning?”

“Nothing definitive,” he admitted.

I turned a page. “It makes no sense that the Heirloom would require our union to activate, only to be damaged by the same thing.”

“Magic rarely makes sense,” Kazimir said. “That’s why I prefer to bend it to my will rather than follow its rules.”

I snorted. “How’s that working out for you?”

He gave me a withering look. “I was doing perfectly well until a certain hero came along and complicated everything.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. This marked our third day straight in the library. Each morning, we’d arrive after breakfast, divide tasks, and then vanish into musty stacks of histories and half-forgotten lore. I’d been poring over pages of heroic bloodlines for so long my eyes felt like they might fall out of my head.

I groaned and pushed the thick volume away. “This is useless. According to this author, my great-whatever-grandfather could fly and shoot lightning from his fingers. I’m beginning to think these historians just made things up when they got bored.”

I stood and went to the end of the table, intending to pour myself tea, and found Kazimir trailing behind. He hovered like that sometimes now. Perhaps he was just ensuring I didn’t destroy the rest of his fortress with a wild burst of magic. Oddly, it made me feel secure.

“Maybe we’re asking all the wrong questions,” I said, handing him a steaming cup. “Everything I’ve read so far about the First Hero only talks about his triumphs or conquests or how many times he saved entire villages. Nothing about how to repair a magical crown that cracks because you had sex with your kidnapped bride.”

Kazimir drank half his tea in one go, as if it wasn’t piping hot. “I imagine that scenario wasn’t covered in the epic ballads.”

“No, the bards mysteriously left that part out.” I reached for another book from the stack and examined the title. “There must be something. We’re just digging in the wrong places.”

Kazimir’s voice turned deceptively casual—even playful. “Oh, I uncovered plenty of solutions.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You just said you hadn’t found anything.”

“I said nothingdefinitive.” He finished his tea and returned to his seat. “There’s a fascinating ritual that involves the sacrifice of twelve virgins under a blood moon. The text claims it can repair any magical artifact, regardless of its origin.”

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