Page 126 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“I don’t know,” I rasped, quickly withdrawing and yanking my trousers back into place. The reverberation grew stronger, rattling the shelves and sending books cascading.

She hurriedly rearranged her skirts as the quake intensified. Another violent jolt nearly knocked us off balance. I lunged forward, wrapping an arm around her. A deafening crack of thunder tore through the air, and lightning strobed through the high windows.

“Gods,” Arabella gasped, her face pale. “The storm?—?”

“It’s not coming from below,” I said, heart pounding. “It’s coming from the eastern tower.”

A massive tremor wrenched the ground out from under us, and we toppled to the floor. I twisted mid-fall so I’d take the brunt of the landing, wincing as books clattered off the shelf, forcing me to conjure a shadowy shield overhead.

“Are you all right?” I demanded, scanning for signs of injury.

She nodded, breathing fast. “Yes. But the Heirloom?—”

“I know.” I kept an arm over her, cursing the adrenaline that still surged from our frantic coupling. My chest heaved—half from fear, half from leftover desire. I raised my voice over the din. “Stay with me. When the shaking stops, we move.”

At last, the tremors eased, replaced by thunder echoing ominously outside. The final crack of lightning lit the windows with an eerie, unnatural glow—a swirling purple shot through with amber. The amber color of the Heirloom. I swore.

Arabella pressed herself against my chest. “Is the fortress going to fall?”

“No,” I said, forcing more confidence into my voice than I felt. “We have wards for storms. It’s built to withstand—well, hopefully anything.”

A hush gripped the library. My shield flickered out, and I helped Arabella to her feet, both of us straightening our disheveled clothing as best we could. It was impossible to ignore the mark I’d left on her neck or the way her hair stuck to her damp forehead. My body still hummed with raw tension.

“If I die now,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, “at least it was right after fucking my wife senseless.”

She actually laughed, breath shaky. “I’d have thought the mighty Kazimir Blackrose would prefer to die gloriously in battle.”

“Overrated,” I said. “This was much more pleasant.” My gaze roamed over her, taking in the flushed cheeks, the brightness in her eyes. “And I like how you look thoroughly… occupied.”

She shot me a glare, equal parts arousal and annoyance. “You have the worst timing for compliments.”

A last, dying tremor rattled through the library, sending a few more books tumbling. I braced my hand at her back, scanning the wreckage. At least the structure hadn’t collapsed. Still, the risk to the rest of the citadel crowded my mind.

“Let’s go,” I said, steering her toward the door.

The library floor was now littered with scattered tomes and loose pages. Magister Vellum would be apoplectic, if he’d survived. I hoped so. Finding another librarian of his skill would be terribly inconvenient.

We emerged into a corridor teeming with guards and servants. Many ran in frantic circles, hauling tools or supplies. Sims spotted us and approached at once, doing a spectacular job of not looking too closely at Arabella’s messed-up hair or the very obvious teeth marks on her neck.

“My lord!” he called over the fading thunder. “Are you hurt?”

“We’re fine,” I said curtly. “What about the rest of the fortress?”

He shook his head. “Some structural damage, from what I can tell, but something’s happening at the?—”

I cut him off. “Yes, we’re headed there. Gather the others at once. No delays.”

Sims nodded and sprinted away. Arabella and I set off at a brisk pace, side by side but silent. My mind spun with the knowledge that we’d triggered this with our “experiment”. The crack in the Heirloom, the swirling storm, the quake, all pointed to a dangerous, intimate link between our magic and that ancient artifact.

And wasn’t that just cosmically inconvenient.

52

SHATTER YOUR TOY (AND LOSE YOUR PRIVILEGES)

ARABELLA

I raced through the corridors alongside Kazimir, still catching my breath after our reckless library experiment. My legs felt like jelly, a humiliating blend of continued arousal and pure adrenaline. Everywhere we turned, servants and guards rushed past in a panic, likely convinced the whole fortress was about to crumble around us.

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