Page 129 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

PRETEND YOU’RE FINE (WHILE WRITHING IN AGONY)

KAZIMIR

The pain had started as it always did—a dull ache in my bones, a whisper of discomfort that I could usually ignore—but it quickly flared into a persistent, throbbing pulse.

Arabella’s shadow wolf dissolved into wisps of darkness, its glowing golden eyes the last to fade. She’d managed to maintain it for nearly twenty minutes, a vast improvement compared to yesterday’s three-minute struggle.

“Excellent,” I told her, forcing myself to ignore the burning sensation crawling up my right arm. “Your control is improving rapidly.”

She beamed. “It’d be better if you weren’t distracting me.”

“If you find my mere presence distracting, perhaps we should discuss your lack of focus rather than my influence.”

She crossed her arms. “My focus is fine. It’s your intensity.”

I attempted a low chuckle, though the pain now seared through my forearm. “Maybe I enjoy watching you command the darkness. It’s quite stimulating.”

She stepped closer, pressing her body lightly against mine. Not exactly helpful when my rune-carved arm felt like it had been set on fire.

“And here I thought you preferred being the one in command,” she teased.

“There are exceptions to every rule,” I replied. “Though if you’d like another demonstration of my command?—”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped, but I heard the faint catch in her voice. A flash of interest. Damn the Heirloom.

The pain intensified, a white-hot needle threading through the runes etched in my bones. I fought to maintain a teasing expression, even as my muscles tensed from the agony.

“See you at dinner?” she asked.

I managed a nod, hoping my face didn’t betray how badly I wanted her to clear the room so I could collapse. Arabella hesitated, then leaned in to press a light, brief kiss on my lips. We’d discovered through an… error… that a quick peck didn’t result in catastrophic tower collapses.

“See you then,” she murmured, stepping away.

The moment her footsteps faded outside the training room, I slumped against the cold stone wall, exhaling the ragged breath I’d been holding onto for the past hour.

“Fuck.” I rolled up my sleeve to inspect my forearm.

The runes glowed with an angry red color beneath my skin, more vivid than anything I was used to. A fresh wave of pain burned all the way to my shoulder. Ordinarily, after a heavy magic session, I would sense a lingering ache. But right now, it felt like molten shards of metal were burrowing under my flesh.

It’d been a week since the Heirloom had cracked, and every day of forced restraint seemed to deepen this torture. Between overseeing repairs, hunting for some way to stabilize that thrice-damned circlet, and tiptoeing around Arabella so we didn’t spark another magical surge, I was at the edge. If this pain was asign that my control was fraying, it couldn’t have picked a worse time.

I stared at the far corner of the training chamber, where several large crates stacked on top of each other held my latest acquisitions. Femurs from unmarked graves, rib bones from criminals, a scattering of skulls from forgotten corpses. Basic materials for the weapon I intended to craft. Nothing too diabolical.

I needed an army-breaker. We’d received word that Auremar was amassing forces. And the Heirloom was temporarily useless. The solution? A Bone Behemoth. It would stand as tall as a siege tower, a monstrosity no mortal army would face without trembling.

Ignoring my screaming arm, I dragged the crates to the center of the chamber. My breath hissed through clenched teeth as a hot spike of pain flared. I refused to stop. One by one, I dumped the bones in a jumbled heap, forming rough outlines of monstrous limbs and a curved chest cavity big enough to house a guard.

I placed the last set of bones carefully—the partial remains of that Evenfall Estate guard I’d killed in the tower. His skull would anchor the beast’s chest, an echo of his terror fueling the construct’s rage.

I stepped back. The twisted pile of bones reached my height, a skeletal abomination waiting for my command. I rolled my shoulders, ignoring how the runes sparked beneath my sleeve. Fine. I could do this.

Inhaling a slow breath, I raised both hands. The embedded runes along my bones flared white-hot. I grit my teeth, summoning my dominion magic. The mass of bones trembled, rattling across the stone floor. Sweat pricked my forehead as I pressed harder, forcing my will into the half-formed hulk.

A crackle of dark energy surged from my palms, illuminating the bones with a deep violet glow. The skeletal limbs churned against each other, joints fumbling into place. The rib cage expanded and curved into a grotesque parody of a beast’s torso. One bony arm slammed into the ground with enough force that the floor trembled. The shriek from that guard’s skull grated in my ears.

With a final burst of power, I locked the bones into alignment. They snapped together with a deafening crunch, forming a towering creature of jagged angles, a mockery of life. I poured the last threads of my magic into its chest, finalizing the binding that would give me masterful control over this monstrous puppet.

“Kneel,” I commanded, my voice reverberating with dominion power.

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