Page 13 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“Get. Out,” I snarled, letting the raw threat in my voice tighten the air.

He paled, eyes widening in terror, and fled without another word. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, the shadows coiled back into my bones, leaving me scowling at my own momentary lapse.

I inhaled deeply, forcing calm, then lifted the nightingale from its cage. Its heart fluttered against my palm.

“Consider this your contribution to the greater villainous cause,” I murmured, stroking its feathers. A flick of power, a whispered resonance through the runes carved in my ribs, and the bird’s life force drained out in shining whorls of pale light. Setting aside the limp body, I poured the shimmering essence into the silver bowl.

I positioned two pristine crystal vessels on the workbench, priming one with a fresh prick of my blood, the other with Arabella’s single drop. I connected them with delicate silver filaments. Chanting in the guttural, ancient tongue my motherhad practically beaten into my skull, I felt each syllable vibrate through the runes beneath my skin. The bird’s captured life force twined upward in blue tendrils, splitting into two streams that fused with both vessels. The filaments flared, bridging the gap between them.

In a flash, everything went incandescent. A shockwave of magic tossed me clear across the room, books and flasks crashing around me in a storm of shattered glass. I cursed, shielding my eyes from the surge of light.

The vessels sang, an otherworldly chord that reverberated through my bones. The runes carved on my ribs burned white-hot, a blaze of pure energy that should have hurt but instead felt dangerously euphoric.

What in the darkest hells?

I staggered to my feet, blinking through the radiance. Both crystal vessels shone bright as small suns, lines of power pulsing in perfect unison between them. My instruments—designed to read magical force—quivered off the charts.

“A forty-fold amplification,” I muttered, disbelief hollowing out my voice. “That’s... impossible. That’s… Fuck.”

The ancient texts hinted that my bride’s heroic bloodline would amplify my dominion magic, maybe doubling or tripling it.But this?Forty times was an absurd fountain of potential.

The door flew open, and Vex rushed in, dagger raised. “My lord, the entire fortress felt that. Are you?—”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, barely looking at her. My gaze clung to the dancing lights. “A minor experiment with unexpectedly large results.”

She took in the wreckage, from shattered glass to the still-humming power. “Should I fetch Griffin?”

“No,” I said sharply. Then I reined myself in. “You can go. And don’t speak of this toanyone. Understood?”

She gave a short bow, face tight with curiosity but she didn’t give into it.

As soon as I was alone again, I grabbed my journal and scribbled frantically, recording every measurement and observed effect. If Arabella’s blood had donethiswith a few drops of bird essence, what might happen if we completed the entire Heirloom ritual?

I could reshape continents,I thought, pacing over glass.Flatten kingdoms with a word. And with the Heirloom of Dominion fueling me, I could probably yank the moon down and wear it as a fucking hat.

When I was done, I sealed the journal with a personal ward. Anyone who tried to peek would be vaporized on the spot.

The two vessels continued their eerie, harmonic glow. I rolled a broken crystal shard between my bloody fingers and mulled over how close I was to absolute might.

And how dangerously reliant I was on one obstinate bride who refused to kneel.

“The universe has a gruesome sense of humor,” I muttered. “The potential for apocalyptic power… packaged neatly with the greatest vulnerability I’ve had in years. And it’s all tied to one sharp-tongued, infuriatingly gorgeous noblewoman.”

The vessels responded with a pulse of brightness, as if her blood resonated with my frustrated confession. Outside, thunder rumbled again, shaking the tower. I stood among the debris, adrenaline buzzing through the burned-out edges of my runes, alone with the realization that everything had just become a thousand times more complicated.

And dangerously more intriguing.

7

MEET YOUR VILLAIN’S QUIRKY STAFF (BEFORE THEY COLLECT MORE BODILY SAMPLES)

ARABELLA

I woke to silken sheets, a towering canopy overhead, and the sickening reminder that I was meant to marry the Dark Lord in a few hours. My stomach twisted.

“Fuck.” I pressed both palms over my eyes. The word felt deliciously raw, so I repeated it loud enough to echo off the walls.

No one barged in to scold me for my language or lecture me on proper decorum. The emptiness felt alarmingly free.

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