Page 164 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Thorns erupted through her chair, splintering the ancient bones. Zaraiah leapt aside just in time, but her hem snagged. She tore it away as a drop of venom slicked off the thorn’s tip, hissing and melting a burn mark in the stone.

I stood, shadows swirling around me in furious arcs. “Leave. Now. Unless you’d like your entrails tangled in those vines.”

“You’re far more entertaining when you’re angry,” she said, attempting a mocking tone but not quite succeeding.

The other Syndicate members rose. None seemed shocked, implying they’d known her plan. Lady Vespera leveled a cool gaze at me. “This isn’t over. We have too many unanswered questions.”

“Then seek them elsewhere,” I snarled. My magic slapped the floor in thick, writhing tendrils. “My hospitality just expired.”

The Alchemist bowed, still wearing that half-smile. “A pleasure as always, Lord Blackrose. Lady Blackrose.” Their unsettling focus landed on Arabella. “I look forward to future conversation—perhaps involving tea, if not threats.”

I said nothing more, letting the shadows thicken until they exited. Zaraiah lingered for one final triumphant look before stepping through the door. Once they were gone, I remained standing, chest tight from the collision of rage, fear, and old ghosts.

“Kazimir?” Arabella’s voice cut through the haze. She came to stand near me, though not too close. “What was that? Zaraiah mentioned demons?—”

“Nothing,” I said tightly, unable to meet her eyes. “She’s always digging for weaknesses.”

Arabella studied me. “Then why did it affect you so badly?”

I twisted away, circling my chair, my shadows trailing like black smoke. “Because Zaraiah is very good at stirring old wounds, that’s all.”

“Is it so bad I can’t know?”

“It’s not a topic for discussion,” I snapped viciously. I forced my jaw to unclench, and measured my tone. “We should focus on next steps. Over wine, or something stronger.”

Arabella’s eyes shone with concern, but she nodded. “Fine. Will the Syndicate leave after this?”

“They will. They got what they came for: proof I’m hiding something. Now they’ll regroup to exploit it.” I forced a calm shrug, though my heart still pounded. “They won’t strike openly yet.”

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They seemed genuinely worried about what we’re doing.”

I offered a savage half-smile. “They should be.”

65

PLAY WITH YOUR WIFE (WITHOUT BREAKING THE RULES)

ARABELLA

Steam from my bath still clung to the air when I padded back into the main chamber. The Syndicate’s visit had left me with a sense of unease. Zaraiah’s pointed remarks about demons, Kazimir’s sudden, violent fury—none of it made sense. He had changed the subject afterward, but the memory of his barely contained rage kept replaying in my mind. Whatever lurked in his past, it clearly had teeth.

I sank onto the stool in front of the vanity. The door opened quietly behind me. Kazimir stood there, leaning against the frame as if he had all the time in the world. His expression was a careful mask of control, but intensity burned in his eyes. He hadn’t come looking for me right after the Syndicate left, retreating into whatever shadows claimed his thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed.

“Still awake?” he asked in that low, intimate rumble of his.

I reached for my hairbrush. “I was busy reflecting on your delightful associates.”

He came away from the doorframe, stopping near the sofa, keeping a deliberate few strides of distance between us. “Zaraiah loves stirring trouble. It’s best ignored.”

“Is it?” I turned on the stool, letting the robe gap a bit at the thigh. I couldn’t help prodding him, dangerous as that might be. “You didn’t exactly ignore it.”

His gaze flickered, a flash of that earlier storm surfacing, then disappearing behind a practiced calm. “Let’s just say,” he began, lowering his voice so it vibrated along my skin, “I owe you. For the Syndicate’s intrusion. And for my… abruptness earlier.”

Desire coiled low in my belly. “You owe me three debts, then, because you never finished what you started in the study days ago.”

His eyes darkened, trailing down the line of my throat to where the robe lay open. “You know why I stopped. Will you have the same issues with control tonight?”

I felt a thrill spark inside me. The challenge was clear. He was tying his apology, his desire, and my own power into one knot. “My control is better,” I replied, feigning more confidence than I felt. “But I’m still not sure about yours.”

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