Page 166 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“Patience, hero,” he teased. “If you want me to break your every limit, you should consider the wordcontrolmore carefully next time.”

“I won’t—” My denial dissolved into a sharp moan as a shadow flicked against my clit with deliberate cruelty.

“No?” His smile widened. He shifted against the bedpost, and I couldn’t help but notice the blatant ridge straining against the fabric of his trousers. “Maybe you need a bit more persuasion. Soon, I’ll be able to replace these shadows with my hands, my mouth.” His voice dropped lower, raspier. “I’ll finallytasteyou properly. Make you scream my name until the foundations of this citadel break.”

The images his words painted were almost enough to make me lose my grip on my magic. Almost. Caution warred violently with the desperate ache between my legs.

He shook his head, his eyes glittering with admiration. “Gods, the defiance. Even pinned and begging.”

“You want this just as badly,” I accused, arching again as the shadows renewed their torment, circling faster now.

“Undeniably,” he drawled, his gaze fixed between my legs now. Another shadow slid between my thighs, tracing the swellof my ass before brushing with shocking intimacy against the delicate skin of my back entrance. I arched hard off the bed.

He stepped forward. His presence radiated pure command, making every nerve beneath my skin buzz. Meanwhile, the shadows redoubled their pace, each flicker winding me tighter inside.

“Say it, Arabella,” he coaxed, voice dropping. “Tell me you yield. Let me give you what you need.”

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, pride warring with the acute need to let go. The tension coiled so tightly that it hurt. I wanted to resist, but the slick heat pulsed between my legs, turning every breath into a whimper.

“I—” I tried, unsure if the words would be rebellion or surrender. Maybe it didn’t matter. Kazimir’s face showed something like triumph. Or hunger.

He didn’t wait. The rhythm of that shadow touch accelerated, merciless and right on target. My body spasmed with a rapturous burst, the crescendo rolling through every tendon. Silently, I screamed, snapping taut against the bindings as release claimed me in a shock wave of color and sensation.

Slowly, the shadows retracted, dissolving back into the dim corners. I lay there trembling, heart galloping, sheets twisted under me. Every bit of me thrummed with pleasure.

Kazimir rounded the bed, and the mattress dipped as he sat next to me. The earlier wicked amusement was replaced by something softer. Gently, he brushed a strand of sweaty hair off my face. The warmth of his fingertips was startling after the cool press of shadows.

“Better?” he asked softly, stroking along my cheekbone.

My throat felt too dry for words, so I nodded, leaning into his hand.

He bent his head. His scent swept over me—winter and a blade’s edge, threaded with magic. “Soon,” he whispered, voicerough. “Soon we’ll stabilize the Heirloom and won’t need these ridiculous restrictions.” His lips hovered near my ear, and I shuddered as he added, “And I have so many ways I want to make up for lost time.”

He pulled back, eyes flickering with an unsettling blend of triumph, possession, and something I wondered if he’d ever name. Wordlessly, he stood and smoothed his clothes like nothing had happened. Then he crossed the room and vanished through the door.

I lay there, body still pulsing with aftershocks, mind spinning at the precarious bond between us. It was stronger now—maybe strong enough to scorch everything else to ash if we couldn’t control it.

But in that moment, I just tried to catch my breath, still tasting the faint echo of shadows on my lips.

66

SOLVE ONE PROBLEM, CREATE ANOTHER (THE VILLAIN’S GUIDE TO PROGRESS)

ARABELLA

I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against Kazimir’s, trying to keep my focus from shattering into a thousand bits. The eastern tower was still half in ruins. Griffin had insisted that with its wards and enhancements, it was the best location for the stabilization enchantment.

A week had passed since the Syndicate departed, leaving behind more questions and a brittle hush over Skyspire. This was our shot at regaining control before the Heirloom tore itself—and the entire Western Realms—apart. At first, Kazimir scoffed at the idea of dragging me along; he wanted me safe away from the tower in case things went wrong. But after a tense, whispered debate in front of Griffin, he finally conceded. So here I stood, summoning every shred of nerve to link my power with his again.

A warm hum buzzed in my middle, the telltale sign of my magic flaring to life. Kazimir’s cooler, violet-slanted magic rose to meet mine, swirling together until a gold spark pulsed at the center. Griffin lingered nearby among half a dozen obsidian spheres, eyes practically glowing with anticipation.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he urged, voice trembling on the edge of manic. “Keep it steady.”

I forced out a long exhale and opened my channels to Kazimir, exactly the way he’d shown me. Strange how easy it had become to connect with him—to the point it felt wrongnotto.

The spheres glowed faintly at first, then pulsed brighter. Griffin squeaked out an excited sound. Kazimir leaned closer and whispered, “A bit more.”

I did as he asked, letting that swirl between our hands thrum. Gold and violet arced in the space. The spheres flickered in time with our heartbeats. Griffin’s breath caught. “It’s working—the orbs are sponging up the excess!”

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