Page 182 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

He scanned the barren landscape. “I don’t have enough left in me to form a stable portal. We’re stuck here until sunrise.”

I nodded, my entire body sagging under fresh waves of fatigue. We moved to the twisted tree, where I all but collapsed against the rough bark. He settled beside me, our shoulders brushing. Nyx stretched out her wing to give us a crude windbreak. Her proximity gave us the warmth of a fire, and I sighed in relief.

The short silence was filled by howling gusts and the occasional snort from Nyx. Distant stars cut through the darkness, cold and uncaring.

“I kept fighting it,” I said after a moment, my voice barely carrying over the wind. “This… whatever it is between us.”

He stilled beside me. I swallowed and continued, “Not because I didn’t want it. Gods…Wantdoesn’t cover it. I wasterrified of losing myself in you—of not knowing who I’d be if I wasn’t fighting you all the time.”

For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. Then he spoke in a low voice, “I understand that fear.”

I turned toward his silhouette, the sharp angles of his face outlined by dim starlight. “Do you?”

He nodded. “I was taught that power demands isolation, that attachment becomes a liability.” A hint of bitterness threaded his tone.

My chest ached at the thought of what horrors shaped him this way. I took his hand and laced our fingers together, noticing how cold his skin felt. “They were wrong.”

He looked at me with a flicker of fragile hope.

I cleared my throat, trying not to drown in those mesmerizing eyes. “I used to think vulnerability was weakness, that caring meant handing someone a blade to stab you in the back. But after everything… fighting you, fighting for you, and with you… I don’t feel weaker, Kazimir. I feel…” The word got caught in my throat. “More.”

He searched my eyes. “As do I,” he whispered unsteadily. “And that scares me more than facing an entire army of self-righteous knights.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “The infamous Dark Lord Kazimir Blackrose, cowering before emotions?”

He let out a brief laugh. “Gods forbid Vex catches wind of it.”

“She’d hold a betting pool with Griffin and then lecture you on emotional availability,” I said drily.

His hand lifted to my jaw, tipping my head to meet his gaze. The simple contact sent fire racing through my veins. “Perhaps,” he said softly, brushing his thumb against my lip, “I’m only available to you.”

Heat kindled low in my belly. “Is that so?” I asked, my voice lowering in challenge.

He leaned in, intruding on the last of my personal space. “It is.”

When his lips finally met mine, the kiss started with a gentle, searching hush… then flared into something deeper. Relief—sheer, staggering relief—flooded me. I flung my arms around his neck, the Heirloom pressing against my forehead as I lost myself in him.

He groaned into my mouth, pulling me closer until I landed on his lap, straddling him. My muscles protested the movement, but my body refused to care. Over the wind, I heard him murmur my name, raw and needy.

I rocked my hips experimentally, feeling the unmistakable hardness between us. He hissed through his teeth, grip tightening on my waist. Our kiss went wild—urgent, fierce, tasting of blood and exhaustion and longing.

“I’ve imagined this every night,” he panted between kisses. “Since the damned library?—”

“Stranded out here,” I teased, “freezing our butts off with Nyx watching like a scandalized chaperone?”

Kazimir’s teeth flashed in a grin, his breath ragged. “Especially the chaperone.”

A snorting huff from Nyx suggested her displeasure. I was about to laugh, but Kazimir’s thumb traced the underside of my breast, and I forgot how to breathe.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice thick with hunger. “What do you want?”

“Everything,” I confessed. “You. All of you.”

His eyes blazed. “As my lady commands.”

He eased me onto his ragged coat, covering my body with his. He kissed the line of my jaw, moving down my throat, teeth grazing where my pulse hammered. A moan tore out of me as I dug my fingers into his shoulders.

“Too many clothes,” I mumbled, fumbling with half-frozen laces. My fingers trembled so badly that I cursed under my breath.

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