Page 25 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Watching you pretend this doesn’t affect you is rapidly becoming the highlight of my evening.”

“It doesn’t affect me,” I lied.

He slid his chair closer to mine, the air between us growing thick. The soft glow of the remaining lights rendered his features dangerously captivating—long lashes, sharp cheekbones, that infuriatingly well-shaped mouth. My stomach executed a series of complex, unwanted flips.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Lady Blackrose,” he murmured.

I forced a brittle smile in response, but any clever retort stuck in my throat. Strangely, my truth-sense hummed that he was being sincere. A slight exhale slipped past my lips.

Kazimir reached for his goblet, creating breathing space between us. He polished off his last swallow of wine. “We have a small problem.”

My attention shifted to the chaotic knot of revelers in the center of the hall. “I’d say you have a few,” I replied drily. “Your guests are fornicating on the dining tables.”

He gestured, taking in the half-clothed courtiers, the indulgent moaning. “They expect a show. If we’re not at leastseenparticipating in their hedonism, they’ll think I’m… distracted.”

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He stood and offered me his hand. “Dance with me.”

All my instincts shouted caution. He was playing a game. I’d agreed to appear cooperative, but “cooperative” now seemedlike a trap. Then again, dancing was presumably safer than the alternative. And it gave me a chance to keep some control.

I placed my hand in his, ignoring the spark of warmth at his touch. “Fine,” I said coolly. “I’m sure you’re an adequate partner.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he led me into a cleared space where a few couples had formed a slow, seductive dance. I caught glimpses of swirling fabric, parted lips, and wandering hands. Kazimir pulled me close, one hand settling at my waist, the other clasping my fingers against his chest. Pretense or not, every nerve I possessed seemed to buzz.

“Relax,” he urged quietly. His hand slid up my back, a deceptively modest repositioning that sent a wave of tingling awareness through me.

I stared at my free palm, which hovered uncertainly near his shoulder. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”

“I can feel your pulse from here,” he said. “Now, look at me. Laugh as though I’ve just whispered something outrageous.”

I tried one of my carefully rehearsed society giggles, but Kazimir frowned. “That’s the polite, I’m-so-delighted-about-this-needlepoint laugh. I want theotherone—the kind that suggests I’ve just whispered something wicked in your ear.”

A retort formed on my tongue, but before I could speak, he bent his head, letting me feel the faint prickle of his stubble against my cheek. “They’re all imagining how I’ll take you tonight,” he murmured. “You should give them a reason to envy you.”

A breathy exhale escaped me, half-laugh, half-disbelief. The new wave of heat had nothing to do with the wine.

“There,” he noted. “Much better.”

We moved in slow, swaying steps, our bodies brushing in ways that feltfartoo intimate. My gown suddenly seemed both stifling and overly thin. I was aware of every inch of him—hisfingers grazing my spine, the slight press of his thigh. My gaze flicked to his mouth before I could stop myself.

He spun me gently, guiding me until my back pressed against his chest. I now faced the full assembly of guests, many of whom looked on with eager curiosity. Some watched with hunger in their eyes, as though expecting us to morph into some public spectacle. Anxiety twisted through me, but Kazimir’s warm presence at my back offered a strange, dissonant reassurance.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my ear, “and I will.”

Instead of answering, I let my head tilt against his shoulder, my eyes slipping shut. My nerves crackled in time with the distant thunder that rolled outside. Power swirled through the black spires of his citadel, echoing the tension in my own body.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly.

“The wine,” I lied, even as my pulse hammered.

His lips brushed the curve of my ear in a subtle grin. “Of course.”

The shift of his thumb beneath my breast made my breath catch. He never truly crossed a boundary, but the promise of it hovered between us. Against my better judgment, I indulged the traitorous response of my body—heat, curiosity, a raw confusion about just how easily he unraveled me.

Everyone watched, enthralled. Kazimir’s voice dropped lower. “They think I’ve devoured you. If only they knew how well you resist.”

My defiance flared. I twisted enough to meet his gaze over my shoulder. “Who says I’m resisting anymore?”

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