Page 46 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“That’s it,” I coached softly. “Keep a steady flow.”

Her breathing turned ragged, and I saw perspiration beading at her temple. The sphere glowed brighter and brighter.

“Lord Blackrose,” she managed through clenched teeth, “it’s?—”

I reacted instinctively, knocking the crystal from her hand as I lunged forward to shield her body with mine. We both fell. The crystal shattered with a glassy pop, spraying shards in every direction. Once again, the runes on the floor blazed in response, but I still felt stinging cuts rake across my back as the fragments pelted us.

When the noise subsided, I found myself sprawled over her, chest pressed tight against her softer frame. Arabella’s eyes were wide as she stared up at me. Her breath puffed against my lips, close enough to remind me of precisely how quickly our dynamic could slide from lethal to… less polite territory. I knew exactly how she looked in that thin nightgown, and my traitorous body flared hot with the memory.

“Are you hurt?” I asked gruffly.

Arabella managed a shake of her head, still struggling to piece together words.

I was not, nor had I ever pretended to be, a gentleman. So I stayed there a beat longer than any decent person would have, forcibly telling myself it was only for dramatic effect. Then I rolled to one side and got to my feet, ignoring the faint sting of the cuts. I extended a hand to help her up.

When she was on her feet, I dropped her hand—every nerve in my body felt hyper-alert. “That was…”

“A disaster?” she blurted, brushing debris from her tunic.

“Educational,” I countered. I inspected the rune work on the floor. It’d soaked up most of the blast, but scorch marks had marred the stone’s smooth surface. “You have enough power to be dangerous as hell. Now we just have to manage it.”

She looked at me uncertainly. “I don’t understand. I controlled my healing spells so easily at home, and I used magic against your men on the road. Why is it suddenly blowing up in my face?”

“It takes practice to harness different forms of magic.” I crossed my arms, conscious of the way it drew her gaze to my bare torso. “We can keep going—unless you plan to destroy the rest of my wardrobe.”

She huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “I refuse to fail at this. If I can mend wounds, I can conjure a simple light without starting a bonfire.”

I gave a curt nod. “Very well. Let’s continue.”

For hours, we drilled through basic exercises. Arabella practiced lighting a candle’s wick without melting the wax, conjuring a gentle breeze to push a feather across the floor, warming water in a cup without boiling it. Each success came after several explosive failures, and by afternoon, we were both drenched in sweat and battered by her near-disasters.

Finally, I noticed the tremor in her arms and the deep circles under her eyes. “Enough,” I said. “We’ve made progress. You’re far more in control than you were this morning, even if I’m still worried for my clothes.”

Arabella exhaled in frustration. “It’s still not enough. I can’t keep my grip on the magic for more than a few seconds.”

“No one masters this overnight,” I said. “You have raw power. Controlling it just takes time you never got under your father.”

She sagged with fatigue, brushing damp hair from her face. “I’d kill for a bath right now. Possibly with scalding water.”

Images I had no business entertaining flitted through my mind—her in a steaming tub, water shining on her skin. I cleared my throat and turned away to reorganize the scattered training elements. “Would you like Vex to escort you back to your chambers?”

She shook her head. “I’ll manage.”

“Try not to set the halls ablaze, will you?”

She started for the door, then paused. “Lord Blackrose?”

I lifted a brow, waiting.

Her gaze shamelessly dragged over my chest, lingering on the faint soot smudges. “Next time,” she said, a flicker of wicked humor lighting her eyes, “maybe wear something less flammable.”

With that, she walked out, leaving me alone in the circle. A chuckle rumbled in my chest. Seducing her might be easier than expected, if I could avoid being cremated in the process.

22

CRUSH AWKWARD RUMORS BEFORE LUNCH?(GLOWER OPTIONAL)

KAZIMIR

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