Page 84 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I drew a sigil in a smear of blood and spun a quiet incantation. The lines shimmered, and space itself began to dissolve around me. Blood-based teleportation was nauseating, but it was my quickest route out without draining enormous energy on a fully opened portal.

An instant later, the manor flickered and vanished. I reappeared in my private workroom at Skyspire Citadel, the dead guard sprawled at my feet. The metallic tang of blood clung to the air, and my head reeled from the recoil.

I might have summoned Vex or Sims or Thorne to deal with the remains. It was standard procedure. But an even stronger impulse tugged me out of the workroom, through the winding corridors, up toward my private chambers. My clothes were stiffening with gore, my pulse still hammering from the kill. Servants scattered at the sight of me, eyes wide and fearful. Usually, I welcomed that terror. Tonight, I barely registered it.

I halted in front of my chamber door. Arabella slept inside, presumably safe and oblivious—far from that cursed tower, far from her father’s manipulations. A feral, protective anger still coiled behind my ribs. I wanted to burst in, proclaim I would defend her freedom, by any means.

She didn’t know I’d sneaked off to Evenfall or that I’d left behind one fewer guard for her father. Part of me wanted to keep it hidden, yet another part wanted her to see the blood and realize I was prepared to fight for her no matter how vicious it became. I might not be anyone’s hero, but I would make damn sure no one bound her in a cage again.

Steeling myself, I reached for the handle. Whatever reaction she might have to the blood, I’d face it. Because, apparently, I was the kind of villain who cared what his wife thought. The irony left my heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.

With a growl and a push, I opened the door.

36

SHARE YOUR MAGIC (NOT YOUR FEELINGS)

KAZIMIR

I found Arabella perched on the sofa’s edge, rubbing her neck with a pained expression. Firelight touched her loose hair, creating an unfairly golden halo that only intensified the tug I felt toward her.

Her head snapped up at my entrance, eyes widening as she took in my blood-soaked appearance. A flicker of genuine worry crossed her face before she smoothed it over with deliberate neutrality.

“You look like you’ve had an interesting evening,” she said, voice steady.

I held her gaze, taking in every detail, from the way her fingers stayed curled near her throat to the subtle tremor in her posture. She was here, perfectly safe. And here I’d just burst through the door like a madman. A slew of confessions skittered across my mind before I snapped my usual mask back in place. I began unbuttoning my ruined shirt.

“What are you doing?” Her voice hitched slightly.

“I have entrails all over me,” I said curtly. “I’d rather not stew in them.”

“Why do you have— Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

I attempted a smirk, determined to bury those confusing impulses under my usual taunts. “If you’re curious, you could watch me undress. Otherwise, I’m taking a bath.”

She shot me a pointed look. “You could strip off in the bathing chamber instead of giving me a show.”

“Why?” I let my shirt drop with a wet plop on the floor. “This is my room, too.”

I stepped close enough for her to see the streaks of crimson drying across my scars. Her fists tightened on her lap, but she didn’t flinch.

“Are you injured?” she ventured.

I shook my head, then braced my hands on either side of her, leaning in just enough to crowd her space without touching her. She stayed planted, spine straight, gaze flickering from my chest to my face. “Good.”

Only one word, but it unclenched a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. “You could join me,” I suggested.

She raised an eyebrow. “In your bath with the entrails? No thanks.”

“I’ll wash them off first. Problem solved.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her features. The more I stared at her, the more the rest of the world receded. Rage still simmered in my veins from the things I’d done tonight, but just looking at her alive and unbound steadied me in a way that felt treacherous. My usually detached attitude cracked, and genuine concern poured out in my next question.

“Areyouinjured?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” But her face betrayed a flash of discomfort.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said, circling behind the sofa. “Wearing yourself out with that dragon so you’d be too tired to think about our... situation.”

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