Page 144 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“Can you?” His eyes darkened, and for a split second, I thought I saw something ancient and hungry looking back at me. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” I said, refusing to back down. “I’ve seen you at your worst.”

“No,” he rasped. “You haven’t.”

His tone sent a chill down my spine, but I pushed the feeling aside. Whatever demons Kazimir was wrestling with, I wasn’t about to let him face them alone—even if he was determined to push me away. “You’re an idiot.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” I punctuated each word by trying to free my wrists, without success. “I didn’t pour my life force into a magical artifact to save someone who’s afraid of their own shadow.”

“Arabella,” he growled.

I pressed into his hold now, bringing our faces inches apart. “You think I don’t know something’s wrong? You think I can’t feel the darkness that’s been growing in you since the Spire?”

He went very still.

“But here’s the thing,” I continued, my voice dropping to match his. “I don’t care.”

“You should.”

I smiled, sharp and challenging. “I married the Dark Lord. I learned shadow magic. I merged with an ancient artifact. I think we’re well past what I ‘should’ do at this point.”

“Arabel—”

“Shut up.” I surged forward, catching his mouth with mine.

For a moment, he resisted. I could feel the tension in him, the desperate need to maintain control. Then he spun us around, pressing me against a pillar hard enough to steal my breath. His mouth was hungry on mine, all that careful control shattered into desperate need. I gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until I could taste his darkness, his desire, his fear.

My hands were still trapped between us, but I didn’t need them. I nipped at his lower lip, satisfaction surging through me when he groaned.

“This is a terrible idea,” he muttered against my mouth. “We have too many things to do.”

“Most of our ideas are terrible.” I arched against him, feeling his body’s immediate response. I rolled my hips deliberately. “Unless you’d prefer to send me off to Meridian Isle all hot and bothered? I’m sure that’ll help my concentration.”

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and the heat in his gaze made my knees weak. “How terribly inappropriate, Lady Blackrose. I thought I was your teacher?”

“Fuck propriety.”

“Language,” he murmured, before tasting the salty skin of my neck.

“And fuck you,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“That does appear to be where this is heading.”

His hands found the buckles of my leather vest, working them loose. “These were a mistake,” he muttered.

I laughed, the sound breathless. “You chose them.”

“A decision I’m deeply regretting.” He finally managed to loosen the top enough to expose my collarbone, which he immediately traced with his tongue.

“Kaz—” Whatever I’d been about to say dissolved into a moan as he found that spot where my neck met my shoulder, the one that always made me melt.

“You were saying?” His voice was dark with satisfaction.

“I hate you.”

“Liar.” He lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and carried me to the center of the room. I tugged at his shirt, frustrated by the fabric between us. “Less talking, more—oh.”