Page 251 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“The world is always ending.” My teeth scraped against her throat, making her shiver. “Right now, I just want to celebrate the fact that you’re alive, you’re you, and you love me.”

She hummed in agreement. “And then we should probably go check on the army.”

“Have I ever told you how the stench of battle on you makes my cock hard?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

74 Make Love First, Save the World Later

(Priorities, People)

Kazimir

I scooped Arabella into my arms, ignoring her half-hearted protest about being perfectly capable of walking.

“Humor me,” I said, heading for the door. “I just got you back. I’m not letting go for at least the next decade.”

She rolled her eyes but settled against my chest, one hand playing with the torn fabric of my shirt. “You realize we’re both covered in blood, sweat, and battlefield grime?”

“All the better.” I kicked the door open. “I plan to get us significantly dirtier before we clean up.”

The path outside the Old Keep was empty except for Thorne, who stood guard with the patient stillness of a man who’d been at his post for hours. His shoulders sagged with relief when he saw Arabella conscious and whole in my arms.

“My lord.” He straightened, professional mask sliding back into place. “My lady.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Arabella asked.

“Since Lord Blackrose departed for Sunspire.” No reproach in his voice, just fact.

Nyx dropped from the wall above in a rush of wings. Her eyes fixed on Arabella, checking her over. Seemingly satisfied, Nyx pressed her snout against Arabella’s arm, nostrils flaring. Her wings mantled wide, creating a protective canopy around us both while she gave a rumbling purr.

“I’m fine,” Arabella assured her, freeing one hand to stroke the pink blaze on Nyx’s snout. “Just tired.”

I shifted Arabella’s weight, noting how Thorne’s gaze tracked the movement—checking for injuries, cataloging our condition with the efficiency of a man who’d spent years keeping me alive despite my best efforts to the contrary.

“Send word to the generals,” I said. “They’re to hold position outside the city walls. No looting, no unnecessary violence. Just maintain the perimeter and continue treating the wounded.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we march in and take Solandris officially.” The words should have filled me with triumph. I’d been working toward this moment for over a decade. But all I felt was exhaustion and the pressing need to get Arabella somewhere private where I could verify every inch of her was intact. With my tongue. “After that’s done, get some sleep, Thorne. You’ve more than earned it.”

He inclined his head. “Shall I send food to your chambers?”

“No.” Arabella’s fingers traced patterns on my chest that made the runes beneath my skin hum. “We’ll manage.”

Thorne’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Very good, my lady.”

I carried Arabella over the lightning bridges and through the winding corridors of Skyspire, taking the long route to avoid the main halls where our heroic “guests” might be lingering. The fortress felt different now—less like a bastion of dark power and more like… home. Our home.

Nyx had followed, her massive form pressing so close that she was practically attached to my hip. When we reached the final lightning bridge, she nearly sent Arabella and me tumbling into the void below.

“Tower,” Arabella commanded once I’d recovered my feet. “Perch there.”

The dragon’s silver eyes narrowed to slits. A defiant puff of purple flame escaped her nostrils, but she launched herself skyward, her wings beating hard enough to whip Arabella’s hair across my face.

We made to the main courtyard with no further mishaps.

“What are you thinking?” Arabella murmured against my neck. Her hot breath made my magic stir.