Page 31 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Weeks ago, when the Heirloom was cracked and useless, I’d asked if he regretted kidnapping me. He’d said no.

I knew Kaz had meant it, but today he’d experienced a life-altering setback. Naturally, I had questions.

Like would he regret marrying me if I couldn’t help him conquer Solandris? If the Heirloom was now bound to me and useless to him? And another darker thought—what if I was partly to blame?

The setting sun filtered through storm clouds, casting our bedchamber in bruised purple and angry red—a fitting reflection of our mess. The day had ended far differently than it had begun.

Kazimir immediately began stripping off his battle-stained clothes. I followed suit, every muscle aching from the fight and subsequent magical chaos.

I shed the last of my armor, standing in just my thin, stained undershirt and leggings. “I feel like I’ve been dragged behind a horse across the entire Western Realms.”

“You look it too.”

I shot him a glare. “Such flattery, my lord. It’s a wonder I resisted your charms for so long.”

I regretted the words immediately, but his smile widened into something genuine. The tension between us eased. This was familiar territory—the banter, the teasing.

Kaz gestured to the bathing chamber. “Ladies first.”

I appreciated the solo bath offer. After a battle, the idea of soaking in each other’s blood and grime seemed revolting.

Once in the bathing chamber, I paused at the ornate mirror, curious. There—a faint shimmer around my forehead, like sun shining on gold. The outline of the circlet was barely perceptible, but unmistakable once you knew to look for it.

Well. That was a problem.

If Kaz and I could see it, so could anyone else who bothered to look closely. We’d need to figure out how to conceal it before I left our chambers.

I scrubbed off the worst before filling the tub, then sank into hot water with a groan of pure pleasure. But my thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. For the first time, I felt grim satisfaction. Maybe this wasn’t a disaster. Maybe it was a safeguard.

If the Heirloom was part of me, that shadowy entity from the vision couldn’t use it through Kazimir. Or so I hoped.

As long as I kept the ley line corruption from leaking into me.

Later, while Kaz bathed, I combed out my hair and threw on a silk nightdress. Too restless to sit still but too exhausted for anything else, I did the only sensible thing and flung myself dramatically onto the bed.

I heard the bathroom door open. The bed dipped as he sat beside me.

“Planning to sleep in that position?”

“I’m contemplating the mysteries of the universe,” I replied without opening my eyes.

“If you figure them out, let me know.”

I cracked one eye open. He was gloriously naked, hair still damp, water droplets clinging to skin. His scars stood out starkly, a roadmap of old pain and power.

The lean muscles of his torso caught the lamplight, each defined ridge and hollow carved by years of warfare and training. He really was beautiful to look at, and I never squandered an opportunity. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The subtle flex of muscle beneath skin that looked both battle-hardened and touchable. Powerful, corded thighs with strength even at rest. And nearly every bit of him covered in scars.

Everything about Kazimir radiated controlled power—from the casual way he held himself to the unconscious grace in his fingers splayed against the sheets. Even sitting still, there was something predatory about him, all coiled energy and barely leashed violence.

I could barely handle how unfairly attractive he was, but he was all mine.

Even when he came to bed soaking wet. “You’re dripping on the sheets.”

“Perhaps you should do something about it.”

I rolled my eyes but sat up, reaching for his towel. “Turn around.”

He obliged. I began drying his hair, fingers working through damp strands. He made a sound of contentment.