Page 183 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating
He chuckled darkly. “Impatient, aren’t we?”
“You started it.”
His grin looked positively wicked. “Then I’ll finish it.” In one swift motion, he tore away the remains of his shirt and tossed it aside. Moonlight etched the runes and old scars that mapped his torso. Fresh bruises peppered his flesh, and my anger flared at whoever inflicted them. I reached out and traced a jagged rune near his heart. It flickered beneath my touch.
His breath hitched. He did the same for me—helping rid me of the last tattered scraps of cloth until I was bare to the cold night air. But his gaze was so hot it practically seared my skin.
“Touch me,” I breathed.
He did more than touch. His hands followed the curve of my waist, the shape of my breasts, setting every nerve ablaze. I arched off the coat with a needy cry. He pressed his mouth to my breast, swirling his tongue until I moaned, half delirious. His other hand slipped lower, dragging a ragged gasp out of me as he found the damp heat between my thighs.
“Kaz,” I begged, thighs quivering against his wrist.
His eyes swept up, intense and dark. “Tell me again, Arabella. What do you want?”
A half-sob, half-laugh tore through me. “You. Inside me… now.”
He gave a wicked smile. “Demanding. I like that.”
He shifted over me, kissing me hard while I fumbled with his trousers until he helped me wrestle them off. Finally, my hand closed around his erection, hard and hot and thick. He made a low, guttural sound, bracing himself.
When he entered me, I felt the world tilt. The stretch burned sweetly as he filled me. My breath caught, tears stinging my eyes at the sheer intensity.
He bowed his head, teeth clenched. “Gods, you feel?—”
“Move,” I commanded, legs locked around his waist.
He did, setting a rhythm that shattered all sense of time and place. Our moans echoed off the stones, half-lost to the howling wind. Tiny sparks of magic danced over our skin, combining in golden light twisted with shadow, weaving us tighter. My heart pounded so hard I felt it in my throat. I had no magic left to give, but the Heirloom seemed to pulse with it. Like it was returning a measure of power.
I saw the surprise flicker in his eyes, mirroring my own.
“Don’t fight it,” I managed, grabbing his forearms when his eyes widened in alarm at the sudden surge of energy. “Let it happen… with me.”
He gave a frantic nod. Our magic meshed in that moment, that swirl of golden and dark. It poured into each thrust as the tension coiled in my core, building far too fast. My nails raked his back, and I urged him on.
“Arabella,” he groaned, edges of his control shredding. His thrusts became deeper, faster, rougher. “Come with me?”
“Yes,” I gasped, the final coil tightening in my belly. “Now!”
The climax slammed into me. I shouted his name, my body racked by wave after wave, my vision sparking white. He tensed with a ragged moan that tore from his chest, surrendering to his own release. The magic flared around us in a bright arc, then fizzled into the quiet dark.
He stayed there, breathing raggedly against my neck, our bodies still joined. Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling me tight against him. Shaking fingers brushed the hair from my face. The Heirloom pulsed gently on my head, content for once.
His voice was low and hoarse. “I never wanted attachments. But… losing you?” He swallowed hard. “I’d be even more lost without you.”
Tears burned behind my eyelids. “Kaz…” I pressed my forehead to his, sharing breath in the quiet. In his expression, I saw too many emotions to name but also a spark of mischief that made my heart pound all over again.
He kissed me then, slowly, with impossible tenderness. I kissed him back, letting go of the fear, of the fight, of everything but him. Falling still felt terrifying. But maybe falling together wasn’t falling at all. Maybe it was finally finding solid ground.
74
CELEBRATE STILL BEING ALIVE (STUBBLE IS THE OFFICIAL AFTERMATH LOOK)
ARABELLA
Something dark and weightless feathered across my skin. A brush of shadow against my collarbone that was somehow both possessive and playful. It lingered, tracing a path up my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The touch hummed with a low thrum of power, intimately familiar.
I smiled, eyes still closed. “Kaz.”
