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ARGUE WITH YOUR brIDE (IT’S FOREPLAY FOR VILLAINS)

KAZIMIR

The moment Griffin fled, I felt the temperature in my workroom drop about ten degrees. Not from any spell, but from the sheer force of Arabella’s glare razoring right through me. She hovered in the doorway, spine rigid, fury rolling off her in waves.

“Found out about the roses?” I set my face into a bored mask before finally turning around.

She stood firm, practically crackling with angry energy.

She wore fitted trousers and a deep emerald tunic that brought out the green and gold in her eyes.

Her hair was pulled back in a neat braid, baring the curve of her throat.

Somehow, that tiny reveal of skin managed to spark heat in my gut, an annoyance I tried to ignore.

“You had enchanted roses collecting my blood,” she said, voice dangerously calm, “without my knowledge or consent.”

I set the arcane measuring device I’d been adjusting onto the workbench. “Clearly, Griffin shouldn’t have told you.”

Inside my head, I cursed his loose tongue. He had a knack for unraveling half my carefully laid plans with a single panicked outburst.

“That’s all you have to say?” Her tone rose. “You violate our agreement in a matter of hours, and you’re more upset about your minion’s honesty than the actual violation?”

I shrugged. “I don’t recall any clause prohibiting routine magical precautions.”

“Routine,” she echoed through pursed lips. “So, in your world, sneaking blood from your prisoners counts as routine?”

“Yes,” I said, sweeping a hand around at the clutter of reagents and runes. “A single drop of blood for ritual clarity is basic procedure here. Besides, the sampling happened before our terms were set in stone.”

Her eyes flared. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me about this ‘basic procedure?’”

“After the ceremony,” I said, deciding honesty would needle her best. “At that point, it wouldn’t matter.”

She bridged the distance between us in a few quick strides—unafraid, which, strangely, I respected. “What are you using my blood for?”

An easy lie teased at the edge of my tongue, but I hesitated.

She wasn’t some next-kingdom princess I intended to hoodwink for a single day.

She was set to be my wife, at least in name, and I needed her if I wanted the Heirloom of Dominion to bend to my will.

Not to mention her recent... magical developments piqued my interest. Caution felt wise.

“Resonance testing,” I said. “Determining the compatibility of your lineage with mine.”

Her gaze hardened. “And?”

I paused, recalling the jolt of raw energy that had surged through my runes last night. Power magnified fortyfold. “The results were satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory,” she repeated, voice dripping with disdain. “You can do better than that, Lord Blackrose.”

My patience thinned. “I don’t owe you a complete breakdown of every magical test I conduct.”

“You do when it involves my blood.” She aimed a finger at me, and her voice rose several notches. “We had an agreement. After the wedding, you’d be honest about your plans. That doesn’t grant you permission to treat me like some lab specimen in the meantime.”

“Lab specimen?” I actually laughed, though it came out sharp. “It was a drop of blood, Lady Evenfall, not a vivisection.”

“It’s the principle,” she hissed. “How am I supposed to trust you with anything else when you help yourself to my blood in secret?”

I found that genuinely amusing. “Trust? You’re in the lair of the Dark Lord. Trust is a fool’s errand here.”

She held my gaze, undeterred. “Yes, trust. Without it, why shouldn’t I escape the second I see an opening? Or sabotage the entire ceremony?”

She had a point. The Heirloom demanded a genuine wedding; and thanks to her stubborn resistance to my dominion magic, I required her compliance. Especially after my tests with her blood had shown just how dangerously powerful she might be.

“What do you propose I do, then?” I crossed my arms.

She pointed at me again. “I want you to keep our bargain. No more secrets, no more underhanded experimenting. If you need something—hair, blood, my signature on a demonic contract—ask.”

I stared for a long moment. The typical hostage would be begging me to release them, not negotiating new terms with every breath. But this was Arabella Evenfall.

“Fine,” I said, inclining my head. “From now on, I’ll inform you of lab work that involves your precious bodily fluids. But don’t forget where you stand. You’re still my prisoner, agreement or not. Adapt, or you’ll find yourself in a predicament you won’t enjoy.”

A flicker of… something crossed her face. Then she lifted her chin. “I’ve been adapting my entire life. But adapt doesn’t mean surrender, Blackrose. You should learn the difference.”

Her nerve was truly stunning. She stood in my workshop, in my fortress, yet she carried herself like I was the unwelcome intruder. It made me want to wrap my dominion around her throat just to see if she’d still speak so boldly.

“Careful,” I said, letting a surge of half-tamed magic pulse along my spine. “I’m not known for my unlimited patience.”

“And I’m not known for letting men—villains or otherwise—treat me as chattel,” she shot back.

My control frayed. I strode forward, overshadowing her with the advantage of my height. “Maybe you need a reminder of your position.”

She remained perfectly still. Not trembling, not cowering. Her eyes sparked with challenge.

“What’ll it be?” She tilted her chin. “Another threat to do unspeakable things with my organs?”

“You won’t break so easily,” I allowed, letting my voice drop an octave. “Pain is just the most direct method. But there are other ways.”

I reached out, grazing a fingertip along her jaw. She stiffened, but her expression blazed with refusal rather than disgust. “You’re running short on creativity, Lord Blackrose,” she said coldly, turning her head away.

I grabbed her arm before she could fully retreat. That faint, heated pulse skittered up my forearm again. It enraged me as much as it intrigued me. Was it simple adrenaline, or was there something about her that made me want to increase that closeness, test that defiance?

“Then tell me,” I said quietly, “what else might convince you to show a little respect?”

“Respect,” she said, glancing pointedly at my grip on her arm, “is earned, not taken.”

The moment crackled, everything in me itching to test her now . Then I exhaled, releasing her, stepping back with effort. I refused to become a savage who couldn’t control his own impulses. Possessive, yes. Reckless, never.

“Fine, Lady Evenfall,” I said, deadpan. “We’ll consider this an amendment to our agreement. You want honesty? You’ll have it. In exchange, I’ll personally oversee your magical training.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You already granted me access to magical training.”

“Reading dusty tomes and receiving actual instruction aren’t the same.” I gestured pointedly around the workroom. “I don’t often offer hands-on lessons, even to my highest-ranking subordinates.”

She hesitated, aware there had to be a catch. “You mean you want to control what I learn.”

“Think of it more as guiding your potential.” I allowed a thin, humorless smile. She was more critical to my ambitions than she realized… and more dangerous. “If you’re going to be at my side, I need to know your capabilities.”

“Because a powerful wife is an asset, no doubt,” she said, voice thick with sarcasm.

“A very direct and pleasurable one, if done correctly,” I murmured, letting my gaze flick over her. I took a stab of satisfaction when I saw something flare behind those eyes—resentment, attraction, both?

She exhaled. “And if I hate what you teach me?”

“Knowledge is power. You can wield it against me if you dare.” I shrugged. “At least you’d have an edge.”

She weighed that carefully. Then she lifted her chin. “All right, Lord Blackrose. I accept. Honesty for honesty, power for power.” She extended her hand. “But remember, whatever I become under your tutelage, you helped make me.”

My fingers closed around hers. A faint spark of magic jumped between our palms—hers, not mine. Unintentional, but potent. It sent a whisper of heat along the runes carved in my bones.

“Excellent,” I said, releasing her hand and noting how my skin still prickled where we’d touched. “The ceremony’s at sunset. Vex will collect you beforehand. Then, you’ll be mine… in every significant sense.”

“And after the ceremony?” she asked, still standing stubbornly. “When do these lessons start?”

“Soon,” I said. “If you wish.”

She turned to go. I assumed she’d leave it at that, but she paused at the door.

“One last thing, Lord Blackrose.”

I glanced her way, irritation simmering. “Yes?”

Her voice dropped to a quiet, lethal calm. “During these tests of yours, this ‘resonance’ business… If my blood hadn’t provided the results you wanted, what would you have done?”

Her eyes bored into me, as though she expected comfort. I almost laughed.

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation,” I said truthfully. “There’d be no reason.”

She inclined her head, as if confirming a private suspicion. “I see. Well, I appreciate that bit of honesty.”

Then the door closed, leaving me alone with the echoes of our confrontation.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling the hum of raw dominion magic in my bones, stronger since last night’s experiment.

I exhaled and returned to my work table.

Still, I couldn’t quite shake the memory of her unwavering gaze and the way my skin hummed in response to hers.

I told myself I could handle it. One woman wouldn’t derail my carefully engineered plans. Even if she had the most glorious, unbreakable spine I’d ever seen.