Page 31

CHARM HER WITH CHEMISTRY (SIDE-EFFECT: IMMEDIATE NAPTIME)

KAZIMIR

I lifted the crystal decanter with a flourish. “More wine?”

Arabella considered it briefly, then held out her glass. “Why not?” she said. “It’s excellent.”

I filled her goblet slowly, letting my fingertips barely graze hers in the process. It was a small gesture, the kind that skirted our rules but didn’t break them outright. To my surprise, she didn’t wrench her hand away. A promising sign.

We were alone in my private dining room, illuminated by candles and a roaring fire. I’d dismissed the servants after the main course, preferring the intimacy of pouring wine myself.

She took another bite of venison, closing her eyes for a moment as she savored the flavor. “I never expected such refined cuisine in a villain’s lair,” she remarked. The glow from the candles highlighted the gold in her hair, setting them ablaze against her deep green gown.

“We villains have standards,” I replied, swirling my own wine. “Good food keeps everyone happy.”

“Is that part of some official dark lord doctrine—right between ‘always monologue before killing your enemies’ and ‘ensure your fortress has dramatic lighting’?”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning complete seriousness. “Chapter three. Right after the section on cloak maintenance.”

She rewarded me with a genuine smile, one I found unexpectedly magnetic.

The easy humor in the air was exactly what I’d planned for: a slow seduction built on gentle teasing, excellent food, and just a hint of the right enhancements.

By design, the wine and the carefully curated dishes contained subtle aphrodisiacs.

They were meant to loosen her inhibitions, encourage her to escalate.

I had hoped she’d respond to them. Instead, she seemed comfortable but hardly beguiled.

“Speaking of protocol,” I said, shifting in my seat and leaning forward, “I’ve noticed you never call me by my given name.”

She paused mid-bite, blinked, and set her fork aside. “Don’t I?”

“No,” I said. “It’s ‘Lord Blackrose’ this, ‘Lord Blackrose’ that.” I placed my glass on the table with deliberate care. “And I’m curious why.”

A slight flush rose up her neck before she bit into another piece of venison. “Force of habit, maybe.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with Vex and Griffin.” I drummed my fingers on the cloth. “But you persist in calling me Lord Blackrose.”

She set her silverware down, tilting her chin up with a quiet challenge. “Would you rather I call you something else? I’ve got a few ideas?—”

“‘Kazimir’ works,” I said, noticing how her eyes narrowed. “As I’ve suggested more than once.”

She hesitated, gaze locked on mine. “Names imply a certain closeness,” she said finally. “It would suggest... something else.”

“That we’re more than just captor and captive, perhaps?”

She inclined her head, eyes serious. “I’m not ready to admit that. Not yet.”

Her honesty caught me unaware. I leaned back, sizing her up by the light of the fire. After a moment, I nodded. “Point taken,” I said. “Though I hope someday you’ll change your mind.”

She studied me with that same thoughtful intensity. “Why does it matter to you so much?”

I turned my wine goblet between my fingers.

I hadn’t planned on being this candid, but the answer slipped out.

“As you said, names imply different things. When you call me ‘Lord Blackrose,’ you’re acknowledging the villain, the warlord.

But if you said ‘Kazimir’... it might be directed at the man, not just the darkness. ”

I rolled my shoulders to shake off the strange twist in my chest. My strategy tonight involved carefully orchestrated chemistry, not confessions.

“At least I don’t address you as ‘Your Darkness,’ or something equally ridiculous,” she teased, a sly spark lighting her eyes. “I assume that would roll right off you, anyway.”

“‘Your Darkness’?” I repeated. “Not a bad ring to it. Maybe I’ll add that to the ever-growing list of my exalted titles.”

She snorted softly. “Given your minions’ flair for drama, I figured it was only a matter of time.”

I topped up my wine. “My staff calls me everything from ‘sir’ to the more extravagant ‘Scourge of Azroth.’ Hardly essential, but I let it slide.”

“Quite the brand you’re building,” she quipped. “Supreme Darkness, Terror of the Western Realms... I’m surprised they haven’t tried ‘Supreme Overlord of Doom’ yet.”

I couldn’t resist a smile. “That’s a good one. I’ll have Vex send a memo.”

We continued to chat over the remnants of our meal, drifting from flirtatious banter to the political webs woven around Solandris and Evenfall. I found myself surprisingly drawn to how her mind worked. She possessed a cunning that belied her father’s attempts to stifle her.

Eventually, Arabella tilted her head, studying me intently. “You’re distracted tonight. Is my father’s letter that worrisome?”

I grimaced slightly. “There are details I can’t reconcile.”

Arabella sighed, pushing her plate away. “He’s always got layers. If he’s involved in negotiations while pressing you for ransom, something else bigger is in motion.”

“What do you suspect?”

Her lips pursed, and she tapped the table as though she wanted to stab it. “The Royal Envoy to the Eastern Kingdoms is up for appointment soon. My father’s coveted it forever. He’s likely bartering me away—or was, before you abducted me—to seal that deal.”

It made perfect sense. “He’d have used your marriage to secure that post. No wonder you became so adept at driving suitors away.”

She shrugged, a wry bitterness flashing in her gaze. “I discovered if I humiliated them thoroughly enough, they’d run.”

I allowed a hint of admiration into my tone. “I’m shocked.”

She laughed, bright and genuinely amused. I liked that I could pry laughter from her. The moment flickered by, then Arabella sighed again. “My father’s last letter threatened ‘severe consequences’ if I refused to play his perfect daughter. I guess you saved me from that, in a twisted sense.”

Hearing that subtle quiver in her normally fierce voice made my fingers tighten around my wine glass. I felt a sudden urge to track down her father and ensure he never had the chance to manipulate her again. “Would you like me to kill him? I’d even make it look like an accident.”

Her eyes widened, but then her look turned suspicious. “You’ve been... different tonight. The wine, the candlelight, the compliments… Are you trying to seduce me, Lord Blackrose?”

I was preparing an answer, something reasonable to disguise the aphrodisiacs. But before I could spin my denial, she yawned, broad and unladylike.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, blinking with surprise. “Sorry. Now that I think about it, I’m incredibly sleepy.”

A second yawn overtook her, impossible to hide. She looked more annoyed than anything else. “So that’s what you laced the food with, hm? Something to coax me into enthusiasm?”

I blinked. An uncomfortable prickle of embarrassment worked its way up my spine. “It wasn’t meant to knock you out,” I said, clearing my throat. “It was an aphrodisiac, technically. A mild one. I planned on?—”

“I grew up at court, ” she informed me wearily, “and I discovered years ago that those potions have an unintended effect on me. Instead of making me… overly affectionate, they just make me tired. Sorry to disappoint.”

I nearly choked on my own wine. Her triumphant, sleepy grin let me know I’d just blundered spectacularly. My entire plan, ruined by her bizarre constitution.

“They were just supposed to, you know, set the mood,” I muttered.

“Naturally,” she said, obviously amused at my expense. “Like watering a plant or something?”

I winced. “Don’t put it like that.”

She stifled another yawn, arms folding. “I’m too tired to be furious right now, but we’ll talk about your manipulative approach tomorrow.”

I inhaled slowly through my nose, forcing composure. “Fine. But at least let me help you to bed? For sleeping it off, I mean.”

She eyed me suspiciously, but her exhaustion seemed to win out. “All right. But only because the alternative is an undignified face-plant on your carpet.”

I rose and offered an arm, which she accepted with minimal protest. We ascended the winding stairs toward our tower suites.

Each step she took felt heavier, and by the time we reached the top, her eyes drooped so badly that she was practically asleep on her feet.

With a resigned sigh, I scooped her into my arms. Her soft murmur of protest faded as she collapsed against my shoulder.

I felt the gentle rise and fall of her breath, and tried not to dwell on how perfectly she fit against me.

In the bedchamber, I laid her down with the utmost care.

She curled onto her side, hugging a pillow, while I removed her shoes.

One hand brushed against my sleeve in her half-sleep, and something uncomfortably warm bloomed under my ribs.

A pang of unexpected longing tugged at me—how different this evening might have been if my plan had succeeded.

She cracked one eye open, words slurring with fatigue.

“You’re not undressing me in my sleep, are you?” she mumbled.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said. “Though that dress will be awful in the morning.”

She made a lazy gesture of dismissal. “Don’t care... pillow wall...” Then she drifted off, eyes sliding shut completely.

Sighing, I stacked pillows around her the way she insisted. Tonight, it was certainly unnecessary—she was too far gone to be lured into anything. I felt a laugh bubbling in my chest at the sheer irony. Kazimir Blackrose, undone by the wrong tincture. How humiliating.

I brushed a loose strand of hair off her face. Her only response was a soft, contented sound. The sight of her dozing so peacefully sent a pulse of protectiveness down my spine. It startled me enough that I quickly backed toward the door, determined to escape that strange pull.

I headed for my study, intending to work until I collapsed, as well. Lord Evenfall’s demands. The Heirloom’s locked power. My own half-baked attempts at seduction. None of it had gone as I intended.

And at every turn, Arabella had a way of confounding me. I suspected I’d be thinking about it long into the night.