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Story: The Dark Lord’s Guide to Dating (And Other War Crimes)
CHANNEL YOUR RIGHTEOUS FURY (AND YOUR DARK LORD’S DESTRUCTION KINK)
ARABELLA
“You’re staring.” I lowered my fork to my plate.
Kazimir had been watching me eat for several minutes, staring at me like he couldn’t decide whether to devour me or the meal first. The cozy alcove of his tower hid a private dining area I hadn’t known existed until this morning, when he’d led me here after we’d finally exhausted ourselves.
Outside the tall windows, diffused sunlight filtered through the clouds, making everything in the room glow.
He leaned back in his chair, all dark elegance and insufferable confidence. “Am I not allowed to look at my wife?”
“Not when she’s trying to eat.” I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of the pleasant ache in my body. “It’s unnerving.”
He shrugged, his slow smile unapologetic. “I enjoy watching you enjoy things. You have a little quirk—your eyes widen, and your mouth twitches up just before you catch yourself.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “You’re being ridiculous.”
For a few moments, we ate in near silence.
I found myself stealing glances at him despite chiding him for doing the same.
I studied the way the sunlight darkened the gleam of his hair, the decisive movements of his hands, the faint stubble along his jaw that I’d felt against my skin not so long ago.
This was our first breakfast together. Normally, he was gone before I woke up.
It wasn’t a casual shift in his routine; it was a deliberate choice.
Kazimir caught me looking as he reached for the honey. “Now you’re the one staring.”
“I was just thinking this is nice,” I said, deflecting. “Though I’m surprised the Dark Lord takes time for breakfast at all. Doesn’t it interfere with your schedule of terrorizing the countryside?”
“Terrorizing on an empty stomach leads to poor decision-making. Beheading the wrong peasant, that sort of thing.” He gestured dismissively with his spoon. “Besides, I’ve already completed my morning terror. The kitchen staff was quite alarmed when I requested breakfast for two.”
I laughed and grabbed my tea cup. “The Dark Lord, domesticated at last.”
“Perhaps.” He reached across the table and brushed his fingertip along the inside of my wrist. A tingling wave of magic rippled up my arm. “I’ve never felt magic quite like this. Can you sense it? Under your skin?”
I nodded. Since last night, my power had been thrumming through me, vibrant and alive in ways I’d never experienced.
“It’s like...” I searched for the right words. “Like I’ve been holding my breath for years, but I didn’t know it. And now I can finally breathe.”
The hint of a smile left Kazimir’s face, and he withdrew his hand from mine. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I set down my cup, suddenly wary. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s about your father.” He paused, watching me carefully. “And what I discovered at Evenfall Estate.”
My stomach twisted unpleasantly. “You went there?”
“A couple of weeks ago, yes. I needed to see what kind of man thinks it’s acceptable to lock his daughter in a tower.” His jaw tightened. “And I discovered something you deserve to know.”
I waited, not trusting myself to speak. Kazimir’s eyes met mine, and I was startled by the anger I saw there—not directed at me, but for me.
“Your father’s estate is riddled with suppression runes,” he finally said. “Powerful ones, designed specifically to dampen magical abilities. They’re concentrated most heavily in the tower where you were imprisoned, but they’re throughout the manor as well.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Suppression?”
“Blood-bound inhibitors. Old ones.” Kazimir’s expression hardened. “Some were recently activated, but others have been there for decades. Your father clearly has no magic of his own, so he must have paid people over the years to create and maintain them.”
A memory surfaced of my father’s furious grip on my arm, dragging me into the tower after I’d used my truth-sense to expose one of his lies at a dinner party. “You’ll learn your place,” he’d snarled. “Or you’ll stay in that tower until you do.”
I’d spent a year in that cold, silent prison. A year of being forced to cling to illusions for comfort, the heartbreak of suspecting no one outside those walls cared if I ever reemerged.
“He told everyone I was ill,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue. “That I needed isolation to recover. And they believed him, because who would question Lord Evenfall about his own daughter?”
The magic that had been humming pleasantly beneath my skin all morning now roared to life, responding to my fury. I could feel it surging through me, wild and untamed, seeking an outlet.
“The tower wasn’t just a punishment,” Kazimir continued, his voice gentle. “Each time you began to grow too powerful, he’d lock you away until the runes could do their work. Until you were... diminished again.”
“Why?” I managed, though I wasn’t sure if I was asking Kazimir or the universe at large. “Why would he do that to his own daughter?”
“Fear,” he said simply. “Your bloodline carries immense power that he couldn’t hope to control or understand. So he did what weak men always do when faced with something stronger than themselves. He tried to break it.”
My hands began to tremble. I curled them into fists to hide it, but Kazimir noticed. Of course he noticed.
“The runes were specific to your bloodline,” he continued, his voice soft. “They wouldn’t have affected anyone else in the household. Just you.”
“Not just me.” The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick.
“My mother was from the First Hero’s bloodline.
That’s why my father married her.” I laughed, a bitter sound that scraped my throat.
“I always thought it was strange that she never showed any magical ability. She used to tell me stories about our ancestor, about the magic in our blood. But I never saw her use it.”
“Because she couldn’t,” Kazimir said. “Not with those runes in place.”
“And then he did the same to me.” The humming beneath my skin intensified, turning sharp and insistent.
My fingertips tingled. The teacup in front of me began to tremble, then crack, a hairline fracture spreading across the delicate porcelain.
“He would lock me in that tower whenever I showed signs of anything beyond healing magic. He called it ‘discipline’ for being too weak to control myself.”
“You were never weak,” Kazimir said firmly. “Even with your powers suppressed, you were formidable. I sensed it the moment I saw you. And you’ve demonstrated it several times over.”
The prickly, scalding rage unfurled under my skin. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” Kazimir’s eyes were dark with something that might have been regret. “I considered it. But I thought that decision should be yours.”
The sunlight seemed to intensify, glinting off the silverware until it hurt to look at it. The windows began to rattle in their frames as my magic pushed outward, seeking release. I could feel the glass vibrating, hear the high-pitched whine as pressure built against the panes.
“Arabella,” Kazimir said quietly, caution in his tone.
I ignored him, lost in the storm of my own rage. My father had stolen my mother’s magic. Had stolen mine.
The pressure built to an unbearable crescendo. Magic exploded outward from me in a wave of pure, unfiltered rage. The windows shattered, glass flying outward into the open air beyond the tower. Plates cracked. Goblets shattered.
Cold air rushed in, whipping my hair around my face. I gasped, suddenly aware of what I’d done.
Kazimir hadn’t moved. He sat across from me, utterly calm, as if having breakfast amid a shower of broken glass was a perfectly normal occurrence.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” I asked, bewildered by his lack of reaction.
He brushed a shard from his shoulder. “I’m familiar with the catharsis of creative destruction. You needed that.”
I stared at him, then at the destruction around us. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me—slightly hysterical, but genuine. I took a shaky breath. “So then what happened yesterday, in the war room?”
His eyes gleamed with pride. “Yesterday wasn’t just an accident of passion. I believe the last hold on your magic snapped, and well...” He gestured at the devastation around us. “You’ve been holding back a great deal of power for a very long time.”
I stared at my hands, which were trembling with the magic coursing through me, stronger and wilder than it had ever been.
When I looked up, Kazimir was kneeling beside my chair.
He took my hands in his. “What you’re feeling now, that constant hum of power under your skin?
That’s you, unbound and unchained. Exactly as you should be. ”
He squeezed my fingers gently. “About the blood test you yelled at me for… I discovered something.”
“What?”
“Your bloodline magic amplifies other magic to an extraordinary degree.” His eyes held mine, intense and serious. “When combined with mine, the effect is unprecedented.”
I pulled my hands away and stood. “Now I’m some kind of magical anomaly?”
“You’re extraordinary,” Kazimir corrected, following me.
His feet crunched over broken glass. “You’re from the First Hero’s line, sure, but there’s something older woven into it.
I can’t claim to know the exact source. I only know you have the capacity to become far stronger than your father ever realized.
Now that the runes can’t dampen your power, your magic will keep growing.
We’ll work on your control, but otherwise…
” He breathed in, eyes ablaze with a dangerous excitement. “The possibilities are endless.”
For the first time, I noticed a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek where a shard had caught him.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, reaching toward his face.
Kazimir went perfectly still as my fingers hovered near the cut. “What are you doing?”
“Healing you. Don’t be difficult.”
He tensed when my magic made contact with the wound. The cut sealed beneath my touch, leaving unblemished skin. When I withdrew my hand, he trapped it in his own and pressed a kiss to my palm.
“What happens now?” I whispered.
“That depends on you,” he said. He didn’t relinquish my hand. “What do you want to do about your father?”
The question caught me off guard. “I… don’t have any idea.”
“If you want vengeance, I’ll help you take it. If you want to curse his lands until nothing grows for a hundred years, I’ll teach you how. If you want his head on a pike outside our gates...” He shrugged. “I have several pikes available.”
“And if I choose mercy?”
He sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose I’ll have to live with it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I need time to think.”
He leaned in, brushed a careful kiss on my cheek. “Take all the time you need.” Then he dropped his voice, half-serious and half-wry. “But if he comes near you, I can’t promise I won’t remove his spine.”
“Kaz?” I asked, a slight tremor betraying the swirl of emotions in my chest.
“Yes?”
“Did you know all this would happen when we had sex?”
Laughter rumbled through his chest, and his arms slipped around my waist in a slow, possessive gesture. “Do you really think I would have held onto that knowledge, knowing that it might have persuaded you earlier?”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. Kazimir’s hand slid beneath my chin, lifting my face until I had no choice but to meet the intensity burning in his eyes.
“I am glad,” he said softly. “That I didn’t know. That we discovered it together.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip. “Your power is your own now, Arabella. No one will ever cage it again. Least of all me.”
Before either of us could say anything more, the door burst open. Griffin stood there, his eyes wide as he took in the scene—the broken windows, the glass scattered across the floor, the two of us standing calmly amid the destruction and the swirl of cold air.
“My lord! Lady Blackrose! Are you—” He stopped, clearly reassessing the situation. “I heard the windows break, but I see you’re... fine?”
“Perfectly fine,” Kazimir said drily. “Lady Blackrose was just redecorating again.”
Griffin’s gaze darted between us, uncertainty written across his features. “I see. Well, that’s... creative.”
“Did you need something, Griffin?” Kazimir asked, his tone making it clear that the interruption had better be important.
“Yes, my lord.” Griffin straightened. “It’s the Heirloom. It’s... changed since last night… glowing, pulsing with energy. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Kazimir’s attitude shifted from affectionate to razor-sharp in a heartbeat. “We’ll be there shortly.”
As the door closed behind Griffin, Kazimir turned back to me. “Are you all right?”
I wasn’t. Not even close. But I nodded anyway.
He caught my arm as I moved for the door, his touch gentle but firm. “I want you to know,” he said, “that your rage is justified. And when you decide what to do with it, I’ll be there.”
He squeezed my arm once before releasing it. “Now, let’s see what your magic has done to my Heirloom.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 51 (Reading here)
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