Hazel's POV

The sound of the door opening nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. My heart jumped to my throat, and I almost screamed-until I realized it was just the women again.

Only this time, they weren't empty-handed.

Each carried something-a tray stacked with the richest food I'd ever seen, and several glossy boxes tied with gold ribbons. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread hit me, warm and buttery, so real it made my stomach twist painfully.

But did I look like I had an appetite right now?

"Your Majesty," the eldest woman said softly, setting the tray on the table. "We've brought your meal, and your nightgowns. You are to choose one for tonight."

"Nightgowns?" I repeated, blinking. "For what?"

Her eyes flicked to the others before meeting mine again. "For the King," she said. "You'll be meeting him tonight. Did you forget already?"

My stomach dropped. "Meeting him?" My voice cracked. "As in-tonight? Like tonight tonight?"

"Yes, my Queen. We'll help you prepare when it's time."

Prepare. As if I were some offering being dressed for sacrifice.

Before I could say another word, they bowed low and slipped out of the room, silent as ghosts.

I stared at the boxes. Then at the food.

My brain screamed don't eat it. But my stomach growled loud enough to echo.

I sighed. "Fine. If this is a dream, at least it's a dream with nice food."

The first bite hit my tongue, and I nearly moaned. Whatever this was-chicken? heaven?-it melted in my mouth. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I was scraping the plate clean.

And then, like the idiot I apparently was, I turned to the boxes.

The first one popped open with a click-and I froze.

Inside was silk. Black, thin, and scandalous enough to make a stripper blush. My face burned.

"What the actual hell is this?"

I opened the second box. Worse. The third-don't even ask. By the fifth, I was staring at a pile of lace and regret.

They expected me to wear this... for a man who hates his queen?

I kicked the boxes off the bed and flopped backward, staring at the ceiling. "This is insane. Completely insane."

I didn't know when I drifted off, but the next thing I heard was a knock.

I shot upright, breath catching.

"Come in," I said, trying to sound brave.

The women entered again, the eldest speaking first. "It's time, my Queen."

My throat went dry. "Time for what?"

"To prepare you," she said simply.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. I stumbled to my feet, my mind spinning. I wanted to run, scream, anything-but instead, I found myself walking to the bathroom as they instructed.

The moment the water hit my skin, I wished I could drown in it. The steam filled the air, warm and heavy, and I pressed my hands to my face. This was really happening.

My first time. With a stranger.

A king who didn't even want me.

I wanted to cry-but no. No.

I was Hazel Truman. And Hazel Truman did not cower.

When I stepped out, they were waiting with towels, perfume, and lotions that smelled like money. Their hands worked fast-rubbing oil into my skin, twisting my hair into something soft and elegant. Every second felt heavier, like I was being wrapped in fear.

"Perfect," the eldest woman whispered as she tied the sash of my robe. "You look beautiful, my Queen. The King won't be able to resist you."

I forced a smile. "Yeah. What a joy."

They didn't catch the sarcasm-or pretended not to.

When they finally led me through the hallways, I tried to focus on breathing. The palace was even larger than I expected, with endless corridors. The scent of burning candles and fresh roses filled the air.

My heart thudded in time with my footsteps.

Then we stopped.

Before me stood two tall brown doors-each carved with the head of a wolf. Its eyes seemed to glint in the dim light, almost alive.

"The King is waiting," the eldest said quietly.

The guards stepped forward and pushed the doors open.

My pulse roared in my ears.

I swallowed hard and stepped inside.

The doors shut behind me with a deep, echoing thud.

The room was dim-candles flickered in corners, casting golden shadows over the walls. The air smelled like roses and something darker I couldn't name.

Then I saw him.

A tall man stood by the window, his back to me.

Bare from the waist up. Only dark pants hung low on his hips. His hands rested in his pockets, shoulders broad and tense, muscles shifting with every breath.

For a moment, I just... stared.

The air between us was thick-like even the silence had weight.

Then, slowly, he turned.

And my world tilted.

The breath left my lungs in one violent rush. My body went still, completely frozen.

Because standing there-bathed in candlelight, eyes sharp and familiar-was a face I knew.

A face I could never mistake.

My voice came out in a whisper, barely audible.

"Professor...Nicholas?"

Hazel's POV

For a full five seconds, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

No. No way. That couldn't be him.

I blinked once. Twice. My eyes didn't lie.

Standing before me-half-naked, skin lit by candlelight, muscles shifting under smooth golden skin-was my psychology professor.

"Professor Nicholas?" I whispered again, my voice barely a breath.

He turned fully now, blue eyes piercing into mine with a look so sharp it felt like a blade. But it wasn't the gentle, kind professor who used to smile when I answered a question in class. This man's gaze was cold. Hard. The same eyes, but with something cruel swimming behind them.

My knees wobbled. "What the hell..." I muttered, staring at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Nothing made sense. My heart pounded so fast it almost hurt. The man I'd secretly crushed on for a year-the one who told me once that I "had potential"-was standing here, shirtless, in a king's chamber, looking like sin and damnation rolled into one.

His lips curved slightly, but it wasn't a smile. It was mockery. "Let's get this over with," he said flatly, taking a step toward me.

My breath hitched. "Get... this over with?"

And then it hit me.

The look in his eyes. The palace. The women preparing me.

No.

This wasn't Professor Nicholas.

This was the King.

The Alpha King I was supposed to-oh, God.

I threw my hands up. "Hold your horses!"

He stopped, brows furrowing slightly as if I'd spoken another language.

"What now?" His tone dripped irritation. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

His eyes darkened, voice low and cruel. "You tried to kill yourself to get my attention. You wanted me to touch you, didn't you? You wanted to bear my child."

I stared at him, speechless for a moment. Then the shock burned away-and anger took its place.

"What I want," I snapped, "is for you to stop being a jerk and keep your fucking hands to yourself."

The King froze.

For a heartbeat, his expression was pure disbelief. Then, just as quickly, it vanished-buried under that same cold mask.

I could tell he wasn't used to being spoken to like that. Maybe the real queen never dared.

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "What game are you playing now, Hazel?"

My stomach dropped.

Hazel.

That's my name. I don't remember telling anyone my name here.

For a second, my brain short-circuited. Wait-the real queen's name was Hazel too? What the hell kind of twisted joke was this?

I didn't even have time to think because the next thing I knew, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him.

I crashed into his chest.

Hard.

The air whooshed out of my lungs as I stared up at him-his jaw tense, his eyes inches from mine. His skin was hot, muscles hard beneath my palms. The scent of him-smoke, forest, and something darker-wrapped around me, dizzying.

For a terrifying second, I forgot everything. The anger. The fear. The reason I was here.

I just... stared.

His eyes flickered down to my lips, then back to my face. "The sooner we do this," he said coldly, "the sooner you can get the hell out of my sight."

And just like that, the spell shattered.

Right. He wasn't my professor. He was a jerk. A King who hated his queen.

I shoved against him, hard enough that he stumbled back a step.

"What makes you think you deserve me?" I demanded, my voice shaking but loud. "What makes you think you deserve to touch me?"

His jaw clenched.

I didn't stop. "Why don't you go to your mistress instead?"

The air in the room changed.

His blue eyes turned to ice. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stared at me, like he couldn't believe I'd just said that.

"Don't test me," he said, voice dropping an octave, low and dangerous.

I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. "Oh, I'm not testing you."

He blinked.

I let my eyes roam over him slowly-from his sharp jaw to his sculpted chest, down to the V line that disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Then I looked back up and said, "I'm just saying it's such a pity. You've got a handsome face and a nice body-but absolutely no brain. What a shame."

For a moment, the room went silent.

Then his expression turned murderous.

The look on his face could have frozen lava. Good thing I wasn't lava.

His voice came out like thunder. "How dare you interrupt me when I speak to you-"

I cut him off, smirking. "Did you forget? I'm your queen. Which means I'm your equal."

The shock on his face was almost funny.

Almost.

He looked at me like I'd just grown a second head. Like he was trying to figure out who the hell was standing in front of him.

"When," he asked slowly, his voice dripping suspicion, "did you get so bold?"

I shrugged. "The moment I realized the King would rather protect his mistress than his Queen."

That hit him. I could see it in the flicker of his eyes.

He scoffed, stepping closer again. The heat coming off his body was unbearable. "I don't care what rubbish is going through your head," he said coldly. "But we're going to consummate this marriage whether you like it or not."

I smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. "I'd like to see you try."

Something in his expression shifted-just slightly. His jaw tightened, and the vein in his neck pulsed.

He took another step forward. His voice dropped, darker now. "Get on the fucking bed, Hazel."

I didn't move.

I looked him straight in the eyes.

And then, slowly, deliberately, I said;

"In your dreams."

Hazel's POV

Before I could blink, he pulled me to him.

One second, I was glaring at him; the next, my back hit the bed with a soft thud that sent a tremor through my spine. My gasp filled the silence. The silk sheets were cold against my skin, but his body hovering above me burned like fire.

"What the hell-"

My voice broke off when his hand gripped my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him. His blue eyes were darker-stormy, dangerous, and full of something I couldn't name.

"You've always wanted this," he said through clenched teeth. "And now that I'm giving it to you, you're fighting me?"

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. His words didn't make sense. None of this did.

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, to push him away-but before I could even think, his lips crashed against mine.

The world tilted.

Every rational thought vanished. My mind went blank.

It felt like someone had hit a switch inside me-like my brain stopped working and my body took over. His lips were rough, demanding, desperate. The kiss wasn't gentle; it was war. And somehow, my body responded like it had been waiting for it all along.

No.

No, no, no.

This was insane.

I didn't want this. I didn't even fucking know this man.

But my body... betrayed me.

My hands pressed against his chest, not to push but to feel. My spine arched off the bed, heat crawling up my neck. A sound slipped from my lips-a soft, broken moan that didn't even sound like me.

Oh God.

That didn't come from me.

I wanted to deny it, to bury it somewhere in the back of my mind, but his mouth moved against mine again, stealing the air from my lungs. I could taste him-bitterness and heat-and my thoughts blurred until all that existed was the weight of his body and the rhythm of our uneven breaths.

"Stop," I tried to say, but it came out as another breathless sound.

His hand moved to the side of my face, then lower, tracing the edge of my jaw before sliding down the curve of my neck. My pulse leapt beneath his touch. I hated it-how my body reacted, how it trembled like it recognized him.

He groaned against my mouth, the sound low and rough, like he was fighting something too. His lips trailed down my throat, and my breath caught when his teeth grazed my skin.

No. This wasn't right.

This wasn't my professor. This was the dumb ass King.

The same cruel man who treated his queen like shit.

So why did it feel like every nerve in my body had caught fire?

His breath was hot against my collarbone. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to snap myself out of it, but then his hand moved again-down my arm, down my side, until it found the edge of my robe.

"Don't-" I started, but he didn't listen.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the room.

He ripped the robe off me in one brutal motion and threw it somewhere behind him. Cool air brushed my bare skin, and I gasped, arms instinctively flying up to cover myself.

"Stop!" I said, breathless.

He didn't stop.

His eyes flicked down, dark and hungry, and then he tore at the thin nightgown beneath, shredding it like paper until I was left trembling under his gaze.

He didn't even give me a second to breathe before his mouth was on me again-lower this time. The heat of his lips burned against my skin, and when I felt the rough drag of his tongue on my nipple, my body jolted.

I should have fought. I should have screamed. I should have pushed him off.

But instead, my hands grabbed his shoulders. Not to shove him away-but to hold on.

He groaned again, the sound vibrating against me as his lips found the sensitive spot on my chest. My breath hitched. My mind screamed stop, but my body melted deeper into the bed, every inch of me trembling from the confusion of it all.

"You're so wet for me," he growled against my skin, his voice low, primal.

My eyes flew open.

I shook my head, denial crashing through me. "No," I whispered, but the word was weak, shaky, a lie my body refused to believe.

Then he kissed me again, harder this time, swallowing the sound that escaped me. The world spun. I didn't know what was happening anymore-where I ended and he began.

My heart was pounding out of control. I could feel every beat in my throat, in my chest, between my legs.

When had I lost control?

His hand slid down, fingers brushing places that made my whole body tense and shiver at once. A choked sound left my lips-half protest, half something else entirely.

He lifted his head, eyes locking onto mine, dark and unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw something there-pain? Desire? Anger? I couldn't tell.

Then his mouth was back on mine, urgent, consuming.

Somewhere in the haze, I realized his body pressed closer, harder. I felt the roughness of him against my skin-and then something else.

Something hot. Heavy. Hard.

My breath caught. My eyes flew open.

When the hell did he take his pants off?

His hips pressed forward slightly, and I felt it-him-rub against my stomach, sending a shiver straight through me. My pulse roared in my ears, a warning, a plea, a thousand thoughts tangled together.

No. This couldn't be happening.

I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear-but I couldn't move.

Then I felt him shift, his hand sliding down, guiding himself lower, until I felt the hard length of him brush between my legs.

And in that instant-everything stopped.

My breath. My heartbeat. The world itself.

I froze.

And before I could stop myself, my hand landed on his face with a hard slap.

"You fucking bastard!"