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!"

Hazel's POV

My palm stung from the slap, but the sound of it cracking across his face was the most satisfying thing I'd felt all day since waking up in this life.

His head snapped to the side. For one perfect second, the mighty King looked stunned-like he honestly couldn't believe someone had dared.

Then his expression twisted-rage, confusion, something dark-and he lunged again.

Absolutely not.

Before he could even blink, my knee shot up with perfect, furious accuracy.

My foot connected with his balls.

Hard.

The sound he made-dear God. It was half-gasp, half-death rattle. His entire body folded, and he dropped to the side of the bed like a fallen tree, clutching himself as a deep groan tore out of his throat.

Good.

Serves him right.

I scrambled backward, yanking the thick blanket up to my chin like it was armor. My chest was heaving, heart slamming against my ribs, skin still burning where his mouth had been. I hated that my body was shaking-and not just from anger.

He stayed on the floor for a second, curled on his side, breathing like he was dying. When he finally pushed himself up on one elbow, his face was white, eyes murderous.

I glared down at him. "Who the hell told you you have the right to touch me?" My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "You think you can just take whatever you want because you're the king?"

He dragged in a rough breath, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. When he spoke, it came out low and dangerous.

"You're my wife, Hazel."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. The sound burst out of me, sharp and bitter and a little crazy.

"Your wife?" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand like I could erase him. "The wife you refused to touch for three damn years? The wife you let your mistress humiliate? That wife?"

I sat up straighter, clutching the blanket tighter. "And now-now-you suddenly decide you want inside my legs, and I'm supposed to just open them like a good little queen? You're even dumber than I thought."

He pushed to his feet slowly, like every movement hurt and it damn well should. My eyes betrayed me for half a second-sliding down before I could stop them.

Holy mother of-

He was huge.

Like...ruin-your-life huge. Thick, hard, and still half-ready even after I'd tried to rearrange his insides. The air left my lungs in a whoosh. Heat flooded my face, and lower, and I hated myself for it.

Snap out of it, Hazel.

Focus. You're angry. You're furious. You're putting him in his place.

Not staring at his...royal weapon.

I dragged my gaze back up to his face and poured every ounce of ice I had into my voice.

"Listen carefully, Mr. King," I said, slow and clear. "I don't know what's going on in that thick skull of yours tonight, but you will never touch me again. Ever."

His eyes flashed. He took one step closer, completely naked, completely shameless. "We have a duty. The kingdom expects an heir-"

"Then go make one with your mistress," I snapped, hopping off the bed with the blanket wrapped around me. "I hear she's your favorite. She's dying to give you babies, isn't she?"

His jaw ticked. A muscle jumped in his cheek. "What is wrong with you, Hazel? You've always wanted this. I saw it. Every time I touched Liora, I see the look in your eyes-"

"Oh shut up," I cut in."You're delusional. COMPLETELY delusional. You let your mistress bully your queen, mock her, parade around like she was the real queen. And now-because you suddenly feel bad, or horny, you think I'll just roll over and thank you?"

I laughed again, colder this time. "News flash, Your Majesty. This queen doesn't spread her legs for men who aren't worthy. And what just happened? That little mess you made?" I waved a hand between us. "It will NEVER happen again. Ever."

Something in his eyes shifted-hurt? Rage? Shock? I didn't care.

He grabbed my wrist so fast I didn't have time to jerk away. His grip was iron.

"Everyone expects us to consummate this marriage tonight." He growled. "What am I supposed to tell them tomorrow when there's no blood on the sheets?"

I smiled, slow and mean.

Then I yanked my hand out of his grip.

"Tell them the king wasn't good enough."

His entire body froze.

"... Pardon?"

"You heard me." I shrugged casually, though my heart was pounding with adrenaline. "Tell them you couldn't get it up. Or you finished in ten seconds. Or-my favorite-that you've been sleeping with your mistress so long, you've got performance issues with your actual wife. Who knows? Maybe you might have low sperm count."

He eyes widened in pure horror.

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

I yawned-huge, dramatic, fake as hell. "I've had one hell of a day. Or nightmare. Whatever this is. I'm tired, and I need sleep. So good night, Mr. King."

I turned to climb onto the bed, but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm, spinning me back to face him.

"We are consummating this marriage," he snarled.

I looked down at his hand on my arm, then up at him, sweet as sugar. "You only get what you deserve. And you? You've earned NOTHING from me."

His jaw flexed, muscles ticking.

"If you're that desperate to get laid, go to your mistress. I'm sure she's waiting with her legs already open."

I yanked free, climbed under the blankets, and pulled them up to my chin. He stood there, breathing hard, staring at me like he didn't recognize me.

After a long, furious silence, he turned toward the bed.

I sat up suddenly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He threw me a cold look over his shoulder. "Going to bed."

"Hell no." I pointed across the room. "You're sleeping on that couch."

He raised an eyebrow. "This is my room."

I smiled, all teeth. "Then I'll walk downstairs right now-in this blanket-and tell everyone how bad you were. How you couldn't even last long enough to make it interesting. How I got bored."

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. His eyes went absolutely arctic.

Without a word, he grabbed a pillow off the bed, stalked to the fancy couch on the far side of the room, and threw himself onto it like it had personally offended him.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

The couch was small compared to his frame. His legs hung off the end, one arm draped over his face, the other clenched into a fist. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable, anger rolling off him in waves I could feel from here.

I couldn't resist.

I let out the most satisfied, over-the-top sigh I could muster, stretched like a cat, and sang, "Good night, Mr. King. Sweet dreams."

The only answer was a low, furious growl from the couch.

I grinned into the dark.

This might not be my life.

But damn, I was having fun ruining his.