I Am The Luna Queen

I went to sleep a nobody. I woke up a Queen. One night I was just a broke, exhausted college girl. The next, I opened my eyes in silk sheets, with strangers bowing and calling me Luna Queen. The face in the mirror is mine. The body is mine. But the life isn’t. The bruises on my wrists tell a story I don’t remember, and the King I’m bound to doesn’t love me—he loathes me. They whisper that his mistress rules the palace. They say the Queen was weak. Silent. Broken. But that was before me. Now I must survive a palace that wants me dead, a King whose touch burns as much as it scars, and a kingdom waiting for me to fail. The old Luna Queen bowed to cruelty. I am not her. And if this King thinks I’ll kneel, he’s about to learn what a true Queen is made of. Chapter 1-Waking Up a Queen Hazel’s Pov I went to sleep in my dorm room. That much I’m sure of. My last memory is the soft hum of the radiator, the faint glow of my laptop screen casting blue across the walls, and the quiet chaos of half-finished notes scattered on my desk. I remember setting my alarm, curling under my blanket, and letting exhaustion finally drag me under. But when I woke up… It wasn’t my ceiling I stared at. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of smoke and herbs, something cloying and strange. A chill pressed into my skin, though the surface beneath me was warm—too warm, like I was lying on silk sheets pulled from a fever dream. My eyes fluttered, my chest heaved, and the sound hit me first. Crying. Dozens of soft, choked sobs echoing around me, broken only by frantic whispers. “My Queen—please, please open your eyes—” “She’s breathing—oh, Moon Goddess, she’s breathing!” “Call the doctor, now! Hurry!” My eyes shot open, a gasp tearing through my throat. The noise stopped instantly. A cluster of women knelt around me, dressed in maids uniform. Faces blotched with tears, hands pressed together in prayer or desperation. Their eyes, wide and gleaming, fixed on me as if I were some miracle risen from the dead. “Your Majesty,” one whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re awake.” I sat up too fast, my head swimming. “What the hell—” But the voice that came out of my mouth sounded strange. It was higher. Softer. Wrong. My hands trembled as I lifted them, staring at pale, delicate fingers tipped with perfectly manicured nails painted blood-red. My gaze slid lower—to the silken dress draped across my body, the neckline dipping scandalously low. “What the fuck…” The whisper scraped past my lips. The women surrounding me exchanged alarmed glances, but none corrected me. Instead, they shuffled closer, like moths drawn to a flame. “Do you need water, my Queen?” one asked, her trembling hands already reaching for a crystal glass from the bedside table. “My Queen.” “Your Majesty.” “Our Queen.” The words stabbed at me again and again, their reverence so absolute it terrified me. Queen? I wasn’t a queen. I was a twenty two year-old college student who had fallen asleep during a N*****x binge and was supposed to have a quiz in English Lit tomorrow morning. This was insane. “Okay,” I said, holding up a shaky hand to stop them. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not—whatever you think I am. I’m not your queen.” The room stilled. For a heartbeat, nobody breathed. Then, as if choreographed, they all dropped their gazes to the floor, pressing their foreheads down toward the polished hardwood like I’d just blasphemed. One of them whispered, “The mistress will hear…” My stomach twisted. Mistress? Before I could ask, the doors at the far end of the room opened—softly, like someone pushing through velvet. The women flinched. Their bodies shrank toward me instinctively, shielding me as if they knew danger had just entered the room. I craned my neck and froze. A tall woman walked in, draped in black silk, her hair a cascade of raven curls that framed a face too sharp, too cruelly beautiful. Her lips curled into a smirk when her eyes landed on me. “Well,” she purred, her voice like poisoned honey. “The corpse rises.” The tension in the room thickened until it pressed against my ribs. The women beside me pressed lower to the ground, their fear palpable, their hands trembling as though even their breathing might offend her. The stranger approached my bed with leisurely steps, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She looked down at me, her eyes glittering with malice, and for the first time I noticed the faint, red-rimmed bruises on my wrists. My wrists. My gut twisted violently. Had she—? “Careful, pet,” she drawled, leaning in so close I caught the sharp bite of her perfume. “Death doesn’t excuse insolence. The Alpha king may tolerate your existence, but I do not.” Alpha King? The word struck like a lightning bolt, a piece of a puzzle slamming into place. Alpha king. Queen. Mistress. My skin prickled, and dread seeped into every corner of my mind. I wasn’t in my room anymore. I had woken up in someone else’s life. And judging by the bruises, by the way this woman’s words dripped venom, by the sheer terror etched into the faces of the attendants still kneeling around me… That life was a nightmare. “I…” My throat closed around the words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her laughter sliced through me like glass. “Oh, how convenient. The Queen forgets. Tell me, will your memory return before tonight, when His Majesty summons you? Or will you shame him with your pathetic excuses again?” Heat surged into my face. His Majesty? Summons? The questions clawed at me, but I swallowed them down. Every instinct screamed not to give this woman more ammunition. She tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “No matter. Whether you remember or not, your place remains the same—beneath me.” The words landed like a brand against my skin. And though confusion and fear churned in my chest, something else rose with it—anger. Because whoever this queen was, she had been broken. Bruised. Forced into silence. Surrounded by cruelty disguised as loyalty. But me? I wasn’t built to bow. I met the woman’s gaze, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “We’ll see about that.” Her eyes narrowed, surprise flickering there before she masked it with another cruel smile. “We shall,” she whispered, before turning on her heel and storming out, her gown whispering across the floor. The moment the doors shut, the attendants exhaled in shaky unison. One of them grabbed my hand, tears pooling in her eyes. “My Queen, please,” she begged. “You mustn’t provoke the Lady. She has His Majesty’s heart. If she—if she tells him—” Her words cracked. But I didn’t hear the rest. Because my heart was pounding too loud, drowning out everything. His Majesty. The Alpha King. The man whose queen’s body I now inhabited. And if what I’d just seen was any indication, he wasn’t a savior. He wasn’t a husband. He was the monster who let his mistress tear his wife apart. And now, I was trapped in her place. Holy fuck this must be a nightmare. I'll soon wake up, yes, I have to wake up. Chapter 2-This Must be a Dream When I opened my eyes again, I almost cried in relief. Almost. For one stupid, blissful second, I thought I’d woken up back in my dorm room. That all of it—the crying women, the silk sheets, the psycho lady in black—had been some vivid stress-dream my brain cooked up after one too many energy drinks. But then I saw them. I squeezed my eyes shut. Just breathe, I told myself. Just wake up. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Any second now, I’d open my eyes and see my dorm ceiling—the cheap plaster cracks, the glow of my laptop still sitting on my desk, my roommate snoring like a dying engine. I held my breath, counted to five, and opened my eyes. Still here. The same room. The same silken sheets. The same cluster of women staring at me like I was made of glass. “Oh, come on,” I whispered, running a shaky hand through my hair. “This has got to be the worst nightmare of my life.” “My Queen?” one of them said softly. “Don’t call me that,” I snapped, climbing off the bed. The moment my bare feet hit the polished floor, the women gasped like I’d just set myself on fire. “Your Majesty, please!” one cried, rushing forward with her hands out as if I might shatter. “You shouldn’t move so suddenly!” “I shouldn’t—” I stared at her, incredulous. “What am I, a porcelain doll?” They exchanged glances, their faces pale and trembling. "Your Majesty, we're just worried about you...you tried...you tried to kill yourself...by jumping off the cliff into the ocean..." One of the women said, eyes closing like she was recalling a terrible memory. I looked at her in confusion. “I need answers,” I muttered, pacing across the room. The silk nightdress brushed my legs as I moved, the hem whispering against my skin. I ignored it, running both hands through my hair and turning on them. “So,” I said slowly, my voice rising, “what you’re trying to tell me is that… I—the queen—tried to kill herself by jumping into the ocean?” The maids froze. Their silence was answer enough. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “My Queen,” the oldest woman said, stepping forward carefully, “are you feeling unwell? You’ve been through so much—perhaps you shouldn’t speak—” “I’m not your queen!” I shouted, the words ripping out before I could stop them. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here or if this is some messed-up movie set I’ve been kidnapped into, but I want out!” The women looked horrified. One clutched her chest. Another whispered something under her breath that sounded like a prayer. “Kidnapped?” one of them echoed, her voice trembling. “My Queen, no—you almost died. If the King hadn’t given you his blood to drink, you would have been gone forever.” I blinked. “His what?” “His blood,” she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “To save you.” “Ew—blood?!” I recoiled, my stomach turning. “What the hell are you talking about? What is this place?” They stared at me, confused and terrified, as if my reaction was more shocking than the words coming out of their mouths. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to steady myself. “Nope. Nope. I’m done. I’m leaving. I’m not going to put up with whatever is going on here—I’m out of here.” I turned toward the massive double doors, but before I could take two steps, two of them rushed to block my path. “Please, Your Majesty, wait!” one cried. “You must calm down!” “Calm down?” My voice cracked with disbelief. “I wake up in a stranger’s bed, in this strange room and you’re telling me to calm down?” They flinched. One of them looked like she might faint. “Your Majesty,” whispered the youngest one, her hands twisting nervously in her apron. “Please, you might have hit your head. Maybe… maybe if we remind you what’s at stake, you’ll remember.” “What’s at stake?” I repeated, letting out a sharp, humorless laugh. “The only thing at stake is my sanity.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, just listen.” “I don’t want—” “Your Majesty,” another interrupted, her voice cracking. “Please don’t leave. You have to get back your honor in this palace.” That made me pause. I turned to face her slowly. “My… what?” “Your honor,” she said firmly, her chin trembling but her eyes steady. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I know you’ve been hurt—by the King and by his mistress. But please, don’t give them more reason to insult you.” The air in the room shifted. For the first time, I heard something new in their voices—not just fear. Pity. I frowned. “What are you talking about?” The oldest maid swallowed hard. “The King’s mistress always finds even the smallest excuse to humiliate you, my Queen. She mocks you for your weakness, for the King’s hatred, for everything. And the King… he does nothing to stop her.” My stomach twisted. “Wait—so the King hates me?” The women looked at each other. “He reminds you often,” one said quietly. “That you were forced upon him.” I stared at her, disbelief slamming into me like a physical blow. “Forced upon him? What does that even mean? Why would anyone force a man to marry someone he—” I stopped myself, pressing a hand to my mouth. “Oh my God.” The pieces clicked together in my mind like shards of glass. The mistress. The fear. The bruises on my wrists. The word Queen. Whoever’s life I was in—it wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a fucking cage. The oldest woman stepped closer, her voice trembling but resolute. “Tonight, my Queen,” she said softly, “you’ll have to be strong. For the first time in three years, you’ve been summoned by His Majesty.” “Summoned?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. “What for?” They hesitated. The silence stretched long enough to make my skin crawl. “What?” I demanded. “Say it.” The youngest one’s lips trembled. “To regain your honor,” she said finally. “Tonight, you will face him. You’ll prove you’re still worthy to stand as his Queen.” My heart pounded so hard I could feel it echo in my ears. “What the hell does that mean?” The oldest maid took a step forward, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “He has finally agreed,” she said. “After three years of marriage, His Majesty has agreed to consummate your union.” The room went silent. The words hit me like a thunderclap. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I just stood there, staring at them, my pulse roaring in my head. “Consummate?” I repeated, my voice flat. “As in—sex?” None of them answered. They didn’t need to. Their silence said everything. My knees felt weak. I stumbled back, gripping the bedpost like it could anchor me to reality. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. I was a college student, for God’s sake. I had a quiz, a life, friends—a normal existence that didn’t involve kings, mistresses, or royal blood-drinking rituals. And now I was being told that tonight—tonight—I was supposed to… sleep with a stranger? A king who supposedly hated me? No. No way in hell. “This is insane,” I whispered. “You’re insane. All of you.” One of the maids burst into tears. “Please, Your Majesty,” she sobbed. “Don’t speak like that. If the King hears, he’ll punish you again—” “Again?” My voice cracked. “He’s punished me before?” The room went dead quiet. No one moved. No one spoke. And that silence—that awful, knowing silence—was worse than any answer they could’ve given me. Something inside me twisted hard. I didn’t know who this queen was or what kind of life I’d fallen into, but one thing was clear: she had been living a nightmare long before I ever woke up in her place. And now, that nightmare was mine. I forced myself to stand tall, even though my hands were shaking. “Okay,” I said slowly, my voice shaking but steady enough to make them look up. “Let’s pretend this isn’t a complete fever dream for a second. You’re saying that tonight—after three years—this king finally wants to… sleep with me?” The oldest maid nodded hesitantly. “And I’m supposed to just… what? Smile? Pretend everything’s fine? Pretend I’m not terrified?” “My Queen,” she whispered, “you have no choice.” A bitter laugh tore from my throat. “Oh, I always have a choice.” But even as I said it, a cold dread pooled in my stomach. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure I did. The women bowed their heads, murmuring prayers or blessings I couldn’t understand. Their voices faded to a dull hum in my ears. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, fast and wild, like a trapped bird slamming against a cage. I took a shaky breath and looked at them. “Tell me one thing,” I said quietly. “This king—what kind of man is he?” They hesitated again, and that hesitation was answer enough. The oldest maid finally whispered, “Cruel.” The word hung in the air like a curse. Cruel. My throat went dry. “Right,” I said, forcing out a shaky laugh that didn’t sound like me. “Cruel. Great. Perfect.” My gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the sky was gray, heavy with clouds. Somewhere beyond those walls was freedom. My freedom. I didn’t know how I’d gotten here, or why I was trapped in another woman’s life—but one thing I knew for sure: I wasn’t about to be anyone’s victim. I wasn’t going to let some monster king touch me. He might have broken her. But he hadn’t met me. I clenched my fists, my pulse hammering with new resolve. “Fine,” I said, meeting their wide, tearful eyes. “If I’m supposed to meet this king tonight…” I took a slow breath, my voice dropping to a whisper. “…then he’s about to meet a queen he’s never seen before.” Chapter 3-The Kingdom of Valnera As if waking up in a strange room with a life that isn’t mine wasn't enough—now I have to have sex with a man I don’t even know. A man who apparently hates his queen. What could possibly be worse than this? I bit my finger hard enough to hurt, trying to stop the panic crawling up my throat. My hands ran through my hair, again and again, like I could somehow brush the madness away. I sat down, stood up, sat again—but nothing worked. Nothing was calming me down. How could I even be calm in this situation? The women were gone. It was just me now—me and my raging thoughts bouncing off the walls. I’d told myself a thousand times this had to be a dream, but the more I said it, the realer it became. The feel of the silk against my skin, the cold air, the smell of flowers that weren’t from anywhere near my college dorm—it all screamed real. Finally, I sat back on the bed and buried my face in my hands. My eyes burned, but I didn’t let the tears fall. What was the point of crying? It wouldn’t wake me up. It wouldn’t fix whatever this was. No, I needed to think. I needed to figure out what the hell was going on. I angrily wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up. Enough sitting around. Enough panicking. I marched toward the massive double doors and shoved them open. The sound echoed through the wide hallway. Two guards standing outside immediately straightened, their backs snapping like rulers. They both bowed low. I just… stared at them. They were dressed in all black from head to toe. Their faces were blank—like carved stone. Their eyes were sharp, watching my every move. “What the…” I muttered under my breath, making a face that clearly said what the hell? When I stepped forward, they instantly fell into step behind me. I spun around. “Why are you following me?” One of them didn’t even blink. “King’s order, my Queen.” King’s order. I turned back around and groaned. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.” They didn’t answer. Not even a twitch. I sighed and kept walking. My bare feet were silent on the marble floor as my eyes took in everything around me. The palace—because that’s what it had to be—was enormous. Every wall was carved with strange symbols. Chandeliers sparkled above my head, and long curtains the color of blood framed tall windows. Every time I passed someone—a maid, a servant—they froze, bowed, and whispered “Your Majesty” before scurrying away. I had never felt so out of place in my entire life. None of them looked surprised to see me alive, but they did look terrified. My stomach turned uneasily. I walked for what felt like forever before stopping at a wide balcony that overlooked the world beyond. The sight hit me like a punch to the chest. A vast stretch of forest spread out below, endless and green. Trees so thick they looked like a living sea. Mist rolled over the canopy like waves, hiding whatever lay beneath. A shiver ran down my spine. I gripped the stone railing, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Think. You went to bed. You woke up here. That doesn’t just happen. But…maybe someone drugged you? Maybe this is some kind of experiment?” I laughed softly, but it came out shaky. “Or maybe I’ve completely lost it. Great. Perfect.” The guards stood a few steps behind me, still silent. It was unnerving—like being shadowed by ghosts. I turned to them. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Quick question—where exactly are we?” The taller one hesitated, then answered, “The Kingdom of Valnera.” I stared at him. “I’m sorry—what did you just say?” “Valnera, my Queen,” he repeated, completely serious. “Hidden deep within the secret forest.” I blinked at him. Slowly. “No, no—like… what country. You know, on Earth. France? Mexico? The freaking North Pole?” The other guard exchanged a glance with him before saying quietly, “We’re somewhere in northern Italy, my Queen.” Italy. Italy? I turned back toward the forest, my heart hammering. Then I turned to them again, my voice barely a whisper. “Oh my God,” I breathed. “I’ve been kidnapped.” They both stiffened, but I didn’t care. My hands were trembling so hard I had to clutch the railing to steady them. This couldn’t be happening. I was thousands of miles from home—in another country—with people calling me queen and talking about blood rituals and kings who hated their wives. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But before I could scream or ask another question, a deep, low sound rolled through the air. It wasn’t human. It was a growl. Not the kind a dog makes—this was deeper, darker. It rattled through the ground beneath my feet and crawled straight up my spine. I froze. The guards didn’t move. They just exchanged another one of those unreadable looks, like this was… normal. My gaze dropped to the forest below—and that’s when I saw it. A massive black wolf stood at the edge of the trees. My breath caught. It wasn’t just big. It was huge—easily twice the size of any wolf I’d ever seen in a documentary. Its fur shimmered under the bright sky, thick and dark, and its eyes… God, its eyes were golden. Intelligent. Cold. Watching. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. But then it moved. Slowly. Gracefully. And the people walking below? They didn’t even flinch. A few bowed as they passed it. What the actual hell. My heart jumped to my throat. I stumbled back from the balcony, shaking my head. “Nope. Nope. Nope. That’s it. I’m done.” Then, as if it heard me, the wolf turned its head—straight toward me. Its golden eyes locked on mine. And it growled again. The sound vibrated through my bones. I screamed. I didn’t even realize I had until the guards tensed. Without thinking, I spun around and ran back the way I came—bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor. I didn’t care if the guards followed or if I looked insane. I just ran. By the time I reached the room, my chest was heaving. I shoved the doors closed, pressed my back against them, and slid down until I was sitting on the floor. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. “What the hell was that?” I gasped, my voice shaking. “A wolf? A—no, that’s impossible. That thing was huge. People don’t—people don’t bow to wolves!” I pressed my palms to my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m going crazy,” I whispered. “I must be going crazy.” I laughed again, a broken, desperate sound. “Right? That’s what this is. A mental breakdown. Hallucinations. Maybe I hit my head and I’m in a coma somewhere.” But the floor beneath me was solid. The air was cold. I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ribs, and no dream had ever felt this real. My breathing slowed, but my mind didn’t. I stood and started pacing, muttering under my breath. “Okay. Okay, let’s think. Either I’ve been kidnapped, or I’m part of some super messed-up simulation. Or… this is real. Which it can’t be. Because there are giant wolves and blood-drinking kings and people calling me queen—” I broke off, staring at my reflection in a mirror across the room. The woman staring back wasn’t me. She had my face—but softer. Paler. Her eyes looked sadder. Her hair was long and perfect. And the crown of faint bruises around her throat made my stomach twist. “What happened to you?” I whispered. Silence answered me. For a moment, I just stood there, staring into that mirror, watching this stranger who looked like me but wasn’t. The air felt heavier. The walls seemed closer. Outside the window, thunder rolled. “What the hell is happening?” I whispered. My voice cracked, and tears I’d been holding back finally burned down my cheeks. “Where… where the hell am I?” Chapter 4-Meeting The King 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?” Chapter 5-In Your Dreams 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.” Chapter 6-What Is Wrong With Me? 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!”