INICIAR SESIÓNHazel’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 sta
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 lip
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
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.” P
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 wou
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 be







