Chapter 4: The Price of the Crown

POV: Roxana

The master bedroom was dark, lit only by the flickering light of a dying fireplace. I stood near the edge of the massive canopy bed, my skin shivering beneath the thin silk nightgown I had been given. 

The door opened with a heavy thud, and Magnus walked inside, shutting the world out behind him.

He didn't look at me with passion or desire; his eyes were completely cold as he undo his black royal wear. He tossed it onto a chair, revealing his broad, heavily scarred chest and the intimidating frame of a seasoned warrior. 

The sheer weight of his dominant Alpha aura immediately flooded the room, making it hard to take a full breath.

"Sit," Magnus commanded, his deep voice echoing through the silence in the room. He didn't move toward me; he simply went and stood by the desk, pouring two glasses of amber liquid. I swallowed hard and sat on the edge of the mattress, my fingers gripping the silk fabric tightly.

He walked over and handed me a glass, his large fingers brushing against mine for a brief, electric second. 

I took a sip, the burning liquid doing nothing to calm the frantic racing of my heart. Magnus stood over me, looking down like a judge inspecting a piece of property he had just purchased.

"Let us be entirely clear about tonight, Roxana," Magnus stated coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth or tenderness. "This is a transaction to secure my throne against my brother's son ambitious bloodline, nothing more." He was laying down the terms plainly, treating the act like a battlefield strategy.

"I understand my duty, Alpha Magnus," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady as I looked up into his dark eyes. "I am here to fulfill my end of the contract, just as you fulfilled yours this afternoon." I refused to let him see me tremble under his heavy gaze.

Magnus leaned down, placing his hands on either side of my thighs, trapping me completely against the mattress. His massive body blocked out the light from the fireplace, casting a long, terrifying shadow over me. 

"Then prove it," he whispered darkly, his hot breath brushing against my lips.

He didn't kiss me; he simply waited, using his crushing dominant presence to completely break down my defenses. 

My inner wolf whined, completely overwhelmed by his sheer power, but my human mind fought to keep control. The physical tension in the space between us grew so thick it felt suffocating.

"You wanted the crown, so show me your resolve," Magnus murmured, his eyes locking onto my parted lips. He remained completely still, deliberately withholding his touch, torturing me with the heavy silence until my body began to ache for any contact.

"Please," I gasped out, the word escaping my throat before I could stop it, completely undone by the agonizing friction of his proximity. I reached up, my hands trembling as I gripped his broad shoulders. 

"Please, Magnus... touch me." I had to beg for the very thing I feared.

A dark, possessive glint flared in his eyes as he heard my submission, and his grip tightened around my waist like iron bands. 

He pulled me against his solid chest, his touch were rough and completely demanding as he claimed my lips in a brutal, consuming kiss. There was no sweetness, only absolute dominance.

He took his time breaking my pride, ensuring I understood exactly who held all the power in this bed and this pack. 

Every movement was a reminder of the contract, a raw and intense physical binding that left me completely breathless and marked by his possession. He was a tyrant, even in the dark.

Hours later, the room was silent again as Magnus stood up from the bed, completely calm as he pulled on his clothes. He didn't offer a gentle touch or a comforting word; he simply buckled his wears and walked toward the door without looking back. The lock clicked shut, leaving me entirely alone.

I lay in the cold sheets, my body aching and my skin still tingling from the overwhelming force of his touch. A strange, terrifying realization washed over me as I stared at the ceiling—the bond I felt with him was far deeper than anything I had ever felt with Jaxon. It was dangerously intoxicating.

"I cannot just be a tool for him," I whispered into the dark room, gripping the blanket to my chest. If I remained just an incubator, he would discard me the moment the child was born. I needed a better shield than a paper contract.

I sat up, wiping a stray tear from my cheek as a new, desperate plan formed in my mind. I had to change the rules of his game before it was too late. 

*I will make this ruthless tyrant fall hopelessly in love with me,* I vowed to myself, *before I allow myself to conceive his heir.*