King Ronan's chamber was warm, the rich scent of wine lingered in the air. Candles flickered throughout the room, their golden glow illuminating the massive bed at the center. Shadows danced against the walls, casting an almost intimate atmosphere.
Selene's heartbeat remained steady as the guards led her inside. She already had a plan. A simple one.
Touch him. Control him. Make him sleep.
She could do this.
And then, she saw him—
Half-naked, reclining lazily with a goblet of wine in hand, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips—
Something inside her bristled.
"Come," Ronan said, nodding to the chair opposite him. "Sit with me."
Selene ignored the chair.
Instead, she walked toward him—boldly, deliberately—and slid into his lap.
Ronan tensed. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it melted into pleasure.
"I like a woman who knows what she wants." His voice was low, rich with amusement.
Selene smiled. Her fingers slipped into his dark hair, twisting gently.
The slightest brush of her skin against his scalp was enough.
Her power reached for him.
"Sleep," she commanded.
For a second, she expected him to sag against her, for his eyelids to droop, his body to go slack beneath her.
But instead—
Ronan blinked.
"Sleep?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.
Selene's smile faltered.
She felt nothing.
No pull. No control over him.
Her grip in his hair tightened. She pushed harder, forcing her will through that thin thread of contact.
"Sleep."
Nothing.
Ronan just stared at her.
Slowly, her fingers slid out of his hair. She pushed herself off his lap, stumbling a step backward. Her breath came shakily.
This isn't possible.
"Is something wrong, my queen?" Ronan asked, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with intrigue.
Selene clenched her fists. Her mind raced.
Her power had never failed before.
Not once.
She tried again, desperate now. "Sleep."
Again, nothing.
Ronan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching her like a predator amused by his prey's confusion.
"You're acting strange, Selene."
She didn't answer.
She couldn't find the words.
Ronan stood.
Selene stilled.
He was taller than her, broader, a force that swallowed the space between them with a single step.
Unconsciously, she stepped back.
He followed.
His hand lifted—slowly, deliberately—and with a touch so light it made her breath hitch, he tilted her chin up.
His thumb brushed against her jaw.
His voice was low, husky.
"I'm afraid we won't be sleeping much tonight."
His smirk deepened.
"I'm sure you know what happens between a man and his wife on their wedding night."
Before Selene could answer—
His lips crashed against hers.
Her body stiffened. Heat flared beneath her skin, not from desire, but from fury.
She shoved against his chest. Hard.
Ronan took a step back, his expression flashing with something unreadable before it smoothed into amusement.
She exhaled sharply, forcing her tone to remain soft, almost bashful. "We don't even know anything about each other."
His dark eyes glinted. "We have a lifetime to learn."
Selene swallowed. "Perhaps, but not tonight."
Ronan chuckled, stepping closer. "You're nervous."
"I'm not," she lied.
"You are." His hand brushed against her waist. "But you have nothing to fear. I promise, you'll enjoy this night more than you think."
Selene sidestepped him swiftly. "I'd rather take things slow."
His brow lifted, amused. "Slow? After the way you climbed into my lap just now?"
She bit the inside of her cheek. "That was… different."
"Was it?" He prowled forward again, his presence commanding. "Because it seemed to me that you wanted this."
"I—"
"You don't have to pretend, Selene," he murmured. "We both know where this night is heading."
She forced a small, timid smile. "I only meant… I need time."
Ronan studied her, silent for a moment. Then, he leaned in, his voice brushing against her skin.
"Time won't change what's already inevitable."
Selene forced herself to hold his gaze, her heart pounding.
She had to find another way out of this.
"Inevitable?" she echoed, keeping her voice light. "That's a bold assumption, Your Majesty."
His smirk deepened, as if her defiance only amused him. "Is it?" He reached for his goblet, taking a slow sip before setting it aside. "You're my wife, Selene. This is our wedding night. What did you expect?"
To put you to sleep. To make you powerless.
She folded her arms, careful to appear hesitant rather than outright resistant. "I expected… patience."
His gaze darkened, but there was no anger—only curiosity. "Patience?"
Selene gave a small nod, lowering her lashes just slightly. "Surely, you don't want a wife who feels forced into your bed?"
Ronan chuckled. "Forced? No." His fingers brushed against a lock of her hair, twirling it lazily. "But I do want a wife who understands her duties."
Her stomach coiled.
"I understand my duties," she said, her voice softer now, as if she were simply shy. "But I also believe a marriage should start with… understanding."
His fingers paused in her hair. He was watching her too closely, too intently.
"Understanding," he murmured.
Selene tilted her chin up, feigning innocence. "I just think we should talk first. Learn about each other."
Ronan exhaled slowly, then turned, moving toward a nearby table where a decanter of wine rested. He poured himself another glass, taking his time. "Alright," he said at last. "Let's talk."
Selene blinked. That was… unexpected.
He leaned back against the table, swirling the wine in his glass. "Tell me, wife. What would you like to know?"
Selene hesitated, unsure of what to ask.
"What kind of king do you wish to be?" she finally asked.
Ronan arched a brow, as if amused by the question. "The kind that rules."
Selene kept her expression neutral. "That much is obvious. But what do you want your people to say about you?"
Ronan took a slow sip of his wine, studying her over the rim of his goblet. "That I am strong. That I am feared. That I am a king who takes what he wants and does not apologize for it."
Selene's fingers curled into the fabric of her gown. "Fear is a powerful tool, but it does not last forever. A ruler who leads by fear alone eventually finds himself without anyone left to rule."
Ronan smirked, setting his goblet down. "Is that what you think will happen to me?"
Selene tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I only wonder if there is more to you than a man who takes what he wants."
His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "And what do you want me to be, wife?"
She hesitated just long enough to make it seem as though she were choosing her words carefully. "A man worth following. A king worth remembering."
Ronan was quiet for a moment, watching her with sharp, assessing eyes. Then, to her surprise, he chuckled.
"You truly are a fascinating creature, Selene." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "But tell me, why do you care what kind of king I am?"
Selene's lips parted, but before she could answer, Ronan lifted a hand, brushing a thumb along her lower lip.
"Perhaps," he murmured, "you should worry more about what kind of queen you will be."
Selene swallowed, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
"I already know what kind of queen I will be."
His brows lifted slightly. "Do you?"
Selene offered a small, knowing smile. "One you will never forget."