Chapter 3

Seraphina's POV

"This way, Your Majesty."

An older maid bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the floor.

I followed stiffly, my boots echoing down corridor after corridor of gloom. Massive oil paintings lined the walls—black dragons ripping armies apart, blood painting the earth crimson. Each one made my stomach twist.

"Is this… really where I'll be living?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the maid murmured. "The Queen's Chambers."

The heavy ebony doors groaned open.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

This wasn't a bedroom.

This was a demon's lair.

The room was cavernous. A monstrous four-poster bed dominated the center, draped in blood-red silk that swayed like it was breathing. Dragon-bone trophies decorated the walls—shields of scales, daggers made from fangs, and above the fireplace, the complete skeleton of a juvenile dragon grinned down at me.

Obsidian statues of coiled dragons glared from every corner, their eyes glinting like they might lunge any second.

"Your Majesty, please change." Younger maids slipped in, holding a whisper-thin black silk robe.

My pulse hammered. "Can't I just… sleep in my own clothes?"

Terror flashed across their faces.

"It is His Majesty's command," the older maid whispered, trembling. "He… he may visit in the night. You must be ready."

Ready.

Heat flooded my cheeks. Hours ago I was a fugitive. Now I was supposed to spread my legs for the Dragon King?

"If I refuse?" I tested.

Every maid went ghost-white. The eldest looked ready to cry. "Please, Your Majesty… if you fight him, he'll kill us all."

Their fear gutted me. They didn't deserve to die for my defiance.

"…Fine." I swallowed. "I'll change."

The robe slid over my skin like liquid sin—cool, clinging, barely there. I felt like a sacrifice waiting on an altar.

"You look beautiful, Your Majesty," one young maid said softly, but her eyes were full of pity.

They fled, leaving me alone in the cavernous dark. I sat on the edge of the bed, moonlight bleeding through stained glass, throwing crimson shadows across the floor.

Every creak of the palace made me flinch.

Maybe he won't come.

Maybe this is just intimidation.

Then, just past midnight—heavy footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Click.

The lock turned.

Darius stepped inside.

He wore only a black silk shirt, open at the throat, moonlight carving every hard line of his chest. Those violet eyes glowed like amethysts in the dark—beautiful and lethal.

"Stand."

My legs shook so badly I nearly fell.

He stalked closer, danger rolling off him in waves.

"Scared?" He caught my chin, forcing my gaze up.

"I just… didn't expect it so soon…"

"Soon?" A cruel laugh. "Did you think being my queen meant silk gowns and pretty words? That I'd court you like some lovesick boy?"

Before I could answer, he shoved me back onto the bed.

My spine hit the mattress hard. The thin straps of the robe snapped under his hands like thread. Cool air hit bare skin. I tried to close my legs—he forced them apart with his knee.

"Don't you dare close them."

He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. The other cupped my breast—rough, claiming—pinching my nipple until I gasped, back arching off the bed.

He bit down on the other, teeth sinking in deep enough to leave marks. I cried out, shaking my head. "It hurts… Your Majesty…"

He didn't care. His hand dragged lower, gripped my ass, yanked me down the bed until my thighs were spread wide around his hips. The sound of his zipper—then that thick, terrifying length sprang free, already slick at the tip.

I tried to scoot back. "Wait—it's too big—I can't—"

He locked an arm around my waist and thrust.

The blunt head forced inside—no warning, no mercy. Just the first inch and I screamed, clenching hard against the burn.

"Relax," he growled, voice ragged, but he didn't stop. Nails dug into my hips. One brutal snap of his hips and he buried himself to the root.

"AH—!"

Pain tore through me. I clawed his arms, drawing blood. He felt massive, splitting me open, throbbing inside like a second heartbeat.

He paused only a second—veins bulging at his temple—then started moving. Deep, punishing strokes that slammed the air from my lungs, the bed frame groaning, wet sounds echoing obscenely.

"Please… slower… please…" I sobbed, voice breaking with every thrust.

He flipped me over, forced me onto my knees, and drove in again—deeper from behind. My face hit the pillow, muffled screams swallowed by silk. He fisted my hair, yanked my head back, and pounded harder, slapping my ass until it burned scarlet.

The last dozen thrusts were savage—like he wanted to break me in half. I couldn't form words, only broken cries and whimpers.

"Tighten," he snarled.

I clenched on instinct. He slammed home one final time and came—hot, endless pulses flooding me, spilling out around him, running down my thighs in thick rivulets.

He pulled out. I collapsed, legs splayed, trembling, swollen entrance still pulsing, white leaking onto the sheets.

Darius stood, tucked himself away, and looked down at me with cold satisfaction.

"Remember who you belong to, Seraphina." His voice was ice. "You're my queen. Nothing more. Don't dream of anything else. Don't pry into what isn't yours. Stay in your place—it'll hurt less."

The door shut behind him with a heavy thud.

I curled into the ruined sheets, body aching, thighs sticky and hot, tears soaking the pillow.

This was my wedding night—branded as queen the cruelest way possible.