Aurora stirred beneath the sheets, her body sore in places that still pulsed with memory. A soft groan slipped from her lips as she shifted, a faint ache blooming between her thighs. She winced, eyebrows pinching, then exhaled slowly.
*He's still there,* she thought, the feeling of him lingering deep inside her like a secret the night refused to let go.
Her eyes fluttered open.
There he was.
Zev.
Sitting in a leather chair by the open window, shirt clinging to his frame, black sweatpants loose around his hips. One hand gripped a sleek, black pen, his attention fixed on parchment resting against his thigh. He didn't glance her way. He didn't need to. His focus was cold, sharp, and absolute—like he was signing someone's death without a flicker of hesitation.
Her gaze roamed over the inked lines curling up the side of his neck—black tattoos coiling like smoke beneath his skin.
*He looks like he could destroy a kingdom and kiss you breathless in the same moment.*
A smile touched her lips.
"You're awake," he said calmly, without turning. "As I expected."
Aurora didn't answer. She slipped from beneath the sheets, bare and unhurried, and padded across the cold floor. When she reached him, she leaned down, wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, and pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw.
"Signing another poor man's death?" she asked, voice laced with sleep and mischief.
Zev stilled beneath her touch.
Then he turned slowly, meeting her with that unreadable look—the one that made her feel naked in more ways than one. He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin.
"Don't you feel pain down there?" he asked with a smirk that curled like smoke.
Aurora flushed, eyes dropping, but she nodded shyly.
"I do…" she said shaking
His grin deepened, darker now. Almost cruel. Almost reverent.
"Mm. That's more like it," he murmured. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "If you get close to me again…"
He turned just slightly, gaze flicking to her lips—low, hungry.
"They'll hurt even more."
Then he pulled back, cool and composed, returning his focus to the page.
Aurora stepped back quickly, cheeks burning as she reached for the blanket. But before she could cover herself fully—
"I didn't say you should hide that," Zev said without looking up, ink sliding across parchment.
"I like seeing what's mine."
His smile was wicked. Slow. Satisfied.
And in that moment, she didn't know if she wanted to run from him—or climb into his lap and never leave.
Her fingers grazed her phone—**11:03 a.m.** Her eyes widened.
*I overslept.*
After a quick bath, she slipped into a soft rose-colored gown that clung to her hips and grabbed her purse and phone. Zev hadn't moved from the chair across the room—still barefoot, still shirtless, casually reviewing scrolls with a black pen like he was signing someone's death warrant.
"See you later," she muttered.
He didn't look up. Just smirked slightly, like he already knew where she was going.
Aurora sprinted through the palace corridors, heart pounding as she reached the Queen's chamber. She knocked, trying to catch her breath.
"Come in," came the calm, clipped voice behind the door—like the Queen had *expected* her to be late.
Aurora entered with a low bow.
"Good morning, Your Grace."
The Queen raised three fingers. Permission to rise.
She didn't look up from her writing, quill scratching calmly across parchment.
"Is the deal done?"
Aurora's mouth parted. She hesitated.
The Queen glanced up now, sharp gaze pinning her.
"Don't lie to me. Did he touch you."
Her voice wasn't angry. It was precise.
"I know when my sons touch a woman." Her eyes scanned Aurora, settling on the red flush rising up her neck. "Especially Zev."
Aurora swallowed.
"He... he did. But—" she looked down. Her voice broke slightly.
The Queen waited, silent, her eyes unblinking.
Aurora exhaled shakily.
"He didn't—he didn't spill his seed inside me."
A pause.
Then the Queen stood. Slow. Controlled. Disappointed.
"Why?" she snapped, cupping Aurora's face with cold fingers. "Why would he *pull away*?"
"I... I don't know," Aurora whispered. "He just did."
"Then you didn't seduce him well enough. He likely took pity on you," the Queen said, stepping back. "Or worse—he gave you a taste just to keep you safe from elimination next week."
Aurora's breath caught. Her chest ached.
"You may leave," the Queen added flatly.
Aurora bowed again, then turned, forcing herself not to stumble on shaky feet.
Outside, her hands trembled. She couldn't stop hearing the Queen's words echoing in her head:
*He pitied you.*
*You weren't enough.*
She slammed her palm into the nearest pillar, biting back the tears in her throat.
"Stupid, Aurora," she muttered. "You really thought... what? That the Alpha touched you for love?"
She kept walking, pace quick and aimless.
"This is a deal," she said aloud, like repeating it would make it true. "I give him an heir, he gives me freedom."
She stopped.
Closed her eyes.
"Nothing more."
But even she could hear the lie in her voice.
Because the way she'd clung to him…
And the way her heart refused to let go…
Told her everything had already started to change.
---
Aurora rushed into the velvet-draped corridor, heels clicking as she adjusted her gown. She hadn't meant to be late—not on *this* day. The Queen's words still rattled in her head, but she pushed them down and stepped into the training chamber with as much poise as her throbbing thighs would allow.
Six girls already stood in neat formation. When Aurora entered, a few of them nodded politely. But two in particular—**Monica** and **Steph**—grinned like they knew something no one else did.
They made their way over, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Hey, Miss Zev," Steph whispered with a wink.
Aurora's eyes widened, and she nearly tripped.
"Shh! Don't say that," she hissed, glancing around nervously. "If the palace staff hears you claiming ties to royalty, we'll all be tossed into the dungeon."
"Alright, alright," Steph muttered, rolling her eyes. "This place is so uptight."
Monica leaned in, elbow nudging Aurora's side.
"So… how was last night?" she teased, dragging the words out with wicked glee.
Aurora blinked.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Girl," Monica said, lowering her voice, "don't play innocent. The way you walked in here, clenching your gown between your legs like it was holding you together—please."
"Alpha Zev really did a number, huh?" Steph added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, eyes twinkling.
Aurora tried to hold in a laugh, but it spilled out anyway. These two had shared everything with her—the good, the bad, and the downright scorching. She trusted them.
"Okay... fine," she said, blushing. "Yes. It happened."
"Woah! Finally!" Monica gasped, nearly jumping. "This calls for a celebration—!"
Before the words finished echoing, the door at the far end creaked open. The woman overseeing their training strode in, her eyes sharp as knives.
"What's being celebrated?" she asked, voice dry with suspicion.
Monica didn't miss a beat.
"Aurora came late today!" she said with a bright smile. "For once, Steph and I actually beat her here. We thought that deserved a little moment."
"Monica—no—" Aurora whispered under her breath, mortified.
"Just a friendly race to be early, Coordinator," Monica added with an extra dose of sugar. "We figured, why not let her feel what it's like to be second for once?"
The woman stared for a beat, then walked past them without a word.
As the door shut behind her, Monica turned and grinned.
"Did you really think I'd say *'Alpha Zev gave her the royal treatment'* out loud?" she whispered with a snort.
Steph burst into laughter. Monica joined her.
Aurora buried her face in her hands, blushing furiously.
But her smile was genuine.
—
The bell tolled once—deep, resonant, final.
Aurora walked in behind the other girls, tray in hand, every step measured. The dining hall loomed ahead like a throne of judgment—long tables flanked by stern faces, silver cutlery gleaming under candlelight.
Alphas lined the room like lions mid-hunt.
The Queen sat coolly beside the King, her fingers wrapped around a jeweled goblet, eyes unreadable. At the opposite end of the hall, **Zev** lounged with effortless arrogance, draped in shadow-black silk, his wine untouched.
And his gaze?
Locked—deadly and unmoving—on the Queen.
Aurora felt it. Whatever passed between them bristled in the air like a drawn blade. Even as the King stood to give his ceremonial welcome, Aurora could only glance from Zev to the Queen and back again, something shifting beneath her ribs.
Laughter shattered the silence.
"Zev," said **Alpha Maverick**, thumping his fist to his palm with a grin, "you didn't tell us you fought off a *tigress* last night."
There was a ripple of chuckles.
Zev dipped his head slightly to glance at the table—revealing a set of angry red marks trailing up the back of his neck.
Fingernails.
The kind left when surrender feels like war.
The Alphas leaned forward with interest now, catching the fresh bruises.
"No," **Alpha Mateo** added with a smirk, "a *female wolf*. Zev's really has really taken the training seriously these days, hasn't he?"
Even **Monica**, further down the line with the other girls, let out a low giggle.
Still, Zev didn't speak. He lifted his glass slowly, his movements measured and regal.
Then—**that smirk.**
"The tigress," he murmured, swirling the wine once, "was worth my time."
Smooth. Lethal.
He stood, untouched wine in hand, and began walking toward the exit. His silk pants swayed with his stride, jacket slung casually over his shoulders, like even *royalty* wasn't worth dressing for properly.
He passed the Queen's end of the table.
Didn't look at her.
But as he reached her place, he paused, pulled something from his pocket, and dropped it lightly onto her gold-rimmed plate.
*Clink.*
A single silver coin.
**Payment.
Dismissal.
Dominance.**
Then he walked out of the hall.
Not as a son.
Not as a soldier.
But as a sovereign no one had crowned—yet everyone felt rising.