I woke up to the sound of his voice. My eyes flew open, and my chest hitched in fear. I jerked back on the bed, trying to put distance between us—but there was nowhere to move. I was trapped.
Kieran's gaze landed on me, a flash of hurt flickering in his eyes. He had thought we were finally getting along, thought I was starting to trust him… and now, the way I looked at him, terrified, told him otherwise.
"Please… leave me alone," I whispered, voice barely audible.
He moved closer. My body flinched instinctively as he sat on the bed beside me. My heart pounded in my ears. His hand reached toward my cheek—I turned my face sharply away.
He retracted, bringing his hand to himself, and spoke, calm but firm, every word soaked in control.
"Aurielle… in my world, mercy is weakness. And I don't allow myself to be weak for anyone. Not even you."
My stomach twisted. I swallowed hard, trying to ground myself. "It was just… a harmless word. The maid didn't really lie. Why did you drag her family into this?"
Kieran's jaw tightened, his eyes locking onto mine with that icy fire he carries like a second skin.
"Aurielle," he said quietly, "just because you're scared of blood doesn't mean I can stop spilling it."
My breath caught.
"This is my work. This is the life you walked into as my wife. I can't unmake who I am because it frightens you. And you—" he stepped closer, lowering his voice, "—you won't survive a day in my world if you keep pretending it's gentle."
His gaze dragged over me slowly, deliberately.
"I won't have a weak queen beside me."
Anger flared in me. I thought things were… getting better. That maybe he was softening. But no. He had just killed innocent people.
He didn't say anything else. Instead, he stood, his presence commanding as always, and said, "Come. We're going to have lunch in the garden," he said, his voice deceptively calm.
I opened my mouth to refuse. To tell him I wasn't hungry. To tell him I didn't want to see him, didn't want to see anyone. But then he said the words that stopped me cold.
"You're supposed to see your son today. I could decide not to take you."
Adrien. My son. The thought of him made my chest tighten and my anger melt into urgency. I had to go. No matter how much I hated the game Kieran was about to play with me.
We arrived in the garden, the sun hanging low and bright, casting long shadows across the manicured grass. A small table waited with two chairs opposite each other, shaded by a tiny umbrella.
I instinctively moved toward one of the chairs, but Kieran's sharp voice cut me off. "I didn't give you permission to sit."
My jaw tightened. I didn't understand what kind of game he was playing now. I opened my mouth to argue, but my thoughts flew to Adrian. I couldn't let anything—anything—keep me from him.
"Sit." His voice was deceptively soft, but I knew better.
I moved closer to the table again, but he shook his head.
"On the ground."
I blinked. On the ground? Like… what the hell? I hesitated, but Adrian. My son. That was all I needed to obey. Slowly, painstakingly, I lowered myself onto the grass, cheeks burning in humiliation as the new maids arrived, carrying plates of food.
I kept my eyes on the table, trying to ignore the prickle of embarrassment crawling up my spine. Every instinct screamed at me to rise, to rebel—but I couldn't.
The maids left, plates set neatly in front of him and me. I tried to sit up straighter, to reclaim some dignity, but Kieran's gaze was on me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like he could see every thought in my mind.
"Stand," he said suddenly. I obeyed, tense, muscles aching from holding back my frustration.
I dared a glance at him, only to find that smirk had grown, darker now. "Sit," he said again. "No....not on the chair."
He was testing me, pushing me, seeing how far I would bend. I wanted to snap. I wanted to yell.
"On my lap," he said finally.
I froze. My mind screamed. Hours ago, he'd killed people. And now he expected me to sit on his lap? My heart twisted with fear, anger, and something else I didn't want to admit.
"If you don't," he added, "you stay under the sun. No food for the rest of the day . And you won't get to see your son. Or, sit on my lap, and I'll feed you then we go see him."
Slowly, deliberately, I walked toward him. Every step was a battle between pride and necessity. And when I finally settled onto his lap, I realized just how much power he still had over me—and how much I was beginning to depend on it, even if I hated myself for it.
"Good girl," he murmured
I hated the way my body reacted — tightening, shivering, betraying me. I hated that he could feel all of it.
Then he picked up a fork.
I stiffened immediately. "Kieran, I can feed myself."
He ignored that, lifting a bite of food to my lips. I clenched my jaw. His grip on my waist tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to warn.
"Open," he said.
opened my mouth.
His smirk deepened — that arrogant, possessive curve that made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. He fed me slowly, deliberately, each bite feeling like a declaration:
You bend for me. You survive because of me. You do what I tell you to.
Halfway through the meal, he finally spoke.
"You think I enjoy punishing you?" he asked quietly.
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
His hand slid up my spine, stopping at the back of my neck. Holding me still. Forcing me to face him.
"I'm not doing this to break you, Aurielle," he whispered.
"I'm doing it because the world I'm preparing you for is a thousand times worse than me."
My breath caught.
"And if you want to stand beside me — as my wife, as Adrien's mother, as my queen — you have to be stronger than fear."
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.
"Starting today, I will teach you how to become someone no one can touch."
Then he lifted me off his lap. "Come," he said.
"We're going to see our son."