The night was long, filled with the hum of distant desert winds and the unsettling silence of the palace. Maya lay awake in the large, opulent bed, her mind racing, her body restless. The rich silk sheets clung to her skin, the soft candlelight flickering in the distance casting eerie shadows against the walls. It felt like a dream, one that she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried to wake from it.

The door creaked open, and Maya’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His presence filled the room before he even spoke.

Zayed stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the soft glow of the hall light. He was a vision of power and control, his cold, calculating eyes scanning her like she was something to be studied.

“You’ve had time to think,” Zayed said, his voice deep and smooth, like a whisper that demanded attention. He took slow, purposeful steps toward her, his gaze never leaving her face. “But I see you’re still restless.”

Maya sat up, the sheets falling around her waist. She crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from the overwhelming intensity of his stare. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped just in front of the bed, his presence so commanding that she felt her pulse quicken. “I’ve already told you,” Zayed said, his voice low. “You belong to me. You always have.”

Maya’s chest tightened. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how wrong everything was, but something about the way he looked at her, the way he moved—everything about him was too overwhelming. He was a force she couldn’t fight, no matter how hard she tried.

“Get used to it, Maya,” Zayed continued, his tone not unkind, but firm. “You will be respected here. You will have power in my court, my kingdom. No one will look down on you. No one will dare harm you.”

“I never asked for any of this,” Maya whispered, her voice shaking with the weight of everything she was feeling. “I never asked for any of this to happen. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong to you.”

Zayed’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened. He moved closer, his hand lifting her chin gently, forcing her to look up at him. “You’re mine, Maya. And whether you accept it or not, the moment you entered this palace, you became my queen.”

The word hit her like a stone. Queen. She couldn’t process it, couldn’t grasp the reality of what it meant. She wasn’t ready to be a queen—not this way, not in a life that had been forced upon her.

But as his hand lingered on her chin, she felt something else stir beneath the surface—an undeniable heat that burned in her chest. His touch was possessive, not tender, but somehow it left her feeling... controlled. And deep inside, despite the anger and resistance, there was a strange pull toward him.

Zayed leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “And I won’t allow anyone to touch you, Maya,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down her spine. “Not a single soul will come near you, let alone harm you. You are mine. And no one will even look at you the way I do.”

Maya’s body tensed, the implications of his words sinking in. He was obsessed with control—possessive, dangerous in a way that left no room for escape. But what disturbed her more was the realization that despite the warning bells ringing in her mind, there was a part of her that... craved it.

She pulled away from him, her chest rising and falling as she fought for control. “I’m not a prisoner, Zayed. I’m not your possession.”

His expression softened, but only just. “You will be respected, yes,” he said, his voice low, almost tender. “But I won’t share you. Not now, not ever.”

The way he said it sent a jolt of adrenaline through her veins. His obsession with her wasn’t just a matter of power—it was something darker, deeper. Something more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Maya tried to stand, but Zayed’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength, pulling her back toward him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone final.

For a moment, Maya’s pulse quickened with panic, but then something in her steadied. She wasn’t going to run anymore. Not from him. Not from this life. She was trapped, and deep down, she knew that no amount of resistance would change that.

Zayed’s eyes softened for a brief moment, and he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, his voice almost a promise.

But Maya knew better than to believe that.

He would never hurt her in the way she feared. But in other ways—ways she wasn’t yet prepared to face—he would claim her. He would consume her.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.