Amia's POV
I stepped into the bathroom, my footsteps echoing faintly against the polished floor. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood, undercut by a faint metallic tang, something more primal. It clung to my senses, making my skin prickle and my breath catch.
In the center stood a long, deep bathtub. Opposite it was a sleek shower stall. At the far end was a toilet.
I walked to the shower, twisting the knob. Water spilled into my palm, cold and clean. I smiled happily, feeling relieved and satisfied. I turned it off and stepped back into the bedroom.
The place was cold and quiet, but it gave me a strange comfort to have a room for myself. I moved toward the small table and sat down, my eyes drifting to the balcony as a heavy sigh slipped from my lips.
Hours passed, and still there was no knock at the door. No sound of footsteps and no sign of my mate. Not that I was eager—his absence gave me time to prepare myself and think clearly.
I was about to push my chair back when the doors swung open. My heart jumped, hope sparking in my chest. Maybe it was one of the serpent women—
But then my hope was instantly shattered.
It was him. The Lord.
His presence filled the room like a shadow swallowing the light. My gaze flicked to his face, which was still hidden. I couldn't help thinking his hatred must run deep if he couldn't even bear to let me see him. That thought stung, but I forced myself to calm down. I needed to survive tonight.
Then I noticed his legs. Two human legs.
A shock rippled through me. Was it magic he used? Even the Elder had appeared human. If not for the flicker of his tongue, I'd have thought him an ordinary old man. His scent earlier in the carriage hadn't been supernatural at all.
Realizing I'd been staring too long, I dropped my gaze. He stepped closer. My throat tightened while my heart pounded.
A single finger slid under my chin, tilting my face up.
I froze, shutting my eyes when his other hand rose—bracing myself for a strike. But instead, my hair fell loose over my shoulders. He'd undone it.
He sighed low, and that made me open my eyes. I wished I could see his expression beneath the cloth. Was he disgusted? Disappointed? Annoyed that I wasn't beautiful enough, despite the serpents dressing me and painting my face?
Another sigh escaped him. Then he turned.
For a moment, I just stood there. Realizing he was leaving, walking away from our first night, I was filled with fear.
My father's face flashed in my mind, cold and furious if he ever learned that nothing had happened. The thought made my blood run cold.
"My lord, you can't leave. We have to go through with this night!" My voice rang out before I could stop it. He stopped mid-step.
"You can… imagine me as any other woman. It's fine. Let's just… go through with our first mating, please." The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out.
I didn't want to sound desperate or cheap. But maybe that's exactly what he thought of me—someone not worth touching.
He turned and moved slowly. It was like a predator closing in on its prey.
His hand reached out, wrapping around my wrist, his grip firm and unshakable. Before I could react, he spun me, my back slamming into his chest. I stumbled forward, catching myself on the table.
A strong hand pressed between my shoulder blades, shoving me down until my chest was flat on the surface.
I heard fabric tear. The sound sliced through the room as cool air rushed over my bare skin. Heat shot through me, shame and something darker twisting low in my gut.
His foot nudged my ankle, pushing it out slowly. He made me spread for him until there was nothing left hidden.
The air hit the inside of my thighs, making me tense.
My breathing sped up. I knew exactly what was about to happen. My night with him wasn't going to be soft or sweet. It was all about dominance. Power. His will crushing down on mine.
I gasped when his claws slid down my spine, slow and deliberate. It was a mix of cold sting and sharp heat, every drag making me shiver. My legs trembled, and my grip on the table tightened.
His claws moved lower, following the curve of my hips before locking onto them hard. His heat was right behind me, pouring over my skin, making it impossible to think about anything else.
He leaned in close—so close I could feel his breath against my ear.
"Is this what you wanted?" His voice was low, husky, and cold.
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling against the table. My voice caught in my throat.
And then I felt the hard press of his cock against my folds. Despite the sadness I felt, my body was reacting willingly. I could feel the slick wetness between my legs. My own body was betraying me, and I wasn't sure if it was the mate's pull working.
And then, with a sudden, powerful surge, he thrust into me. The force of his entry was brutal, and a soft cry escaped my lips as I felt him fill me completely. The stretch was intense, the burn of his cock pushing past my tight ring of muscle, sending a jolt of pain through me. I bit my lower lip, the sensation overwhelming as he began to move, each thrust going deeper and deeper. My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles turning white as I tried to anchor myself against the onslaught of sensations.
My knees quivered beneath me, my body trembling with the force of his movements. Each thrust was powerful and relentless, and I could feel myself being pushed to the edge with each passing second as my eyes became blurry.
The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies coming together, the slick, wet noises of his cock pounding into me, and the harsh breaths that escaped my lips.
A tear rolled down my cheek because this wasn't how I had once dreamed my mating would be.