I Am The Luna Queen

Who The Hell Is Lying On My Bed?

Nicholas POV

For the first time in three years, I didn't recognize the woman lying in my bed.

Hazel.

Or…whoever the hell she was now.

Something wasn't right with Hazel. It was like she was a whole new person, and I didn't understand it one bit.

For three years, she'd been this quiet, desperate shadow in my life—always craving my attention, my touch, anything I'd throw her way. And now, when I finally decided to give in and do what the kingdom expected, she was pushing me away? Slapping me? Kicking me in the balls like I was some common thug? My hand instinctively dropped to my crotch as I lay there on that damn couch, the ache still throbbing like a fresh wound. s**t, that hurt like hell.

And f**k…my pride hurts even more than my body.

I shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable, but it was useless. The thing was too small for my frame—my legs dangled off the end, and every time I moved, the fabric scratched against my skin. I was the Alpha King, for f**k's sake. I shouldn't be sleeping on a couch in my own chamber like some punished child. But there she was, curled up in my massive bed, wrapped in those blankets like a fortress, sighing contentedly as if she'd just won a war. Her words echoed in my head: "Good night, Mr. King. Sweet dreams." The sarcasm in her voice—it burned me up inside.

I sat up slowly, running my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. The room was dim, lit only by the dying flicker of candles and the moonlight slipping through the heavy curtains. I could see her outline under the covers, her breathing steady, like she didn't have a care in the world. But me? My mind was a storm. Confusion ate at me alive. This wasn't Hazel. The Hazel I knew would never talk to me like that, never challenge me. She'd always been... compliant. Pathetic, even. Begging for scraps of affection I'd never give her because my heart belonged to someone else.

Liora. Just thinking her name sent a pang through my chest. She was the one I wanted—the one I'd loved since before this cursed marriage. Her laugh, her touch, the way she looked at me like I was her whole world. But my father, that stubborn old wolf, had ruined everything with his blood decree. Before he died, he bound me to his best friend's daughter. Hazel. She was the only one who could be my queen, the only one whose children would be recognized as royal heirs. It was some ancient pact sealed in blood magic, unbreakable. I hated him for it. I hated her for it. Marrying her felt like chains wrapping around my neck, tighter every day.

I'd made sure she knew her place from the start. I ignored her, spent my nights with Liora, let the whispers spread. Hazel was invisible—a queen in name only. And yeah, she'd thrown herself at me in the beginning. Pathetic attempts to seduce me, tears when I rejected her. I'd seen the jealousy in her eyes every time Liora was on my arm, every time I laughed at something Liora said. It was almost satisfying, watching her break a little more each day. She deserved it for trapping me in this life I never wanted.

But then... that day. The guards came bursting into my study, faces pale, stammering about how the queen had jumped off the cliff into the raging ocean below. Suicide. My first thought? Freedom. Finally, she'd done something useful. No more decree hanging over me. I could make Liora my queen, have the life I deserved. But as I stood there, staring at the waves crashing against the rocks, something twisted in my gut. It wasn't relief. It was... empty. Hollow.

They pulled her body from the water—lifeless, pale, her lips blue. The healers said she was gone, but I couldn't let it end like that. Why? I still don't know. Maybe it was the kingdom's expectations, the pressure for an heir. Maybe it was guilt, buried deep where I didn't want to look. I forced my blood into her veins, the royal essence that could heal or destroy. Then life slowly started to come back into her.

And I had already given the maids their instructions: the moment she woke up, the consummation would take place. I told myself this was it—we'd get it over with, produce an heir, and I'd go back to ignoring her.

But now? Looking at her from this stupid couch, I didn't recognize the woman in my bed. The fire in her eyes when she'd slapped me, the way she'd kneed me without hesitation, the way she looked at me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience—it was like she'd been possessed. My wolf stirred inside me, restless, sensing something off. The bond between us, that faint thread from the marriage rite, felt different too. Stronger, maybe. It pulled at me, making my skin itch.

I couldn't just lie here. I needed answers. Quietly, I pushed off the couch, my bare feet silent on the cold floor. The room smelled of her—jasmine from the oils the maids had used, mixed with something sweeter, more intoxicating. It messed with my head. I approached the bed slowly, my heart pounding in a way it hadn't in years. Not since my first battle as king.

She was facing away from me, her hair spilled across the pillow. Her breathing was even, but I could tell she wasn't fully asleep. Tension hummed in the air, thick enough to choke on. I leaned down, close enough to feel the heat from her body. "Hazel," I whispered, my voice low and rough. "What game are you playing?"

She didn't move at first. Then, slowly, she rolled over, her eyes cracking open. In the dim light, they looked like emeralds—sharp, unyielding. "What do you want now?" she muttered, pulling the blanket higher. No fear. Just annoyance.

I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the way my body reacted to her nearness. Damn it, why did she have to look like that? Flushed cheeks, lips swollen from our earlier struggle. "This isn't you. The real Hazel would be begging me to climb into that bed right now."

She laughed—a short, bitter sound that cut through me. "The real Hazel? You mean the one you ignored for three years? The one you let your mistress trample all over?" She sat up, clutching the blanket, her eyes locking onto mine. "Maybe she finally woke up and realized you're not worth it."

My jaw clenched. "You tried to kill yourself because of me. Because I wouldn't touch you. Don't pretend this is some sudden enlightenment."

Her expression flickered—something like confusion, quickly masked. "Maybe I jumped because I was done with your bullshit. Ever think of that?"

Lies. I could smell it on her, that faint tang of deception. My wolf growled inwardly, urging me to push harder. I grabbed the edge of the bed, leaning in closer. "No. You wanted my attention. You craved it. And now that I'm offering, you're fighting me? It doesn't add up."

She didn't flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Offering? You call that an offer? Grabbing me, ordering me around like I'm some prize to claim?" Her voice dropped, mocking. "If nobody has told you, let me…you're not as irresistible as you think."

I reached out, my hand hovering near her face. "What happened to you out there in the water? Did you hit your head? Or is this some spell?"

She swatted my hand away, her touch electric. "Nothing happened. I'm just done being your doormat. Now go back to your couch before I kick you again."

The threat hung in the air, and damn if it didn't make my blood boil. I wanted to shake her, make her admit whatever was going on. But there was a spark in her eyes—a fire I'd never seen before—that held me back. It intrigued me. Confused me. Made me want to... what? Pin her down and force the truth out? Or something more?

I stepped back, pacing the room. Memories flooded in—our wedding day, her hopeful smile as she said her vows, the way she'd looked at me with stars in her eyes. I'd crushed that look deliberately, turning away to whisper something to Liora at the feast. The nights she'd knock on my chamber door, voice trembling, only for me to send her away. The council meetings where she'd sit silently, enduring the sideways glances, the pity.

And Liora... beautiful, fiery Liora. She'd been my escape, my rebellion against the decree. But even she had started pressing lately—wanting more, wanting the crown. "Why can't you just get rid of her?" she'd whisper in my ear. "Make me your queen." I'd promised her someday, but deep down, I knew the blood magic wouldn't allow it. Hazel's children or none at all.

Now, with Hazel changed like this, everything felt unstable. If she wouldn't consummate the marriage, the kingdom would question it. Rumors would spread. The elders would demand proof—an heir. And if I couldn't provide one... chaos. Rival packs sniffing at our borders, sensing weakness.

I stopped pacing and turned back to the bed. She was watching me, her expression unreadable. "Why now?" I demanded. "Why fight me when you've always wanted this?"

"Because I see you for what you are," she said softly, but her words were knives. "A king who hides behind his power. A man who lets his mistress run the show while his queen suffers. You're weak. And I deserve better."

Weak? The word slammed into me like a fist. No one called me weak. I was the Alpha King who'd united the packs, crushed rebellions, built this kingdom stronger than my father ever did. But her words burrowed in, hitting that raw spot—the resentment toward the decree, the life I couldn't choose.

I lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders through the blanket. "You don't know what you're talking about." My face was inches from hers, our breaths mingling. Her scent overwhelmed me—sweet, defiant. My wolf howled inside, torn between rage and an unwelcome pull toward her.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she met my gaze, unflinching. "Why not end the marriage. Go be with Liora."

The mention of Liora's name on her lips twisted something in me. "I can't," I growled. "The decree—"

“Just leave me f**k alone! I want to sleep!" She snapped, facing away from me and dragging the blanket over her head.

I returned back to the couch, too stunned to speak.

Did Hazel…Hazel who was obsessed with me just ask me to end our marriage?

I looked at the bed again where she was sleeping like a queen and one question rang in my head:

Who the hell was lying on my bed?