Minute by minute passes and with bated breath I stand alone in my bedroom.

I peek into my mirror at the gold lingerie Leeza had helped me into before Mom hugged me goodbye to leave me to my fate.

Here I am, offered up like a sacrifice to Alvar by my mother and everyone here.

My cheeks redden.

And they expect me to obediently perform my duty in consummating the marriage.

The lingerie is crafted from a silky fabric with gold sewn into cups that shape a surprising amount of cleavage from my small breasts.

I'm self conscious in these clothes as it bares most of my skin to view, but I hadn't refused to wear it over fear of not seeming authentically Alvar's bride.

Can't believe Alvar will see me in this.

The door to my bedroom opens and my breath leaves me.

I begin to shake uncontrollably.

It's him. King Alvar. The man whose eyes glimmer red, who is much larger than I, and looks as if he could kick the ass of any man who challenged him.

I'm to be alone all night with him.

"Good evening, Lucy," Alvar says, his voice low as he closes the door behind him. He unbuttons his shirt down the front and as the gap of fabric widens I note a chiseled line running down his torso.

My breath hitches.

He's gorgeous. Powerfully built. On earth I'd never dreamed a man like this would undress in my bedroom.

Damn it! I hope he doesn't notice how red my face is or how I just visibly stared.

"Did you like the food?" Alvar asks, choosing the causal route.

"Y-yes," I stutter.

I hate the disappointment I feel when his gaze doesn't linger on me in an appreciative glance.

Maybe I'm too plain, even in this freaking goddess suit.

Alvar walks toward the fireplace, shrugs off his shirt from his muscular, broad back, and starts to undo his belt.

I decide if it does come to it, I'm not letting him take me without a fight. We had a deal. My fists clench and I back up against the bed, but I rest myself when I realize Alvar is still looking into the fireplace. He takes his belt off and places it gently on the mantle.

"The fire is beautiful, Lucy," he says. "Would you like to sit with me by it?" He turns to look at me. His face is pained as he studies my attire for the first time.

I wonder why. I wasn't sure what to expect from him over it, but pain?

"Would you please take that off?" His jaw is tense and eyes darken.

"What the—" I begin, appalled.

He wants me to get naked?

"I swear I won't look while you change. Just put on something different than that," he growls.

"Okay," I mumble. "You're freaking me out though. Has anyone said you're weird."

"Would you rather I tear it off you and have my way with you? That's the type of gown that is." Dark Alvar appears in full swing, however I catch a sarcastic sense of humor underneath it.

"N-no," I quickly rush, practically tripping on my way to the wardrobe. "Look away then."

"I got it," he mutters, doing as I tell him.

I hurry into a simple white gown I find in my wardrobe and slip it over a matching white robe with purple-blue and silver trim.

"Are you finished yet?" Alvar asks over his shoulder.

What a thing to say!

"Yeah, I'm finished," I grumble with a roll of my eyes. "You can look."

"Now come sit with me by the fire," Alvar beckons. He's sitting on a bench he's pulled up from the window.

"Sure," I stutter, but it's as if I'm treading on thin ice as I join him.

"The Arlite makes you look radiant," he murmurs, but it's as if he's scripted his words. "You look as if you were born to be royalty."

"Thanks, I think."

"I am sorry Fletch brought up my brother," Alvar continues.

"Were the two of you close?"

"No."

"Do you want to tell me about him?"

"Not really." Alvar leans toward the fireplace, propping his chin up on tented hands.

A blessed silence overcomes us.

I sigh, and Alvar continues to gaze at the flames.

"So you're not going to touch me?" The words come out as a relief.

"I'm true to my word, my queen," Alvar says. "Lucy," Alvar turns to me and cups my face in his hands. "I promised you that I would have you love me."

"You don't know me," I say. "How can you say something like that with such certainty?"

"We could have a wonderful arrangement. I know there are women on Earth who love men like me. I'm rich, can give you anything you want. I'm also a just ruler and powerful," Alvar says, and adds, "and you're attracted to me, are you not?"

I bite my lip.

Oh, I want to slap you now.

But I'm afraid of what he'll do if I go ahead with it.

"Your silence only assures me of it," Alvar murmurs with a vague smile.

"I'm not so shallow to only marry a man for money. Look at the man I was going to marry before you stepped in... And there is more to love than attraction," I say. "I would think you'd be intelligent enough to know it."

"You didn't love Mike though," Alvar says.

"What do you know of love?" I ask him, now I'm rightfully angry.

"I know much of the loss of love," Alvar says quietly, not gazing at me. "You are not showing the signs of that kind of pain, only mourning over a life you never had but thought you wanted."

"Attraction isn't love either," I say, not sure what my comeback to his statement could be.

"Yes, but attraction can lead to love," Alvar says.

"Okay, I'll admit it, you're incredibly good-looking... and you know it. I doubt there is a woman alive who wouldn't admit to that though," I blurt.

"With a scarface like this?" Alvar muses, running a finger along the trailing white line.

"Where did you get it?" The question pops out before I can pull it back in.

Alvar wags a scolding finger at me teasingly and tsks. "You're too curious. You might not like the answers."

"You're not going to tell me?" I groan.

"Someone gave it to me when I was seventeen years old. They told me it wasn't fair I had such an handsome face," Alvar says, laughing bitterly. "They wanted my face to reflect my soul."

"Your soul has scars?"

"It does. Many."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What is that?" Alvar says, brushing wisps of my hair from my eyes just as he's brushed off the topic. His gaze is focused downward at my lap and I'm not sure what he means.

"What do you mean?" I ask, shifting in my seat away from him.

Alvar's hand reaches out and grasps my wrist. "This red mark. It's from that device you had around your wrist, isn't it?"

"Uh—yeah, I guess," I say. "It's called a rubber band."

"Why do you punish yourself with it, Lucy?" Alvar's brow furrowed and his gaze meets mine. "Is that what rubber bands are for? Some barbaric Earth custom?" His thumb brushes over the red line left behind by my perpetual use. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me.

"No, they're used to tie things, but—I don't know—it grounds me to snap it," I say, realizing how wrong it sounds as the words fall from my lips. I force myself to yawn to direct the subject elsewhere. "I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day. Do you mind if I go to bed?"

Alvar's expression is thoughtful, as if he's still thinking about the mark on my wrist from the rubber band. "Yes, think nothing of it. Get some rest."

"What about you? Are you going to sleep on the floor?"

"I'll be nearby," Alvar says. "Have to make this marriage look official to the people."

"Yeah, if anyone sees the king leave when he's supposed to be getting it on with his queen it'd be a scandal," I say with a nervous laugh.

I can't believe I said that.

Alvar laughs with me, which I guess means he at least has a sense of humor. "Very much a scandal," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Instead the king is sleeping on the floor and merely dreaming of getting it on—as you say—with his queen."

My eyes widen, even though I know he's joking too. In an attempt to keep him from noticing my blush, I hurry over to crawl under the covers of the cloud of a bed I now possess and close my eyes.

"Goodnight," I say in finality.

A million unanswered questions flit around in my head, but it seems a moment later and I open my eyes knowing I've dozed off.

The room is dark besides the faint glow of the fireplace where I find Alvar, sitting with his back to my bed, gazing into the hearth.

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

"I'm waiting till morning."

"Don't you need to sleep?" I persist.

"Truthfully, I cannot sleep. The floor is made of stone and it reminds me of—it's too cold," he says, but I'm aware he almost said something else.

There is a dark mystery surrounding Alvar and his world, and instead of being afraid of it—like I probably should be—I'm dying to find answers.

I swallow and wring my hands. "Do you want to come up on the bed?" I ask tentatively, unable to believe my own words.

I can't leave him like that.

"Are you sure?" He gazes up at me with his intense blue eyes and I'm lost to him.

I sigh. "Yes, now come on up here before I change my mind."

"You're a kind woman, my queen," Alvar says, bowing his head at me. "I like that."

"You like my kindness or the fact that you're going to sleep in my bed tonight?" I ask.

"Both." Alvar gives a boyish grin.

Huh. Strange look on him... he just seems so old in his emotional state most of the time.

But it makes me want to like him and I'm determined to not like him because he planned my life before I was born, and took me out of my world without considering my feelings about it.

"Well, this bed is way too big for just one person anyway," I say dryly.

I'm embarrassingly mesmerized as he stands, the light of the fireplace dances across the muscles in his chest and back, highlighting every mind numbing ridge and plane.

I embarrass myself further by a noticeable, sharp inhale at the sight.

Gosh, get a grip, Lucy.

I scrunch my eyes closed and settle into the sheets, pretending I'm not affected. Pretending I'll fall back to sleep easily, but the sensation of another being climbing onto the mattress is something I cannot will away.

"Lucy, don't worry, I'm not going to touch you," Alvar affirms in a soft and careful tone. "Don't be afraid, Lucy. I would never hurt you."

I'm not afraid of him breaking our deal, what I am afraid of is the twinge of disappointment I feel. Yes, the fact that a twisted party of me wishes he would touch me, frightens me very much.

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