Chapter 1: The Professor's Price

The heavy oak doors of the royal study slammed shut with a finality that made Princess Hazel Silverwood's heart race. She pressed her back against the cool wood, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath—not from running, but from the fury that had driven her here.

"Another suitor, Hazel," she mimicked her mother's saccharine tone, her hazel eyes flashing with defiance. "Lord Pemberton is such a catch. His mining investments alone could fund the kingdom's recovery."

The irony wasn't lost on her. Lord Pemberton's mining investments were precisely why their kingdom of Silverwood was dying. Every precious stone pulled from their magical veins, every ancient crystal harvested and sold to foreign lands, weakened the very essence that kept their pocket dimension stable. But her parents refused to see it, blinded by their desperation to maintain their lifestyle even as their realm literally faded around them.

"Talking to yourself again, Princess?"

The deep, velvet voice from the shadows made her spine straighten. Professor Leon Darken emerged from behind the towering bookshelves, his golden-brown eyes catching the light from the enchanted candles that floated near the ceiling. Even in the dim study, he was devastatingly handsome—tall and commanding, with sharp features that spoke of power and intellect. His black hair, silver-streaked at the temples, was perfectly styled despite the late hour.

"Professor Darken." She straightened, trying to regain her composure, but her voice betrayed her frustration. "I didn't expect you to still be here."

"Didn't you?" That predatory smirk she knew so well played at the corners of his mouth. "After the spectacle you made storming out of dinner, where else would you go?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. He was right, of course. This study—their study—had become her sanctuary over the past months. It was here that he'd tutored her in advanced magic, here that their relationship had evolved from formal lessons to something far more dangerous and thrilling.

"Lord Pemberton is a pig," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "He spent the entire dinner talking about my... assets... as if I were livestock being appraised."

Leon's eyes darkened, though whether from anger at the slight to her or something else entirely, she couldn't tell. He moved closer, his footsteps silent on the thick Persian rug.

"And what did you do about it?"

The question hung in the air between them. Hazel felt her pulse quicken as he approached, that familiar mix of anticipation and nervousness flooding her system. Leon had taught her many things over their months together—advanced spellcasting, the true history of magical realms, and most memorably, what it meant to surrender control to someone who could handle her defiant spirit.

"I may have... accidentally... spilled wine on his lap when he suggested I'd look better in something more revealing."

Leon's laugh was low and rich, sending shivers down her spine. "Accidentally?"

"The wine glass just slipped," she said innocently, though they both knew better.

"Hmm." He was close enough now that she could smell his cologne—cedar and something darker, more mysterious. "And then you ran here. To me."

It wasn't a question. Hazel's breath caught as he reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw with practiced familiarity. This was dangerous territory—he was her tutor, nearly twenty years her senior, and if anyone discovered their secret...

"I needed to escape," she whispered.

"No," he said, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. "You needed to be reminded of who you truly serve."

Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, demanding and possessive. This wasn't the gentle kiss of a courtly suitor—this was Leon claiming what he considered his. Hazel melted into him, her body responding instantly to his touch. Her hands fisted in his perfectly tailored jacket, pulling him closer as heat pooled low in her belly.

When he pulled back, his golden eyes were almost predatory in their intensity. "You've been a very naughty princess tonight."

The formal way he said it, combined with the promise in his voice, made her knees weak. "Have I?"

"Running from your responsibilities. Embarrassing your parents. And worst of all..." His hand moved to her throat, not squeezing but simply resting there, a reminder of his power. "Making me wait."

"Professor..." she breathed, but he cut her off with a look.

"What did I tell you about using my title when we're alone?"

"Leon," she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Better." His hand moved from her throat to the laces of her evening gown. "Now, I think you need to be reminded of the consequences of your actions."

With efficient movements that spoke of practice, he began unlacing her bodice. Hazel's breath hitched as the silk gave way, revealing the low-cut chemise beneath. She'd chosen it deliberately this morning, knowing they had a lesson scheduled, hoping...

"You wore this for me," he observed, his fingers tracing the delicate lace edge that barely contained her full breasts.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" His eyebrow arched dangerously. "I think we need to work on your honesty, Princess."

Before she could protest, he'd spun her around, pressing her face-first against the solid oak doors. The cool wood was a shock against her heated skin, made more intense by the warmth of his body pressed against her back.

"Tell me," he murmured against her ear, his hands skimming her sides, "what were you thinking about during dinner with Lord Pemberton?"

"This," she admitted breathlessly. "You."

"And what specifically about me?" His hands found the hem of her gown, slowly gathering the silk upward.

"Your hands," she gasped as those very hands caressed her thighs. "How you touch me. How you make me feel..."

"How do I make you feel, Hazel?"

"Alive," she whispered. "Free."

It was true. In these stolen moments with Leon, she forgot about her duty, her parents' expectations, the weight of an entire kingdom's survival resting on her ability to marry well. Here, she was simply herself—passionate, defiant, and utterly his.

"Good girl," he praised, and the approval in his voice sent warmth flooding through her. "Now, let me show you what happens to princesses who misbehave."

What followed was a lesson in pleasure and surrender that left Hazel trembling against the door, her body singing with satisfaction and her mind blissfully empty of everything except Leon's touch, his voice, his complete dominance over her senses.

Afterward, as they straightened their clothes and tried to return to some semblance of propriety, Leon's expression grew serious.

"Your parents aren't going to give up, you know," he said, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced ease.

Hazel was still catching her breath, her body humming with contentment. "I know. But I can handle whatever suitor they throw at me next."

"Can you?" His tone made her look up sharply. "What if it's not just one suitor, Hazel? What if it's multiple men, all competing for your hand?"

The blood drained from her face. "What are you saying?"

Leon's expression was unreadable as he straightened his jacket. "I'm saying your parents are more desperate than you realize. And desperate people make dangerous decisions."

"How could you possibly know that?"

For a moment, something flickered in his golden eyes—something that might have been guilt, or calculation, or both. "I make it my business to know things that affect my students, Princess. Especially ones as... special... as you."

The way he said it sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with pleasure. There was something he wasn't telling her, something important.

"Leon—"

"You should return to your chambers," he said, cutting her off smoothly. "Before you're missed."

As she gathered her skirts and moved toward the door, his voice stopped her.

"Hazel."

She turned back to find him watching her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken for entirely different reasons than before.

"Whatever happens in the coming days, remember this: you belong to me first. Don't forget that."

The possessive declaration should have thrilled her. Instead, as she slipped through the darkened corridors back to her room, she found herself wondering why it sounded less like a promise and more like a warning.

Back in her chambers, as she prepared for bed, Hazel caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her lips were still swollen from Leon's kisses, her hair slightly mussed despite her attempts to fix it. She looked thoroughly debauched—and she'd never felt more beautiful.

But Leon's words echoed in her mind: What if it's multiple men, all competing for your hand?

The thought should have horrified her. Instead, she found herself wondering what kind of men would dare compete for the hand of a princess already claimed by someone as powerful as Professor Leon Darken.

As she drifted off to sleep, she had no idea that tomorrow would bring answers she wasn't prepared for—and choices that would change everything.