Close the door.

The path the guard was leading Dalia to wasn't the same path that led to his room. Somehow, at the back of her mind, she knew quite well that it would be hard for the King to open up to her. That includes taking her to his room.

A bitter laugh appeared on Dalia's face. "He had not shown his face nor had anyone entered his room in the first place. What makes you think he will let you?"

She knew this was going to be difficult, but first, she had to rejoice that he was even seeking her presence, which was a good thing. "Take a deep breath," she said to herself as she walked with the guards.

The corridor was eerily quiet, and the only voices she heard were the beat of her heart, the scrape of her feet, and the guards. She was already shaking inside with fear, and surprisingly, excitement.

Memories of how he had touched her at the corridor came back, bubbling her stomach, causing those butterflies to flutter with excitement.

King Ditun, despite all the rumors she heard about him and the fear she felt for him, she still couldn't stop thinking of his long fingers trailing on her skin. And the worst of all, she wanted him to touch her again.

Somehow, she hurried her steps, meeting with the guard who walked straight, his guard posed and his eyes forward. She wondered though - why did most of them seem to have straight faces?

Now that she thought of it, she had not come across that guard that had greeted her upon her arrival. The only time she had seen him was from afar when he was instructing servants. It almost seemed as if he was avoiding her. One of these days, she would ask him why.

The path they took had a longer corridor, but unlike other corridors made entirely of black marbles, this path had a little bit of color to it. There were intricate patterns in white perched on the wall, drawing lines that crossed each other. It gave off an artistic vibe, one Dalia couldn't stop looking at in awe.

They reached a wide door at the end of the corridor that was partly opened. The guard cleared the way, urging her to go in, as the King was waiting for her inside. Dalia looked at him skeptically, almost questioning why she was to go alone before she realized this was meant to be for both of them alone.

"Come inside," she heard Ditun's deep voice, almost as if it lacked impatience, like he had been waiting for her all through. But despite the impatience, she almost heard a slight hint of irritation. It was as if he was forcing himself to want this, like he was trying so much to make her hate him so she won't get to know him. But no matter what, she had already prepared her body for this; only her mind was skeptical about doing this, knowing who he truly was.

"No, Dalia," she scolded herself. No matter the confliction inside of her, this is what she must do.

Dalia took the first step inside the place, feeling the pounding of her chest as if it would leave her chest. She took a long breath and at the same time, felt her hand trembling.

Why now all of a sudden, she wondered. She had been confident enough to come here, but now that she was here, the thought of him touching her again like he did before made her a bit excited, like it had in the corridor. And that somehow was making her... very... very nervous.

She walked into the room. There was a yellow lamp ahead, casting a yellow glow but not so bright throughout the room. It gave the room a calm atmosphere. If only her heart would stay as calm as the atmosphere.

She remained standing next to the slightly opened door, still unable to make any move forward. Neither was she mentally strong enough to look around the room. For looking around would make her come face to face with her husband. And with how nervous she was, she might likely have her legs wobble and fall.

"Close the door behind you," the deep baritone of his voice caused her to stiffen, and instead of closing the door as he just instructed, she let her eyes travel throughout the room, searching for the source of the voice.

When she caught sight of him, she stopped breathing. It was as if every breath had been sucked out of her lungs at the sight of him. The worst part of it was, she was feeling all of this despite the king still wearing a mask.

Perhaps it was because of the aura emitting from him and the fact that she was well aware of what would happen between them.

At the far end of the room stood a large mattress bed, enclosed by sheer curtains. In the center, the curtain had been drawn back, revealing her husband seated on the bed. His upper body was slightly turned to the side, an elbow propping him up as his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He had no shirt on, with only his black trousers visible, loosely hugging his legs. Her gaze, however, was fixed on his toned muscles, his clean dark skin. The lamp next to him illuminated all of this, causing her to let out countless gasps.

His face, however, was still covered with that mask, and she wondered if this was the time he would let her take it off and see his face.

'Do not bother, Dalia, the king had said that he would never, ever show you his face'.

"Wife," he crooned, tilting his head to one side, watching her intently.

Dalia gazed deeply into those brown eyes and felt herself go weak, the clothing she wore not helping at all. Adum had dressed her so seductively; the skirt she wore had a tear in the front, revealing part of her thigh, while many beads accentuated her waist.

The top hugged her chest tightly, accentuating the upper part of her cleavage. She had been so uncomfortable, but Adum had insisted that this was necessary, and she had obeyed despite Dalia's protests that the king would like it too much.

"Close the door, wife," he repeated, but this time his voice was soft, his eyes looking at her like she was a lamb being offered to him, and in no time, he would pounce on her.

Dalia gulped, turning quickly to shut the door. Then, slowly, she looked towards him. Her heart was pounding so much it might betray her steps. But Dalia summoned all her courage as she continued walking towards him; she needed this. This was the only way to get to know him.

He might be a monster, but he had saved her. He was known as her monster, yet her parents had sold her off. Even though she didn't really want this, she was left with no choice but to accept it. It was what her people wanted after all; that's why they had told him to bed her and give them a child.

She paused... bed?

No, obviously, this wasn't the time for that right?

As she began to walk again, his next words actually caused her to stop in her tracks.

"I'm half-clothed, wife," he drawled lazily, but watched her with interest. "Why don't you start taking off your dress," a lazy smile appeared on his mouth, "let us start with the top, shall we?"