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Violet stirred in her sleep, strong arms wrapped around her. It felt so good that she instinctively leaned into the warmth, mumbling small incomprehensive words. She had never felt this safe and protected.

Not to mention, his scent was darkly intoxicating, a complex, layered blend that seemed to wrap around her with an undeniable pull.

It was a dangerously alluring mix of smoked cedar and dark spice, laced with a sharp hint of ozone. There was an edge of iron, raw and unsettling, yet softened by a faint sweetness like night-blooming jasmine.

It wrapped around her, compelling her to breathe him in, even when she instinctively knew she shouldn’t.

He let out a low, rich laugh as she nuzzled against his neck, her nose brushing his skin.

The sound reverberated through her, igniting a spark that raced through her veins and settled deep in her core, arousing her.

She moaned softly, leaning in closer, and his laughter rang again, deeper this time.

"You’re a possessive one, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice warm against her ear.

At the same time, his hand traced down her spine, sending shivers along her back.

He must’ve noticed the effect of his touch because he did it again, slower this time, dragging it out to prolong every bit of the sweet torture.

His voice dropped to a low, husky murmur. "Cling all you want, because I might already be obsessed with you, my purple flower."

Violet, who had been savoring the whole moment, suddenly went rigid as something clicked in her mind at the mention of "purple flower."

No, it couldn’t be—this was just a dream. And yet, the sensation of his hands moving down her spine felt almost painfully real. And why did it feel like she was naked?

Her eyes snapped open, connecting immediately with none other than Asher Nightshade himself.

Rather than anger, a gasp of astonishment escaped her lips, and not because of the shocking intimacy of their bodies pressed together, but because Asher Nightshade wasn’t wearing his shades, leaving her face-to-face with his uncovered eyes.

Beyond his notorious ability to captivate anyone with a single look, Violet finally understood why he hid them. Asher’s eyes were unlike any she’d seen before. They were a haunting gray, but more strikingly, they were vertically slitted.

They reminded her of those mythical creatures she had read about in stories. Asher looked at her with a lazy, almost predatory gaze, perfectly embodying a passage she’d once read: "He gazed upon her like a slumbering dragon, that he was."

For a moment, Violet was caught in the hypnotic allure of his unusual eyes, until he ruined it by speaking. "You’re finally awake, my purple flower."

Fuck. It all dawned on her. She was in bed with Asher fucking Nightshade. Her gaze dropped down to her body. Double fuck. She was practically naked, only in her bra and underwear.

The last thing she remembered was going to bed, so how she was now half-naked and in Asher’s bed was beyond her understanding.

As if he could somehow sense her thoughts, Asher flashed a predator’s smile and murmured, "How did you know black was my favorite?"

Oh no, please tell her he wasn’t reading her mind right now. Filled with fury, Violet swung her hand back and punched him square in the face, completely catching him off guard.

For a second, it felt like her awareness was slipping, that she was waking up from this nightmare, but then the sensation abruptly stopped. She was still here.

There was no time to think; she had to get out.

Violet spotted the door and bolted. She didn’t care if others might see her leaving Asher’s room half-dressed.

She knew exactly how it looked, and rumors would surely spread, but she’d risk it all to escape that psychopath who dared to snatch her from her bed.

Who in the world does that? Anger coursed through her, but there was nothing she could do now except run.

She had to escape now, think later. There’d be plenty of time to add his name to the list of Alphas she intended to seek revenge on. With Griffin and Roman already claiming the first two spots, Asher had just made number three.

But as Violet strode through the door, something bizarre happened. A second later, she found herself back in the same room.

What. The. Actual. Hell.

This had to be some kind of trick. Violet was stubborn, so she marched right back to the door and went through it again, only to find herself back in the room. Again.

No, no, this couldn’t be real.

She turned and left again.

Meanwhile, Asher, reclined against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, watching his "purple flower" stumble through her futile escape attempts.

She hadn’t met his gaze with terror or screamed in fear, which was an impressive reaction, as most girls would have filled the room with whiny pleas until he was forced to let them go.

And for a moment, she’d almost seemed intrigued by his eyes.

That alone made him want to preen, to flaunt, like a peacock, that is, if he’d had feathers to flaunt.

People always called his eyes cursed, but not her.

The look in her eyes had been pure fascination.

And for that, he would keep her. She belonged to him.

Violet’s frustration grew with each failed attempt to leave through the door. Her face was etched with irritation, her frame taut with tension.

At least he got to enjoy the sight of her bare cheeks peeking out from her black panties each time she turned her back to try the door. Again and again.

Then, as if inspired, her eyes landed on the open window. Without hesitation, she bolted for it and leaped through.

Asher’s brows rose in amusement. Smart thinking, as he’d expect from his queen. Did she believe that an injury would release her from this special prison he’d crafted?

His control had nearly slipped when she’d punched him, but he’d mastered his abilities for years. The only reason he’d faltered was the sheer surprise of the blow; otherwise, his grip was unbreakable.

As expected, seconds later, she reappeared in his room, looking momentarily disoriented, her hair tousled from her leap. She was uninjured, of course. He’d made sure of that.

When Violet realized she was right back where she’d started, fury flashed across her face. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she stormed toward him like a bull, eyes blazing.

Asher grinned, thoroughly entertained, even as she wrapped her hands around his throat and snarled, "What in the mother-fucking world have you done to me?!"

His grin widened. Just as he’d expected of his fierce Purple Queen.