Chapter Seven.

Belladonna wanted to scream.

First Lucien. Then Xavian.

And now, she was supposed to brace herself for another encounter?

She wanted peace. A nap. A reality where she wasn't constantly stalked and toyed with by her 'husbands' like some tragic heroine in a bad romance novel.

She stormed up the stairs, unlocked her motel room, and slammed the door shut behind her. Safe.

For now.

With a heavy sigh, she tossed her jacket onto the bed and flopped down next to it.

Just five minutes. Just five minutes to pretend her life wasn't a complete disaster.

The mattress beneath her shifted.

Belladonna froze.

That… wasn't normal.

Slowly—so slowly—she turned her head.

And then promptly yeeted herself off the bed.

There, sprawled lazily against the pillows like he belonged there, was Ezra.

His twilight-blue hair was an absolute mess, strands tangled like he hadn't even thought about brushing it. His half-lidded twilight eyes were the color of a sky caught between dusk and midnight, impossibly heavy-lidded as if he hadn't fully woken up yet.

And worst of all?

He was wearing her hoodie—her oversized, cozy hoodie—that she had left in her apartment weeks ago.

"…" Belladonna opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "What. The. Hell."

Ezra exhaled, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He didn't even flinch at her outburst. Instead, he stretched like a cat, the hoodie riding up just enough to reveal the toned sliver of his stomach.

"You're so loud," he mumbled, voice deep and dripping with sleepy indifference. "I was dreaming, you know."

Belladonna grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at his face.

Ezra barely dodged. Barely.

"Why are you in my room?!"

He blinked at her like she was the one being ridiculous. "Technically, it was my room first. You just happened to pick it too."

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me."

Ezra sighed dramatically. "I told them to give you the room next door, but I guess they messed up. Whatever. Too late now." He stretched again, shameless and unbothered, the movement slow and fluid. "Might as well make yourself comfortable."

Belladonna marched to the bed, grabbed his wrist, and yanked.

Ezra made a sound of complaint but didn't resist as she attempted to drag him off.

He didn't help, either.

Instead, he flopped, forcing her to bear all his weight, which was way more than she had expected.

"Ugh! Get up, you oversized sloth!"

Ezra cracked one eye open. "Mmm, but I'm so comfy," he murmured. Then, with zero warning, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down with him.

Belladonna squeaked.

One second, she had been standing. The next, she was tangled up in a mess of limbs, warmth, and the absolute nerve of a man who had zero regard for personal space.

Her brain went into a full meltdown.

"Hey!"

"Mmm." He nestled into the pillow, still holding her like she was just another blanket. "You smell nice. By the way my name is Ezra."

Belladonna malfunctioned. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally.

She needed to leave. Immediately.

Struggling against him was pointless—Ezra was deceptively strong, and even though he looked relaxed, his grip was firm. He barely even reacted as she squirmed, refusing to let her escape.

"Ezra," she gritted out. "Let. Go."

He yawned in response.

She wanted to commit murder. 'Ugh but i dont wish to use my abilities yet' she thought as she bit her lips.

"I will bite you," she threatened.

Ezra finally opened both eyes, utterly unbothered.

Then, to her absolute horror, he smirked.

"Kinky," he murmured. "I like it."

Belladonna screamed into the pillow.

"What is it that you actually want from me?"

Belladonna stiffened, Ezra's palm warm against her eyes, effectively plunging her into darkness.

She clenched her teeth. I didn't want to use my demon ability, but I guess I have no choice.

Her power coiled at the edges of her mind, ready to unfurl—until his next words stopped her cold.

"I didn't come here to fight you. To be honest, I don't have the strength for that."

The sheer exhaustion in his voice made her pause. Ezra always carried himself with a lazy arrogance, like he had all the time in the world, but this? This was different.

His hand lingered for a moment before he exhaled and let go, as if trusting she wouldn't attack him the second she got the chance.

Belladonna blinked up at him, her vision adjusting again. Now that she wasn't blinded by his hand, she noticed it—the tension in his posture, the faint shadows beneath his twilight-blue eyes, the way he didn't quite hold himself with the usual ease.

He looked... drained.

Still, that didn't mean she was just going to let this slide.

She crossed her arms. "Then why the hell are you here, Ezra? If you're not here to fight, then what do you want?"

Ezra flopped back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh, draping an arm over his face. "To sleep."

Belladonna gawked at him. "You're joking."

"I wish."

"You broke into my motel room. You stole my hoodie. You grabbed me—"

"Correction: borrowed your hoodie. And invited you into bed. There's a difference."

She picked up another pillow and smacked him with it.

Ezra made a sound that was probably supposed to be a groan but came out more like a muffled chuckle. "So violent," he mumbled.

"Get out," she snapped.

"Can't."

"Try harder."

He peeked at her from under his arm, his usual smirk notably absent. "I wasn't lying, Belladonna. I really don't have the strength for that right now."

Her irritation warred with curiosity. "You're just lazy."

Ezra didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes, his breathing slow and even, as if debating whether to say anything at all.

Then, finally, he murmured, "You have met Lucien and Xavian, haven't you?"

Belladonna's brows furrowed. "Yes, I have."

Ezra exhaled, his voice quieter now. "Ah, it seems I will have to work hard to gain your love, but I'm always too lazy to do anything. All I want to do is sleep with you in my arms... Of course, I won't force you. I don't have the strength for that."

His face was slightly flushed, the usual confidence giving way to something softer, something vulnerable.

The day I saw her, on the day she was crowned, Ezra thought as he stared at her, I was immediately attracted to her. And I'm sure it's the same for the others.

Belladonna wanted to slap him. Or shake him. Or both.

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, watching the way Ezra's twilight-blue eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "You're telling me you broke into my room, stole my hoodie, and dragged me into bed just to—what? Take a nap?"

Ezra hummed. "Mm. Pretty much."

She inhaled sharply. "You—!"

"But also," he added before she could finish her sentence, "I wanted to see you."

Her breath hitched.

No teasing lilt in his voice. No lazy smirk. Just those quiet, exhausted words slipping past his lips like an afterthought.

Belladonna's stomach twisted.

She shouldn't care. She didn't care.

And yet…

There was something off about Ezra.

Something that made her hesitate.

"You don't even know me," she said, her voice quieter than before.

Ezra opened one eye, watching her through heavy lids. "I know enough."

Belladonna scoffed. "Oh? Enlighten me, then."

He let out a slow exhale, like he was trying to fight off sleep. "You're stubborn as hell," he murmured. "You hate being controlled. You act like you don't need anyone, but you do. And…" His gaze softened. "You look really tired, Belladonna."

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

She hated how easily he saw through her.

"Shut up," she muttered, looking away.

Ezra chuckled, low and rough. "See? Stubborn."

Belladonna gritted her teeth. "You're really pushing your luck."

"Maybe." He closed his eyes again, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But you haven't thrown me out yet."

Damn him. Damn him and his ridiculous, lazy arrogance.

She should throw him out. She should use her abilities, shove him out the door, and be done with this nonsense.

But she didn't.

Instead, she sat there, staring at the infuriating man who had somehow wormed his way into her personal space and refused to leave.

And for the first time in a long, long while…

She didn't feel alone.

Ezra's voice was soft, almost hypnotic, as if it carried the weight of something ancient and knowing.

"Just like the others, I've been observing you," he murmured. "And you haven't had a good night's sleep in a while, have you?"

Her breath caught in her throat.

How did he—?

She clenched her fists. "That's none of your business."

Ezra hummed, stretching lazily against the pillows. "Maybe not. But it is my concern."

Belladonna narrowed her eyes. "And why the hell would my sleep concern you?"

His twilight-blue eyes slid open, lidded but sharp. "Because you are my queen and also I can help."

A scoff built in her throat, but before she could let it out, the room seemed to shift—like the very air around them grew heavier, softer, warmer.

Her eyelids drooped.

No. No, no, no.

She shook her head, forcing herself awake. "What… what are you doing?"

Ezra exhaled, slow and deep. "Relax, Belladonna."

His voice curled around her like a lullaby, soothing and impossibly gentle.

"You carry too much tension. Too many thoughts. Too many nightmares," he murmured. "I can take them away. Just for a little while."

Belladonna fought against the drowsiness creeping into her bones. "Stop," she bit out. "I don't need your help."

Ezra tilted his head, studying her. "Then why are you shaking?"

She hadn't even realized it.

Her fingers trembled against the sheets, her body screaming for rest even as her mind rebelled against it.

Belladonna swallowed hard. "I—"

"You don't have to fight all the time," Ezra whispered. "Just this once… let go."

His power wrapped around her like a weighted blanket, dragging her toward sleep with every steady breath he took.

Belladonna wanted to resist.

But for the first time in so long, she felt safe.

And before she could argue, her body betrayed her—sinking into the warmth, into the comfort, into the slow, steady rhythm of Ezra's presence.

Her last thought before sleep claimed her?

Damn sloth.