Transmigrated into the body of a poisoned queen

Javier's POV

Disgusting. How had she come to know the tongue of whores and lowborn scoundrels?

I paced my chamber, her words echoing in my mind like a curse. She had behaved like a common harlot.

That was not the bride I took.

She looked the part of a queen, small hands, delicate mouth, an image of innocence, yet what spilled from that mouth was anything but.

Had they deceived me? Had they sent a sullied woman in place of their precious princess?

My body betrayed me, heat pooling in places I refused to acknowledge. I should not desire such filth. I would not.

I turned sharply toward the door, where I knew my guards stood outside.

"Que venga Catalina." (Have Catalina come.)

"Sí, su majestad." (Yes, Your Majesty.)

Footsteps retreated down the hall, and I exhaled slowly, turning to the window.

This was not going as planned.

I had expected an obedient, dutiful wife, a woman who would take my seed, bear my heir, and little else. There would be no intimacy beyond what duty required. That was how it should have been.

And it had been, until she fainted.

The physician had examined her, declared her in good health, and taken her blood for further study. Yet I still awaited his report. I needed answers. Her sudden ailment, followed by this display of senselessness and shamelessness, could not be mere coincidence.

As I waited for Catalina, I strode to the writing desk near the hearth, where official scrolls and ledgers awaited my attention. Seating myself in the high-backed chair, I poured over the documents, though my thoughts remain stubbornly fixed on her.

By some grace, I managed to lose myself in the scrolls for a brief respite, until the soft sound of footsteps and the faint scent of jasmine disrupted my focus. I turned, and there she stood.

"Your Majesty," Catalina greeted with a graceful bow, her voice soft, her smile demure.

I rose from my chair, her head still lowered in deference.

I stepped toward her, stopping just a few paces away. "Raise your eyes to me."

She obeyed, lifting her gaze slowly, her expression soft.

"Disrobe."

She bowed once more. "As you will, Your Majesty."

As she undressed, a thought struck me like a blade to the gut. That insolent brat, she would have defied me had I given such an order.

"I command it." Her snarling words echoed in my mind, and my hand clenched at the memory of her defiance.

"Your Majesty?" Catalina's gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I looked at her. She stood before me, bared in the sunlight streaming in through the window, her breasts high and full, her waist slim, her form delicate and waiting for my touch.

Yet, to my irritation, another image invaded my mind. The wild, unruly strands of hair that no comb could tame, the fire in her eyes, so unlike Catalina's measured poise.

Before I could stop myself, the words left my lips. "Unbind your hair."

Catalina hesitated, her eyes flickering with surprise. "M-my lord?"

"I shall not repeat myself."

She bowed hurriedly. "As you wish, my lord."

With practiced hands, she loosened the pins, and her dark hair tumbled past her waist.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my temple.

"Lie upon the bed."

She made her way over to the bed on her back, her chest heaving and I made my way over to her.

In mere moments, I freed myself, wrapping my hand around my length, stroking with slow, measured intent. My gaze roamed over her bare form, drinking in every curve, every delicate slope of her flesh. A surge of heat coiled within me, my breath growing heavy as desire took hold. I looked down, my grip tightening.

I pressed the tip against her entrance, feeling her body tense beneath me, her breath quickening.

With one firm thrust, I was seated to the hilt.

She gasped, a sound caught between pleasure and pain, her fingers clutching the sheets.

I withdrew, slowly, until only the head remained, then drove forward again, claiming her with a force that sent tremors through her body.

Her moans filled the chamber, soft and breathless, her head thrown back in surrender. But then, like a cruel trick of the gods, the image before me shifted.

It was no longer Catalina beneath me. It was her, that insolent creature with defiance in her eyes and that damned smirk on her lips.

"Is that the extent of Your Majesty's prowess?" she goaded, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

A growl rumbled in my chest, and I thrust harder, punishing, demanding.

The sound of our bodies meeting echoed through the chamber, mingling with her sharp cries.

"You will yield," I ground out, punctuating each word with a deep stroke. "You will learn respect."

"Y-Your Majesty… slow d.." Catalina's voice wavered beneath me, dragging me from my haze of fury and desire.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the unwanted vision from my mind. My hands gripped her thighs, pinning her beneath me as I moved, chasing a release that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with possession.

I held her down as I continued thrusting, my eyes shut, grunts escaping my lips. I had never been one to make a sound during such acts, believing it to be nothing more than a means to release pent-up tension.

But she had unraveled me. Her defiance, her insolence, the way she challenged me, it festered inside me, twisting into something volatile. I despised it. I despised her. And yet, here I was, consumed by the fire she had ignited.

Beneath me, Catalina trembled, her cries of pleasure filling the chamber as her body clenched around me. My control wavered, and with a final thrust, I pulled out, spilling my seed across her breasts and chest.

A low grunt left my lips, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Without another glance, I stepped back, tucking myself into my trousers with a practiced hand.

"See yourself dressed," I commanded, my tone as cold as the stone walls surrounding us.

A sigh, the rustling of sheets. I ran a hand over my face, turning toward the window, seeking solace in the view beyond the glass. The midday sun bathed the gardens in golden light, yet there was no warmth for me. No peace

I sensed her presence before she spoke, too near.

"Your Majesty," Catalina murmured, her tone laced with quiet concern. "Forgive me, but you appear troubled."