Abamsky

He’s the cursed King of the Night.
She’s the last omega prophesied to break him.

Selene has been hiding her scent, her power, and her past. But the moment Valerian—the cold, dangerously seductive Night King—catches her scent, the hunt begins.

He claims her with one bite.
She burns him with one touch.

Bound by fate. Torn by secrets. Their desire is forbidden… but irresistible. And in the dark palace of the damned, passion could save them—or unleash hell itself.

Fated to Night king

Chapter 7: The Mark Beneath Her Skin

Selene woke in a haze, the silken sheets around her clinging to her sweat-drenched skin. Her dreams had been drenched in blood-red skies and the deep, velvet voice of the Night King whispering her name. Valerian. Even now, with her eyes open, his presence still lingered like the phantom touch of a lover that had never truly left.

She glanced at her shoulder where the mark had first appeared—the strange curling symbol that had burned its way into her skin since their fated meeting. It pulsed faintly, glowing with a soft indigo light before fading again beneath her skin. She clutched at it instinctively, like she could erase the memory or dull the connection it created.

Voices echoed outside her chamber—guards, servants, and the distant howl of a beast. Night had not yet surrendered to dawn, and Castle Thorne still dripped shadows like black ink down its stone walls. Selene pushed off the covers and padded to the window, bare feet cold against the marble floor. The cursed lands stretched before her, veiled in mist, haunted by the war between light and shadow.

There was no turning back. She was no longer a girl hidden among the forest packs. She was the omega prophesied in ancient scrolls to either break the curse—or become its final victim.

His cloak was soaked from the rain, his dark hair falling in damp waves around his chiseled face. The crimson of his eyes simmered low—no longer burning with rage, but something deeper, more desperate.

"You called me," he said, voice barely more than gravel.

"I didn't," she whispered, but her body betrayed her. The mark on her shoulder glowed again, responding to his nearness.

He approached, each step heavy with the weight of restraint. "The mark responds to need—not words. Your fear, your pain, your longing—it calls to me."

Selene stepped back, but there was nowhere to run. Valerian was too close. His presence always swallowed the room.

"I don't want this. I never asked for this bond."

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, rare vulnerability flashing across his features. "And yet, we are bound. Not by choice—but by fate. The prophecy named you, Selene. The last pure omega. The one whose blood can sever the curse—or awaken the true Night."

He raised his hand, reaching toward her. She flinched—but didn't pull away. His fingers barely grazed the edge of the mark, and she felt her knees weaken, a fire crawling beneath her flesh.

She did. Goddess help her, she felt everything. His sadness. His hunger. His control cracking around the edges.

"I won't let fate control me," she breathed.

He nodded slowly. "Then fight it. But if you run, it will still find you. So will I."

He turned and walked away, leaving the scent of rain and ash in his wake.

Selene sagged against the wall, eyes shut, heart pounding. Her future wasn't just uncertain—it was laced with teeth.

Meanwhile, deep beneath Castle Thorne, the Seer of the Veil stirred in her sleep, tangled in prophecy. Her lips moved in a whisper:

"When the omega bleeds beneath the night, the king shall fall—or rise to eternal dark."

A single drop of ink spilled across the ancient scroll.