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

The moon hung low over the valley of Thorne, casting silver shadows through the twisted trees as Selene stood at the edge of the ruins, her breath catching in her throat. The vision still lingered in her mind—a golden flame encircling a black crown, and a whisper that sounded like Valerian's voice calling her name through eternity.

Behind her, Valerian approached in silence, his footsteps soundless on the soft moss. His aura blanketed the air around her—dark, magnetic, full of that aching promise. She turned to face him, and the moment their eyes met, the bond stirred again—vibrating beneath her skin like fire and ice locked in a dance.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

Selene nodded. "The crown. The flame. The voice."

Valerian took her hands, his fingers cool and elegant. "It's the prophecy. It's awakening again, and it's no longer just mine to bear."

She swallowed, heart thudding. "What does it mean for us?"

He hesitated, then brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "It means we're not just bound by blood or desire. We're bound by fate. The curse—the thing that keeps me from loving, from touching, from claiming—it's shifting. Because of you."

A gust of wind swept past them, and the scent of ancient roses filled the air. Somewhere in the woods, a howl rang out—wolf or something darker, neither of them knew.

Valerian's jaw tightened. "There's someone else here."

"Someone who hunts omegas like you. Someone who knows your blood can awaken more than prophecy."

Before she could question further, he pulled her into the shadows with him, wrapping his cloak around her. The world dimmed, cloaked by a veil of shadows that only his kind could control.

They moved through the dark like whispers, Selene pressed close to Valerian's body, his breath warm against her temple. Her pulse raced with fear—and something hotter, deeper.

They reached the hidden chamber beneath the ruins—an altar carved from obsidian, ancient symbols etched into its surface.

"This is where the original pact was made," Valerian whispered. "Where my ancestors offered blood for immortality. The curse was born here. If we want to break it, this is where it must end."

Selene looked at him, eyes wide. "You want to end your reign?"

"No," he said, voice low. "I want to end the torment. The loneliness. I want to be free to love you without hurting you."

Then Selene stepped forward, her fingers grazing the altar's cold surface. "Tell me what to do."

Valerian took out a small dagger—silver, old, humming with power. He pressed it gently to her palm. "Only if you're willing. A drop of your blood, joined with mine, will awaken the Crimson Pact. But if it fails…"

Together, they cut their palms. Blood dripped onto the altar, and the runes flared red like fire igniting ancient ash. The ground trembled. A scream rose—not from either of them, but from the walls, the stones, the spirits that lingered beneath centuries of pain.

Selene felt her knees weaken as the bond flared, hotter than before, burning through every vein in her body.

Valerian fell to his knees beside her, clutching his chest.

The air around them cracked like thunder. The prophecy was awake.

And now, nothing could stop what was coming.

Chapter 12