Chapter 21

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Chapter 21: The Taming of the Moonfire

The room trembled with the remnants of Valerian's roar. The shadows shivered as if trying to crawl back into the corners, retreating from the power that pulsed off him in waves. Selene stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her heartbeat thundered like war drums, echoing louder than the silence that followed.

He hadn't touched her, not yet—but she felt the weight of his presence like a hand wrapped around her throat and hips at once. Dominant. Demanding. Desperate.

But not cruel.

Not yet.

She backed away a single step, and Valerian's eyes narrowed—his pupils still slitted, the red threading deeper through his iris. He looked like something ancient. Something that remembered fire and ice and war.

"Don't run," he said. The words came out more like a growl, strained and low, his fangs glinting behind parted lips.

"I'm not running," Selene said, though her body screamed for her to. "But I'm not surrendering either."

His mouth twisted, a cruel smile that did not reach his eyes. "Still so stubborn, little Omega."

"You'd hate me if I were anything else."

Valerian moved then—fast, a blur of dark hair and heavy steps. In the next breath, she was against the stone wall, his hands braced on either side of her face. He didn't touch her—yet—but she could feel the heat of him, his scent—night jasmine and smoke and ancient ruin—swallowing her whole.

Her throat bobbed as she stared at him.

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Do you feel it now?" he whispered. "The bond you've been fighting?"

Selene clenched her fists. "I feel something," she whispered back. "But I don't know if it's fate or fear."

Valerian pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her again. There was a softness in his gaze, buried under centuries of darkness. It flickered, brief but visible.

"You're afraid of me," he said, not a question.

"I'm afraid of what I might become… if I want you."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Outside the tower, wind howled like wolves mourning the moon. Inside, tension rippled between them like heat mirage over sand.

"Then let me show you," Valerian murmured, his voice velvet-dipped steel. "What it means to want me. To be wanted… by the Night King."

Selene's breath caught as he finally touched her—just a fingertip tracing down her cheek, over her jaw, her throat. Not a threat. A reverence.

"You're mine," he said.

Her lips trembled. "And what if I say no?"

"Then I wait," Valerian said. "Even if it kills me."

His restraint shocked her more than any violent kiss could have. The legends had lied. He was dangerous, yes. But this—this was something far more lethal.

He was patient.

And patience in a monster was far more seductive than wrath.

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Later that night, Selene stood at the highest point of the Night King's castle, staring out at the blood-red moon. The truth of her bloodline had awakened something in her. Moonfire—the old name for what burned inside her. It wasn't just light. It was power. Power that could bind or break.

And Valerian… He wasn't just a cursed king. He was her mirror.

Two cursed beings staring at each other across fate's knife-edge.

Below, she heard footsteps. Heavy. Familiar.

She didn't turn when he joined her. Just stood there, letting the silence breathe between them.

"Do you regret saving me?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Do you regret staying?"

Selene closed her eyes. "Not yet."

He moved behind her, his arms sliding around her waist. "Good. Because the war is coming, little Omega. And you're not just my prophecy. You're my weapon."

She turned in his arms then, the wind whipping her hair into his face.

"And what if I don't want to be a weapon?" she whispered.

Valerian's eyes burned with fierce pride. "Then I'll make sure the world learns to kneel for you, not fear you."

Their lips met—not violently, but with the kind of slow burn that promised chaos. The kind of kiss that started revolutions and broke ancient curses.

And somewhere deep within her soul, the Moonfire stirred.

Ready.

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