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 halls of the ancient Keep pulsed with unease.

Hidden deep in the mountains carved by time and war, the Crimson Conclave had not met in over a century. Now, summoned by the ringing of the Bell of Bonds and the violent tear of the Aether sky, they gathered—nine lords of power and prophecy. Nine secrets. Nine blades in the dark.

Selene stood at the center of the high chamber, stone cold beneath her bare feet. Her omega scent, no longer masked, filled the air with a soft, dangerous sweetness—like honey laced with venom.

Valerian stood beside her, his cloak billowing like smoke, his gaze never leaving the Conclave. His arm brushed hers, grounding her, binding her. He wore no crown, but the shadows bowed to him. His presence, sharp as a sword drawn in moonlight, was enough to silence even the elders.

"Why summon us?" asked the First, a woman cloaked in crimson silk with silver horns coiled in her hair. "Do you think ringing a relic gives you power over us?"

"No," Selene said calmly. "We rang it to warn you."

"Warn us of what?" snapped the Second, his voice like broken glass.

"The prophecy is broken," Valerian answered. "Or rewritten. You choose the word. But it's no longer waiting to unfold—it's happening now."

"The stars scream," the Fifth murmured. "We thought it was the tear. The rift—"

Selene stepped forward. "It was. But the tear didn't appear on its own. It responded to the bond between us."

"And now?" asked the First. "You claim to be what? The new Flamebearer and Night King?"

Valerian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We don't claim. We are."

Then the Ninth, a robed figure whose face was entirely hidden, spoke in a voice like wind over a grave. "Then the Beast will wake. The one that devours both fate and flame."

The Ninth raised a skeletal hand and let a vision rise—a silver flame in the air that twisted into the shape of something ancient. Not vampire. Not fae. Something older. Forgotten.

"Long ago," he said, "before the Night Throne fell, the Flamebearer kept something locked beyond the Gates of Dust. A god of hunger. A creature of prophecy's end. When the chosen bond truly ignites—when omega and vampire become more than prophecy—it wakes."

Valerian answered for him. "Then it kills everything."

Then the Fifth said what they all feared. "If the bond between you two caused the tear… then the gate will open fully when the bond is… completed."

Selene's cheeks flushed. "You mean—"

"When you mate fully," the First said. "When you give yourselves completely, body and soul… the Beast will come."

She looked at Valerian, and he at her.

Desire. Love. Hunger. Need. It had always burned between them.

Now their love could end the world.

Valerian's eyes turned dark. "We make a choice."

But neither of them knew what the right one was.

To stay apart and save the world—or come together and risk losing it.

And in the shadows of the Keep, something stirred.

Because no matter what choice they made… the Beast would come.

Chapter 36