The sky loomed heavy with storm clouds, casting an eerie gray over the abandoned Draven Castle. The ruins stood desolate, its crumbling stone walls whispering of a history long forgotten by time. Yet, as Selene Carter stepped over the scattered debris, a strange chill crawled down her spine—as if the very air around her was watching.

She shivered and pulled her coat tighter, her boots crunching against the gravel-strewn floor. This wasn’t the first ancient ruin she had explored as an archaeologist, but something about this place unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

"You feel that?" she murmured to herself, her breath visible in the crisp evening air.

"Feel what?" Daniel, her colleague, called from behind. He was busy flipping through his notebook, oblivious to the unnatural stillness in the air.

Selene exhaled sharply. Maybe she was imagining things. The wind whistled through the empty corridors, howling through the broken windows like a mournful song. The castle had been abandoned for centuries, a relic of a forgotten king’s reign, swallowed by time.

And yet… it didn’t feel empty.

Her fingers brushed the rough stone walls, and for a fleeting second, a sensation surged through her—warmth, familiarity… like an echo of something long lost.

Shaking off the strange feeling, she continued deeper into the ruins, her eyes drawn to the shattered remains of what must have been the throne room.

Tall, cracked columns lined the hall, their engravings faded with time. The massive stone throne, though worn, still sat at the far end of the room. And at its base—something shimmered beneath the dust and debris.

Selene’s pulse quickened.

She knelt down, brushing away layers of dirt to reveal an intricately designed silver pendant—a serpent devouring its own tail, a symbol of eternity. The metal was cool against her fingertips, yet strangely… alive.

A sudden gust of wind surged through the room, snuffing out the dim glow of her lantern.

Daniel cursed from across the hall. "Damn it! The storm’s getting worse—Selene, we need to go!"

But she barely heard him.

A strange force pulsed from the pendant, traveling up her arm like a jolt of electricity.

Then, the world shifted.

The air thickened, the ruins around her warped, and an invisible pull yanked at her body.

She gasped as an intense white light exploded around her, blinding and all-consuming.

The last thing she heard was Daniel shouting her name.

Then—darkness.

---

Selene awoke to warmth.

The bitter cold of the ruins was gone, replaced by the soft embrace of silk beneath her fingertips. The scent of burning incense, leather, and something deeply masculine filled the air.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and her breath caught in her throat.

This… wasn’t the ruins.

She was lying on a massive canopy bed, the velvet curtains drawn back to reveal an ornately carved ceiling. The flickering glow of candlelight cast shadows on the stone walls, illuminating intricate gold filigree.

Selene’s heart pounded.

Something was very, very wrong.

Before she could react, a deep, velvety voice cut through the air—dangerous, knowing.

"You have finally returned to me, my love."

Her blood ran cold.

Slowly, she turned her head toward the dark figure standing at the foot of the bed.

And the moment their eyes met, everything inside her screamed to run.

Selene’s breath hitched as her gaze locked onto the man standing before her.

Tall and imposing, he radiated an aura of absolute power. His black and crimson robes, embroidered with the sigil of a serpent and dragon intertwined, draped over his broad shoulders. A heavy belt cinched his waist, a gleaming sword sheathed at his side.

But it wasn’t his royal attire that made her blood freeze.

It was his eyes—piercing silver, sharp as a predator’s, watching her as if she belonged to him.

"You have finally returned to me," he murmured, stepping closer, his voice deep and possessive.

Selene’s pulse pounded against her ribs. She scrambled back, nearly tangling in the silk sheets. "Who—who the hell are you?"

The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her reaction. "Do you not remember?" His voice was smooth, yet laced with something dark. "Or is this fate’s cruel joke, making me wait only for you to forget me once again?"

She shook her head, her mind racing. "I don’t know you," she said, her voice unsteady. "I don’t belong here. I was in—"

She trailed off. The ruins.

Daniel. The pendant. The light.

How the hell had she gotten here?

"You do not belong?" The man repeated her words, his smirk vanishing. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "And yet, you are here. In my bed. In my kingdom."

Selene yanked her arm forward—only to feel resistance.

She gasped, looking down. A delicate golden cuff encircled her wrist, attached to a thin, yet unbreakable chain connected to the bedpost.

Her stomach twisted in horror.

Her eyes snapped back up to the man, panic rising in her throat. "Let me go!" She pulled against the restraint, but the metal barely budged. "What is this?!"

His silver eyes darkened with something unreadable. "A precaution," he said smoothly. "To keep you from running. You always try to run."

Selene’s heart pounded. "I don’t know you!" she shouted, frustration mixing with fear. "You have the wrong person!"

He chuckled, but it was not kind.

"You say that every time," he mused, reaching out with a gloved hand to brush his fingers along her cheek. Selene flinched, but he only smiled—a look filled with possession, control, and something disturbingly close to adoration.

His fingers trailed lower, over the bare skin of her neck.

She shivered.

"Who… are you?" she whispered.

The man finally straightened, his smirk fading.

"I am King Valerian Draven, ruler of the Draven Kingdom. And you," his gaze locked onto hers, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "are mine."

Selene’s stomach clenched.

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

She had read about him. Valerian Draven, the merciless king, feared for his brutal conquests and ruthless punishments. He was a legend—a ghost from a history long buried.

A dead king.

Her breath came fast, her mind screaming for an escape. "No," she choked out. "This isn’t real. I— I need to go back!"

Valerian’s jaw tensed. "Go back?" He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "And where would that be, little one?"

Selene swallowed. "My world. My time."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The only sound was the distant crackling of torches beyond the chamber doors.

Then, Valerian sighed, as if deeply, endlessly exhausted. He took another step closer, pressing a hand to the mattress beside her as he leaned in, his presence consuming her.

"You do not understand," he murmured, his breath brushing against her lips. "You were always meant to be here. With me."

Selene squeezed her eyes shut. "This is a mistake," she whispered, shaking her head. "I am not who you think I am."

Valerian tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His silver eyes burned into hers, unreadable, intense.

"You always say that," he murmured, his voice velvety, dark, and utterly possessive.

Selene’s heart hammered in her chest.

"I will never let you go," he whispered. "Not in this life. Not in the next."

Her entire body went rigid.

Something deep inside her whispered that he meant it.

And no matter how much she tried to resist…

King Valerian Draven would never set her free.

Selene’s mind raced as she yanked at the golden cuff around her wrist. Her breathing was fast, erratic, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the delicate-looking chain that held her captive. But despite its thin appearance, it was unyielding, as if woven from something stronger than mere metal.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

And yet, every sensation—the warmth of the sheets beneath her, the scent of burning incense lingering in the air, and most of all, the piercing silver gaze of the man before her—felt terrifyingly real.

Valerian Draven, the ruthless king, the dead king, stood only inches away, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Selene forced herself to breathe. Think. Find a way out.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. "This is a mistake. I don’t belong here. I need to go back."

Valerian tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. His silver eyes gleamed with something dark, something almost… amused. "Go back?" he repeated, his voice smooth, patient. "And where would that be, my love?"

Selene’s throat tightened.

"My world," she whispered, gripping the silk sheets beneath her fingers. "My time. I— I don’t know how I got here, but I don’t belong in this place. I don’t belong to you."

Something in Valerian’s expression shifted.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, he sighed—a slow, measured sound, as if she were testing his patience. "You speak as though this is the first time we have stood like this. As though I have not heard these same words fall from your lips before."

Her stomach twisted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Valerian reached for something beside the bed. Selene flinched, her body tensing in anticipation of an attack.

But he didn’t strike her.

Instead, he lifted something into her view—a golden locket, old, its surface slightly worn.

Selene frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "What is that?"

His fingers brushed over the locket with reverence, before he extended it toward her. "Open it."

Her instincts screamed not to trust him, but her curiosity won out.

With shaky hands, she took the locket and pried it open.

Her breath caught.

Inside was a tiny painting—of her.

It wasn’t a perfect match—her hair was styled differently, her dress was old-fashioned—but the face staring back at her was unmistakably her own.

Selene’s entire body went cold.

She snapped the locket shut, throwing it away from her. "No. No, that’s not possible."

Valerian sighed again, as if her resistance truly exhausted him. "You do not believe me. You never do, at first."

Selene shook her head violently. "You’re lying. That’s just a coincidence. That’s not me!"

A slow, predatory smile curled on Valerian’s lips. "Then tell me, Selene," he murmured, stepping forward until he was towering over her, "why do you remember my name?"

Her breath hitched.

Her mind reeled.

She had known his name before he introduced himself.

Her throat went dry. No. That— that had to be a mistake.

Valerian leaned down, caging her between his arms, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There is a reason your soul has found its way back to me. Over and over again, no matter how many lifetimes pass, you always return."

Selene’s heart hammered. "That’s not true," she choked out.

He smiled—a slow, knowing smirk that sent a shiver down her spine.

"It is. And this time," he whispered, "I will not let you slip away."

She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip firm yet careful. His thumb brushed over her pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath her skin.

"You always fight me at first," he murmured. "But fate has already decided."

Selene trembled. "You can’t keep me here," she whispered. "I will find a way back."

Valerian’s silver eyes darkened, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"You can try, little one," he murmured, his voice like velvet and steel. "But I will always bring you back to me."

Her stomach twisted. She believed him.

And for the first time since waking in this strange world, Selene felt a terror deeper than anything she had ever known.

Because if this was true—if she really had been here before—then escaping King Valerian Draven was impossible.