Chapter 2 - The King’s Obsession Begins

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.

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