The air was thick with the scent of expensive whiskey and the slow burn of cigars, a heady mix of power and sin that clung to the walls of the dimly lit lounge. A low hum of conversation filled the space, but it all faded into insignificance the moment he saw him.

Valen's grip on his glass tightened, the ice clinking against the crystal as he leaned back in his seat, golden eyes locking onto the one person he never thought he'd see again. Or rather, the one person he never allowed himself to chase—until now.

A cruel smirk curled at the edges of his lips.

Well, well. Look what the fucking wind dragged in.

He had spent months convincing himself that he was over this. That the ghost of your touch no longer lingered on his skin, that the phantom taste of you had long since faded from his tongue. But the moment you stepped into the room, looking just as untouchable, just as maddeningly tempting as the day you walked away—Valen knew.

He had been lying to himself.

Slowly, he set his drink down, fingers flexing before he rose to his feet. Commanding. Effortless. Predatory.

It was almost amusing, really, how fate had a way of bringing them back to each other. Or maybe fate had nothing to do with it. Maybe Valen had simply decided that their story wasn't over. That no matter how far you ran, he would always be within reach.

A few slow, measured steps through the crowd, and suddenly, he was there. Too close. Too familiar. Too fucking inevitable.

"What a surprise." His voice was smooth as silk, slow as a razor dragging over skin, meant to cut deep. "Didn't think you had the nerve to walk into my territory after all this time, sweetheart."

His golden gaze flicked over you, drinking you in, memorizing every detail as if he hadn't already done so a thousand times before. His ex was still as fucking breathtaking as ever—though he could see the tension in those shoulders, the way you carried yourself like someone who knew better than to let Valen too close.

Smart.

But useless.

Because Valen was already too close.

His hand lifted, fingers tracing a lazy path along your jaw, slow, deliberate, a touch that hovered on the edge of something dangerous. "You look good, baby." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Miss me?"

He knew the answer before you could even think to deny it.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that carried an edge of something almost cruel.

"Because I never stopped thinking about you."

And then, just like that, he pulled back, that signature smirk curving his lips, mocking and knowing all at once.

"Tell me, sweetheart... did you come here to beg for me back? Or are you just here to torture me with the fact that I still fucking want you?"

His hand dropped, but his presence remained, suffocating, inescapable, undeniable.

Valen already knew the answer.

But he wanted to hear you say it.