The world knew him as Valerian Leclair—an enigmatic model who graced the runways with an ethereal presence that blurred the line between beauty and the divine. His features, sharp yet soft, were hauntingly perfect, a face carved by gods themselves. The industry whispered about him: cold, unattainable, but mesmerizing. He was femininely elegant, yet behind his soft smiles lay a terrifying dominion—one that few dared to challenge.
In truth, Valerian was no mere human. He was a demi-god, a celestial being whose origins were whispered in ancient myths and feared by those who knew the truth. He carried within him the essence of an ancient power, hidden beneath the glittering world of fashion. No mortal could tame him, and none had ever come close to touching the core of what he was.
And then there was Elias Valtor.
Valerian hated him.
Elias was everything Valerian despised—a businessman who reeked of control, power, and a kind of confidence that made others melt in submission. He was tall, dark-eyed, impossibly composed. The kind of man who walked into a room and commanded it effortlessly. But beyond that, there was something about him that unsettled Valerian. Something he could not ignore.
The first time they met, it had been at an exclusive gala in Paris. Valerian felt it before he saw him—a presence, cold and controlled, yet vast. When he turned, Elias was watching him, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes carrying something that made Valerian's skin prickle with warning.
"Valerian Leclair," Elias greeted, his voice smooth, low, carrying the weight of something more than human. "A pleasure."
Valerian despised the way his name sounded on the man's lips. As if Elias knew him. As if he had any right to.
"Should I know you?" Valerian replied coolly, his delicate fingers wrapping around the crystal flute of champagne he held.
Elias smiled, slow and deliberate. "Not yet."
That was the beginning of the torment.
Wherever Valerian went, Elias was there. At fashion shows, at private events, at elite gatherings where only the most powerful and most beautiful existed. Always watching, always waiting. Never overstepping, never giving Valerian the satisfaction of a real confrontation. It was infuriating.
Valerian had lived centuries untouched, unchallenged. Mortals fell at his feet, worshiped his beauty, his cold presence. Even those who knew of his divine nature did not dare approach without reverence. But Elias? Elias was different.
Elias did not cower. He did not falter. He treated Valerian not as something to be feared, but as something to be understood.
And Valerian loathed him for it.
One evening, after an especially grueling show, Valerian stepped outside the venue, seeking the crisp night air to clear his mind. And there he was—Elias, leaning against a sleek black car, his suit immaculate, his posture relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.
"Are you following me?" Valerian demanded, his voice as cold as the night.
Elias tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. "No. But you do intrigue me."
Valerian scoffed, stepping closer, his movements graceful but sharp, like a blade hidden beneath silk. "Then stop. Whatever game you think you're playing, I am not interested."
Elias chuckled. The sound was infuriatingly soft. "You think this is a game?"
"It always is," Valerian hissed. "Men like you always want something."
Elias's expression darkened for just a moment, something flickering behind his eyes—something dangerous. And then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same unreadable calm.
"I wonder," Elias murmured, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming in a way that set Valerian's nerves ablaze. "Do you hate me because you see something in me you cannot control?"
Valerian's breath hitched for the briefest moment. He hated that Elias was close enough to notice it.
"I hate you because you exist," Valerian whispered, each word laced with venom. "Because you are insufferable. Because you look at me as if I am not beyond you."
Elias smirked, tilting his head. "You aren't."
The words sent a surge of fury through Valerian, but before he could react, Elias was already stepping back, hands tucked into his pockets, the very picture of patience.
"This isn't over," Elias said simply. And then, he was gone.
Valerian stood in the cold night air, seething.
He hated Elias.
And he hated that, for the first time in centuries, someone had managed to make him feel anything at all.
_A FEW DAYS LATER_
The invitation arrived on a scroll of golden parchment, the wax seal bearing the sigil of an ancient pantheon long hidden from mortal eyes. Valerian sighed as he read it. A godly meeting. He had no interest in their politics, their petty disputes, yet the celestial realm demanded his presence.Dressed in garments woven from celestial silk, Valerian ascended to the grand hall of the gods. As he walked through the marble corridors, his form shifted. Gone was the elegant human guise—his true self emerged.
Valerian's divine form was a beauty beyond mortal comprehension. His hair, now shimmering like woven stardust, cascaded down his back, flowing as if caught in an eternal breeze. His eyes, luminous like the celestial heavens, held galaxies within their depths. His skin, impossibly smooth, glowed with an ethereal radiance, a divine light that softened and sharpened in equal measure. His entire being was an enigma—both terrifying and enthralling, a vision that had never before existed.
As he stepped into the hall, he moved with effortless grace, each step sending ripples of divine energy through the air. The gods turned to admire, some in awe, others in envy.
And then Valerian collided into someone.
He stilled, a rare moment of surprise flickering through his impossibly perfect features.
"Careful," a familiar voice murmured.
Valerian looked up sharply, and his breath caught.
Elias.
Standing before him, unbothered, dressed in celestial robes that barely concealed the raw power beneath, was Elias Valtor. The same man who haunted him in the mortal realm. The same man he despised. And yet, seeing him here, among gods, was something Valerian had never anticipated.
For the first time, he felt an unfamiliar sensation clawing at him—shock.
Elias, however, was looking at him differently now. Dark eyes traced every inch of Valerian's divine form, drinking it in, admiration flickering in the depths of his gaze.
"You're beautiful," Elias murmured, voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with something deep, something reverent.
Valerian scoffed, quickly masking his moment of vulnerability. Without another word, he turned his back and walked away, ignoring the way Elias's gaze burned into him.
He would not let Elias unsettle him.
Not here. Not now.
But deep down, Valerian knew the game between them had only just begun.