The Devil’s Kiss, The Killer’s Claim

The thick and intoxicating scent of whiskey and smoke clung to the air. The dim lighting of the underground club cast eerie shadows over the leather-clad men, their murmurs blending with the sultry hum of a jazz tune playing in the background. But none of it mattered to her.

She could feel his eyes on her. Watching. Waiting.

Kim Taehyung had a gaze that stripped her bare, a predatory hunger that sent a shiver of fear and something far more dangerous coursing through her veins.

He sat in his usual place—the center of the room, legs spread in lazy arrogance, one hand cradling a glass of dark liquor while the other tapped idly against the armrest of his chair. His expensive suit molded to his frame, the black silk shirt beneath undone at the collar, exposing a sliver of tanned skin. He looked like sin personified. And she was about to be his next victim.

She swallowed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. It was too tight, too revealing—chosen specifically by the man who now held her fate in his bloodstained hands.

"You run once," his voice was velvet and steel, smooth but edged with warning. "You don't get to run again."

She inhaled sharply as he stood, moving toward her with the slow, calculated steps of a predator savoring the chase. The club faded into the background. The music, the people—none of it mattered anymore.

Only him.

Her breathing hitched when he stopped inches away, close enough that his scent—dark spice and something inherently masculine—invaded her senses. His fingers lifted, brushing against her jaw, the touch deceptively gentle. But she knew better. There was nothing gentle about Kim Taehyung.

"You're trembling," he murmured, tilting his head. "Good."

Her pulse pounded. She wasn't sure if it was fear or something far more damning, something she had no business feeling for a man who had dragged her into his world of blood and power.

"I told you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I don't belong here."

A dark chuckle rumbled from him. "No, sweetheart. You don't." His fingers slid down, tracing the column of her throat, lingering over her racing pulse. "But that doesn't matter anymore."

She should have fought harder. She should have resisted. But the way he touched her, the way he looked at her—like he owned her like he had every right to claim her—it made her stomach twist with something that wasn't entirely fear.

"I can't be yours," she said, a last-ditch attempt at defiance.

Taehyung's smirk was pure sin. "You already are."

Before she could react, his hand slid behind her neck, pulling her against him. The moment his lips brushed hers, she gasped. He took advantage of it, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was as brutal as it was intoxicating. He didn't kiss like a lover—he kissed like a conqueror. A man who took what he wanted without mercy.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The taste of whiskey and dominance invaded her senses, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in a claim so possessive it left her dizzy.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned with something raw and consuming. "There," he murmured, brushing his thumb over her swollen lips. "Now there's no denying it. You're mine."

Her breath came in shaky pants. "You don't own me."

His grip tightened, tilting her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Say that again," he dared, his voice a low growl.

She swallowed. "You don't—"

His lips crashed onto hers again, this time rougher, punishing. His other hand gripped her waist, dragging her against his hard body. Heat flooded her veins, a traitorous moan slipping past her lips. She hated herself for it. Hated him for knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against her mouth, "You can lie to yourself all you want, sweetheart, but your body knows the truth."

Her nails dug into his chest. "You're a monster."

Taehyung smirked. "And yet, you're still here."

She hated him.

She hated the way he made her feel—weak, breathless, desperate for something she had no right wanting. But most of all, she hated the terrifying truth lurking in the depths of her soul.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to escape him… or fall deeper into his darkness.

The car ride was silent, but the tension was suffocating. Taehyung's hand rested on her bare thigh, fingers drumming against her skin as if testing her patience. She hated the way her body betrayed her, heat pooling where he touched.

"I could have left you there, you know." His voice was low, taunting. "Let the wolves have you."

She clenched her jaw. "Why didn't you?"

His grip tightened, making her gasp. "Because you're mine," he murmured, voice laced with dangerous finality. "And no one touches what's mine."

The car pulled into the driveway of his estate—a fortress of power and secrets. As the door opened, she felt the weight of what was about to happen. The man beside her wasn't just any man. He was the devil in silk and gunpowder, and she had just become his latest conquest.

Inside, the air was thick with tension. The moment the door shut behind them, she turned on him. "You think you can keep me in a gilded cage?"

Taehyung smiled a slow, wicked thing. "Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, stepping closer, forcing her back against the cold marble wall. "You'll beg to stay before I'm done with you."

She exhaled shakily as his hand wrapped around her throat, just enough pressure to make her pulse stutter.

"Say it again," he whispered. "Tell me I don't own you."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Not when he pressed against her, his heat, his scent overwhelming. His mouth descended on hers again, and this time, she didn't resist.

Because deep down, she knew the truth.

She was already his.

To Be Continued.....