The club pulsed with sin. A haze of smoke curled in the air, laced with the scent of expensive whiskey and lust-fueled desperation. Bodies moved like shadows, grinding, teasing, tempting—offering themselves to men who ruled the night. To men like him.
Kim Taehyung sat in the darkest corner of the VIP lounge, a king on his throne, watching the chaos below with an expression of bored amusement. A glass of scotch rested in his hand, untouched, his fingers tapping against the crystal as he leaned back, exuding lethal elegance.
The world feared him. Women wanted him. Men envied him. And those who crossed him? They simply didn't live long enough to regret it.
His gaze flickered over the writhing crowd until it landed on her.
She didn't belong here. That much was obvious.
A silk dress clung to her curves, the deep red fabric too innocent for a place like this. She was delicate in a way that screamed danger—because men like him didn't handle delicate things. They broke them.
And he was going to break her.
His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he watched her move, unaware of the predator watching her.
She wasn't dancing for attention. No, she was trying to disappear, slipping through the crowd, nervous eyes darting around as if she could feel the darkness watching her.
Too late, little lamb. The wolf had already chosen his prey.
With a flick of his wrist, Taehyung gestured to one of his men. Jimin, his right hand, leaned in.
"Find out who she is," Taehyung murmured, his voice smooth, deadly.
Jimin followed his gaze and smirked. "You've got good taste, boss."
Taehyung didn't respond. He just watched as she weaved through the bodies, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress, her chest rising and falling as if she were holding back fear.
Smart girl. She should be afraid.
Because tonight, she wasn't leaving this club without him.
She felt it before she saw him.
That slow, suffocating sensation of being watched, of something dark and hungry curling around her throat like invisible shackles.
The air felt thick. Too warm. Too charged.
She swallowed hard, cursing herself for even coming here.
She was supposed to be safe. Supposed to be hidden. But the moment she stepped into this club, she knew—she had made a mistake.
And then she saw him.
Her breath caught.
He was sitting in the VIP lounge, exuding an aura of untouchable dominance. The dim lighting couldn't hide the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his dark eyes glowed with something unreadable—something dangerous.
Kim Taehyung.
She didn't need to know his name to know who he was.
Men like him were whispered about in hushed tones, their power stretching far beyond the walls of the underworld. He was a king in a world of killers. And he was staring at her like he had already decided she belonged to him.
Her pulse pounded as he stood.
Run.
The instinct screamed in her veins, but her feet wouldn't move.
He didn't walk—he prowled, cutting through the crowd like a shadow, his presence swallowing the air around him.
And when he stopped in front of her, the scent of leather and whiskey coiling around her, she knew—she was fucked.
He reached for her, fingers brushing against her jaw, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to drown in the abyss of his gaze.
"Tell me your name, princess," he murmured, voice like velvet-wrapped steel.
She shouldn't answer.
But the way his thumb stroked her skin, the way his voice coiled around her like smoke—she forgot how to fight.
"…Y/N."
Taehyung smirked.
"Y/N." He tasted her name like it was something sinful, something he planned to ruin.
She trembled. "I—I need to go."
His smirk didn't fade.
"Oh, princess." He leaned in, his breath fanning over her ear. "You're not going anywhere."
The night blurred.
One second she was standing in the middle of the club, and the next, she was his—wrapped in his world, trapped in his arms.
The penthouse was luxurious, but it wasn't what stole her breath—it was the man in front of her.
Kim Taehyung was dangerous, but worse? He was intoxicating.
His tie was gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, exposing golden skin and the ink that licked up his chest. He leaned against the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes locked onto her like she was prey.
"I don't do love," he murmured, voice thick with warning. "I don't do soft. I take what I want."
The words should have terrified her. Maybe they did.
But the heat pooling between her thighs told a different story.
His smirk deepened.
"You're shaking, princess," he taunted, setting his drink down. "Are you afraid?"
She exhaled. "Yes."
His hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The sharp inhale she took was lost as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Good." His lips brushed against hers, a ghost of a touch. "You should be."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft.
It was raw. Possessive. Devouring.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry. She opened for him, letting him taste her, steal the air from her lungs, and drown her in him.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin as he backed her against the wall, his knee slipping between her legs.
"Fuck," he growled against her mouth. "You feel like sin."
Her head was spinning. She didn't know if it was the heat of his body, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, or the way his hands gripped her like he would never let go.
She barely processed when he lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom, the city lights casting a glow over his sharp features.
He laid her on the bed, looming over her, his fingers tracing her thighs with agonizing slowness.
"You don't know what you've done, princess," he murmured.
She swallowed. "What?"
His eyes darkened.
"You walked into my world," he whispered, lips trailing down her neck. "Now you belong to me."
And as he claimed her, body and soul, she realized the truth—
She had never stood a chance against Kim Taehyung.
Because he wasn't just a man.
He was an obsession. A sin. A nightmare wrapped in silk and smoke.
Forever.
To Be Continued.....