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Velvet desire

The Gilded Cage of Devotion

The morning sun bled through the heavy velvet curtains of the Kim estate, casting long, amber streaks across the rumpled silk sheets. Taehyung had been awake for hours. He didn't move, his muscular arm draped heavily over Jisoo’s waist, pinning her to his side as if she might evaporate if he loosened his grip by a fraction of an inch. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, his dark eyes tracing the faint, purple marks he had left on her collarbone the night before—stamps of his ownership that made a dark sense of pride swell in his throat.

Jisoo stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she slowly opened her eyes. The moment she saw him, a soft, sleepy smile tugged at her lips. "You're still here," she murmured, her voice raspy from sleep.

"I’m not going anywhere," Taehyung rasped, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek, his thumb dragging across her lower lip. "I canceled my morning meetings. The council can wait. My hunger cannot."

He didn't wait for her to fully wake. His hand moved lower, slipping beneath the lace of her nightgown to find the heavy, aching fullness of her breast. Jisoo let out a soft, shaky breath as she felt the familiar let-down reflex, a tingling warmth that always responded to his touch. Taehyung’s eyes darkened, the pupils blowing wide until they were twin voids of obsession.

"You’re leaking for me," he whispered, his voice thick with a terrifying sort of worship. "Even in your sleep, your body knows you belong to me. It prepares for me."

He pulled her closer, his movements demanding and frantic. He shifted her so she was lying flat on her back, and then he hovered over her, his shadow swallowing her whole. He didn't bother with finesse; he needed the grounding sensation of her nourishment to settle the violent static that always roared in his brain. He latched onto her with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into the mattress on either side of her head.

Jisoo arched her back, her fingers weaving into his dark hair to hold him there. She felt the pull, the intimate connection that tethered the God of Death to his humanity. "Slow down, Taehyung," she whispered, though she knew he wouldn't. When it came to her, he had no self-control. He was a man dying of thirst in a desert, and she was his only oasis.

He drank with a primal intensity, his throat working in steady gulps. Each swallow seemed to drain the tension from his shoulders, replacing the cold, calculating killer with a man who was utterly dependent on his wife. He switched sides, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak before he drew her back in, his hand moving down to grip her thigh, pulling it upward to lock her against his hip.

"Mine," he growled against her skin, the word vibrationally lost in the heat of the moment. "Every drop. Every breath. You are mine, Jisoo."

After he had satisfied his immediate craving, Taehyung didn't pull away. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts, breathing in her scent. But the peace was short-lived. His phone, discarded on the nightstand, began to vibrate incessantly. He ignored it at first, but the persistent buzzing grated on his nerves.

With a snarl, he reached out and snatched the device. He looked at the screen and his expression shifted instantly—from the dazed lover to the cold-blooded King. He answered, his voice dropping an octave into a lethal chill. "I told you not to interrupt me unless the city was burning."

He listened for a moment, his jaw tightening until the bone looked ready to snap. Jisoo watched him, her heart sinking. She saw the way his eyes turned into shards of ice.

"He did what?" Taehyung’s voice was a low, dangerous hiss. "He sent her flowers? To the school?"

Jisoo froze. She knew exactly who they were talking about. Mr. Choi, the music teacher, must have sent a thank-you bouquet for the help she’d given with the curriculum.

"Bring him to the warehouse," Taehyung commanded, his eyes fixed on Jisoo, though he wasn't really seeing her—he was seeing the blood he was about to spill. "No. Wait. I want to be there. I want to show him what happens when someone tries to touch what is mine."

He hung up and tossed the phone aside. The atmosphere in the room had shifted from intimate to suffocating. Taehyung stood up, his naked body a map of violence and power. He began to dress, his movements sharp and precise.

"Taehyung, please," Jisoo said, sitting up and pulling the sheets to her chest. "They were just flowers. It’s a polite gesture among colleagues. Please don't hurt him."

Taehyung stopped, his shirt half-buttoned. He turned to her, and for a moment, the sheer weight of his obsession felt like a physical force in the room. He crossed the space in two long strides, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him.

"Polite?" he repeated, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "He sent a gift to my wife. He dared to think of you while he picked them out. He imagined your smile when you saw them. That is an act of war, Jisoo."

"You're overreacting," she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. "You're scaring me."

The mention of her fear usually softened him, but today, his possessiveness had reached a fever pitch. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, but there was no tenderness in it—only a claim.

"Good," he whispered. "Be scared. Be so scared of the world that you never want to leave this room. I’ll burn that school to the ground if I have to. I'll make sure the only man you ever see, the only man you ever speak to, is me."

He kissed her then, a hard, punishing kiss that tasted of iron and desperation. He broke away, his eyes scanning her face one last time before he turned on his heel and walked out, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him. Jisoo heard the distinct click of the electronic lock. He had locked her in.

Hours passed in a blur of anxiety. Jisoo paced the confines of the master suite, her mind racing with images of what Taehyung might be doing. She knew his methods. He didn't just kill; he erased.

It was late evening when the door finally clicked open again. Taehyung walked in, looking immaculate, though the faint scent of copper and expensive cologne clung to him. He looked calm—terrifyingly so. The storm had passed, leaving behind a cold, satisfied predator.

He didn't say a word. He walked straight to her, his eyes raking over her disheveled state. He saw the tear stains on her cheeks and his expression softened into that dark, twisted version of love he harbored.

"I took care of it," he said simply, reaching out to stroke her hair. "He won't be sending flowers to anyone ever again. In fact, he’s decided to leave the country. Permanently."

Jisoo shuddered, knowing 'leaving the country' was Taehyung’s code for something far more permanent. "How can you do this?" she sobbed, her strength finally failing. "How can you love me and be so cruel?"

Taehyung pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. He didn't care about her tears; he only cared that she was back in his hold. "Because you are the only thing that keeps me human, Jisoo. And I will destroy anything that threatens my grip on you. You are my lifeblood. Without you, I am just a ghost in a suit."

He picked her up, ignoring her weak protests, and carried her to the bed. He stripped her clothes off with a silent, focused intensity, his eyes devouring every inch of her skin. He needed to reassert his dominance, to remind her—and himself—exactly who she belonged to.

"I’m hungry again," he murmured, his voice vibrating against her stomach as he pressed his face to her skin. "Feed me, Jisoo. Remind me why I let the rest of the world live."

Jisoo felt the familiar ache in her breasts, her body betraying her mind once again. Despite the horror of his actions, her heart beat for him. She was the anchor to his drifting ship, the only light in his endless night. She guided his head to her breast, letting out a fractured sob as he latched on.

This time, the nursing was different. It was slower, more possessive. Taehyung’s hands wandered over her body, marking her, memorizing the curve of her waist and the softness of her thighs. He stopped occasionally to look up at her, his eyes filled with a terrifying devotion.

"You’re never going back to that school," he stated, his voice muffled against her skin. "I’ve already had your resignation sent. From now on, your only job is to be my wife. To stay here. To wait for me."

"Taehyung, no..."

"Yes," he hissed, pulling back to look her in the eye. "I can’t breathe when you’re out there. Every minute you’re away from me, I’m imagining someone looking at you, someone touching you. It’s killing me, Jisoo. Do you want me to die?"

"Of course not," she whispered, her spirit breaking under the weight of his obsession.

"Then stay. Be my Queen. Be my goddess. Let me worship you in the dark where no one else can find you."

He moved over her then, his kisses turning carnal and hungry. He entered her with a forceful thrust that made her cry out, a sound that he swallowed with his own mouth. He moved with a desperate, frantic rhythm, his body a weapon of pleasure and possession. He wanted to leave his mark so deep inside her that she would never forget who owned her soul.

"Say it," he demanded, his breath hot against her ear as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. "Say you belong to me."

"I... I belong to you," Jisoo gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders, her nails drawing blood from his back. "Only you, Taehyung."

"Again."

"I am yours. Forever."

The climax hit them like a tidal wave, leaving them both gasping and spent. Taehyung collapsed on top of her, his heavy weight a comfort she had grown addicted to. He stayed inside her, refusing to let go, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against her own.

As the silence of the night settled over the room, Taehyung reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Inside was a gold anklet, thick and heavy, with a small, intricate lock.

He sat up and took her foot in his hand, his fingers tracing the delicate bone of her ankle. He snapped the jewelry into place, the click echoing in the quiet room. He kissed the cold metal, then looked up at her with a smile that didn't reach his predatory eyes.

"A gift," he whispered. "To remind you that you are anchored to me. The key is around my neck, Jisoo. You’ll never have to worry about the world again. I’ve locked it out."

Jisoo looked at the gold shackle on her ankle, then up at the man who would kill for her, die for her, and destroy her just to keep her. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched his cheek. She was his prisoner, his nurse, his lover, and his god. And in the dark, twisted reality of the Kim empire, she knew she would never want to be anywhere else.

"I love you, Taehyung," she whispered, the words both a vow and a surrender.

Taehyung pulled her back into his arms, his eyes finally closing as he drifted into a peaceful sleep, his hand firmly cupped over her heart, ensuring that even in his dreams, he could feel her beating only for him. Outside, the guards patrolled the perimeter, and the world trembled at the name of Kim Taehyung, but inside these walls, there was only the silent, suffocating pulse of an obsession that would never end.