They were born to be enemies, their rivalry written in the stars. Two deadly souls, unyielding and ready to kill for victory. But when a third person disrupts their delicate balance of hatred, everything shatters. What begins as enmity transforms in...
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•PRESENT•
The mansion was cloaked in darkness, save for the soft, shimmering light spilling through the tall windows from the night sky. The air was thick with stillness, broken only by the slow creak of a door and the rhythmic, deliberate click of heels against the marble floor.
A figure emerged, her silhouette graceful yet commanding. Draped in a satin dress the color of deep wine, she exuded a deadly elegance. Her hand cradled a glass of red wine, its liquid swirling like molten rubies, as she made her way toward the open balcony. The massive glass doors framed her as she stepped outside, where a plush chaise awaited her—a throne befitting the queen she was.
This mansion, more grand than any palace, was her domain. And she? A devil in disguise. Sweet as honey to the deserving, and a tempest to those who dared cross her.
She eased onto the couch, reclining with an unspoken power, every move a declaration of her supremacy. Her crimson dress whispered around her legs as she crossed them, her gaze lifting to the night sky. The sound of waves crashing against the distant shore filled the air, a soothing melody to her restless thoughts. From this cliffside retreat on Jeju Island, her world seemed untouchable—luxurious, serene, and hers to command.
The wine touched her lips as she sipped, savoring the velvety richness, her mind adrift in the quiet. But the moment fractured as she felt it—an unmistakable presence.
A hand, firm and possessive, slid along the slit of her dress, its touch grazing her thigh. Her lips curled into a knowing smile before she even turned. She knew that touch, that dominance. She had waited for it, craved it.
"My devil," she murmured to herself, her voice a low purr.
He was there, behind her, his warmth a stark contrast to the cool night air. His hand traveled with purpose, claiming her as it reached her waist. Then came his face, close to hers, his breath teasing her ear. She didn't move; she didn't need to. She was his, and he, hers.
When his lips captured hers, it was a collision of passion and possession. Their kiss deepened, growing fierce and unrestrained, the heat between them consuming. His hands roamed with familiarity and intent, slipping the strap of her gown from her shoulder. His lips left hers to travel to her neck, where he nipped and teased, drawing soft gasps from her.
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her arch into him, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes. He was in control, and she reveled in it. The dominance, the raw power, the unspoken claim—it was intoxicating.
He growled low against her skin, his voice rough yet teasing as he finally spoke. "Someone is missing her man!"
Her smirk answered before her words did. "I was waiting for Devil's presence "
And just like that, the night became theirs—a tempest of wild passion and love so fierce it could burn the world.
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