The bruised Beginning
The sound of shattered glass echoed through the tiny kitchen.
Jungkook flinched but didn’t cry out. He knew better. His mother’s screams were sharp and slurred, her breath reeking of cheap liquor. His father sat slumped in the corner, dead-eyed and silent as always, pretending not to hear.
Jk mother
“You useless little shit,” his mother spat, grabbing the broken plate he’d dropped.
“Can’t even hold a damn dish—just like your whore of a mother—oh wait, that’s me, isn’t it?”
She laughed, a sound more like a cough than anything human. Jungkook clutched his arm, where the porcelain had sliced his skin. Blood dripped down, staining his sleeve. But he didn’t wipe it.
He was used to bleeding.
Used to silence.
Used to pain.
On the other side
The forest outside Blackthorn Castle whispered with the wind.
Prince Taehyung stood on the edge of the tallest tower, watching the moon. His eyes glowed faintly red, the thirst beneath his skin barely restrained. The court below stirred with noise—tonight was delivery night.
New blood.
New offerings.
He turned away, bored. Nothing surprised him anymore. Not in centuries.
Until he caught the scent.
.
.
.
.
Jungkook’s wrists ached from the shackles as he stumbled through the grand hall. The other slaves—omegas, humans, some barely conscious—knelt before the vampire nobles. But he didn’t.
He stood.
Bruised, bleeding, defiant.
The hall hushed as the prince approached.
Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the sight of him. Dark hair, soft lips, a bruise blooming across his cheek. But it wasn’t his beauty that caught Taehyung’s attention.
It was his scent.
Not fully human.
Not vampire.
Something else.
Kim Taehyung
“What is your name?”
Taehyung asked, voice like velvet over steel.
the boy said, refusing to bow.
kook
“And I don’t belong to you.”
Gasps echoed through the court.
Taehyung’s smile was slow, Dangerous.
Kim Taehyung
“Unchain him. He’ll be staying in my chambers.”
The night had begun.
And fate had taken its first bite.
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