❝ and so god help me - i fell in love with a monster, and it broke my soul in two. ❞
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Kim Taehyung was lust incarnate - a devil with allure, a Fae prince shrouded in mystery. When Chae Luna met him on a crowded street one night, she became his...
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If the devil once was a man, would that make him half a soul still?
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IN THE LIGHT, EVEN NIGHTMARES seem to lose its fangs.
I'm walking through the streets of Busan, my daily steaming hot cup of cappuccino in my right hand, my battered briefcase gripped tight in my left. All around me were the noises of a typical seven a.m Friday, with a slightly hazy glow wreathing the streets - cars sliding in a revving rumble, conversations spilling out into the air breezy and light, monotonous click-clack sounds of heels as harried pedestrians cross the street, eager to get to their jobs.
If I pretend otherwise, I could feel as if today was a day like any other.
Normal, completely mundane, nothing amiss.
Except there was - because a demon had only hours ago infiltrated my sleep, twisted my dreams like a tangled-up radio tape, and threatened to promise a second encounter. To top it all off, he'd somehow managed to sound sensual yet dangerous; someone who could probably lure a person to submission only to discard them like flared-out cigarettes.
Min Yoongi.
At the thought of his name, I nearly jerked to a halt, stomach seizing with dread and something dark, bile coating my mouth. Even the two words of his name lent fear, fear as sharp and swift as a sword, and I hated myself for being weak.
Earlier today, after screaming my way out of the nightmare, I'd remained curled up in bed, muscles frozen and breath coming in shudders. Bo's tail was curled around my leg, and she was lazily blinking at me as if to grumble about my unnecessary screaming, having awakened at my first yell.
At that moment my room was awash with grim shadows. The sky outside was still a bruised dark blue, a strangling almost-black, and only weak light streamed into my bedroom. The four corners of my walls, however, belonged completely to the dark, cloying and hauntingly silent, the only sounds the drip-drop of my leaking faucet.
But then - there.
My eyes flicked to the right end of my room, where a swirl of shadow had somehow, impossibly, moved.
It was almost imperceptible; my room lacked enough illumination, but I had razor-sharp vision, and as my heart thudded louder, I squinted at the corner, tracing the paint and faded wallpaper and -
