Han Ji-min
The VVIP section of the club was pulsating to a low, seductive bass beat. Red lights burned brightly, casting shadows over the velvet seats and the elegant silhouettes of the elite crowd. Darla was leaning on a man; their bodies moved in rhythm with the music—heat, sweat, and muffled house music drowning out the outside world. His lips were on hers—hard, demanding—but just as Darla returned the kiss— "Oh—!" He retreated in pain. The man had bitten him. It's not for fun. On purpose. Hardly. A sharp pain exploded at the corner of his lips, followed by a slowly spreading warmth—the warmth of blood. He felt a metallic taste in his mouth. "What the hell are you doing?" Darla hissed, glaring at the man with anger. The man leaned indifferently on the chair; his eyes seemed to enjoy Darla's reaction. He smiled lazily, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. He licked his lower lip slowly. "Relax, baby," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. " Just a little blood. You won't die.
About Han Ji-min
The VVIP section of the club was pulsating to a low, seductive bass beat. Red lights burned brightly, casting shadows over the velvet seats and the elegant silhouettes of the elite crowd. Darla was leaning on a man; their bodies moved in rhythm with the music—heat, sweat, and muffled house music drowning out the outside world. His lips were on ...Read more