J͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞.
To many, I am a myth.
The 'Kiss of Death', a hired killer, revered by some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy.
The per...
An obsession that would see the world burn at their feet.
A bloodied king.
A broken queen.
Kill me or kiss me?
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𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴:
Jennie Imanov
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And,
Jeon Jungkook
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This isn't an all romance book. It's also going to include a lot of action, violence, guns etc.
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Jennie
Kai Kim closes the door to the penthouse suite of the Four Seasons. I glance around at the sheer opulence of the place. I guess dirty politics pay well.
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(Her outfit ^)
This godforsaken city has been my home for weeks now, and I'm more than ready to be done with it. I feel stilted being surrounded by all the concrete, as though I can't catch a full breath.
I've spent weeks posing as his social media manager online, but of course, the moment he met me, he wanted to fuck me.
Most men are predictable and simple creatures in my experience.
They see women as a commodity, something to which they are entitled, a pretty face and a tight body to forget their troubles in.
To the unsuspecting eye, I'm their walking fantasy. The reality couldn't be further from the truth.
He moves behind me, gliding his hands around my waist. Every instinct I have roars to the surface, demanding I react. Years of training wrestle with my control as that voice in my head shouts at me to kill. It's all I know, it's all I am. I force it down, committing to follow the plan.
He presses his lips against my shoulder and I tilt my head to the side, allowing him to work his way up my neck. I tune out the feeling of him touching me, mentally overriding it.
"You're so beautiful." He says, blowing warm air over my skin. I turn to face him, taking in every detail of his face. Kai is a good-looking guy in his late twenties. He's driven, wealthy, ambitious, but he's too ambitious, that's what's landed him here, with me in his hotel suite, seducing him.
Poor, stupid fuck.
Men like Kai, well, our paths should never cross. I don't ask the reasons when I take a job, I just do it and get paid. He must be in bed with some really nasty people to have my kind of price tag on his head.
In my world, corruption and death are constant companions, a simple fact of life, a measurable risk. And I'm the queen.
Kai doesn't belong here, and yet he willingly ventured into a place where the monsters under the bed are very real.
I slip my fingers beneath the material at my shoulders and push it off until the straps slide down my arms. The dress falls apart, exposing my bare breasts.
His eyes fall to my chest and he shakes his head, reaching for me. His hands palm me. Shrugging out of the dress, I slide it over my hips until it pools at my feet and I'm left wearing nothing but my heels. He's completely focused on my body and it's pathetic, really.
"Get on the bed." I order.
His fingers fumble clumsily over the buttons of his shirt as he tries desperately to undress himself. I sigh, quickly running out of patience.
The shirt finally parts and he shrugs out of it before lying on the bed. I flash him a sensual smirk and throw a leg over his chest before I slide up and straddle his face. This is a personal favorite of mine.
"Lick me." I say, running a hand through my hair. Let's get this over with.
He groans and grips my thighs, swiping his tongue over me. I grip the headboard tight enough that my knuckles turn white and my nails bend back against the heavy wood. He flattens his tongue over my clit, and I grit my teeth, my entire body tensing uncomfortably.
Sex is not a pleasurable experience; it is a means to an end. There's a certain power in it, rendering the victim weak, and compliant.
After all, blood and bullets are so messy. I consider just killing him right now, but his bodyguard is right outside the door. I need him to hear me moan, and listen to Kai groaning. Enough that he relaxes his guard, because if he's any good, he'll still be on high alert.
Of course, I could kill the guard too, but I like to keep my jobs clean.
Forcing a fake moan past my lips, one hand dives into his hair. When he's completely unaware, I shift, placing my thighs on either side of his neck. I smile down at him. He smiles back. And when he opens his mouth to say something, I tighten my grip on his hair, clamping my thighs against his neck. Wrenching his head back, I hear the satisfying crunch of the vertebrae in his neck cracking.
I never tear my eyes from his, watching as the light leaves them, feeling the life drain from him. His body jerks underneath me for a second, the nerve endings going haywire.
It's the ultimate power, a rush unrivaled by anything else.
Death is unscrupulous and I'm her harbinger.
I stay there, waiting and listening for the telltale rush of air to leave his lungs. It does with a heavy hiss, and then the twitching slows until he lies still.
Sliding down his lifeless body, I sweep my hands down his face, closing his eyelids.
I'm not a pious woman. I've seen too much evil in this world to ever believe in a god or anything greater than this hellhole of a life we have. All you can do is dig your way out of the gutter, and for me, I had to use a mountain of bodies as my stairway up that shit-stained cliff face.
This man did nothing to me; he's simply a paid contract. He died because he was weak. I continue to survive because I am strong and do what I was trained to do.
Kill.
I shouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as I do. I don't kill simply to survive, I like it, I live for it. Never do I feel more alive than when I'm taking life.
The thrill of death has become an addiction I willingly feed.
