𝟐𝟏 𖥸 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒

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A raging migraine snaps my eyes open, pounding against my skull viciously. I sit up slowly, holding my head in agony. When I turn to the side of me, I groan inwardly from the sight and catch myself wincing from more than the pain.

Of all the choices I could've made last night, ending up in Taehyung's bed was not what I expected.

He's turned in the opposite direction, back facing the ceiling while shirtless. His breathing is slow and steady as he lies unmoving in deep sleep.

My attention drags its way to my wrist. The slight panic makes the pain worse. I relax once noticing the bracelet is still hidden by the watch. This situation is too risky to think about, let alone act on.

I easily raise the blanket, careful not to wake him because my head is incapable of dealing with him at the moment. As I stand unsteady on my feet, I glance down and notice my underwear on my body.

This has to be a sick joke. I couldn't have slept with him. He had a blade to my throat hours before I arrived home, threatening to end my life, but now this? Because I got wasted there is a possibility we had sex? A cold chuckle leaves my throat.

The sudden rush of anger takes me off guard, and I don't care about being gentle anymore.

I yank the covers off and walk into the built-in bathroom. Once inside, I inspect my body accordingly in the mirror. There's no evidence of any new marks on my skin, nothing to expose my worse fears.

Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around myself and consider the possibilities. Normally, I wouldn't be so worked up over something like this because I have had drunk sex before, but not to the point I was so wasted I couldn't recall a single memory. Not to mention someone as dangerous as him.

My guard keeps becoming lowered around him, and it's life-threatening. I need to think ahead of this and find a loophole in case he does discover my occupation.

Taehyung walks inside the bathroom, scratching his head and yawning casually. I fear it might be true and not a wild nightmare my mind dreamed up.

"Morning," his voice is husky when he steps to the sink. He grabs a bottle of pills next to his toothbrush. "I guess we got a little wild last night." He glances at me, swallowing the pills in one gulp. I dig my nails into my palm.

"Did we have sex?" I don't waste time rolling over the idea of how to breach the topic. "I woke up in your bed with just my underwear on..."

My sentence dies once noticing he's wearing his pants from the night before. Did he sleep in them?

He follows my thoughts and then shakes his head.

"We didn't have sex. You were drunk, and I ended up drinking way more than I should have. We got as far as beginning to strip, and then shortly after, we passed out before we could act on our wild fantasies." He holds his head from the hangover.

"You're not lying, right? You didn't take advantage of me or anything like that? I was practically naked in your bed." I snatch the bottle of pills off the counter and swallow the pain relievers, too.

"Do you think I'd sink that low to assault you? I'm not a rapist." Irritation flashes over his features.

"Well, given your high-ranking position, I wouldn't put it past you. I'm sure you've done a number of fucked up things I wouldn't be able to imagine. Besides, you killed your father—"

"I killed a monster." His piercing gaze rips right through mine, almost daring me to say anything else about his past.

The room goes cold and quiet in a matter of seconds, but I hold my breath and replace my eyes with a stern expression similar to his.

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