The Scent of Blood
"What's with all the blood you're carrying around?"
The moment the unusually bulky elevator doors closed, the man's voice cut through the space, cold and sharp.
She leaned against the corner of the elevator, rubbing her tense shoulders and the back of her neck. "They said it was a meeting. Did you drink? What nonsense."
Every word sent a sharp ache through her body. Her shoulders felt like they were about to dislocate, and her wrist throbbed from gripping a gun for the first time in ages.
At her dismissal, the man let out a dry laugh, raising his brows. "No. I may not know much, but I can smell blood like nobody's business. Maybe because you're a dog bastard."
She pushed her hair back and looked up. The sharp jawline and defined lips above the collar of his shirt caught her eye—carved with deliberate precision. Her gaze lingered on the straight line of his shoulders, the hair that fell just long enough to brush his collar, the taut fabric of his shirt stretched over corded muscle.
Da-in stared blankly at the man's reflection in the worn elevator doors. So much had changed, so much time had passed, yet Kwon Hee-jae's back remained exactly as she remembered it.
A man who stood at a diagonal in a world of verticals and horizontals. The man she had once despised and cursed now stood before her, his back turned.
The moment the elevator stopped, Da-in stepped out before Kwon Hee-jae. He tapped his cane on the floor with a sharp click.
He doesn't even need it anymore. Just putting on a show.
Muttering under her breath, she pulled the keys from her jeans pocket. As she inserted the key into the lock of the apartment—whose ownership had changed hands more times than she could count—he reached out and grabbed the door handle.
Kwon Hee-jae pinned her against the front door like he was subduing a criminal.
She clenched her teeth and managed to turn her head. Their shadows stretched long and merged in the narrow hallway.
"You know me, right? We met in Korea."
The cologne he wore clashed with the mildew stench of the old Brooklyn apartment. A head taller, he lowered his face into the nape of her neck, his sharp nose tracing the line of her jaw, her lips, her throat as he inhaled deeply.
As if confirming the blood scent he'd detected earlier, he pressed closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Her skin prickled from the heat of his breath, a shiver running from her neck to her toes. Maybe it was the thin hope she'd been clinging to.
He remembers me. That hope.
"Answer me. Breathe. Yeah? Lee Woo-hee."
"Let go. Isn't this self-love getting a little excessive?"
The moment he said her name, her mind snapped into focus. Even if Kwon Hee-jae was bigger and stronger, she could easily push him away—do far worse, if she wanted to. But she didn't want to.
Just as his dry lips brushed her earlobe, her right wrist—still clutching the keys—was seized.
She tried to pull away, but his grip was stronger. He pressed his face to her palm, muttering a curse, then bit down between her index and middle fingers, raising his brows.
"Hey, you smell like blood. Been using a gun? You're all over the place."
"I told you it wasn't me!"
"Ha. Small thing, loud voice."
His eyes were black. Da-in didn't look away from the darkness that felt unnaturally deep. He rubbed his cheek against her palm, then scraped his teeth along her index finger, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Not even a look I particularly like... That's why, I guess. Every time I'm drawn to you, it feels damn weird."
The cane, precariously balanced, clattered to the floor. Of course—it was just a prop to fool people.
His hand slid up her waist, pushing her shirt aside to trace the sweat-slicked skin of her abdomen.
"Open the door."
She spat a curse and yanked the door open. Their bodies stumbled back two steps before being pulled through the gap. The rusted door slammed shut with a bang, and she was lifted off her feet.
"Oof!"
A snake-like tongue swept in, moistening her parched mouth. His thick tongue probed every corner, the kiss feeling like it was stealing her breath.
If there was one soft place on a man's body, it was his lips. The next, his tongue.
He gripped the back of her neck like he was subduing an animal, dragging her along the wall. Coats hung on the entryway wall brushed against her back, falling away.
In the window—blocked by the neighboring building's wall—she saw their joined reflection.
The man who had been furious moments ago now kissed her like a starving man. Kwon Hee-jae was unpredictable because he had no set rhythm or pattern. He'd crawl at a snail's pace, then suddenly slam the accelerator, startling everyone.
Most importantly, he didn't care about others. At least, that was what a year of watching him had taught her.
He stated his demands clearly and bluntly, never bothering to hide his emotions. Yet, somehow, you could never read his true intentions.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, brushing the hair that tickled her nose. When the irritation faded, a faint blush crept over her cheeks.
No one had ever carried me off like this before. Not like this.
As if sensing her gaze, his long lashes lifted, revealing eyes heavy with naked desire.
The weight of him pressed against the seam of her jeans.
He licked his lips, savoring the fact that she was aware of it.
From the entryway of the one-bedroom apartment to the bed was barely twenty steps in his stride.
He carried her to the frameless mattress on the floor. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the back of his neck.
Her back hit the nearly-new mattress, and she sank into it. Every time his saliva-damp lips and nose brushed against her, her body heated up, trembling.
It was disorienting how just a few kisses could make their body heat overlap like this.
"How long will you keep watching me?"
He released her lips, which he'd been sucking and biting, and pulled her up, sitting upright. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a disposable lighter bearing a pub logo, then tossed it carelessly into the room.
"You know I quit smoking today just to suck your tongue? I've done some crazy things for you."
He exhaled a deep drag of smoke toward her face. Da-in swung a fist at his sternum, but he caught her hand easily, pinning it to the mattress.
She didn't look away from his cold, mocking eyes. They stared at each other in silence. Then he leaned in, a meaningless smile on his lips.
"But our dear Lee Woo-hee here... feeding people trust like this. Yeah?"
"Don't be ridiculous. When did we ever have trust between us?"
"Ah... So that's it? What a shame. I don't do women without trust."
She was momentarily speechless. His deadpan expression, masking his mockery, sparked a stubborn fire in her.
Da-in pushed at his chest with her foot. He sat up, stubbing out the unlit cigarette on a glass table.
He exhaled the remaining smoke and began unbuttoning his taut shirt.
She saw the greedy desire in his black eyes. Or rather, she saw her own eyes reflected in his—eyes brimming with coiled desire.
"Ha. Seriously, what's with these eyes? Hey, niece. Are you really Lee Woo-hee?"
He muttered "Or not," frowning.
Impatient, Da-in reached for his belt. His brow furrowed.
"If I came here to kill you, why are you talking nonsense?"
"Ha... Seriously, your tone."
"I only say nice things. You taught me this."
"So, who are you, then?"
She forced a smile and yanked her shirt down.
His heated breath poured over her head as his hand tangled in her hair. A sigh-laced curse fell from his lips.
She held his gaze, waiting for permission.
He licked his dry lips and said, his eyes glinting with amusement, "You want it that bad? Fine. Go ahead. Whatever our niece wants, I'll give it to her. All of it."