She tried to free herself from his grip.

The crack of his palm against her cheek snapped her head sideways, a sharp, ringing explosion that painted her vision with stars. Y/N collapsed onto the mattress, her hand flying to her burning face, her breath coming in jagged, broken sobs.

"How dare you," Jungkook snarled, his chest heaving, his massive frame trembling with a rage that seemed barely human.

His eyes had gone black, pupils blown wide with something far more dangerous than mere lust—a feral, consuming need to dominate, to punish her defiance until it crumbled into dust. "How dare you say no to your King."

He lunged forward, his iron grip closing around her throat—not squeezing, not yet, but holding her in place like a vice, his thumb pressing against the frantic pulse hammering beneath her skin. Y/N froze, her tears streaming hot and helpless down her bruised cheek, her body shaking so violently the bedframe creaked beneath them.

"You think you have a choice?" he growled, his voice dropping to a whisper that scraped like gravel against her sanity. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, sandalwood and male aggression flooding her senses until she felt dizzy with it. "You are property. Mine. Bought and paid for with royal gold and sealed with royal blood."

His free hand moved with terrifying purpose, finding the delicate collar of her wedding silks. With one brutal yank, the fabric tore—a sound like a scream—and her shoulder was bared to the candlelight, pale and vulnerable.

"Please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Please, Your Majesty... have mercy..."

"Mercy," he laughed, a dark, humorless sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. He released her throat only to grab her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other dragged down her side, rough and claiming. "Mercy is for weak men. And I have never been weak, little bride."

He hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his arousal hard and unmistakable against her hip. His mouth found her ear again, his tongue tracing the shell before his teeth closed on the lobe with enough pressure to make her gasp.

"I will take you tonight," he promised, his voice thick with dark intent. "I will ruin you for that pathetic boy waiting in the corridor. And when I am finished—when you are marked and filled and broken—you will thank me. You will beg me to do it again."

He pulled back just enough to look into her terror-glazed eyes, his thumb brushing over her split lip with mock tenderness.

"Now," he commanded, his grip tightening on her wrists until her fingers went numb. "Open your legs for King. Show me what belongs to me."