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Summary
“You smell delicious…” a voice breathes out, then chuckles, adding, “but that’s not what I’ll need you for.”
“Please, please don’t…” Jimin whimpers, white-hot dread filling the pit of his stomach. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, keeps repeating like a mantra in his head. His vision begins to clear as adrenaline pumps through his veins. What he sees is… fangs?
