Chapter 60 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES

Ice and Warmth

 

The warmth of the bathwater enveloped Jungkook’s skin like a sigh, loosening the tension in his shoulders as he sank deeper into the silken heat. The marble tub was wide and luxurious, carved with golden veins that shimmered in the lamplight—but tonight, he barely noticed its elegance.
His mind wandered—circling Taehyung like a restless hawk unable to land.

A strange emptiness had taken root in his chest, echoing louder than he’d expected. The brat was always sneaking in, always draping himself nearby—sometimes in human form, sometimes as a coiled dragon tail resting at his side. Jungkook had scolded him for it more times than he could count.
But now, without him there, the silence felt colder than any ice.

He frowned and reached for the perfumed oil on the bath’s edge, rubbing it into his skin. The scent was floral and light, but it did nothing to stop the flush blooming across his cheeks when he remembered how it had felt—waking up tangled in Taehyung, the heat of his body, that smug whisper: "Good morning, Mommy."

His hand froze at his collarbone. He could still feel it—his breath, his smirk, like they’d branded those words onto his skin.

Jungkook splashed water onto his face. “Ridiculous dragon,” he muttered.

Eventually, the bath cooled, and his skin turned soft and flushed. He rose from the water, droplets sliding down his back and legs. He wrapped himself in the only robe he could find—a silken, barely-there thing that clung to his damp skin. The fabric was nearly translucent where wet, outlining the lean lines of his body.

He glanced down, groaned. “This again? Is the whole palace conspiring with him now?”

Hair still damp, he padded barefoot back to his chambers, yawning and stretching. He was ready to collapse into bed, forget Taehyung, forget the market, forget everything.

But the moment he opened the door, the warmth from his bath was ripped away.

---

The first thing Jungkook noticed was the chill.

It was subtle at first—a creeping whisper of cold that slid under his robe and kissed the backs of his knees as he stepped across the floor. His chambers, usually warm and faintly perfumed with blooming night flowers, had become a cavern of frost and silence.

He stopped beside the vanity, shivering as damp hair clung to his back. The steam from his earlier bath had vanished, replaced with an unnatural cold that made his fingertips ache.

Jungkook blinked, then turned toward the fireplace.
Dead.
No embers. Not even smoke.

He frowned. “What the…”

He reached for the door handle, intending to summon someone—anyone—to bring heat.

Locked.
Sealed.

He jiggled it again. Nothing.

With his breath now fogging in the air and his robe whisper-thin, Jungkook stumbled back toward his bed—only to find the blankets as icy as snow-soaked linen.

“What is this, some kind of—”

Click.

The door to his inner chamber creaked. He turned sharply, arms crossing over himself.

Taehyung stepped inside like he owned the room—barefoot, shirtless, hair tousled from recent sleep. His body shimmered with warmth, golden skin glowing against the frozen air. His eyes glittered as he shut the door softly behind him.

“Cold night, isn’t it?” he murmured, voice smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You.”

Taehyung raised a brow. “Me.”

Jungkook backed up instinctively, refusing to react to the way Taehyung’s eyes swept over him, lingering on the dip of his collarbone like it was already familiar territory.

“What did you do?” he hissed, pulling his robe tighter. “Why is my room freezing?”

Taehyung’s grin was slow, unhurried. “You ignored my warning yesterday, remember? This is your punishment.”
"You mean torture," Jungkook spat.
He shrugged. “I call it... motivation.”

Jungkook glared at him—but the shiver that rattled through him gave him away.

Taehyung stepped forward. Then again. Until his body radiated heat inches from Jungkook’s, making the wet robe cling in all the wrong ways. He smelled like fire and summer storms—like safety wrapped in danger.

“You look like you’re about to turn into an icicle,” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head. “Care to share the bed, sweetheart? I promise I’m much warmer than your frozen sheets.”

Jungkook looked away, cheeks flaring. “I’d rather freeze.”

Taehyung chuckled low. “You say that, but your lips are already blue. And let me tell you—no fires, no runes, no help. I removed everything. Just you. And me.”

Jungkook’s glare faltered as Taehyung reached out, knuckle brushing his cheek. The touch burned against his chilled skin. His breath caught.

He hated that he didn’t move away.

“Fine,” he gritted. “Just for warmth.”

Taehyung didn’t answer—just smirked and turned to the bed. Jungkook followed, stiff with irritation... and something else. Something warmer. Wilder.

He lay down first, teeth clenched. The mattress was like ice—until Taehyung joined him.

The moment their bodies touched, it was a furnace. Arms wrapped around him, one leg thrown over his hip, the heat of Taehyung’s skin seeping into every shivering inch of him.

Jungkook bit back a sigh.
But gods, it felt good.

Worse than the warmth, though, was how safe it felt. How familiar. Like a habit. Like a craving.

He tried not to react as Taehyung’s hand settled on the small of his back, drawing idle shapes beneath the edge of the robe.

They lay in silence for a long time—his pulse gradually syncing to the deep, steady rhythm of Taehyung’s breathing.

Then the whisper came.

“Next time, you’ll think twice before leaving me behind, won’t you?”

Jungkook flinched. But Taehyung didn’t let go.

His voice dropped. “You should know I don’t take disobedience lightly.”

And then—

Everything blurred.

---

Jungkook didn’t remember falling asleep. But suddenly, he was dreaming.

A vivid dream—too real.

Taehyung stood before him in a twilight-lit field, eyes burning gold, voice like a forgotten melody. Their hands brushed. Lingered. Taehyung stepped closer—closer still—lips brushing his forehead, his cheek... hovering just before his mouth.

Jungkook’s breath caught.

Then—
He woke.

His heart thundered. His face burned. The robe clung to him with sweat, not cold. He sat up, blanket pooling at his waist.

Taehyung was still there. One arm behind his head. Eyes already open, smirk already in place.

“Even your dreams want me now,” he murmured. “What does that say, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hurled the nearest pillow at his face.
Taehyung caught it, laughing.

And outside, beyond the glass windows, the frost began to melt. 

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