Page 103 of Monsters Wear Crowns
The air went cold.
“So he killed her,” Rafe said softly. “And I…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stop him.”
The room spun.
My knees buckled, and I sank onto the edge of the bed. My ears were ringing, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “I knew she was killed by one of my father’s enemies,” I whispered. “But this…”
“I didn’t want you to know,” Rafe said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I wanted to protect my father. But because I knew...once you heard it...you’d never trust me again.”
I lifted my eyes to his, and the look on his face cracked my heart. He looked destroyed. Broken. Like the words had cost him everything. And maybe they had. But the only thing I could feel was the gaping hole his truth had torn through me.
“He beat the fuck out of me for years,” he huffed a wild laugh. “And now, I’m filled with the same violence that he unleashed on everyone he claimed to give a shit about. I’mhim, now, Adela.”
I sat frozen on the edge of the bed, my mind struggling to catch up with the weight of what Rafe had just told me.
My mother. His father.
The betrayal cut deep–not just because of what happened, but because this meant Rafe had known. This whole time, he’d known. And still, he’d touched me. He’dclaimedme.
I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or run.
But I couldn’t seem to do any of those things.
“Adela…” His voice broke on my name, and I looked up at him. He was standing by the window now, his body rigid and still, but his eyes…his eyes gave him away. They were wild and desperate, filled with a fear I’d never seen from him before. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed.
“If you…” He swallowed hard. “If you want to leave this time, I won’t stop you.”
But his body betrayed him. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his shoulders taut like he was preparing for battle. And the way his eyes flicked toward the door…
I didn’t believe him.
If I moved, he’d be on me. I knew it.
But I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
My throat tightened painfully, and when I finally spoke, my voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m not leaving you.”
The words hung there. And Rafe…God, the way he looked at me then was like he didn’t believe it. Like he couldn’t.
“Adela–”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said again, firmer this time, needing him to hear it.
His breath shuddered out of him, and in two long strides, he was there. He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs, his forehead pressing against my stomach like thefight had drained out of him.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
My fingers tangled in his hair, and when he lifted his head, his face was so open, so raw, it stole my breath. “I’m yours,” I said softly. “Even when I hate you…I’m still yours.”
The noise he made was low and rough as he stood, and then his mouth was on mine. It was fierce, like he was trying to erase every inch of distance between us. His hands framed my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, and then suddenly, I was lifted, my legs wrapping around his waist as he stood, never breaking the kiss.
He carried me back to the bed, his body pressing me down into the mattress, and there was nothing soft about the way he took me–only heat and need and whatever dark, broken thing we shared.
But even then, with his hands on my skin and his mouth branding mine, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a fight neither of us would win.
Not against Moreau.
