Page 161 of Monsters Wear Crowns
An eerie silence followed.
I exhaled, my fingers flexing around the bloodied knife still in my grip. Rafe’s gaze slid to me, his eyes dark and frenzied. He took in the splattered interior of the limo, the wreckage of bodies.
His lips parted, exhaling a breath that was half pride, half frustration. “You weren’t supposed to leave your fucking apartment.” His voice was rough.
I lifted my chin and wiped a streak of blood from my cheek with the back of my hand. “I handled it.”
His gaze dragged over me–slow, thorough, almost reverent. Then, his lips curled into something that made my stomach flip. “Oh, I can see that, little doe,” he murmured. I joined him outside of the car, the dark quiet feeling like a crazy contrast between what just happened.
His fingers grazed my cheek, smearing blood across my skin. His voice dropped, dripping with possession. “And you know what?” He tilted his head, watching me like he was seeing me for the first time. “I think I just fell in love all over again.” His fingers were still slick with blood, his breathing ragged as he towered over the bodies I had left in ruin. The stench of copper and sweat clung to the air, thick and suffocating, but all I could focus on was him.His body was shaking, and I wondered if it was from fear or restraint.
I swallowed hard, my pulse frantic in my throat. I should have pushed past him, ran home, and pretended I hadn’t just painted the inside of that limousine red. But then he turned to me, his gaze dark, dangerous, consuming, and the words died on my tongue. Before I could react, his hand closed around my wrist, dragging me toward his car. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t gentle either.
“Rafe–”
“Not a fucking word.” His voice was gravel, each syllable ground down. His fingers flexed around my wrist.
I didn’t resist. I let him shove me into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me. The drive was not the comfortable kind of silence.
Rafe gripped the steering wheel like he was considering crushing it with his bare hands. His forearms were tight, muscles straining beneath the blood-speckled fabric of his sleeves. The streetlights flickered across his face as he drove, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.
I watched him from the corner of my eye, heart hammering. Heat curled deep inside me, a terrible, consuming thing. Because this was Rafe. And even now,especially now,I wanted him. He had come for me, ready to rip their throats out.
By the time we reached my building, I could barely breathe. Rafe didn’t ask permission. He shoved the door open, pulling me inside. Grabbing his suit jacket, he quickly covered me so that the concierge wouldn’t see all of the blood. The second my apartment door slammed shut, he turned on me. His hands came down on either side of my face, trapping me.
“Do you haveanyidea–” His breath caught, a fractured sound. “Do you haveany fucking ideawhat could have happened to you tonight?”
My pulse skipped. “I told you, I handled it.”
His thumb traced the edge of my jaw, a soft contrast to the violence still seething in his veins. His eyes burned into mine, dark and searching. “I shouldn’t have let you leave.”
I flinched. I wanted to tell him to go. That one nightdidn’tchange anything. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Because my heart was already losing the battle.
Rafe exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against mine. “You’re still mine, aren’t you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t know.”
He brushed his lips over mine, not quite a kiss, but a plea. “I do,” he whispered.
His mouth closed over mine, and it was desperate. His tongue slid across mine in a way that had me clamping my thighs shut in an attempt to choke down the ache.
As much as I fucking hated myself, Imelted. My fingers curled into his shirt, yanking him closer. His hands dropped from my face, sliding down my spine, gripping me like he was trying to forget about what could have happened to me.
Rafe’s mouth was fire–searing, relentless,claiming. His hands gripped my waist, fingers digging into my skin. He pushed me backward, his breath ragged against my lips. I stumbled, my spine colliding with the nearest wall, and he was on me before I could catch my breath.
Pinning me.Owningme.
One of his hands fisted into my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access to my throat. He kissed his way down the column of my neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin there, and a shudder wracked through me.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I whispered, hands shoving him away even as I clung to him. I was just a fucking contradiction at this point. “You can’t just–”
He cut me off with his mouth, swallowing whatever protest I might have had. And I let him. Because this wasn’t about logic anymore. It never had been. I gasped as he easily lifted me.My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, my arms around his shoulders, holding onto him like I might drown if I let go. Honestly…I was already drowning.
He carried me toward the balcony so effortlessly that it was like carrying me was absolutely nothing. The glass doors were still open, letting in the heavy heat of the night, the sound of the city humming far below.
The couch sat beneath the open sky, its cushions soft as he laid me down, his body following, pressing me into the seat. Above us, the night sky was impossibly vast, endless, dark, and speckled with stars. From this height, it felt like I could reach up and touch them–like if I just stretched my fingers far enough, I might steal one for myself.
But Rafe was already stealing something from me. Every breath. Every thought. Every last piece of control. His lips trailed down my throat, his teeth grazing my skin, and I shuddered. “I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice raw and desperate. “I love you so fucking much, Adela.”
