Page 66 of Monsters Wear Crowns
He tilted his head again, mockingly. The blade followed the line of my collarbone, down, slow, teasing. Then, he forced me onto the couch.
The bindings dug into my wrists as I fought against them, my breath ragged. “Stop,” I growled, my voice a warning. “Let me go, or I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
Instead of answering, he dragged the blade in a slow, teasing slide down the valley of my cleavage. My pulse roared in my ears, my body wound so tight I thought I might snap. The silent menace of him, and the way he exuded control made my stomach twist.
The knifepaused.
The ropes around my wrists bit deeper as I fought against them, the coarse fibers scraping my skin raw. My breaths came fast, too fast, my chest rising and falling in frantic, shallow bursts.
And still, hewatched me.
Not a single word. Not a single fucking sound. Just the slow, deliberate shift of the knife in his grip. He lowered it, dragging the flat of the blade along my thigh. My skin erupted in goosebumps, heat and ice clashing in my veins. The sensation wasunbearable–the cold bite of the steel, the rough pull of the ropes, the sheer force of his presence.
“If you hurt me,” I snarled through clenched teeth, my voice a blade of its own, “I swear, you’ll die for it.”
His head tilted, slow and smooth, like a predator studying its prey. The knife glided higher.
I forced my face to stay defiant. Forced my voice to remain steady, even as my heart slammed against my ribs. “If anything happens to me,” I warned. “Rafe Vaughan will rip your fucking throat out.”
That finally got a reaction. The figure went still. Completely still. Several long moments passed before he moved. A lazy shift, like he had all the time in the world, as he crouched before me. Mystomach plummeted.
His fingers reached up, curling under the edge of the mask. Andhepulled it off.The breath left my lungs in a brutal rush. That wicked grin. That ice-blue gaze.
“Oh, love,” he purred. “I told you. Your apartment isn’t as safe as you think.”
My pulse thundered, fury and something farmorethan fury crashing through me like a storm. “You–” My breath heaved. My hands clenched into fists. “I could have fuckingkilledyou!”
“Please.” Rafe leaned in, dragging his bloody knuckles down my jaw. His touch was light, almost tender, but the heat in his gaze? It made my throat go dry. “Admit it,” he whispered. “You’re glad it was me.” He casually removed his jacket, wiping his blood on it. “You really fucking got me.”
“You–” My voice shook. “You insane, manipulative–”
The knife clattered to the floor, but his hands were on me in the next breath,seizingmy wrists and pinning me against the couch with effortless strength.
A sharp gasp tore from my lips. He loomed over me, his weight pressing me down. His lips curled into a sinful smile.
“Are you scared,little doe?” he taunted, voice dripping with amusement.
The blade of his gaze cut deeper than the knife ever could. He reached down, fingers wrapping around the knife’s handle, and then, slowly, torturously, he ran the cold steel up the center of my throat.
I swallowed. Hard. Anysanewoman would shove him away or, at the very least, run. But I wasn’t sane. I wasfurious. I wasbreathless. And I wasburning.
“Let me go,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
Rafe didn’t.Of course, he didn’t.His grip tightened around my wrists, dragging them above my head in one smooth motion, forcing my back into a deep arch against the couch. My breath hitched. His body caged mine, heat radiating off him like a furnace,and I hated the way my pulse betrayed me–leaping, pounding,wanting.
“Not yet, little doe. I want to have my fun with you first,” he murmured, his voice thick with a slow, dark promise. “You’re shaking, Adela. Is it fear…or something else?”
I glared up at him, masking the shudder that rolled through me. “Don’t flatter yourself.” The words came out sharp but thinner than I wanted, breathier.
He heard it. His gaze darkened, and the knowing gleam in his eyes made my stomach tighten. Then he leaned in, his breath whispering against my cheek. “You’re such a beautiful little liar.”
My stomach clenched.
He grinned as he set down the knife and shifted his grip–one hand still pinning my wrists, the other trailing down, down, until his fingers wrapped around my throat in a slow, possessive stroke.
I was scared.But Rafe wouldn’t actually hurt me. He was just proving a point, right?
His fingers flexed enough to make me swallow. I tilted my chin up in silent defiance.
