Page 2 of Monsters Carve Thrones
I gave a dry laugh, folding my hands in my lap. “That’s flattering, Laur.” I grinned. “Hopefully there will be no need forsuch things. The war is over. I can return to Sinclair Solutions just fine.”
She met my gaze in the mirror. “Are you sure it’s over? Moreau had many friends.”
“And also enemies,” I countered coolly. “Enemies of Moreau are likely friends of ours. Or at least reluctant friends.”
She pursed her pink lips, her blonde hair swept up in a gorgeous updo. “Last chance to escape out the window, babe.”
I smiled, turning fully to my best friend. “I’m fine.” Even if every instinct honed in the world of power, crime, and ruthless calculation told me this was either the smartest or most reckless thing I’d ever done. Maybe both.
This man had awoken something wild in me that I still couldn’t make sense of. A part of me hated myself for ever giving him a second chance after what he’d done. But the other part? It craved the darkness he possessed.Was I fucked up for that?Probably. All I knew was that I would never want to lie beneath another predator’s jaws but his.
She nodded, her gaze not leaving mine. “You’ve changed with him.”
I tilted my head, accepting what she said as truth. Itwastrue. Since he killed Moreau, we had weaved our businesses together. I protected every single one of his clients, and he paid Sinclair Solutions to do so. It wasn’t entirely easy at first. There were still many who were loyal to Moreau and pissed off at what we’d done.
So I had them hunted down and killed like fucking dogs.
Rafe made me harder. Before, I was an intelligent and confident business woman who worked with dangerous clients. But now, I was a ruthless killer just like him. I barely blinked whenever I put a bullet in someone’s head. But that was the nature of this world.
“I know I have,” I sighed. “But it’s for the best, I think.”
A mischievous grin formed on her pretty face. “I agree completely.”
I smiled, turning to the large, antique mirror. “With your salary increase, I’d hope you would.”
She winked, her gaze sweeping over us standing together in the mirror. Her black silk dress clung to her perfectly.
My wedding dress was custom-made: hand-stitched silk in a shade of pearl so rich it shimmered silver in the light. It hugged my waist and hips before melting into soft layers that drifted behind me like fog. The bodice was sheer mesh, embroidered with delicate vines that curled across my skin, tiny beads catching the light like morning dew. My hair was swept into an elegant updo, soft tendrils left to frame my face. I’d chosen not to wear a veil. I wanted him to see the eyes that would watch him for the rest of his life.
And I wanted to see what exactly I was claiming in return, even with dozens of wolves coming to show their support. Even knowing nearly every man in attendance had killed more people than I could count. Even though half the guests seated in the stone courtyard had, at one point or another, tried to kill each other.
Or Rafe.
But he had dominated the city and absorbed all of Moreau’s previous clients with my help. Our wealth grew substantially, and we sent generous gifts to those with ill will toward us. It was a clean slate.
The ceremony was held at a historic estate just outside the city. Vaulted archways, marble fountains, and wisteria climbing limestone columns adorned the courtyard, which was lit with golden light, casting long shadows over ancient stone.
Gunmen lined the perimeter. Rafe’s men.
Our men now.
I glanced down at my wrist and smiled at the small black crown inked into my skin. We had gotten matching crowns one drunken night while wandering the city. As I stepped through the archway, I felt the weight of a hundred eyes. Predators in tailored suits. Power wrapped in silk and threats. Heads turned as I passed, and not a single one dared to blink.
My eyes landed on him standing at the altar. My nightmare. My Rafe.
Dressed in a black tuxedo, a single black rose pinned to his lapel, he stood with his head tilted ever so slightly. He was already picturing what lay beneath this dress. Heat flared through me in response. His hands were folded calmly in front of him, but I could see the tension and restraint he always seemed to carry around me in a public setting.
Rafe Vaughan. The Dark Monster of New York’s underworld.
And the only man I’d ever truly loved.
My heart pounded–not from nerves, but from the sheer, staggering weight of what we were doing. This was a vow carved in steel and sealed in blood. I reached the altar and met his eyes.
“Hello, little doe,” he murmured.
My pulse spiked. I couldn’t fucking wait for him to worship me tonight. The sun hit the altar, making the stone glow gold. I stood before him, spine straight, chin high, heart thudding against my ribs like it wanted out. He looked at me like I was his salvation, and I knew I looked at him the same way.
The officiant, a quiet man in a black tailored suit, stepped forward. His voice was calm and steady, as if he knew not to provoke the energy in the air. Rafe said that this man had married mafia kings, mobster bosses, corrupt bankers and everyone in between. “We are not gathered here under illusions,” he began, his eyes flicking between us. “There are no fairy tales in this place. No tired words about meek devotion or flimsy promises.”
