Page 138 of Monsters Carve Thrones

We made our way toward the entrance, stepping over the bodies as we went. All twenty-two of them were dead. I took one last look back, memorizing the scene. They looked so small now, lying in puddles of their own blood. I should’ve felt horror. Or guilt. Or something like peace.

But I only feltalive.

“Light it,” I said.

Kieran hit the detonator.

The building ignited like it had been waiting to burn. Fire swallowed the room behind us as we climbed into the black SUV–Nico up front beside Kieran, Laura sliding in beside me, Rafe already pulling me close, his hand fisting the bloodied fabric of my suit.

The city didn’t know what had happened yet, but it would soon. Twenty-two very influential men are dead, their bodies burning to ash. This was a scandal that would make worldwide headlines.

Sirens howled behind us as we sped through the dark, flashing lights slicing past us in bursts of blue and red. My heart pounded in rhythm with them.

I felt so goddamn high.

Laura rested her head against the cool glass window, silent for once, her eyes tracking the chaos in the rearview. Nico leaned back in the passenger seat, one boot resting on the dash, scrolling through something on his phone, probably making sure the data leak we scheduled had gone live.

I glanced down and saw the blood smeared on my arms, dry along the edges of my sleeves, splattered up my boots. I looked at Laura and saw the same. Nico’s jaw was streaked with red like war paint.

And Rafe?

Rafe was art. His black button-down was half unfastened, streaked with blood. He reached a crimson hand for me, brushing hair away from my cheek with a gentleness that shouldn’t have been possible after what we just did.

“I love you,” I whispered, voice thin from the adrenaline still roaring in my veins.

He smiled. That dark, sultry smile only I got. “I know. I love you, too.” His other hand slid up my thigh, fingers hot through the fabric. I sucked in a breath. His voice, low and rough, burned against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard when we get back.”

My thighs clenched. Heat coiled low in my stomach. I didn’t even try to hide the way my body responded, how wild and alive I felt under his touch. It wasn’t just lust. It wasdevotion. He alwaysneededme after death. Whenever he killed, he’d always come home and devour my soul in every way. It was as if he was desperate tofeel.

He dipped his sharp jaw lower, teeth brushing my ear.

Nico glanced back, catching the scene in his peripheral, and grinned. “We’ll give you two some privacy when we get back to the hotel,” he said.

Laura laughed, her voice still hoarse from smoke and screams. “God, IwishI needed a post-murder fuck that bad.”

“Oh, you’ll get it, babe,” Nico smirked.

Laura smiled, biting her bottom lip.

“Jesus, I’ll have to put in fucking headphones, you animals,” Kieran snorted from the front. “Rafe, you’re a crazy bastard.”

“I married the crazy bastard,” I said, my fingers gripping Rafe’s bloodstained shirt.

He leaned in again, lips brushing mine, his voice barely audible over the wind through the cracked windows. “And you’ll ride him tonight like he just burned millions of dollars in empires for you.”

I didn’t answer. I just kissed him hard. Because hehad.And I planned to repay him for it in full.

***

We pulled up to the hotel, headlights cutting briefly across the entry. The second Kieran parked, he groaned, rolling his neck. “I’m hitting the shower,” he said, already unbuckling. “So I don’t hear everyone fucking.”

Laura snorted, then grinned at me. There was blood at the edge of her collar, dried now. She looked truly alive in a way I hadn’t seen in so long. She reached for Nico’s hand and kissed him as they walked into the second bedroom, their door clicking shut behind them.

Rafe didn’t say a word.

He just grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the suite, his touch firm and breath shallow. The moment we hit the bedroom, he slammed the door behind us and kissed me like he was starving. Tongue deep, fingers fisting in my shirt. I didn’t care that we were covered in blood, ash, and death. I needed him. He needed me.

Our clothes came off fast–his shirt peeled over his head, and mine easily unbuttoned and discarded. His belt clinked against the floor. My bra landed somewhere by the dresser. Every inch of us was raw, filthy, and fuckingbeautiful.