Page 24 of Monsters Carve Thrones

I laughed breathlessly. “We’re going to rule New York from this room.”

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, placing a hand on my lower back. The townhouse had three bedrooms, each more beautiful than the last. But it was the master suite on the top floor that took my breath away. It was drenched in natural light, the bed already made in storm-colored linens, the walls a subtle gray-blue that felt like dusk. Two sets of tall windows looked out over the back garden, where wildflowers tangled in a riot of color just beyond the wrought iron balcony.

I stepped toward the window, soaking it in. The neighborhood was quiet, nestled enough between the busy world and the one we owned in shadow.

Then I felt the monster behind me. Rafe pressed my back gently against the window frame, his arms wrapping around me. His lips brushed my neck. “You like it?” he asked, voice soft yet rough like gravel.

“I love it,” I whispered.

A genuine smile bloomed on his face before he captured my lips in an eager kiss. One hand gripped my hip, the other curled in my hair, pulling me into his chest like he could anchor me here forever.

I moaned into him, fingers tangling in his shirt. Outside, the world was calm. In here, I was beneath a wolf’s jaws. Rafe didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. His hands curled around my thighs, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me like I weighed nothing. I gasped, clutching his shoulders as he carried me to another window. The glass was cool against my back as he set me down on the wide sill, my skirt already bunched high from the kiss.

“Rafe–” I started, but the hunger in his eyes made the words die on my tongue. He dropped to his knees.

My heart thundered. His hands slid up my thighs with a possessive slowness, spreading them open. My eyes snagged on the window he took me from, realizing that anyone walking past could see us like this. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that was a mistake. Hewantedpeople to see the kind of man he was. A king who would happily bow on his knees for his queen. The thought sent a reckless thrill down my spine.

His fingers hooked inside my thong, pulling it to the side. Cool air pressed against my pussy, and my hips shifted in response. The moment his hot mouth met me, my spine archedagainst the window. I bit down on a whimper, but he wanted me loud. He always did.

So I gave in.

He held my hips still, tongue relentless and fucking perfect. It wasn’t long before I came hard, shuddering, my fingers tangled in his hair, head pressed to the glass as pleasure washed over me like a tide too strong to fight.

He stood then, eyes burning, belt already unfastened. “Bend over,” he growled against my ear.

I did.

The window fogged in front of me as he slid inside with a groan that made my knees buckle. His hands clamped around my hips, and he took me fast, each thrust deep and rough. I braced against the glass, lips parted, utterly wrecked and loving every second of it.

When it was over, we stayed pressed together for a beat, breathless and tangled. He kissed the back of my neck before finally pulling back, fingers smoothing my skirt down almost tenderly.

“Well,” Rafe said, voice still husky. “We just fucked in our new home. Bathroom is just through there.” He pointed with a chuckle.

I laughed, breath still shaky as I turned to face him. “You were right. I do want it.”

He smirked, eyes warm. “Welcome home, Mrs. Sinclair-Vaughan.”

My heart stuttered. And just like that, the townhouse felt even more perfect.

***

The training mats reeked of sweat, and my body was already aching in the best way. It was a far cry from the sensualhaze of our honeymoon. Gone were the beaches and candlelit moans. Now it was grunts, bruises, and the sharp echo of fists slamming against leather. Yesterday, Rafe purchased the townhouse. Next weekend, we’d move in. I ducked just as Rafe’s fist came swinging.

Too close.

But I’d learned. I wasn’t just his wife now, I was his partner in the truest, most brutal sense. And that meant I always had to be ready for the unknown.

I spun low, slipped under his guard, and drove my elbow toward his ribs before pivoting around his back. My hand found the dull practice blade tucked in his belt and yanked it free with a grin.

His arms dropped to his sides, and he turned toward me with a smile that was half-predator, half-pride. “Well done, baby.”

I stepped back, breathing hard, with damp hair sticking to my neck. “That’s the second time I’ve disarmed you this week.”

“Then I’m going easy on you,” he smirked, sweat gleaming at his temples.

“You’re not.”

The two of his men watching from the edge of the mat shared a glance but said nothing. They’d learned by now that I didn’t need babysitting. Not anymore. Rafe circled closer, hand outstretched. I handed him the blade, and he slipped it back into place at his waist.