Page 11 of Monsters Carve Thrones (Crowned Monsters Duet #2)

I hunted them down. One by one. Some were fast and merciful kills. Some weren’t. The last few would be worse because they were the kind who didn’t scare easily. Nah, they only understood pain.

I stared at Adela, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. She looked radiant. Free. Like she hadn’t once stood in a pool of blood and made a man scream before silencing him.

She adapted so easily. She fell into this world like she always belonged. And I guess she did.

But perfection was usually dangerous. I’d lived long enough to know that when everything seemed flawless, it meant something was hiding in the dark.

Watching. Waiting.

Still, for tonight, I let it go. Let the whiskey settle in my veins. Let myself enjoy the glow of Adela’s smile as she toasted to our future with her best friend. I’d keep it safe. I’d protect her peace with blood and fire if I had to.

***

I left them laughing. Slipped out sometime between their third bottle and a story about someone from Sinclair shitting themselves on a retreat. Adela didn’t even notice. That was the point.

Kieran was waiting outside, engine idling, eyes straight ahead. I slid into the backseat, the door clicking shut.

“Warehouse off the Belt,” he said. “He brought backup.”

“Good,” I murmured. “Let him think it’ll help.”

We drove in silence. My hands flexed in my lap, already itching for blood. The knife at my hip wasn’t just ceremonial. It was tradition. Old steel and cold justice.

The target’s name was Elías Navarro. Mexican cartel muscle who thought Moreau’s death was a fucking opportunity.

He’d tried to poach a deal from one of my ports last week.

Killed a dockhand who worked for me for six years.

Left his body with a knife in his eye socket and a message carved in his chest.

Tonight was my response.

My boots hit the concrete of the warehouse, and every head turned. Five men. One me. Perfect odds. “Elías,” I greeted, voice calm.

He was big. Scar above his lip, gold chain thick enough to choke a horse. “Rafe fucking Vaughan,” he spat. “Come to talk business?”

“Come to end it.” I moved fast. Always did.

The first man reached for his gun–mistake. I shot him through the knee and let him scream. Second guy, a twitchy little shit, tried to run. I stabbed him in the kidney on the way out. The third managed to land a punch, splitting my lip. I broke his neck for the trouble.

That left Elías.

He tried to run. They always do, the arrogant ones.

I caught him near the loading dock and slammed him against the wall. The knife in my hand felt like fucking home. He started begging in Spanish, calling me cabrón, basura, demonio. I just smiled.

“Moreau was sloppy,” I said. “I’m not.”

Then I sank my blade into his throat, watching with delight as he gurgled, drowning in his own blood. When it was done, I lit a match and watched the warehouse go up in flames behind me.

Back in the car, my shirt stuck to my ribs, soaked in blood that wasn’t mine. My lip throbbed. My hand burned. But my mind was calm.

One less loose end.

***

I slipped the door open with a quiet ease.

I was definitely someone who knew how to come home after violence without waking my girl.

The mansion was dark, and the kitchen lamp’s soft amber glow poured over the hardwood floors.

I locked the door behind me and stepped out of my boots, the dried blood on my shirt crusting like war paint.

And then my eyes locked on blonde hair.

Laura.

Sprawled out across our giant sectional, one arm thrown over her eyes, mouth parted, an empty wine glass on the floor beside her. She was snoring, softly. I huffed a laugh through my nose.

“Christ,” I muttered, stepping around her.

I crept up the stairs, eager to shower and wash this shit off me. Adela was curled on her side, back to me, bare shoulder peeking out from under the blanket. One arm stretched across my pillow like she’d reached for me in her sleep.

My throat tightened in a way it shouldn’t have.

I padded into the bathroom, peeling my bloodied shirt off, then the rest. The shower was quick but hot enough to sting.

I watched the pink swirl of blood spiral down the drain, scrubbing until there was nothing left but heat and the steady thrum of my pulse returning to normal.

When I returned to the bedroom, she’d shifted, brow furrowed like she sensed the absence in her sleep. I slid beneath the covers, the scent of her shampoo chasing away the gasoline and rot in my mind.

She stirred when I wrapped an arm around her waist, murmured something incoherent, and pressed back into me. I held her close, resting my face in her hair.

She didn’t ask where I’d been.

***

ADELA

The dull throb in my skull reminded me just how much wine Laura and I had gone through. I groaned softly, blinking into the shadows of the room as the moonlight spilled across the bed.

Rafe was beside me.

His breathing was steady and deep. He smelled like soap, like heat, like home . The silver wash of light carved across his bare chest, accentuating every muscle and scar I’d kissed and worshipped. His face was turned away from me, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, his jaw slack in sleep.

I shifted closer.

My leg slipped over his, the bare skin of my thigh brushing his. I paused, just breathing him in.

God, he was beautiful.

Even like this, unconscious and still, there was a silent danger in him. A violence resting just beneath the surface. But it didn’t scare me anymore. If anything, it stirred something low in my belly. I bit my lip, allowing the filthy thoughts to tear into my mind.

There was something obscenely hot about being in bed with a man like him. A monster in daylight, a killer in truth… but warm and mine in this still, perfect moment.

I tilted my head, staring at the soft curve of his mouth.

Then I couldn’t help myself.

My hand slipped beneath the blanket, fingers trailing over the line of his abdomen, down to the cotton of his briefs. I cupped him, gentle at first, watching for any reaction. Nothing.

His cock stirred beneath my palm, heavy and hot. I bit back a moan, feeling the twitch of him growing harder, fuller, responding to me even in sleep.

God .

My body reacted instinctively. I rolled my hips against his muscular thigh, desperate for friction, breath catching in my throat.

Still, he didn’t move.

And I wanted him too much to wait.

Sliding up, I straddled him, easing his briefs down just enough to free him.

He was thick and warm against my pussy, and when I guided him to my entrance, I had to swallow the whimper that rose in my throat.

My hand stroked his cock against my clit, my body on fucking overdrive seeing how peaceful he looked beneath me.

He’d used me in my sleep before, so now it was my turn.

I sank down slowly, letting him stretch and fill me. He shifted slightly beneath me, a low grunt in his throat. But he didn’t wake. My hands pressed against his chest as I began to move, soft and slow, riding the edge of madness with every roll of my hips.

The pleasure built, steady and exquisite, like a flame licking up my spine. His hands moved then, rising in sleep to squeeze my thighs.

I froze for a second, breath stalling.

Then he groaned, a deep, half-conscious sound that vibrated through his chest. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but his body was awake, answering mine. And he wanted more.

So I gave it to him.

His fingers stayed firm on my thighs, a silent command for me to keep going.

His eyes remained closed, brows drawn slightly, lips parted as his breathing deepened beneath me.

I moved in slow, steady rolls, chasing every wave of sensation like it was the last. My palms braced on his chest, his heartbeat thudding beneath them.

My body was tight, coiled, and his every twitch inside me drove me closer to that dizzying edge.

The room was silent except for the subtle creak of the bed and the thick sound of our breath syncing into something primal. Rafe flexed inside me, hips lifting just enough to meet my movements, a quiet grunt catching in his throat.

His grip on my thighs tightened, his muscles tensing under my hands as a low, drawn-out groan escaped him. It was sleepy and rough and utterly wrecked . “Fuck…”

His release pulsed inside me, the warmth of it tipping me straight into my own. I came with a shuddering gasp, nails digging into his chest, head dropping as I rode out every crashing wave, our bodies locked in a slow, exhausted rhythm of shared bliss.

He barely moved beneath me, his chest rising and falling with a lazy rhythm as his eyes stayed shut. Within minutes, his breathing evened out again, sleep pulling him back under. I let it, pressing one last kiss to his chest before slipping out and into the bathroom.

And when I crawled back into bed, I let my eyes drift shut, sated and warm in the arms of the most dangerous man I’d ever loved.

***

My head pounded like war drums. My mouth felt like sandpaper, and the sunlight leaking in through the window was just plain disrespectful.

I groaned as I rolled onto my back, blinking slowly.

The bed beside me was already empty, the sheets still warm with Rafe’s lingering heat.

I could hear him in the kitchen, humming under his breath like he hadn’t drank an entire bottle of whiskey with us the night before.

“Why do you sound like someone who got eight hours of sleep and a massage?” I grumbled, dragging myself out to him and wrapping the comforter around me.

“Because I feel refreshed,” he called back with a smirk in his voice.

I narrowed my eyes as I stumbled toward him. “That’s funny… ‘cause I rode you last night. You should be feeling used, my guy.”

He turned around, mug in hand, brows lifting. “Wait… seriously?”

I gave him a smug look and stole the mug. “You don’t remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” He scratched his jaw, watching me over the rim of a second cup. “You ride me often enough, I can’t keep track.”

I sipped the coffee and smirked. “Well, you filled me real good for a guy who was mostly unconscious.”

Rafe snorted, leaning against the counter, shirtless and sinfully relaxed. “Damn.” He winked. “Guess we’re checking that box.”

My cheeks flushed hot, and I tried to hide it behind another sip. “Yeah… it was kind of hot.”

He smiled lazily, reaching past me to grab the creamer. “Remind me to return the favor again soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I said, nudging his hip. “I love it.” A beat of silence passed before I glanced at him sideways. “So, where’d you go last night?”

His expression shifted just slightly, and he leaned his weight onto the counter. “Had some business to take care of. Tied up some loose ends. One of Moreau’s men, who thought he still had leverage.” He gave a slight shrug. “He doesn’t anymore.”

I blinked slowly. “Jesus.”

He gave me a faint smile. “Don’t worry. We won’t have to hear from him again.”

Before I could respond, a loud groan came from the couch. “Ughhh… why is everything so bright in this fucking house?” Laura’s voice entered our space, thick with sleep and regret.

I jumped, coffee nearly spilling from my mug. “Shit! Laura?”

Rafe chuckled, utterly unfazed. “Oh yeah. Laura slept over.”

I looked over to find her tangled in one of our throw blankets, mascara smudged, hair an actual bird’s nest.

“I want death,” she muttered.

I laughed, shaking my head and sipping my coffee. “We have Advil and cereal. Choose your fighter.”

She flopped dramatically back onto the couch, eyes squinting through the haze of morning. “By the way… I heard you two talking about your freaky sex kink.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh my God.” I buried my face in my hands, already flushed.

Rafe, of course, chuckled under his breath as he cracked eggs into a pan. “What, you jealous, Laur?”

“I’m jealous of anyone getting laid at this point,” she muttered, propping her feet up on the coffee table and accepting the cup of coffee I handed her. “Especially when it sounds that fun.”

I laughed, still pink as I sat beside her. “I didn’t know you were conscious enough to eavesdrop.”

“Sleep is a myth when you’re on a couch with no blackout curtains and your boss is moaning about getting filled ‘real good, ’” she said, mimicking my voice with a wicked grin.

“ Laura! ” I shrieked, slapping her arm. “You’re a menace.”

Rafe called over from the kitchen, totally unbothered. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was a compliment to my performance.”

“You were asleep,” I hissed.

“And still nailed it. That’s talent.”

Laura snorted into her coffee, nearly spilling it. “Okay, see, that’s what I need. A freaky man who’s nice, lets me crash when I’m hungover, and also kills people for a living. Even if he is a walking cliché.”

Rafe slid a pan of scrambled eggs onto the stovetop and turned to her with a smirk. “Thanks, I think.”

Laura lifted her mug like a toast. “You’re welcome. I mean it.”

He shook his head with a soft laugh. “You can stay and recover as long as you want. Seriously. All day if you need.”

She groaned with gratitude and slumped deeper into the cushions. “Bless you both. And don’t worry about the office, I’ve got it under control. Already emailed dispatch and checked in with security. You two go play house or whatever.”

I smiled, feeling a weird little warmth in my chest as I leaned into the couch, coffee in hand, the scent of eggs and toast filling the air.