Page 16 of The Mourning Throne
But this place wasfucking ridiculous.
High ceilings.
Full kitchen.
A separategoddamn sitting roomwith one of those couches that looked too clean to be comfortable, and a wet bar. Fully stocked with the pretty jeweled bottles Morgan liked.
There were built-in speakers, floor-to-ceiling windows in the second bedroom, and afireplace.
And the bed—jesus.
Lex bolted straight for it, not even bothering to take off his shoes until he was halfway across the room. Then he kicked them off, one at a time, sending them skidding across the floor with satisfying thuds.
He threw himself backward onto the mattress, groaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear—if they were lucky enough to be this close to heaven. “Holy shit, Morgan. This mattress isactualporn.”
Morgan chuckled. “It’s a mattress. I don’t think it’s anything close to what you’re making it out to be.”
“It’s better thanourbed,” Lex groaned again, limbs splayed like he was trying to merge with it. The comforter was made ofbutter. “I’m taking it home.”
“Do you want it shipped?”
“Maybe.” Lex chuckled. He rolled onto his stomach, face half-buried. “Man, I’ve got good taste.”
“Next time I need you to pick out something, I’ll remember our procedure.”
“No.No.That’s not what I said.”
Lex sat up, bounced a little—testing the springs—then ran his palms over the sheets like a raccoon in a glitter factory.
He could be here for hours, looking at everything. Taking it in, one amazing piece at a time. The room bathed in evening light filtering through the windows. The soft hum of the city beneath them, too far down to be real.
Hell,nothingfelt real, but in the best way possible. As if someone had reached into his memories and carved this entire suite out of his childhood wishlists and daydreams.
He didn’t need a food or water.
He didn’t needanything.
Especially not while Morgan was watching him like that—still leaning in the doorway, still smiling his rare smile, like he had no intention of moving. Like he was perfectly content watching Lex.
“This one’s ours,” Lex said, softer now. “I want to keep it.”
Morgan tilted his head. “You already told me to ship the bed.”
“Not just that.” Lex hugged the pillow to his chest, fingers digging in. “The whole fucking city.”
Chapter 4
When Morgan suggested they go to a club, Lex had assumed he meantaclub—normal and trashy, with watered-down drinks and too many guys named Jackson. The kind of place that smelled like high school body spray and regret, bass thumping with overplayed electronic music.
He hadn’t expectedthis.
Buried two levels underground, tucked behind an unmarked steel door that looked like it belonged on a vault, the place had a vibe. Not necessarily agoodone, but fun.
Very fun.
And the bouncer?
Built like a fucking truck didn’t even begin to cover it.
