Page 53 of Monsters Carve Thrones
Then he stood just long enough to unbutton his black pants, sliding them low on his hips. My eyes locked onto the hard line of him, the way he filled his boxers. My mouth nearly dried seeing that he was almost as big as Rafe.Shit.
Climbing back on the bed, his fingers found my clit. It drew a cry from my lips as he leaned down and kissed his way up my stomach, chest, and throat. His tongue flicked over one nipple, then the other, and he groaned like he couldn’t decide which he liked more.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, wedging my legs open with his knee.
I squeezed my eyes shut the moment I felt his thick cock brush against my entrance. I knew I was far from wet, and was nervous that he’d just–
Then he thrust into me all at once, stealing the air from my lungs. I gasped, my back arching off the bed. He didn’t give me a second to adjust. He set a brutal pace, his big hands gripping my hips, then sliding up to wrap around my throat.
“Jesus,” he growled, eyes devouring every inch of me. “This body…fuck, you feel so good.”
I closed my eyes through the pressure on my neck, my fingers digging into his biceps, stars dancing at the edges of my vision as he pounded into me. I nearly blacked out, but he released his grip just enough to keep me awake. I wanted to cry with the amount of anger boiling in my blood and pain from him.
“I could fucking kill you,” he growled, slamming into me so hard I yelped. “You little bitch. Rafe doesn’t own you anymore. He isn’t shit. He’ll die seeing that you’remine. Might even send him a video.”
This stupid fuck.In an attempt to stop him, I clawed into his arms, drawing blood. I felt the warmth of it seep down his biceps, but he didn’t care. It just seemed to spur him on. At that moment, I realized that most of these monsters were the same. They didn’t care if your nails gouged out flesh, they’d still keep going so long as it meant they’d get what they wanted from you.
“You’regoing to die,” I choked. “AndI’llbe the one who does it. I can’tfuckingwait.”
He tightened his grip on my throat, and I saw the goddamn cosmos. “No, no, no, no,” he laughed between rough thrusts. “You’re going to be my little whore. That’sallyou’ll be. After we kill Rafe, I’ll probably keep you around for a while until you’re used up. Then I’llfinallyput you out of your goddamn misery.”
I couldn’t help but whimper, fear crawling through my chest at how close to blacking out this man was taking me. I didn’t even care what he was saying, because it didn’t matter. I’d take my sweet time killing him. It would be the only thing that’d keep me fucking alive here.
I didn’t know how much time passed, but it felt like forever. His breath suddenly stuttered. The rhythm shifted–shorter, faster, desperate. A shudder ran through him as he groaned. Only then did his grip on my throat ease. He laid over me, burying his face in my neck with a satisfied sigh.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to look away. I glared into his soulless eyes when he pulled away.
“Aw, you look mad,” he mocked, shoving himself deeper. “You didn’t like that, baby? You’re going to learn to love it.”
My gaze didn’t waver, and didn’t until he finally got off me. My body was so tired from the drugs, my head buzzing from the trauma and rage.
He tucked himself back in his sweatpants, running his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “You still have your IUD in, right? You should be on your second year with your recent one.”
I barely nodded.He somehow had my medical records?
“Good. I plan to do this every goddamn day.” He sauntered over and clamped leather cuffs over my hands. I was now tied to the headboard.I had to sleep like this?Damn it.
“Goodnight, baby.” He forced his mouth upon mine, his tongue sweeping in before he rolled over. Waylon just raped me. And now, I had to share a bed with him every night. It was only when I heard the steady sound of his breathing that I finally allowed the tears to fall.
Chapter 10
RAFE
The hotel bathroom was quiet, and the only sound was the soft drip of water from the showerhead. Steam clung to the mirror in a foggy haze, but I didn’t bother wiping it away. My reflection came through anyway–gaunt, drawn, and hollow-eyed.
The dark circles under my eyes looked bruised. I hadn’t really slept since Adela vanished. I couldn’t. Not when every second wasted was a second she spent in some godforsaken hell.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, sighed, and pulled on a pair of dark sweats and a black hoodie. It was late. Paris had long since quieted, the hum of traffic replaced by wind against stone and distant footsteps echoing along the cobblestones.
I stepped out onto the balcony of our penthouse suite. The crisp wind hit first, brushing over my face and tuggingat the loose strands of hair near my temples. The city below glittered with lights, and there in the distance, the Eiffel Tower pierced the night sky. It was lit up, gold against velvet black, too beautiful for the kind of grief twisting through my chest.
I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.
“Those’ll kill you, you know,” came a voice softly behind me.
Laura.
I glanced over my shoulder. She padded barefoot onto the balcony, wrapped in an oversized sweater, her blonde hair loose and wind-tangled. Her blue eyes scanned me, and I recognized an exhaustion that mirrored my own.
