Page 37 of Monsters Carve Thrones
The house was still, cloaked in that soft silence that only came after a good day. It had been almost a week since that lovely night at the mansion where he fucked me in front of those people. We’d had sex every single day, sometimes twice. We couldn’t get enough of each other and, honestly, it was a dream come true. He was everything I needed and craved. And of course, he always reminded me how dumb he was for me, even while pounding his muscular body into mine without mercy. Those were my favorite times to be praised.
I padded barefoot down the hall, wine glass in hand, savoring the last of the red blend Rafe had opened with dinner. He had been pulled away for some last-minute meeting. Undoubtedly, it was one of those that would likely end in blood. But thankfully, he’d promised to be home before midnight. I wasn’t worried.
The townhouse felt lived-in now.Ours. The flickering candlelight in the kitchen, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering on the couch cushions, the distant hum of the dishwasher… it all made me feel content. I’d slipped into one of his black shirts and my black silk underwear, legs bare, hair wet from a bath that had turned into a full-on soak while I read one of the novels Laura had insisted I try.
I turned a page, lying comfortably on the couch. I was halfway through a paragraph when the lights went out. Every bulb died at once–no flicker, no warning. Justtotal, suffocating black.
I froze. Wine glass hovering midair.
Silence.
No hum from the fridge. No traffic from outside. Just the pulse pounding in my ears. My eyes snapped to the hallway.Maybe a breaker?No. The power box wasn’t finicky, and Rafe had backups and layers of failsafes to preventexactlythis kind of failure.
So... something waswrong. My pulse spiked.
I set the glass down without a sound, blood roaring in my ears, and ran up to the side table drawer in the bedroom. The knife was still there, Rafe’s “just in case” warning echoing in my head. I slid it into my hand.
A shadow drifted across the stairwell. Not Rafe.Too tall. Too slow.
My stomach plummeted. This wasnotone of Rafe’s games. “Who’s there?” I snapped.
No answer. Just silence stretching like a wire.
Then–creak.
A boot on the step.
I bolted toward the stairs and stared the door, skidding to a halt when I realized it was already open. Wind pushed in through the crack ominously. My breath caught, and then theywere on me. Two men in masks, dressed in black from head to toe. One surged forward.
Panicked, I backed into the coffee table, the glass of wine shattering and spilling over the floor. I slashed. The blade bit into his arm andripped. Hot blood sprayed across my forearm.
He hissed, but the second was faster, barreling into me, crushing the air from my lungs. I kicked. Bit. My elbow cracked against his jaw, and hestumbled–I almost got free.
Then the third came from behind, cold metal slamming into my neck.
A hiss. Something injected.
Heat. Slow, viscous, and fuckingunnatural.
“No,” I gasped, clawing at the needle, my limbs already going numb. My knees gave out. I dropped hard.
“She’s afeistylittle bitch,” one of them laughed, stepping over the glass I’d broken.
“Let her squirm,” said another, boots crunching close to my face. “It won’t matter in a few minutes.”
A third knelt near me, breath hot behind his distorted mask. “Fucking shame. She’s gorgeous. Almost makes you feel bad.” He dragged a gloved hand down my jaw.
I tried to spit at him, but my tongue wouldn’t obey. My mouth hung slack, jaw twitching.
“She’s still got fight in her,” another muttered, nudging my ribs with his boot. “Think Rafe taught her that?”
“Poor bastard,” the first said. “He’s gonna lose his shit.”
“You’re so fucked, sweetheart,” someone whispered.
Then I felt fingers in my hair, yanking my head back just to see the fear in my eyes. Everything tilted. The hallway spun.
The worldfolded.
