Page 12 of Unholy Nights

I've memorized every creaking floorboard between my room and hers. Learned which shadows to stick to, how to move like a ghost through this mausoleum Madeline calls home.

I don’t think I care about getting caught anymore. No, what drives my caution now is the need to keep this moment pure. Untainted. This is between Emerald and me. No one else deserves to share in what’s about to happen.

I pause at the top of the stairs, listening. The silence wraps around me like a familiar friend, broken only by the soft whisper of snow falling against the nearby windows and the distant hum of the heating system. I’ve spent too many nights to count walking this same path, talking myself out of what I’m about to do. Convincing myself to waitjust a little longer.

No more of that shit.

Madeline is three doors down, passed out from the sleeping pill I slipped into her wine at dinner. She has no idea her perfectly crafted world is about to shatter. She’s never turned me on, but imagining the look on her face when she loses everything is enough to convince my already hard dick to give an excited twitch.

I move past my wife’s door without a sound, my pulse steady despite the anticipation coursing through my veins. I've waited for this, planned it down to the smallest detail. Tonight marks the beginning of everything.

The sight of Emerald’s door at the end of the hall is like gravity, drawing me in. Even in darkness, I can see the pale wood, the delicate brass handle that separates me from what's mine.

What's always been mine.

My fingers curl around the cool metal of the other key I wear around my neck, and I close my eyes, savoring this moment—the precipice between restraint and surrender. After tonight, there's no going back.

I pull the necklace off, inserting the key into the lock. It gives way easily, just as it should. I had it changed weeks ago, the new mechanism ensuring only I have the key. Another careful piece in the elaborate game I've been playing. The door opens without a sound, and her scent hits me immediately. It’s sweet, like sugar cookies fresh from the oven, wholesomeness laced with something that makes my mouth water.

I step inside, twisting the handle so the door shuts silently behind me as I shove my necklace into the pocket of my joggers. I don’t want it getting in the way.

The brightness from the moonlight on the snow outside spills through her windows, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. My eyes adjust quickly, scanning the familiarspace, the artfully arranged furniture, the delicate vanity where she sits each morning, letting her dark hair fall like silk through her fingers.

But it's her I'm drawn to. Always her.

Emerald lies in the center of her bed, a vision of purity and goodness wrapped in white sheets. Her hair spreads across the pillow in waves of midnight, her face peaceful in sleep. One arm is thrown above her head, her throat exposed. It’s so fucking tempting, begging to be marked by my teeth until that pristine skin blooms with bruises that prove she's mine. She has no idea about the monster who's crept into her room, ready to corrupt every inch of her innocence.

My cock hardens at the sight of her, straining against my pants as I move closer. The need to touch her, to claim her, burns through my veins like poison.

She doesn’t move. Of course she doesn’t, not after I slipped her a sleeping pill with her dinner, too. Her virginity has always belonged to me, but she doesn’t need to be awake to experience the pain of losing it.

If I can spare her from feeling anything but happiness, love, and satisfaction, I’ll do everything in my power to do it.

That includes taking what belongs to me while she sleeps through it, blissfully unaware.

"So beautiful," I whisper, my voice barely a breath in the darkness. "So fucking perfect."

I ease onto the edge of her bed, careful not to disturb her. She may be harder to wake, but not impossible. I’m going to take my time, ensure that even asleep, she gets to experience some pleasure.

This moment is too precious to rush.

God, the things I want to do to her.

The things Iwilldo to her.

Her nightgown has ridden up, exposing the creamy smoothness of her thighs. The sight makes my mouth water, my control threatening to snap. I've imagined this view a thousand times, but reality is so much sweeter. So much more dangerous.

"You have no idea what you do to me, little one," I murmur, letting my fingers ghost along her ankle. Her skin is silky soft and warm under my touch. "The things I think about. The ways I want to break you apart and put you back together."

She stirs a little at my touch but doesn't wake. Good. That's not part of tonight's plan. Tonight is about claiming her firsts, about planting myself inside of her, about putting down roots.

I lean closer, sucking in her scent like the first hit of coke after rehab. "It’s already too late," I murmur, my fingers trailing up. "Your body is mine to worship, your mind is mine to twist, and your soul... your soul is the other half of mine."

My hand slides higher, tracing patterns on her calf, her knee, her thigh. She makes a small sound in her sleep, almost a whimper, and shifts restlessly. Her legs part, an unconscious invitation that rips apart the last threads of my restraint.

I climb further onto the bed, pulling the bottle of lube I stashed in my pocket out and tossing it onto the mattress beside her. I hover over her body as the muscles in my arms flex to support my weight. I don't touch. Not yet. I just watch, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips part with every breath. Feel the warmth of her skin radiating into mine. She's like a living doll—fragile, untouched, and so fucking corruptible.

"I'm going to take everything from you," I promise, my voice low and dark so I don’t wake her. "And in return, I'll give you the only love that matters. It’ll burn everything else away until there's nothing left but us.”

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