Page 40 of Unholy Nights

She shivers, but doesn't pull away from my touch. If anything, she leans into me more. "Why did you tell my mother Charlotte was your girlfriend then?"

"Because I knew it would intrigue her." I let my fingers trail down the side of her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch. "Your mother has a weakness for powerful men she thinks she can't have. She likes to hunt. I used that to get close to you."

"To me?" Her voice catches as my thumb traces her collarbone. "But why?"

I study her face in the soft winter light filtering through the window, committing every detail to memory. The way sheleans into my touch without realizing it. The perfect mixture of innocence and curiosity in her expression. The slight parting of her lips as she waits for my answer.

Two years of watching. Planning. Waiting.

And now she's finally asking the right question.

I lean in,close enough to brush my lips against hers before I move back. "Because I've been watching you for a long time, little phoenix. Since the night at the Mitchell Gala two years ago, when I saw you standing on the balcony all alone, looking up at the sky with tears running down your face. Since that night, you've been mine. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every second of my life has belonged to you."

Her eyes widen at my confession, and for a moment, I worry that I've said too much, that the darkness inside me has scared her. But then she smiles—a soft, tentative thing that's like seeing the sun rise after a long, endless night.

"You've been planning this for two years?" she whispers. "Everything—marrying my mother, moving in here—it was all to get to me?"

"Yes." There's no point in denying it. Not when the truth feels so fucking right. "And it was all worth it. Every move, every decision, has been leading to this moment. To us."

She swallows hard, and I track the movement of her throat with hungry eyes. "That's... that's insane."

"Is it?" I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Tell me you don't feel it too. This connection between us. This pull that makes everything else fade away."

"I do feel it," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Cohen, you're married to my mother."

"Not in the ways that count," I say, my thumb brushing across her bottom lip.

She tries to turn away, but I hold her still. "Do you... do you sleep with her?"

The question makes my jaw clench, pure disgust coursing through me. The thought of Emerald imagining me with Madeline makes me want to demonstrate exactly how wrong she is about who I belong to.

"No," I say, letting her hear the revulsion in my voice. "I have never touched your mother the way I touch you. I never will. She means nothing to me beyond being a means to an end."

"But—"

I cut her off with a kiss, unable to bear another second of her doubting who she belongs to. She makes a soft sound of surprise against my mouth, but then she's melting into me, her hands fisting in my shirt as I devour her.

She tastes like peppermint tea and innocence, and I growl as her tongue tentatively meets mine. My hand slides into her hair, holding her still as I take what's mine, showing her with lips and teeth and tongue exactly who she belongs to.

When I finally pull back, we're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen from my kiss, her pupils blown wide, and the sight of her like this—wrecked and messy—makes my cock throb.

"You're the only one I want," I tell her, my voice rough. "The only one I've ever wanted. Everyone else is just collateral damage on my path to you."

"But why me?" she whispers, her fingers still twisted in my shirt like she’s afraid to let go.

"Because you're mine," I say, pressing my forehead to hers. "Because the moment I saw you, something inside me recognized something inside you. Like we were carved from the same midnight, you the starlight, me the void.”

My hand slides down to her flat stomach, wondering if my seed has already taken root inside her. If she's carrying the physical proof of my claim on her. The thought makes my blood burn hotter, my grip on her tightening possessively.

"I'm going to give you everything," I promise against her lips. "A future. A family. A love so consuming it'll rewrite your DNA until there's nothing left but us."

Her skin heats under my touch, a flush spreading down her throat to disappear beneath her dress. "What if I'm not strong enough for this?" she whispers.

"You're stronger than you know," I tell her, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Strong enough to survive everything your mother’s done to you. Strong enough to become what you're meant to be."

"And what's that?"

"The beginning and end of everything I am." The words come out like a prayer and a curse combined.

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