Page 44 of Unholy Nights

"I know." He stops right in front of me, close enough that I can feel how warm he is. "Your mother keeps it locked. She hates what it represents." His fingers brush my cheek. "Love."

That word hangs in the air between us, and my heart's beating so fast I briefly wonder if I’m going to need medical attention.

"Love?" The word feels weird on my tongue. My mother's never loved anything except her brand and her social media following. "Is that what this is?"

His eyes go dark as his thumb traces my lip, and my brain completely stops working. "What else would make me willing to destroy everything just to have you?"

I shiver, and not from the cold. There's something about the way he says it—like nothing else matters to him except me. “You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy." His fingers slide into my hair, just tight enough to make me gasp. "The moment I saw you, I knew how this would end. Everything since then has just been leading us here."

"Why here?" My voice comes out embarrassingly breathless. "Why tonight?"

His eyes catch the candlelight as he cups my face. "Because this place was made for us, little phoenix. And I'm done waiting."

The words sink into my skin. Every touch, every stolen moment over the last week has led us here, to this unholy night in this sacred place. And despite everything—despite knowing this is wrong, despite knowing what it will cost—I've never wanted anything more.

"Neither of us is getting out of this unburned, are we?" I whisper.

His smile is all darkness and promise. "No. But sometimes the most beautiful things rise from the ashes."

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "Are you ready to burn with me?" he asks, his hands sliding down my sides to grip my hips.

I look up at him, at the man who's become everything I never knew I needed. The candlelight flickers across his face, shadows dancing in his eyes, and I know there's no turning back.

"Yes," I breathe, and the word feels like a prayer.

His smile is triumphant as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a length of deep red velvet ribbon. "Take off your coat," he commands, and I obey without hesitation, letting the heavy fabric fall to the floor so I'm only in my thin nightgown and boots. It's cold in here and my nipples go hard in less than a second. His eyes drop to them as his tongue drags along his lip like he's imagining tasting me there.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see," he says, wrapping the velvet around my wrists and tying it in a pretty bow. My heart races as he guides me to the altar, pushing me onto the polished wood and stretching my arms above my head. "How does that feel?" he asks, his eyes intent on mine. "Is it too tight?"

"No," I whisper, a rush of heat flooding my core as he slides his fingers along the velvet. It's soft against my skin, but the knot is tight. Inescapable. Just like my feelings for my stepfather.

"Good," he says, leaning down to brush a kiss against my forehead. "Tonight, you're my gift, and I intend to take my time unwrapping you." His breath is hot against my skin as he trails a line of kisses down my throat, his tongue darting out to dip into the hollow at the base. "And when I'm done, I'm going to take you right here on the altar."

My breath catches in my throat as he straightens up, his eyes roaming over my body like a starving man faced with a feast. "I've imagined this moment so many times," he murmurs, his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing the hem of my nightgown higher. "But nothing compares to the reality of you laid out for me. So soft, so beautiful, so willing to give me everything."

He pulls a knife from his pocket, the blade glinting in the candlelight. My eyes widen and everything inside me is chaos, like someone shook up all my emotions in a snow globe as he brings the tip to the neckline of my nightgown.

"Look at me," he orders, and I drag my gaze away from the knife to meet his eyes. The silver of his irises seems to glow in the candlelight, the color almost magical. He holds me captive with that gaze as he slowly drags the blade down, splitting the fabric of not only my nightgown but my underwear, too, with a soft tearing sound that reverberates through the empty chapel.

The cold air kisses my newly exposed skin, but it's the heat in Cohen's eyes that makes me shiver. He slides the knife back intohis pocket, his gaze never leaving mine as he parts the torn fabric of my nightgown, laying me bare before him. I feel a rush of vulnerability and excitement, my breath coming in short gasps.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, his hands gliding up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. "Are you afraid?"

I shake my head, my voice barely a whisper. "No. I'm just... I don't know what to do."

His smile is a slow, wicked curve of the lips. "You don't have to do anything. Just feel. I'm going to teach you, Emerald. I'm going to show you what your body is capable of."

His hands cup my breasts,thumbs circling my hardened nipples, drawing out a gasp from somewhere deep inside of me. "Starting with these perfect tits. They're begging for my attention, aren't they?"

I nod, pushing into the heat of his touch and away from the cold stone beneath me. The sensation is so overwhelming but it's also… intoxicating. I'm dizzy with it.

He leans down, his mouth replacing his thumb. His tongue, the one I've learned is made of magic over the last week and a half, is flicking against the sensitive peak before he swirls it around. I cry out, the sound so loud in the empty chapel, as he sucks and licks and nibbles, drawing out a pleasure so sharp it's almost painful.

"Cohen," I gasp, my hands straining against the velvet binding. I'm desperate to touch him, to dig my fingers into his thick hair and yank him closer... or maybe push him away. "It's too much."

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