Page 52 of Unholy Nights

I don't bother responding as I head for the door. She hasn't won—she's just choosing her battles. And so am I.

Emerald is waiting in my car, her hands twisted together in her lap. The sight of her calms the rage burning through my veins, even as memories of Daniel touching her make me imagine all the ways I could make him disappear. Breaking his fingers one by one for daring to put them on her would be a good start.

When I slide into the driver's seat, she turns to me with worried eyes. "What did you say to them?"

"Nothing they didn't need to hear." I start the car, then reach over to take her hand. The moment our skin connects, some of the murderous rage subsides, replaced by the calm that only comes from touching her. She threads her fingers through mine like she needs the contact as much as I do.

"Are you okay?"

She nods, but I can feel her trembling. She shifts in her seat, leaning closer to me like she's trying to crawl inside my skin. "He kept touching me. Even when I moved away, he just kept..." She shudders, and violent fantasies explode behind my eyes—Daniel's body at the bottom of the lake, Daniel's car wrapped around a tree, Daniel bleeding out slowly in some dark corner of town.

I lift our joined hands to my mouth, pressing my lips to her knuckles, and she melts further into my touch. The simple contact grounds us both—her anxiety visibly easing as my bloodlust settles into something more controlled. It's fascinating how she can simultaneously calm my darkness and feed it. How touching her soothes the beast while making it more determined to destroy anyone who threatens what's mine.

"Did he hurt you?" My voice comes out rough with barely contained fury, even as her closeness keeps me from hunting Daniel down right now.

"No, nothing like that. He was just... persistent. Creepy." She looks down at our joined hands, then brings her other one up to trace the veins on my wrist. The gentle exploration of her fingers sends electricity through my blood. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can breathe." I pull out of the driveway, heading toward the lake, though letting go of her hand feels like ripping off my own skin. The second I shift into drive, she leansacross the console to rest her head against my shoulder, and everything in me settles. "Just for today."

She's quiet for a moment, watching the scenery blur past. Her breath against my neck is the only thing keeping the violent thoughts at bay. "What happens when we go home?"

"We keep playing our parts." I turn my head to press a kiss into her hair, breathing in the scent that's become as necessary as oxygen. "Until the Christmas party. And then..."

"And then?"

"And then you'll never have to pretend again." I catch her hand again, unable to go another second without touching her. "No more cages, little phoenix. Just freedom to be exactly who you are."

She lifts her head from my shoulder, those green eyes full of something between hope and fear. "With you?"

"Always with me." The word comes out like a vow, like something sacred whispered in that chapel. "There's no version of this that ends with us apart."

She presses closer, like she's trying to merge our bodies into one. Like she understands exactly what I mean because she feels it too.

The drive to the lake passes in comfortable silence, her head on my shoulder, our fingers intertwined. She fits against me like she was crafted for this exact purpose, and each mile that takes us further from Madeline's influence feels like one step closer to the future I've been planning since the moment I first saw her.

Seven days until the Christmas party. Seven days until I can give her everything I promised in that chapel. Seven days until we can stop hiding.

I've never been a patient man, but for her, I'd wait forever.

The windowsof Cohen's Aston Martin fog up as we wind around Crescent Lake, the world outside all blurry white snow and towering evergreens. Inside it's warm—like, way too warm—but I can't make myself scoot even an inch away from him. My body literally feels like it'll shut down if I'm not touching him.

I wonder if this is what being addicted to something feels like... that whole trembling hands, racing heart, can't-live-without-it thing from all those "Just Say No" commercials my mother lets play during her charity events. Except they definitely weren't talking about being addicted to your stepfather.

Ugh. That sounds so bad when I put it that way.

But it's true—I physically can't stop myself from pressing closer, breathing him in, letting his presence fill up all the empty spaces inside me that I never even knew were there until he showed me.

My head rests against his shoulder while he drives, our fingers tangled together on his thigh. His thumb keeps stroking back and forth across my knuckles in this rhythm that matches my heartbeat. Or maybe my heart's just learned to beat in time with him now. That wouldn't surprise me—my body seems to exist just to respond to him these days.

God, I'm so far gone it's not even funny.

"Look at that," he murmurs, nodding toward where sunlight breaks through the clouds, turning the frozen lake into this glittering wonderland. The snow blankets everything—the massive evergreens, the lakefront mansions—making it all look like something out of a Hallmark movie. But all I can focus on is how his voice vibrates through me where we're pressed together.

He pulls into this hidden spot overlooking the water, tucked behind a bunch of snow-covered pines where you can't see us from the road. The second the engine cuts off, this heavy silence wraps around us, broken only by our breathing and the soft ticking of the cooling engine.

"I used to come here when I was a kid," Cohen says, his eyes on the frozen lake stretching out before us. His voice carries that rare softness that makes my heart flutter. "The Astors have lived in Emerald Hills as long as your family has. Though our histories took different paths."

His thumb traces circles on my knuckles where our fingers are intertwined, and I find myself leaning closer, starving for any little crumb of information that might help me know this man better.

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