Page 8 of Unholy Nights

Emmitt’s eyes drop to where Cohen’s hand rests on me, his smile going brittle before he plasters on another fake one. “I was just helping Madeline with a few party preparations at a shop down the block,” he says, trying to catch my eye like we’re sharing some secret. As if I’d ever want to share anything with him. “You know how important these little details are to her.” He waves his hand around with a smile that reminds me of my mother’s socialite friends cooing over babies they don’t actually want to hold. “When I saw Emerald in the window, I thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

Cohen’s fingers press harder into my back, and when I glance up, his smile is arctic. “It’s easy to wander into dangerous territory without realizing it. I suggest you watch your step around Emerald.”

Emmitt lets out this empty laugh that sounds about as genuine as my mother’s concern for my wellbeing. Something dark flashes in his eyes that makes me wish I understood the game these two are playing. It’s like they’re having a whole other conversation underneath their words, and I don’t speak the same language. “Always watching, right?”

My stepfather’s smile doesn’t waver as he meets Emmitt’s stare. “Always.”

The tension is thick, like I could almost reach out and touch it. Cohen’s fingers shift and curl around my hip as he tugs me closer into his body and further away from Emmitt. He smells like something fresh, like the forest after rain, with a little bit of warmth that makes me want to lean closer and breathe him in. Emmitt shifts uncomfortably under Cohen’s glare, and after a beat, he clears his throat.

“Well, I should be going. Busy day ahead.” He flashes me a tight, strained smile. “Always a pleasure, Emerald.”

I nod, trying not to shudder with revulsion, and watch as he finally turns and leaves. The second he’s gone, the room feelslike it gets a little bigger, a little easier to breathe in, but Cohen hasn’t let go of me even though we’re essentially alone.

The quiet between us crackles like a storm about to break. I can still feel his fingers curled around my hip, and even though I know I should step away, I don’t. I shiver and sink a little further into his touch, trying to memorize the feel of it.

How long has it been since anyone’s touched me?

I can’t remember my last hug.

How depressing is that?

“You alright?” Cohen’s voice is softer than I’m used to, and when I look up at him, his gray eyes are stormy and locked on mine.

I swallow hard against the intensity of that look, nodding. “Yeah. I just… I hate that guy.”

His gaze darkens, his expression hardening in a way that sends a chill through me. “You let me handle him from now on, alright?”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think he isn’t just talking about today. It makes me wonder what my stepfather’s willing to do to keep me safe, and a part of me—the part that hates how helpless I feel all the time— likes the thought of that a lot.

“Okay.” I let out a shaky breath and glance toward the door. “I should go. My mother’s waiting.”

It’s the last thing I want to do, to move away from him. The whole left side of my body is warm and tingly in a way I’ve never felt before, radiating out from where his hand is still gripping my hip. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to let go either.

I… don’t know what to do with that.

Cohen’s eyes stay on me for a beat longer, and then his hand slowly drops away from my body. I shiver at the sudden intrusion of cold. “Of course.”

I turn, my legs like Jell-O, and give my best attempt at a polite smile as I pick up the shopping bag and wave goodbye to the salesgirl, because that’s what’s expected of me. But even as I step outside onto the freezing sidewalk, I can still feel Cohen’s gaze on me, intense and burning.

There’s a strange comfort in knowing he’s watching, that right now he’s the only person on this Earth that has my back.

For now, it’s enough to know I’m not alone, even if the person standing between me and the rest of the world is the one person I shouldn’t want to get closer to.

Unfortunately for me…

I do.

I’m losing my patience.

I grip the steering wheel of my Aston Martin so tightly that the leather groans under the pressure of my white-knuckled grip. My jaw is clenched so hard my teeth ache, every breath I take shallow and labored, like there's a wildfire smoldering under my skin. It’s beginning to burn out of control.

Control.

I scoff. The word does little to settle the storm raging inside me.

That bastard touched her with his eyes.

Hedaredto let his disgusting gaze rake over her body.

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