Page 1 of Unholy Nights

The first timeI saw Emerald Delacroix, I knew I was fucked.

All it took was one glance, and I knew I'd ruin everything to have her—including myself.

Destroy her entire life until all she has is me.

All shewantsis me.

The first time I saw her cry, something inside me shattered. She stood on that balcony at the Mitchell Gala, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the stars like they held answers, and I was seven years old again—watching my mother sob in our kitchen while that bastard she was dating towered over her.

But unlike that night, when I was too small, too weak to do anything but watch, this time I could do something. This time, I had the power to protect someone. To save her. The need to possess her, to shield her from everything that could hurt her, became an obsession that night. A mission.

I watch her now, my pretty little stepdaughter, as she stands by the window, painted in the soft golden glow of twinkling Christmas lights watching the snow fall.

She’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, like some divine hand crafted her to torment me. Fragile, yet resilient.Innocent, yet with something quietly defiant simmering beneath the surface. I see it all, even if she doesn’t. That’s the thing about her. She doesn’t even know what she is. But I do.

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in my veins as I keep my eyes fixed on her. I’m incapable of tearing my eyes away. Madeline’s voice drifts in from the other room, shrill and demanding, as she barks orders at the household staff about some holiday bullshit only she cares about. I learned to tune that shit out a week ago when the decorations went up the day after Thanksgiving.

My wife is nothing if not an opportunist, and her flawless family is her favorite thing to exploit. The perfect Christmas. The perfect fucking lie.

I smirk into my glass. Her obsession with appearances has been useful to me, but it’s also becoming… tiresome. She’s served her purpose. She got me here, into this house, into Emerald’s world. But now, she’s more of an obstacle than anything else. And obstacles, well, they don’t last long in my world.

The glass makes a softclinkas I set it down, my eyes never leaving Emerald. She’s wearing a simple white oversized sweater with sleeves that fall past her wrists. It swallows her small frame, hiding her from me and making her look even more delicate than she already is. Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, messy in the way I imagine it’ll be when she’s spent the night in my bed, and I can just make out the way she bites her lower lip as her eyes follow the falling snow.

That lip—full, pink, and soft. I’ve dreamed of biting it myself, of pulling it between my teeth until I leave marks. Until she bleeds for me.

A small, satisfied hum escapes me at the thought. She has no idea I watch her like I do. No idea I’ve been staring at her for countless minutes, uncaring who sees.

Seems I’m all out of fucks to give.

I run my thumb along my bottom lip, trying to imagine the way she’ll taste on my tongue. I should take a step back, put some distance between us tonight. My need to own her—bone-deep, soul-deep, until there's nothing left untouched by my hand—is too close to the surface and I’m not sure I can hide it away.

I’ve waited too long, played this game too carefully to ruin my plans on a whim.

Still…

I push myself off the leather armchair and move with deliberate slowness across the room. The pull is too strong. She’s still unaware of my approach, her gaze fixed on the virginal snow outside, her breath leaving a faint fog on the glass. I wonder what she’s thinking and nearly open my mouth to ask. To demand her thoughts be of me and only me.

My teeth grind together as I attempt to keep the words inside. Now that I’ve decided to let my plan unfold, holding back is damn near impossible.

I’m only a handful of steps away from her now, a hint of my frame towering over hers in the reflection of the glass. Even now, she’s so lost in her head she doesn’t notice me.

A flicker of annoyance sparks under my skin as I draw closer, my jaw tightening. How can she not feel me? How can she stand there, untouched, unaffected, when I'm right behind her, my gaze burning a path across her skin? My patience is slipping. Each step I take closer should make the air between us crackle, should force her to turn, to acknowledge that I’m here, wanting her.

That she’s wanting me just as desperately.

I take another step, my body nearly brushing against hers, close enough that I can almost feel the heat of her body radiating through the fabric of my clothes. We’re shielded behind thetowering Christmas tree, a silver-and-gold monstrosity that I’ve never been more grateful for.

We’re caught in a bubble of soft light and silence, and if she leans back into me or tilts her head to the side so I can run my mouth up the side of her long neck, I could live here forever. Just when I think I might have to reach out and force her to acknowledge my presence, I see it—a slight shift. Her body sways backward, just a little, unconsciously leaning in my direction as I take one last step forward.

A dark, satisfied smile curves across my lips. She doesn’t even know it yet, but her body already knows what she needs. Already knows it’s mine.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” My voice is low, but still cuts through the quiet like a blade.

She startles, just a little. Her shoulders tense before she turns her head to glance at me over her shoulder. I don’t miss the shiver that runs down her spine when she sees it’s me. When she notices how close we are. The way her nipples harden behind her dress. Her green eyes—those deep, fucking endless eyes that haunt my dreams—go wide in surprise.

“Cohen,” she breathes out my name on a sigh before catching herself a fraction of a second too late. There’s a hint of something in it. Relief, maybe. Longing. But also weariness. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

I close the distance between us, leaving a sliver of space between her back and my chest, barely enough for a breath to pass between. I ignore her chastising because when it comes to her, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.

---