Page 53 of Unholy Nights

"The Delacroixs built palaces, hosted galas, made themselves the center of attention. My family..." He pauses, and something dark flashes across his face. "We collected secrets instead. Built power through knowledge rather than the spotlight."

I study his profile in the winter light, fascinated by this side of him I've never seen. "Is that why you became a lawyer? To keep collecting secrets?"

"Among other reasons." He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm that sends tingles shooting across my skin. "But mainly because I learned early that power is the only way to protect what matters." When his eyes meet mine, the intensity in them steals my breath.

"Come here," he says, and I'm already moving before he finishes speaking because apparently I have zero chill when it comes to him. His seat slides back and then I'm in his lap, straddling him, my forehead pressed against his while his hands grip my waist. "That's better."

"I can't be away from you," I whisper, fingers curling into his shirt like I'm afraid he'll disappear if I let go. Which... maybe I am? "Even for a second. Is that crazy?"

His grip tightens, and something dark flashes in his eyes that should probably terrify me but just makes me want to get closer. "No, little one. That's exactly how it should be." One hand slides up my back to tangle in my hair, holding me against him while his lips brush mine. "I feel it too. I’ve felt it for two years. Like my skin's crawling when you're not touching me. Like I can't breathe right unless you're close."

"What did you do to me?" The question slips out before my brain can catch up with my mouth. Not that I'm scared or anything. More like... completely blown away by how much I need him.

"The same thing you did to me." His hand sneaks under my sweater, his palm hot against my lower back and oh wow, okay, that's... that's really distracting. "That night in the chapel just made it official. You've been in my blood since the first moment I saw you, consuming me like the sweetest kind of poison."

I shiver, remembering last night—the candlelight, that velvet ribbon, the way he basically ruined me for anyone else with his hands and his mouth and... everything. The way he filled up every empty space inside me until there was nothing left but him.

"I can still feel you," I admit, and my face goes nuclear hot. "Inside. Like you carved yourself into my bones or something."

He makes this sound—like, half growl, half groan—that vibrates through both our bodies. His fingers dig into my skin ashe slides our joined hands higher up my thigh. "Good. I want you to feel me with every breath, every heartbeat." His fingers flex against my skin. "I want everyone to look at you and know that you're thoroughly and completely owned."

"Only by you," I breathe, and then his mouth crashes into mine.

The way he kisses me now is totally different from last night in the chapel. That was raw and desperate, like he was trying to burn away any trace of who I was before him. This is... God, I don't even know how to describe it. It's like we both finally get it—that I'm never going to want anyone but him. That I literally can't want anyone else. His desire for me is impossible to ignore where I'm straddling his lap, hard and thick against me through our clothes, making my whole body flush hot.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing like we've run a marathon. Outside, snow starts falling again, tiny flakes catching the late morning light. One of those massive mansions across the water has already put up Christmas lights and the white bulbs twinkle like stars even in the daylight.

"What happens now?" I ask, tracing my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw because I literally cannot stop touching him. His stubble feels amazing against my skin. "We can't keep sneaking around forever."

"No," he agrees, turning to press a kiss to my palm. "We can't. And we won't have to after the Christmas party."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes lock onto mine and there's that intensity again—the one that makes my lungs squeeze and falter. "I mean I'm done hiding how I feel about you. I'm done pretending I don't want to touch you every second of every day." His hand slides higher under my sweater, his fingertips trailing fire up my spine. "I'm done letting anyone think they have a say in what's between us."

"But my mother—"

"Will learn that she can't control you anymore. That she never should have tried." He cups my face in his hands, and I swear my soul tries to climb out of my body to get closer to him. "You're not her puppet, Emerald. You're not her prop or her product or her perfect little doll. You're mine. And at the party, everyone will know it."

The way he says it—like it's just a fact, like the sky being blue—makes this wild, desperate thing unfurl in my chest. "Promise?"

"I promise." He kisses me again, slow and deep like we have all the time in the world. Like nothing exists beyond this car, this moment, this absolutely insane connection between us that feels bigger than both of us and somehow keeps growing. "Seven more days, little phoenix. Seven days of pretending, and then you'll never have to hide who you are again."

I melt into him, into his touch, into the safety of his arms. Outside, the snow's coming down harder now, creating this white curtain that blocks out the rest of the world. For now, we can pretend that world doesn't exist. That there's nothing beyond this perfect bubble of warmth and want and need.

But we both know it can't last. Eventually, we'll have to go back to that house. Back to my mother's endless rules and impossible expectations. Back to pretending we're nothing more than stepfather and stepdaughter.

Crap, when did my life turn into such a mess?

For now though, I let myself get lost in him. In the way his hands worship my body through my clothes, in those little sounds he makes when I press closer, in the steady thump of his heartbeat under my palm when I slide my hand inside his jacket.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs against my throat, and every cell in my body lights up like a Christmas tree at how... possessive he sounds. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Keep me," I whisper back. "Never let me go."

His arms tighten around me like he's afraid someone might try to snatch me away. "Never," he promises, and I believe him with everything I am. "You're stuck with me now, little one. For better or worse. In this life and the next."

I close my eyes, breathing him in. It's crazy how my whole life I never realized something was missing until Cohen. Like I was walking around half-asleep and he finally woke me up. Like he flipped some switch inside me that I never knew existed, and now I'm actually alive for the first time. He's darkness to my light, dangerous to my safe, everything I was taught to avoid but somehow exactly what I need.

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