Chapter 10 - Cohen

With that, I steer Emerald out of the office, my hand never leaving her back as we make our way to the elevator. The moment the doors slide shut, something inside me snaps. I pull her against me, crushing her small frame to my chest, finally—fucking finally—feeling her entire body pressed against mine. Having her in my arms feels like drowning and breathing for the first time all at once—everything I've denied myself for two endless years. It’s different than night in her room because she’s hugging me back just as hard.

For the first time, she's choosing this—choosing me—and the victory tastes better than any I've stolen in the night.

She fits perfectly in my arms, her head tucking just under my chin, every inch of her pressed against me confirming what I've known since that first night—she was made for me.

That intoxicating sweet scent that haunts my dreams—sugar cookies and pure fucking innocence—rocks through me as she shakes in my arms, and I have to bite back a groan when her fingers curl into my jacket, holding on like I'm the only thing keeping her standing. My cock hardens at how she surrenders to this, at how desperately she needs me.

"You did so well, little one," I murmur into her hair, not ready to let her go. "Though I doubt he'll be stupid enough to try that again."

She looks up at me, those green eyes full of questions she's not sure she should ask. "The way you looked at him... I've never seen anyone look that scared before."

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Men like Emmitt only understand one language—power. And now he knows exactly who holds it."

She bites that bottom lip, and for a moment I forget we're in public, forget everything except how badly I want to taste her. "He was going to tell my mother about... about how you..." She trails off, unable to voice what's building between us.

"Let him try," I say, my voice dark with promise. "I meant what I said in there—I'll handle everything. Including Emmitt."

The elevator doors open, and I guide her through the lobby and out to the car. As I open her door, she hesitates, her hand on my arm.

"Cohen?" Her voice is soft but steadier now. "No one's ever... I mean, you're the only one who's ever stood up for me like that."

The trust in her eyes makes possession roar through my veins. Everything is falling into place exactly as I planned.

I brush my knuckles along her cheek, savoring the way she leans into my touch. "You never have to thank me, little one. Now get in. We're not going home just yet."

Her brows furrow in confusion. "We're not?"

"It's Christmastime," I say, letting a rare smile slip free. "And you deserve to experience it without someone orchestrating every fucking breath you take."

"But—" she starts to protest, but I cut her off with a gentle finger to her soft lips.

"Trust me," I murmur, watching her eyes darken at my touch. "Let me show you how Christmas should feel."

I round to the driver's side, my mind already racing with possibilities. Tonight is about Emerald. About showing her a glimpse of the world I want to give her—a world where she's cherished, protected, free from the suffocating expectations of her mother and men like Emmitt.

A world where she belongs to me, and only me.

I slide into the driver's seat, watching as she fidgets with her seatbelt. "Ready for an adventure, little one?"

She looks at me, a spark of excitement breaking through her ingrained hesitation - that careful restraint her mother's drilled into her. But I see past it, past all of Madeline's conditioning, to the girl beneath who craves freedom. Who craves me. "I think so. Where are we going?"

I start the engine, the Aston Martin purring to life beneath us. "You'll see," I say, watching how her eyes light up at the possibility. "This is just the beginning."

Watching Emmitt's empire shrink in my rearview mirror, I savor what's to come. The glass and steel monstrosity recedes into the distance, along with all the ugliness it represents. Ahead of us lies possibility—a chance to show Emerald a taste of the future I have planned for us.

A future where she's mine in every way that matters.

As we drive through downtown, snow starts falling harder, coating the historic buildings in white. The old church on Main Street looms ahead, its Gothic spire piercing the dark sky. Emerald's gaze follows it as we pass, and something in her expression draws my attention.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I nod toward the church. "Though not quite as interesting as the chapel on your family's estate." I watch her reaction carefully, hungry for every micro-expression that crosses her face. "I bet your mother never told you its history."

She shifts in her seat. It’s one of those unconscious, delicate movements she makes that she doesn't realize tears at my control. The way her thighs press together, so fucking innocent yet so tempting, proves she has no idea what she does to me.

"Mother doesn't tell me anything unless it benefits her somehow." She bites that fucking lip that drives me to madness. "What do you know about it?"

"Quite a bit." I can't resist sliding my hand onto her thigh, satisfaction coursing through me when her breath catches. "I’m a bit of a history nerd, believe it or not.” I flash her a smirk and she grins right back. “Your great-great-great-grandfather Alexandre had it built in 1889." I let my thumb trace circles on her leg through her jeans, watching as her pulse flutters in her throat. "For a French opera singer who captured his soul."

"An opera singer?" The breathy way she says it makes my cock twitch.

"Vivienne. She was performing Marguerite's aria from 'Faust' at the Seattle Opera House when Alexandre first saw her." I lower my voice, drawing her further into the story. "She played a pure, innocent girl tempted by darkness. Fitting, since he was already married to someone suitable, someone his family approved of. But Vivienne..." I pause at a red light, turning to drink in the sight of her. "She was dying of consumption, pouring her soul into that role while coughing up blood between performances. And still, he couldn't stay away."

"What did he do?" Her eyes are wide, hungry for more.

"He divorced his first wife—a scandal that nearly destroyed the Delacroix name. Married Vivienne while she was on her deathbed." I flex my fingers against her thigh, gripping her through the denim. "She prayed every day for recovery. And when she survived..."

"He built the chapel," she whispers.

"Yes. Though some said it wasn't God who saved her." I let my lips curve into a smile as I relish her entire focus being on me. "The more superstitious whispered about darker forces."

"Did they stay together?"

"They lived a long life together. Had many children. Until death finally claimed them both, decades later." My thumb draws circles on her thigh. "Alexandre's family called their love unholy. Said the chapel was his penance for choosing her over duty."

"And was it? Penance?"

"No, little one." I lock my gaze onto hers, letting her see just a glimpse of the hunger that consumes me. "It was a declaration. A monument to his total devotion to her. A dare to anyone or anything to try and take her from him.”

The way she shivers at my words makes the predator in me purr with satisfaction. She has no idea how perfectly she's playing into my hands, how every reaction draws her deeper into my carefully laid plans.

The rest of the drive is short, and when I park near the edge of a quiet, snow-dusted hill overlooking the glittering lights of Emerald Hills, I hear Emerald's sharp intake of breath.

"This is beautiful," she murmurs, her eyes wide as she takes in the view.

"It's private," I say, stepping out and coming around to her side to help her out into the snow. I open the trunk and pull out a basket and thick blanket I had the kitchen prepare. "Including hot chocolate."

She lets out a soft laugh that makes my cock twitch, and I watch that flawless Delacroix mask crack as genuine joy lights up her face. "You planned this?"

I spread the blanket over the hood of the car, then reach for her, pulling her close against me as we settle onto the warm hood. Snow started falling on our drive up here, and soft flakes catch in her dark hair like stars. Every one of them a wish I've made since that first night—to have her, to keep her, to make her understand there's no life without me.

She takes a sip of her hot chocolate, her body gravitating toward mine like she can't help herself. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

I set my cup aside and cup her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks as snowflakes melt against her skin. "Because you deserve to know what it feels like when someone puts you first," I say, watching a blush spread beneath my touch in the faint golden light from the Hills below. "Because I want to give you everything."

She goes still at my words, and those pretty green eyes search mine like she's trying to read the secrets in them. "Everything?" she whispers, and the way she says it—soft and wondering and a little afraid—stokes the obsession I've been feeding since the moment I first saw her.

The air between us crackles with raw electricity, with everything I've been starving for. Her lips part, and my carefully constructed walls shatter like glass—all that control, all that fucking patience I've tortured myself with, obliterated in an instant. For two years, I've caged the beast inside me, forced it into submission while I waited for the right moment to strike. But now, watching those delicate snowflakes melt in her hair, seeing that perfect trust in her eyes, the predator breaks free. No more chains. No more cage. Just hunger.

My hands tremble with the need to touch her, to take what’s been haunting me since that first night. Her breath quickens as I lift a hand, brushing my thumb across the bottom lip she’s been driving me insane with all night. Her small gasp is soft, barely there, but it hits me like gasoline on a flame.

“Cohen?” Her voice is quiet, trembling with uncertainty, with a want she doesn’t understand.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like torture, I slide my hand into her hair, the strands soft and cool against my fingers. I tilt her face up to mine, our breath clouding in the frigid air between us, giving her time to pull away even though I know it'll destroy me if she does. But she doesn't move. She watches me with those impossibly wide eyes, and when my lips finally meet hers, every plan, every careful move I've made burns to ash.

Her mouth is hesitant, soft, unpracticed. Exactly as I knew it would be.

She tastes like hot chocolate and purity, sweet enough to drive me mad. For a heartbeat, she's frozen, her body stiff, and then instinct takes over. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails biting through my jacket, and the softest whimper escapes her throat. The sound shatters what's left of my control—now I’ve had a taste of forbidden flesh that feeds the darkness inside me.

And then I'm devouring her.

My hand fists in her hair, holding her tight as I ravage her mouth, stealing every sweet, innocent gasp for my own. I bite her soft bottom lip, and the way her breath hitches makes me hard as fucking granite.

She tastes like hot chocolate and purity, sweet enough to drive me mad.

No one will ever satisfy me again. Not after stealing her virginity. Not after tasting her. Not after having her willingly in my hands. My obsession has found a home in her and I'll never be able to leave it.

I tilt her head back, my tongue slipping into her mouth, and when she tentatively touches hers to mine, I nearly lose my fucking grip on the world.

This is it. This is what I've been waiting for. What's been tormenting me in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, taunting me, driving me to the brink of madness. Her. Emerald.

Mine.

She's soft, warm, perfect. Her mouth surrendering to mine as she melts against me. The hand in her hair loosens, and I slide it down her spine. She shivers, her body arching into me, all that heat and going straight to the ache in my cock. I'm torn between savoring every second of her innocence and pinning her down and rutting her until she's a shattered wreck beneath me.

Below us, a sudden cheer erupts as the massive Christmas tree in the middle of town blazes to life, its colorful glow flooding the snow-covered hills. Emerald startles, breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she buries her face against my neck, her breath warm and unsteady against my skin as the cheers echo up from the town below.

I tighten my arms around her, holding her close while the world celebrates something far less monumental than this—the moment she gave herself to me.

"That was..." She trails off, her breath a soft whisper against my chest. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

"Like what, little one?" I murmur, stroking her hair. Her face is still buried against my neck, hiding from me. From the truth.

"Fire," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Like burning from the inside out."

Hearing the need in her voice makes my entire body go taut. "That's because we're meant to burn for each other," I say, my fingers sliding beneath her chin and forcing her to meet my gaze. "It's going to consume us both, and when it does, we'll rise from the ashes as something new."

I watch her throat work as she swallows, her eyes searching mine. "What if I'm not ready to burn?"

My thumb traces her lips, still swollen from my kiss. "I'll help you spread your wings, little phoenix," I say softly. "And I'll be right there beside you when you soar."

As we sit there, the lights of Emerald Hills a thousand colors sparkling in the snow, I know that this moment is just the beginning. Soon, very soon, Emerald will be mine completely. And nothing—not Madeline, not Emmitt—will stand in my way.

Because Emerald isn't just a wildfire anymore. She's become the air I breathe, the blood in my veins, the very essence of my existence. And I'll raze the fucking world to keep her.

She was made for me, sculpted by some divine hand to be the missing piece of my soul.

The thought should terrify me—I've never been one for sentimentality or romantic notions—but instead, it fills me with a fierce, possessive joy.

"What are you thinking about?" Emerald's soft voice breaks through the silence, her breath a puff of smoke in the winter air.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. "You," I say simply, because it's the truth. "Always you."

She bites her lip, a blush staining her cheeks. "I don't understand how you do that," she murmurs. "How you make me feel like the center of the universe just by looking at me."

"Because you are," I tell her, letting a rare smile tug at my lips. "You're the sun, and everything else orbits around you, including me. Especially me."

"Cohen—" she starts, but I cut her off with another kiss, this one soft and sweet and full of promise that ends far too soon.

"Tell me something," I say, my forehead resting against hers as we both attempt to catch our breath. "What do you want? Not what your mother wants for you, not what society expects. What do you want?"

She pulls back and blinks up at me, clearly caught off guard by the question. "I... I don't know," she admits after a moment, her brow furrowing. "No one's ever asked me that before."

The admission sends a spike of anger through me—anger at Madeline, at the world that's tried to crush Emerald's spirit. But I push it down, focusing instead on the vulnerable girl in front of me.

"It's okay not to know," I tell her, my thumb tracing circles on her wrist. "But I want you to start thinking about it. Because you deserve to have dreams, Emerald. You deserve to want things for yourself."

She's quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the twinkling lights below us. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft I have to lean in to hear her. "I think... I think I want to be free," she whispers, like she's confessing some terrible secret. "To make my own choices. To not be afraid all the time."

My heart clenches at her words, a mixture of triumph and rage swirling in my chest. Triumph, because her desire for freedom plays perfectly into my plans. Rage, because she should never have been caged in the first place. But that's going to change. Soon, Emerald will have everything she could ever dream of—and more. Because she'll have me.

I brush my lips against hers, a silent promise of what's to come and because I can. "You can have that," I tell her, cupping her face in my hands and forcing her to meet my gaze. "All of it and more. I'll give you the world, Emerald. I'll tear down every wall, break every chain that's holding you back. You just have to trust me. Can you do that?"

She stares at me, her eyes wide and searching, like she's trying to see into my very soul. For a moment, I wonder if she can—if she can see the darkness that lurks there, the possessive, obsessive love for her that’s only dug deeper into my soul since the first time I saw her.

But then she nods, slowly at first, then more firmly. "Yes," she whispers. "I trust you, Cohen."

I break the kiss with a growl, my chest heaving as I try to regain control. "We should go," I tell her, my voice rough with barely restrained desire. "Your mother will be wondering where we are."

Emerald blinks up at me, her lips swollen and shiny, her eyes hazy with lust. The sight nearly undoes me, and it's all I can do to stop myself from pinning her to the hood of the car right here on this snowy hilltop and burying myself inside her until she screams my name to the stars.

Emerald nods, but she doesn't move away. "Do we have to?" she asks, a hint of rebellion in her voice that makes me grin.

"For now," I tell her, pressing a softer kiss to her forehead. "But soon, little phoenix. Soon we won't have to go back at all."