Nightfall (Devil's Night #4)

“But you’re going to be fucking mine someday,” he growled. “Come hell or high water, Emory Scott. You’re my woman, and you’re going to come home to me every day and sit at my table and warm my fucking bed.” He kissed me. “And you’re going to give me a Will Grayson IV. Mark my words.”

gasping as Aydin grabbed the gun, propped it up on the floor for leverage, and shot the bayonet down, slicing off Taylor’s pinky finger.

I loved that feeling too, Winter Ashby.
It wasn’t the ride, though, honey. It wasn’t the ride.

Can you marry me? Can I marry you?”

This wasn’t where we ended.

And a message from Will. I opened it.

Morning! Smile.

Or don’t. It’s completely your choice. Don’t let a guy tell you you’re prettier when you do. You don’t need to be pretty for anyone. Your value does not rely on my opinion. Damn the patriarchy.

“You’ll be mine,” he whispered, pressing himself deeper and deeper.

I groaned, stretching for him.

“You can ignore me. You can run,” he said, grunting and tipping his head back as he closed his eyes. “You can leave. You can hide…”

He slid in, burying himself to the hilt and filling me so wide and deep that I cried out just once.

“But you’re going to be fucking mine someday,” he growled. “Come hell or high water, Emory Scott. You’re my woman, and you’re going to come home to me every day and sit at my table and warm my fucking bed.” He kissed me. “And you’re going to give me a Will Grayson IV. Mark my words.”

“Reverie Cross,” I mused. “She sounds like someone who had her own bathroom.”

“No.” He shook his head. “She was actually not well off. And she was okay with that, because he loved her anyway. Nothing else mattered to him.”

I tightened my arms around him, feeling my knees shake a little.

They were young, and I understood it. In that moment, everything prevailed and nothing else mattered. Why not let them have the dream?

But Will pinched his eyebrows together, studying me. “Something’s wrong.”

I shook my head. “Not tonight there’s not.”

Just one night.

And if it was just going to be one, I didn’t want to share him with anyone else.

But before I could rub in my escapades a little more or wrap my hand around her pretty little neck, she shoved me hard in the chest.

I stumbled and fell into the chair, and then she was on me—glaring down and squeezing my neck in her fist.

I gasped, fully fucking hard now.

She breathed fast and shallow, seething like she wanted to end me with her teeth.

Holy shit.

I groaned. God, straddle me, please.

I just wanted her to smile. It would be one thing if I were the one making her miserable, but I had a feeling I wasn’t.

“Em, look at me a minute.”

She stopped, looking like the whole world sat on her shoulders. What the hell was wrong?

I knew if I asked, she wouldn’t tell me, though.

“Em?” I murmured.

Just look at me.

Still, she wouldn’t turn. She was right here but miles away, and my chest ached.

“I grabbed you a study guide, too.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded packet. “Here.”

I reached through the books and handed her the guide. It only took her a moment to reach out and finally take it, but when she did, I let it go and grabbed her hand instead.

She sucked in a breath and tried to pull away.

But I whispered, “Look at me.”

She stopped resisting, but still refused to meet my eyes.

What was wrong with her? As far as my friends were concerned, there’d always been something wrong with her, but she looked…defeated. Like a broken vase barely held together with glue.

Emory Scott never looked like that.

She looked down, probably at our hands, and I didn’t tighten my hold or caress her fingers. I just held her.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

But she choked out a sob, turning her face away so I wouldn’t see. “Don’t,” she demanded. “Please, don’t be sweet. I…”

But all she did was shake her head, the words lost.

Rage boiled my blood, and I wanted to know what happened. Who hurt her? The sight of her crying was like a knife in my gut.

But she wouldn’t talk to me. Not yet.

Maybe never.

“Knock-knock,” I said.

She just sighed but stayed silent.

I knew I was being annoying. I’d punch me if I were her.

“Come on, knock-knock?”

She shook her head and dried her eyes, ignoring me.

I hardened my tone, demanding, “Knock-knock.”

“Come in,” she snapped, cutting off my joke.

I stood frozen for a moment. How did she always do that?

Contrary to popular belief, it’s not often I could be outsmarted, let alone repeatedly.

But that was clever. I broke out into a laugh, and after a moment, I noticed a small smile playing on her lips that she tried to hide.

Releasing her hand, I rounded the bookshelves and approached her, staring down at her bowed head and eyes that still avoided me.

“Look at me,” I repeated.

Slowly, she shook her head, but it seemed more to herself than an answer to me.

“Emory…”

She stared at the floor and then retreated a step, but I grabbed her face, bringing her in close and rubbing my thumbs underneath her eyes. I wiped away the tears, but more just streamed down.

And in that moment, I wanted to do nothing else with my life more than change her world, so she’d never feel like this again. Goddammit.

She tried to pull away, but I couldn’t let go. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in, hugging her as she gasped. Sobs wracked through her as she tensed, but I just held her tight, keeping her standing so she didn’t have to even worry about that right now.

I couldn’t stand this. She had to stop crying