Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 11

I wake on my bed, tightly wrapped in Damon’s arms.

I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.

My time with Damon is borrowed, like a loan you take, knowing it’ll crush you down the line. I don’t want to miss a second of our time together.

I skim my fingers over his shirtless body, tracing his shoulders, his arms, reaching for his abs, then his erection.

I leave his arms, and his eyes widen as soon as I put him in my mouth.

“Baby.” His Adam’s apple moves, euphoria seeping through me at the fact that I affect him too.

His head tilts to the side before he watches me like a hawk, while I feast on his cock as it slips through my hand and into my mouth.

“On the floor. On your knees.” He’s fully awake now, pushing his pants below his ass as I remove my T-shirt and comply, letting my knees hit the floor. He places the rug under them, and I settle comfortably.

“Sucking me off first thing in the morning, Gemma?” He shakes his head. “That’s how you become my last of the last,” he says. I remember that fleeting moment from last night. I also remember his words enveloping me like the warmest blanket.

You’re important to me.

“Everything you’re doing to me makes me want you as my last.” He rubs his thumb down my bottom lip, his eyes echoing the love in my heart.

Could he? Could he love me? Do dreams ever really come true?

His hardness is jutting out underneath my chin. “Open your mouth.”

I do. I wrap my lips around his erection and suck him. I swirl my tongue over his tip, letting him hit the deepest part of my throat. Until he’s done playing—coaxing both of us.

He grabs me by the nape with one hand. “Can I fuck your mouth now?” When I nod, he lets that devil go.

My head ends up between his hands as he slips inside my mouth. He’s in control; he chooses the pace while I practically choke on him, the moans echoing my approval of his vicious strokes.

In this moment, a deranged cloud mists through his vacant eyes, his demons taking over, controlling his desires.

I take and take and take.

He slips out of my mouth, still so hard I’m afraid he’ll combust and disappear. I can’t hide my astonishment when he leans forward, delicately tracing his thumb at the top of my cheekbone.

“I’ve never wanted anything so bad, Gemma. Never wanted anything as much as I do you.”

I hear the revelation in his words. I wish to imprint those words on my mind and revisit them every single day of my miserable life on earth.

I moan when he kisses me firmly. Our faces press together, my fingers gripping his hair roughly, enough to make him groan, the sound weaving through my body.

Just like that, he drops our kiss.

And starts rubbing the head of his erection against my pierced nipple.

“Stay still,” he warns when my back arches, my body anxious to be satisfied. “My little rebel—with the most fuckable tits. I could marry you for the sake of this nipple piercing alone.”

I cry out in pain and pleasure.

The want he shares for me explodes through his stare.

“Damon, please . . .”

He tips his head back, stroking the nipple ring.

I’m so wet—so, so wet. As soon as my fingers find my clit, my moans echo through the room, my body tightening all over.

He curses as he spills his sperm all over my chest. “You’re a witch.” He fingers the side of my jaw. “One look at you and a man stands no chance.”

I’m too happy; all I want to do is go back to sleep in his arms and dream of all the words he’s been sharing lately, playing them like my favorite song.

He takes my wrist and pulls me up. “Go shower.” He swats my butt.

“Together?”

“No.” He closes the gap between us, kissing me. His kisses could lead me to my doom, and I’d be perfectly content with the trap set out just to feel his touch. “I have no restraint around you.”

I smile.

And let him go, deciding to revisit our last night together in the shower. I don’t want anything to burst my bubble of happiness.

Not even thoughts of Harvey.

Damon’s asshole persona is back at work Wednesday morning. But I realize that’s how he gets things done. People seek his guidance, his commands. They admire his tenacity and his ability to persuade anyone about anything.

Emon and Marie come see me at lunchtime, but I’m too busy with the report for our government client to have lunch. I make a mental note to ask them out to lunch whenever things settle down.

Damon and I barely interact all day save for the lingering stare he gives me before shutting the door after his clients step inside. There’s a longing desire when he watches me, making me wonder if he just loves to have sex with me or if he more than likes me.

Late afternoon, I throw myself into my work and have papers scattered all over my desk. Damon’s away for one of his meetings, which is a bonus for me—fewer interruptions—when I receive a call from Palmer’s sister.

“What can I do for you?” I ask after my usual polite greeting, my voice sharp.

“Is he there?”

“No, he’s in a meeting—out of office.”

“I see,” she says, unbelieving. “Let him know I called, will you?”

“I’ll let him know,” I tell her.

“Oh, and be careful.”

“Excuse me?”

I trust nothing coming out of her mouth when she says, “You don’t fool me. I saw the way you looked at me the first time I saw you. If you love him, be careful.”

“My life’s none of your business.”

“It wasn’t my business, either, when my sister dated him, and now she’s dead. I’m just warning you.”

I breathe deeply, anger flowing through my blood like a raging river.

“Are you implying that he killed her?” This cannot be happening. She cannot be telling me what I think she’s about to tell me.

There’s no way—no matter how mysterious Damon can be—that he killed Palmer.

“He might as well have, and he knows it. If you don’t believe me, check the journal in the box I gave Damon.” She throws so much venom into her words that I consider them. Then she hangs up.

He might as well have.

She’s wrong. She knows nothing about him.

Absolutely nothing.

I should ask him before listening to words out of a stranger’s mouth. Then I laugh to myself, because let’s face it, Damon will never tell.

So, I do what I told myself I wouldn’t do. I head to Damon’s empty office, searching for the box Sutton left him the last time she came here.

I don’t have to look for long. He left the box in the bottom drawer of his desk. I kneel to the floor, my fingers touching and pulling out the small frame with a picture of Damon and a woman inside.

I’m guessing it’s her—Palmer. She’s beautiful.

She reminds me of Claire, with her smile as wide as the ocean. My throat tightens when my eyes sweep over Damon’s old self, and something liberates me when I see him. He’s smiling, but somehow the dangerous glare remains in his eyes.

Like he was meant to be mine then, and he’s meant to be mine now.

Like we belong together, two quiet, abnormal souls who never truly belong.

A knock on the door interrupts my stalking tendencies. Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks as I place the frame back in the box and shut the drawer, watching Julia make her way toward Damon’s desk.

“He’s not in?”

I clear my throat, wiping my hands over my skirt. “Um, no. He has a meeting.”

“Okay. I was just dropping this off.” She lifts the stack of papers in her hand, walking forward to place it on his desk. “How are you, Gemma?”

“I’m good. Busy. You?”

She gives me a friendly smile. My body is still burning with humiliation, my cheeks no doubt bright red.

Will she tell him I was snooping in his office? Or will she just assume I was organizing something on his desk?

“I’m very well, thank you.” She eyes me, like she’s debating something, then she sighs. “I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s not my place to say anything, but I suspect there’s something going on between you and Damon.”

“Julia—”

She puts a hand up to stop me. “Like I said, he’s my boss. It’s not my place. We don’t have non-fraternization policies in place. You’re both adults and have incredible work ethics. I wanted to let you know that I know, so you can stop avoiding looking at him when I’m around.” Her smile is inviting for someone who was more reserved when we first met.

I think our New York trip warmed her up to me.

I avoid her eyes, locking my fingers together.

“He seems crazy about you.”

A chuckle passes my lips, soft and unbelieving.

“Don’t let his reluctance fool you, sweet girl.”

I nod, glad for her approval. It’s better than getting fired, I guess.

“I’ll let you be.” She walks out, and I stay in place for who knows how long. I can’t believe she knows. We were so careful. Now she might think we’re getting it on every time I’m in here.

I stoop down and open the drawer again, finding a bright-pink leather journal sitting next to a purple journal inside the box. I grab the pink one, knowing I shouldn’t, knowing if he walks in right this second and sees me peeking through Palmer’s stuff, he’ll never forgive me for it.

But the mind is a curious, curious thing.

When I’m with him, I tend to forget my craving for answers. Now that I’m alone, and he can’t distract me with sex, I know that I need to know more about this woman he wanted to marry even if it leads to my impending death.

Check the journal.

I’m assuming she meant Palmer’s diary.

Talking to Sutton set something off in me. What if she’s right? What if he had something to do with his ex’s death, and I’m here loving him blindly? What if Damon isn’t who I think he is? What if his beauty shields a dark, dark past?

I stare at the door, slightly open.

Don’t do it. He’ll hate you for it.

It’s not yours. It’s Palmer’s thoughts.

I brush off my conscience telling me this is a huge violation. Instead, I listen to my pulsing desires, feeding me bits and pieces of the truth.

Like the first time I quickly browsed through it back when Sutton handed me the box, all the pages are ripped from the spine, some of them sticking together in smaller parts. I debate taking a picture with my phone, but since that might take more time, I simply grab the first stack of pages and head to my desk, placing the pages inside a notebook in case Damon comes in.

Hopefully he’s not reading it every day.

Once I’m situated with the pages from the journal hidden inside the notebook on my lap, I start reading.

Damon loves me. I know this. But sometimes I wonder if he loves me as much as he thinks he does. What does a man like him see in me after all? I’m all smiles and manners and doing what’s right and proper. No matter how much I love him, I know the truth in my heart. We’ll never be cut from the same cloth. He’s the darkness to my light.

Way to hold yourself up on a high pedestal. I shake my head, flipping to the next page.

Damon says he wants to marry me. I’m shocked. He’s never once told me in the four years we dated. Not once. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. I love him, but I can’t help but wonder if that’ll be enough. Am I enough? For a man with dark desires? A man who wants to press on my neck instead of caressing it. A man who wants to fuck me, as he so brutally says, instead of making love to me? I think about these things day in and day out. And mostly I think of Gregory’s proposition. All the time. He takes up most of my thoughts lately ...

I slap the notebook shut.

Who even keeps a diary at her age? Worse—who doesn’t date the entries of a diary?

She was probably in her twenties when they dated. Was she cheating on him with this Gregory guy? Does Damon know?

I won’t be able to sleep tonight—this will eat me up. If Damon won’t answer me, perhaps her journal can shed some light on his past.

I place the notebook inside my desk, pushing my hair behind my ear. She makes Damon sound like a villain.

So he likes rough sex? Who cares?

The impulse to end my day before five o’clock is a strong one. I google Sutton’s and Palmer’s names for information about her death but come up empty.

Eventually, I kick my thirst for this new quest of mine to the curb, knowing I need to complete this report or Damon will become a real-life villain.

It’s past seven when I’m done, and I email the report to Damon as he walks out of the elevator, pushing the glass door to step inside.

“I just sent you the report,” I tell him, following him to his office. He simply nods. The words thank you are a novelty for Damon, so he barely uses them. “By the way, Sutton called. She wants you to call her back.”

I see the ice freezing any warmness he had in his gaze toward me five seconds ago. All gone, within seconds.

“Did she say anything else?”

I process Sutton’s words to me from our call. He might as well have. I shake my head, unwilling to show my cards yet. “Want to grab dinner?”

“Not tonight, it’s been a long day.”

His stare could slice me to pieces, because he looks like he wants to say yes but is firmly sticking to his no. Is it Sutton? Can the simple memory of Palmer cause him to retreat that quickly from me?

Even after all the words . All the perfect little words coming from his mouth.

Unless he wants to work on the report.

I turn to walk away, trying to hide how offended I am. I’m too focused on the dark clouds brewing in my mind to realize he’s pressed up against me as he closes the door with the palm of his hand.

“I need to think things through. I can’t think clearly around you.”

I spin around.

He must see the confusion written all over my face, for he continues, “It’s not bad. Stop doubting me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you just said . . .”

“Shh.” He kisses my lips, slowly, adoringly. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here.”

But for how long?

I nod, kissing him before I untangle myself from his embrace, opening the door to leave and take off for the next two days.