Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 12

Something changed today. Sadness killed happiness. Fear killed hope.

I’m a mess.

It’s noon, and I haven’t showered or changed into normal clothes. I’m still in a Harry Potter tee, staring at the wall in my room.

My dad called. Gia called. I let both calls go to voice mail. I don’t want to talk to them. They’ll hear the misery oozing out of me.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Being away from Harv was supposed to be easy. But I’m such a fool to have believed that. So far only work and being with Damon have been able to keep my mind off the blue-eyed boy.

But today nothing stops the darkness from drowning me deep below the darkest sea.

I can’t eat. I can’t move. I can barely think.

I’m grateful for the numbness the screaming lady uses to protect my heart. As if she knows I can’t handle any more screams of pain. I can’t handle more shattering truths.

Denial is a no-war zone. Denial feels like coming home. Denial is my dear old friend.

It destroys every thought crippling me.

Palmer’s diary is further from my mind this morning, since everything is bleak and gloomy. I catch my purse over the doorknob, and I remember the paper Harvey gave me when I moved out.

I grab it and lie on my bed, opening the paper.

He drew me .

A blurriness crosses my vision as I realize he drew the happy me. The happy Gemma after Harvey. Without him. The one with Damon.

I see the girl he once loved through his eyes—all pointy nose, green eyes, high cheekbones. She’s happy.

She’s so, so happy.

I finger the paper before turning it around. There’s a quote on the back, one I recognize from Oscar Wilde.

“Never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the world. It was impossible to do so when I haven’t wanted to be a part of it for so long.

—Harvey

His parting gift.

Why didn’t I see how much he was struggling?

I wrap my arms around my legs, closing my eyes, focusing on breathing, as I repeat to myself that we both deserve better than the way we treated each other. That with time, we’ll be happier.

Even the girl he drew can’t ever come close to the happiness that pours out of Claire every day. She’s spring and vibrant summer days and daisies all wrapped up in one.

She’ll make him happy. I know it.

I grab my phone and text him, thanking him for the drawing.

Then I tuck myself under the covers and close my eyes, hoping the nightmares bite a tad less than my reality.

On Friday, I snap out of it. I allowed myself all day yesterday to mope and skip basic human needs—like eating. I spent the morning with Gia and Athena at a breakfast place, and I unpacked the remaining boxes for the rest of the day.

Damon worked well into the evening before calling and telling me to dress comfortably. I settle for jeans, ankle boots, and my puffer jacket. I’m eager to know where we’re going.

He brings me to Navy Pier.

“How?” I ask Damon. It’s way past business hours.

“Money,” he says, as if that simple answer should suffice. He leaves the car, and I follow suit, glad I put on my warm coat. My teeth are chattering due to the sharp wind.

There isn’t a soul here except for us. That is, until Damon takes my hand and I spot a teenager hanging near the Ferris wheel.

“Damon!” The teenager with a loose winter coat, a beanie, and a megawatt smile quickly does a weird handshake with him.

“Marcus,” Damon says, greeting him with a hint of amusement. “This is Gemma—Gemma, Marcus—Matt’s little brother.”

Matt is Damon’s close friend. I met him once when he came to watch a sports game with Damon at the office.

“Nice to meet you.”

Marcus snorts. “Not so little anymore, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me, and Damon hits the back of his head lightly while Marcus laughs.

“We won’t be long,” Damon tells him.

“Take your time. Just don’t shag up there—surveillance everywhere, know what I mean?”

Damon shakes his head, and we settle in as he checks the metal bar to make sure it clicked properly so we won’t be falling off.

“Won’t he get in trouble if anyone finds out?” I stare at Marcus as the wheel brings us higher and higher.

When he shrugs, I hit his chest. “Damon! He could lose his job.”

“Then I’ll get him another one. Come here.” He pulls me closer to him, and I make a conscious decision to enjoy this moment as we do a few revolutions of the wheel before Marcus makes us pause at the top.

“The view.” I swallow. My eyes are glued to the endless city lights, my body soaring, pumping with adrenaline, ready to fly in the dark universe.

I can see Damon glancing at me as I thank him for bringing me here. We stay like that—silent and mesmerized for what feels like a very long time.

“Brings back memories,” I say, breaking the peace as he runs his thumb over my own while we hold hands. “I was dared once to climb the Ferris wheel after dark.”

“And?” He narrows his eyes. “Did you?”

“Sure did,” I tell him proudly. “I won seventy-five dollars.”

“Was your sister with you that night?”

“Of course not. She would’ve flipped and told on me.”

“At least one of you is sane.”

I shake my head and smile, because he seems genuinely bothered by my story.

“Why can’t you introduce me as your girlfriend?” I’m not sure which part of me has the confidence to ask him this question, but I don’t hate it, and I deeply wish to know.

“You know you’re my girl, Red.”

“You’re my sun, Damon.”

“Your sun,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.

I nod. “And my moon.”

“Your sun and your moon.” He turns me slightly to face him, his hand around my neck as he strokes my throat. “If that’s the case, you’re my universe, Gemma.”

“Then why does it feel like there’s still something in your way?”

He doesn’t reply.

Instead, his lips crash against mine, my body feeling an inferno on the inside but the wrath of March’s night air on the outside.

“Your hands—let’s get you home.” He calls out for Marcus to let us down, while his hands try to warm up mine.

We bid Marcus farewell, then I don’t utter a word. Not even in the car. Not even when we walk inside my dad’s house—Damon with a bag in hand.

We remove our coats, then head upstairs for the shower.

“I’m curious. Why did you bring me there?” I watch him in the bathroom as he leans against the countertop.

His eyes dart away from mine as his hand wanders through his hair. “You deserve all the dates in the world, Gemma, and I know you’re a simple girl. Classy and wealthy doesn’t impress you as much as simple does.”

We’ve been on many date settings, but I was still home with Harv at the time.

I swallow, loving that he notices things about me. I’m not the only one taking notes of the other’s likes and dislikes.

“You can bring me on all the dates, Damon. I’m pretty sure I’ll love anything as long as I’m with you.”

His eyes widen so swiftly at my words I could’ve missed it, like a passing cloud. I take off my clothes, one item at a time, before standing naked in front of him. Then he untucks his white shirt from his slacks and reaches the shower, turning on the faucet.

“Are you done waiting for him?” His thumb sweeps over my bottom lip as he delivers his words.

I unbutton his dress shirt, my fingers skimming his beautifully carved abdomen. “Yeah, I am. I just hate myself for hurting him.”

He nods and unbuckles his belt. “I know that feeling all too well.”

My mind races back to Palmer and her journal. I swallow, wishing to get my point across. “So then you know what it entails and ... how easy it can be to mix it up with true love.”

I step inside the shower, waiting for him to join me.

When he finally does, I wonder what it’d feel like to have him be all mine. To truly have him. To have him love me.

Marry me.

I feel like Damon doesn’t give himself easily to people, but if he does, he hands them the world.

“Are you trying to say I didn’t love Palmer?” he asks suddenly, his head tilting to the side.

“What? No, I know you love her.”

The corner of his eyes crinkle as he watches me pour shampoo in my hair. He takes a step forward, my breasts almost touching his chest, as he starts massaging my hair.

“Are you going to explain your point?” His brow arches.

I close my eyes and brace myself for impact. Brace myself because this might be it—this might be the end. The part where he leaves me. The part where he disappears. But what better time to do it than now, when we’re in the warm, foggy shower, where he can’t easily run away?

I open my eyes and wrap my hands around his neck. “My point is that I love you .”

Even when he freezes—when his eyes leave my own—even then, I keep going. Because if I can’t be honest with Damon out of fear of losing him, then our ship will sink faster than anticipated.

“You shouldn’t say that when you love someone else.”

I shake my head, gripping his neck, forcing his gaze back to mine. “I’m crazy in love with you, Damon. There’s no comparison—none whatsoever.”

“Gemma—”

“No, wait. I love you, Damon, so much it hurts.”

His hand grips my hip, while the other palms the back of my neck as he listens to each syllable pouring out of my mouth, coming straight from the heart.

“I found something that I want for the rest of my life ... with you . Even at the expense of hurting Harvey.”

And because I don’t want to force him to say anything back, I slam my mouth over his, pulling him in as he roughly brings our bodies so close we might mold into one.

It feels good telling him.

He needs to hear it.

I love him. I love him.

We part, and we’re silent as he rinses the shampoo out of my hair. We wash ourselves, staring at one another, swaddled in our own little world.

I want to kiss the hard line of his jaw.

So, I do.

I step closer and lift myself on my toes before pressing a row of kisses over his jawline. I watch as the water drains the bodywash from his magnificent body.

Everything from his collarbone down to his V-shaped stomach makes my sex clench as I watch him looking like a dark unicorn, ready to teach me the deadly rules of the forest.

We end up in my warm queen-size bed, both naked, our bodies warming up in proximity.

I don’t want to dwell on the fact that he didn’t say he loves me back. Maybe he does and he’s not ready to say it. Maybe he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he now knows the depth of my feelings for him.

Now I feel free. Honest.

“Slip inside,” I whisper against his ear.

I’m aroused and ready, watching him tower over me as he slips inside, slowly, his gaze never tearing away from mine.

Until he leans down and kisses the daylights out of me. Until everything becomes darkness—darkness I crave and seek out and love.

Each stroke is meant to pound into me, but in soft measures, hitting the right spot at the perfect rhythm.

“Will you come for me?” He bites on my pierced nipple.

I nod. “Come inside.”

His devilish chuckle vibrates through the room, a fleeting moment I never want to forget until I’m gray and gone.

It doesn’t matter that he’s not going fast. I crave the slowness because I can feel everything . Every time he brings the tip of his cock at my entrance, and each time he takes the journey up my walls.

With the amount of pressure he then applies to my neck and his deep thrusts, I feel like a host inside my own body. I’m there—but not really. My mind is elsewhere in a world dedicated to Damon.

He rubs on my clit, harshly slithering himself in and out of me. Then he grabs onto my jaw, to kiss me, to silence my cries, as his own cum pumps inside my walls while I lose my mind, my back arching, my muscles spasming.

“Damon.”

“Fuck. When you say my name like that, I love it.”

“What else do you love?” I don’t think my words through as I slowly come down from my high.

“You.” He shakes his head, his messy hair urging to be grabbed again.

I still beneath him as he slips out of my sex.

“I love you, Gemma.”

I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t even breathe .

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

It feels like an epiphany.

It feels like a blessing.

It feels like a curse.

“After everything I told you, you still doubt it,” Damon tells me.

I swallow, deeply, when he brings his lips atop of mine, without kissing them. Instead he whispers, “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

My heart drops. Scratch that—it left.

“Damon . . . really?”

“Really, Red.”

Our kiss is passionate. It’s pain for the ones we hurt to get here. It’s pleasure and fear of the unknown. It’s a new beginning. And it’s the death of our old selves.

Our tongues swirl together in one swift motion, our lips savoring each movement, and I’m so happy I could cry a full gallon of tears. Tears of joy.

Because Damon makes me happy.

Our hearts are hammering against one another, our fingers weaving together, our lips desperate to share our darkest secrets and years of hurt and all the words we’re too afraid to share.

If someone asked me when we stopped kissing, I wouldn’t know. And this time, I don’t fear waking up to an empty bed or fear Damon running away from his feelings.

He didn’t need to admit he loved me; he could’ve held out a while longer.

But he did.

He loves me.

And even though we have many hurdles ahead of us, I know that I want to face life with him.

We fall asleep entangled around each other.

Nothing can separate us.

Not even my doubts and fears.

Not even our pasts.

Nothing.

Because love can sometimes be just as powerful.