Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 13

The worst kind of déjà vu is the kind that has known pain.

The one that felt like acid dripping down your throat, contaminating every organ, including your heart.

That’s how I feel at four in the morning, when I wake up Damon from another of his gut-wrenching nightmares. Like the last time, he’s drenched in sweat, the spot on the sheet he left empty now completely soaked.

Like the last time, as soon as I woke him up, he went straight to the shower. Last time I followed him. I begged him to fuck me—and he did.

Except he said goodbye the next day.

And put an end to us before we ever had a chance.

So, I don’t follow him. I leave him be and give him his space.

I grab the pillow where he laid his head and hug it tightly, closing my eyes and trying a special kind of mental mantra to bring down my nerves.

He won’t leave now. Not after he told me he loves me.

I repeat it like a numbing lullaby, my fingers itching to grab a joint on the side of the table. I’ve opened the drawer and pulled out the plastic bag when Damon comes into the room in nothing but a towel around his waist, displaying his toned stomach.

“Don’t,” he warns me.

“It’s just a joint, Damon.”

He pushes his hair back. “You already had one this week. Keep your lungs clean. Please. For me.” I want to argue that I wouldn’t feel the need for one if he didn’t run away from me every time we make a small measure of progress, but I refrain.

I have a feeling he’s worried everyone around him can die young, like Palmer. He’s right—they can, but one shouldn’t dwell on it.

We shouldn’t fear death. Death is probably the most painless, calmest, most beautiful experience anyone can go through. It’s leaving our loved ones behind that kills; the rest is truly finding peace in this dark, dark world.

Instead, I sweep over his hard length as he discards his towel. Even in the darkness, his beauty shines through.

He stares me down as he puts on a black pair of sweatpants. Then he comes over, removes the plastic bag from my hand, and snaps the night table drawer shut after tossing the joint inside.

I scoot to give him space on the bed after he smacks my bare ass. Maybe he’s not running away. Maybe he needs time to digest and acquaint himself with his demons before he faces me.

When he lies down next to me, he brings me to him, the gesture replacing a thousand words he could’ve spoken.

He’s here. He’s not going anywhere. Believe him.

He plays with my hair, and I’m a kid living in a magical world, living in the moment, living life to the fullest—the only way it’s meant to be.

I tilt my head up, taking in every square inch of his face. Then I pull his head closer to mine and kiss his lips, my hands settling around his neck. When we part ways and I place my head on his chest, I revel in the feel of his soft hand over the curve of my ass.

If heaven had a name, this feeling right here would be it.

“Do you often have nightmares?”

I’m surprised when he answers me. “Not always.”

“Did you ... do you ... speak to someone about it?” As a striving psychologist, Gia always says that sometimes people need a hand at particularly difficult times in their lives, and once they have the tools, they can manage on their own.

“I did after she passed. Then I stopped.”

I push my fingers through his hair. “When Sutton called and left you a message, she said something to me.”

He tenses, his hand on my hip, and I instantly regret bringing it up after we made progress.

I should’ve waited.

“She said you might as well have killed Palmer.” I omit telling him the rest—about the journal, about my search for it.

His grip on me tightens. “And what do you think?”

“I think she blames you because it’s the easiest thing to do when you’re in pain. And I think you blame yourself.”

I hear his swallow echo through the night.

“It’s in the past. I don’t need to drag you through it, Gemma.”

I want to know how she died though. I’m dying to know. The most fundamental part of me needs to know. Needs to rebuke Sutton’s words.

As much as I’d wish to ask more, I think of the look on his face post-nightmare and shove that curiosity down for another day.

“Good night, Damon.” I kiss him and everything settles in my stomach once his lips touch mine.

“Good night.” He pats his pillow before closing his eyes, and I take this moment to notice everything about him—his eyelashes, his lips, his stubble.

I never knew love could feel this way.

No matter how much he infuriates me with the way he keeps his past a secret, I understand his need for secrecy. A part of me knows I’d probably be reticent to answer questions about Harvey and the accident, though I know I’ll have to share it with him eventually.

His arm grips around my waist, molding my chest to his when he whispers in my ear, “Nothing will ruin what we have.” He kisses my cheek. Then he sighs, giving me a peck on the lips. “I just admitted to myself that I can’t live without you. Can’t you give me a break?”

“Yeah, of course.” I place my head over his heart, hoping his heartbeat brings me to a good slumber.

We take advantage of the fact that it’s Saturday morning and sleep in, until Matt calls Damon to tell him he owes him a hike.

We make eggs and toast with avocado and turkey bacon before Damon pressures me to get ready for the hike. Apparently, I’m invited—Matt’s words.

I don’t fret, though, because Damon’s inviting me to spend time with his friend.

It’s a big step.

We’re both silent while Joey drives us. My mind goes back to Harvey and his physio appointment. I feel guilt. Guilt that I’m enjoying every second with Damon. Guilt that I love him. But even more, guilt that Damon and I can do together what Harv can’t easily do.

I shake the thoughts away.

“Why so quiet?” Damon asks, as if he weren’t silent too.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

I take a deep breath, letting his eyes hypnotize the truth out of me. “I feel guilty for being happy.”

He squints at my response. Then brings my legs over his lap in the back seat while I check to see that Joey has AirPods on.

“You deserve to be happy.”

I close my eyes as I stroke his jaw. “You make me happy, Damon.”

“I can’t ever lose you.” He cuts off my air supply with a kiss, killing any response I could ever give him with his lips. Shutting me up, swallowing my whimpers. He pulls me closer and puts both hands under my jawline.

It’s the kind of kiss that makes you fall deeper in love. The kind you dream about for a week straight. The kind that syncs two souls, bathing them in peace and love.

I love you, Damon Dreygon.

More than you could ever know. Ever contemplate. Ever imagine.

I love you beyond the worlds and the realms of possibility. I love you beyond the sky and below the darkest sea. I love you as if my soul will always be intertwined with yours.

“I love you, little rebel.”

I don’t reply. I can’t seem to speak.

Instead, I focus on the touch of his fingers over my throat, then skirting my ear. I’m so content. I wish we could drive even farther outside Chicago.

When we arrive, we have a nice time. Matt talks an unbelievable amount, making it impossible for things to be awkward.

We hike for less than two hours, reaching a cliff where you can see a field full of snow and some dirt. My legs are grateful for the break. It’s been too long since I hiked; my body will punish me for it tomorrow.

Damon wraps his arms around me, my back to his front, my head leaning on his chest before I tilt it up and he goes in for a kiss.

When I notice the hunger and love pouring out of Damon’s eyes, I wonder how I ever doubted he could love me.

He looks at me like I’m his special brand of special.

Eventually I see Matt sitting on the rocks, his feet dangling by the edge, and I know Damon knows my next move when he tenses. He tries to restrain me, but I slip away, walking toward Matt and sitting near him.

When I look down, all I see is nothing but air and heights.

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply.

I’m sweaty, and my hair is in a barely kept ponytail. I feel good though. Emotionally fulfilled.

This is what I always wanted my life to be. Who knew it was as simple as taking the reins and doing what I wanted? Even if doing so might hurt others most.

I hear a chuckle, so I open my eyes and find Matt staring back at me. “Well, that explains ...”

“What?”

“You a thrill junkie? If so, you and Damon have that in common.” He looks behind him; my guess is he’s staring at Damon. “Though these days, he’s basically retired.”

Damon had once mentioned loving thrills back in the day.

Then Damon wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me closer to him. “You’re too fucking close to the edge. You could fall.”

I shrug. “That’s the best part.”

Matt laughs, fist-bumping with me. Damon seems in his own world, so I let him be and ask Matt if he rides.

“Yup. Sports bike. Harley. I ride them all. Also—girls.”

Damon snickers, addressing me: “I give you permission to push him.”

We all head back down the trail, and I feel so calm and levelheaded. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long while.

I don’t want it to end.

I spend the night at Gia’s and read multiple books to Athena before bed.

“You were only supposed to read two,” Gia chastised me when I join her and James in their beautiful white kitchen.

“Aunt status.”

James chuckles, winking at my sister. He asks me about work, and I tell him what I’m currently working on. I ask about his job, which we discuss for a good half hour before Gia looks ready to drop dead of boredom.

James goes for a night run, so we get comfortable on the couch as we eat the chocolate lava cakes Gia baked earlier.

“You’re lucky, Gia. James loves you to death.”

She smiles, rubbing her belly. “Yes, well, just because someone loves you doesn’t mean it suits your own expectations of how you should be loved.”

“Sure, sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I’m just an emotional wreck. He’s trying really hard. I know that.” She sighs, tying her hair in a braid. “Sometimes I wish I were more like you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you don’t pressure people with unrealistic expectations. You let them be themselves. You never pushed Harvey too much—”

“Yeah, and look where that’s gotten me, Gia. There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you want.”

“I know. I know.”

I finish my cake and leave the plate on the table, sinking into their cozy couch. “I think you two need a date. How about next weekend?”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

I nod.

“I’ll ask James if it works for him. Thanks, Gem.”

I thank her for the cake. Then she asks about my weekend, and I tell her everything, sparing her the few sexual details and everything relating to Damon’s past.

“Shut up! Shut. Up.” She stares at me in total disbelief. “Wow. So, he loves you. Gemma, that’s great. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, sure. I wish he could open up more, but I’m confident we’ll get there.”

“And Harvey?”

“It’s ... when I’m alone, it hits me.” Her nod and look of sympathy urge me to continue. “I feel guilty. I’m happy and he’s—well, he’s not.”

“Remember when he met Claire? And you were getting anxious because he was getting happier and it wasn’t with you? Well, I think he’ll be just as happy with time. You need to allow yourself to grieve, Gemma. Grieve the loss of your relationship. If not, all the fears and doubts will ruin everything with Damon.”

I stare ahead, avoiding her scrutiny when I ask, “You think I should let Damon go?”

“Not necessarily. But give it time. Go slow. Reinvent yourself outside of your relationship with him.”

I lean my head against the couch. “Damon makes everything better.”

She licks her spoon, finishing her cake. “Make everything better yourself. That way if he leaves you, you won’t be so lost.”

Her words hit me like a seventy-pound rock. Because it’s true that Damon isn’t the type of man who stays in your life and asks for your hand in marriage and wants to have a kid or two.

He’s the man who trusts no one. Who’s married to the job.

Except, then I think of all the small changes since I’ve met him. I lost one man. I can’t even think about losing Damon too. So, I push my fears away and settle on the love igniting my heart instead.