Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 18

I’m all moved in. Most of my stuff is unpacked, save for a few boxes.

We watch the sunset, and a wave of peace and contentment zings through me as we walk back down the trail near Damon’s house.

Damon refuses to accept my rent money. He says he doesn’t want it. So, I tell him I’ll buy groceries as a compromise. It’s not like he can stop me.

We’re both quiet, and the silence appeases me—it’s filled with understanding and comfort. A silence that vibrates through your soul.

Without words, we’re truly connected.

“We should buy a new house.”

I halt in my tracks. “What?”

He gently tugs on my hand to keep us going. “So it can be ours.”

I let his words fill the air. I like Damon’s place only because he once told me I was the only lover he brought there, but I’m not a fan of the modern style. I want my home cozy and comfortable and safe—not sterile.

Maybe one day we can get to that.

I say nothing to him in return. I squeeze his hand and let the fantasies play in my head, one by one, until all I can hope is that they come true.

“I’m going to browse for a bike this week,” I let him know.

He chuckles. “No, you’re not.”

“I am, Damon. Owning a sports bike is basically part of my DNA. I can’t live without it.”

He freezes. “You stopped for him.”

I sigh and turn to face him. “And I broke that promise with you.” I clear my throat. “Damon, don’t do this.”

“I wouldn’t mind if I wouldn’t have seen the hard-on you get from skirting death, Gemma,” he says sternly.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll be careful. I need to go back to being me,” I say, pleading with him to understand the part of me I don’t wish anyone to tame ever again.

His jaw clenches and releases. “Joey will follow you around.”

A soft laugh rushes past my lips. “No.”

“Please.” He kisses me while I shake my head.

I’m done letting men tell me I can’t go on a sports bike. If you’re careful and you stay clear of the main roads, you decrease your risk.

Besides, I’m not here for the stats. I’m here for the freedom it provides me. The feel no car in the entire world could replace.

“Gemma, baby, how can I convince you?” His hands land on my neck, and I will myself to remain focused on my decision and not to let his sexual advances divert me from what I truly want.

“You can’t. I won’t change my mind on this.”

“I’ll get you a pass for track racing. No roads.”

“What’s the point of that? Removes all the fun.”

“It doesn’t.” He pulls down on my bottom lip. “Track is fun. There’s sun and wind; you’re in nature. If anything, there’s probably more risk of injury. Just think about it, okay?”

I nod, knowing we won’t get anywhere with this tonight. He’ll huff and puff, and I’ll buy my bike eventually, and that will settle this argument.

On Wednesday evening, I watch Damon cook as I admire his every move from the sidelines, wondering if after all these months of wishing for more we’re finally there.

Home.

My sister harassed me by text all day yesterday about having her family over for dinner without my dad, who’s still in Seattle. He called me yesterday after hearing the news from Gia, as always. He was sad to have lost his roommate so soon but gave me his blessing—as long as I was happy.

After discussing it with Damon, I told Gia to come over tonight. We’re making spaghetti. I’m placing the garlic bread on a pan before slipping it inside the oven. When I turn, Damon’s stalking toward me, his hands reaching for my waist.

“Are you worried?” He places a strand of hair behind my ear, thumbing my green piercing.

“No,” I whisper. “You already met Gia. Besides, it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“Lies don’t suit you.” He holds me in a tight embrace. I hear myself sigh when he kisses my hair, wishing to keep this moment in my memory box forever.

When my family arrives, James and Damon settle into a conversation about work. I’m devouring my meal when James asks him where we met.

Damon ties our hands together underneath the table as I place my fork down. “I’m her boss.”

“Oh, really?” James asks, and I know for a fact that Gia must’ve told him. Keeping secrets isn’t her forte.

“Technicalities,” I say, waving Damon off. “We work together.”

Damon has the audacity to smirk. I narrow my eyes at him, and he squeezes my hand like he needs the argumentative foreplay.

“No wonder she loves her job so much,” my brother-in-law jokes, earning him a slap on the chest from my sister.

“James!”

“What? She always says so.” He shrugs like Gia’s silly to chastise him.

“Because it’s fulfilling !”

Damon and I both make eye contact, and I spot a little twinkle in his eyes.

“So Damon, what about your family?” Gia asks, changing the subject.

“It’s me and my mom.”

My sister nods, and I know she wants to tease out more details from him.

Good luck.

“No extended family?”

I can tell by the slight added pressure of his hand over mine that Damon doesn’t want to answer. If it were me asking, he wouldn’t answer.

“We’re not that close.”

“Can we have ice cweam now?” Athena asks, hopeful. It warms my heart to watch her grow. Everything about her changes so quickly—her personality, her height, her ability to speak properly.

Gia and I head to the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

“James didn’t know he was my boss?” Skepticism drips from my voice.

She sighs. “I told him. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really listens to me.”

In James’s defense, Gia can talk— a lot .

“You know,” Gia continues, “I might’ve misjudged him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gemma, the man hangs on to your every move. I think you two have something beautiful together. It’s soft-spoken and secretive, but there’s beauty there.”

“Sure, sure.” I hand her one more plate. “Every morning when I wake up in his bed I ... I can’t believe it. It feels surreal. I’m afraid he’ll slip through my fingers.”

She puts the plate in the dishwasher rack, drying her hands with a towel before grabbing my shoulders. “He wants you here or you wouldn’t be here. You have to believe in what you have, Gem. No one else can do that for you.”

I simply nod.

I meant it when I told Damon that my family’s opinion wouldn’t change what we share, but it’s nice to have Gia’s support. It makes things easier.

I’m so far gone on this love train I wouldn’t even know how to force my way out.

I ask Gia about the baby, knowing she’s dying to give birth so they can find out the sex. They agreed to wait, and it’s been killing her ever since.

“Do you think Dad met someone in Seattle? He’s been spending a lot of time there.”

I shrug. “For work though.”

She gives me a deadpan look. “A bit more than necessary, if you ask me.”

I smile, knowing this is her odd way of saying she misses him.

After dessert, we spend time chatting in the living room. I lean my head over Damon’s chest, listening to him talk business with James while Gia brings up the April weather.

The sound of Damon’s voice is so soothing I wonder if he knows he’s my own lullaby.

I stare around, content, unable to believe that after they leave, I get to stay here and play house with the man of my dreams.

I hope I never believe it so I never take it for granted.

Before they leave, I bring James and Gia a massive gift basket filled with unisex baby items that I got for her yesterday. Gia tears up at the gesture, throwing her arms around me, and I can’t help the guilt I feel for pulling away from her over the years.

This is what being on ten different drugs must feel like—as if beautiful angels are here to save you, here to distract you from the pain, here to give you a small dose of strength before your world finally crashes at your feet.

He left me behind, my guardian angel, but he never left my heart.

The same dream hauls me back to the surface of reality. My heart is hammering against my chest, and my eyes gaze around the room, slowly adjusting to the dark.

Why did it come back?

Damon’s body is thrashing on his side of the bed, his hand gripping the inside of my thigh. When my fingers weave through his hair, I feel sweat dampening his scalp.

“No, Palmer ...” His voice is laced with terror.

Before it worsens, I grab his hands, whispering his name into the night. He gasps when he wakes—dazed and disoriented.

I don’t say a word out of fear he’ll head for the shower again. He’s breathing so fast only my hand brushing through his unruly hair seems to calm him.

When his eyes lock with mine, my core shakes, for I’d do anything to erase the agony that follows him with every nightmare.

While I get to dream of a beautiful angel, he soaks in nothing but panic.

Then he’s off the bed heading for the shower. This time I don’t leave him be. This time I remove my T-shirt and follow him into the shower, seeing his back muscles tense when he senses my presence.

I don’t care. I’m here for you.

I don’t utter a single word.

He needs his peace. He needs the silence.

So, I give it to him, but I won’t give him space. He needs to learn to burn with me by his side.

I grab his shampoo bottle, and he closes his eyes when I massage a few drops of soap into his scalp. An intent look crosses his eyes when he opens them again, something akin to respect or admiration—I can’t be sure.

While he rinses off the shampoo, I rub bodywash over his back and down his arms. I complete my task on his front when he finally turns around, my fingers splayed over the carved muscles of his abdomen.

“You’re so pretty ,” I mutter, my eyes flicking to his.

“On the outside, maybe.”

Oh, Damon. Why can’t you see what I see?

He ends up cleaning me as well, and though there’s nothing sexual about it, it’s all strangely erotic.

We head back to bed, both of us naked and silent. Darkness surrounds us, and all I can feel is the soft satin sheets against my naked skin. All I can smell is the strong, manly scent of his body products flicking a flame of desire between my legs.

I tilt my neck, allowing him to press his lips against it. Silence slowly turns into whimpers, my heart thumping loudly.

We don’t talk.

Not even when he strokes my back, bringing his hand down to palm my ass, his fingers skirting my bum to reach its intended destination. His thumb and index finger each dig in my ass cheeks, along with his pinky, as he slides two fingers in me, my sex wet and glistening.

His harsh breath against my neck does things to me. It makes me go wild when he delves deeper into me.

Soon his fingers slip out, replaced by his cock and his thumb on my clit. And he fucks his own demons out of his mind, out of this room.

When we finish, I’m exhausted. But I’m ready to take on nightmares if it means he’ll dream of roses and gardens rather than thorns and cemeteries.