Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 27

A few weeks later, Damon brings me camping hours away from Chicago.

I’m wearing red cotton shorts, fuzzy socks, and a gray sweater of his, with a blanket sitting over my lap as we drive through the remaining sunset of pink and orange hues. I wore a red beanie to settle Damon’s worry that I’ll be cold. If the snowsuit he brought for me to sleep in is any indication, he’s still worried—and we’re in May.

He’s on high alert, his hand clutching the steering wheel, his eyes roaming our surroundings.

“Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Gemma?”

I shrug. “I have a feeling it’s a boy. I call him Blu.”

“Blu?”

“Yeah. Blu. It can be dark and chaotic ... or calm and serene.”

“Blu,” he mutters, testing the word on his tongue. He holds out his hand for me, and we spend the next half hour in complete silence.

A peaceful, yearning, loving silence.

A silence that says I love you and I cherish you. A silence that wires the love and respect together, making it—and us—unbreakable.

The sun dims, and we arrive right before darkness peaks. We put up our tent in no time, as we had each done many times before as college students.

The crackle of the fire heals something in me.

I had lost my way. Lost my sense of self.

And in nature I found myself. And in Damon I found my future.

Damon brought camping chairs, but I prefer sitting on the ground against a tree trunk, feeling the dirt under my sneakers and the blazing heat emitting against different body parts.

“I won’t leave again.”

“Someone once told me to always look at a man’s actions, not his words.” I toss his words back at him. My heart is a weak, fragile little thing. The simple thought of him leaving me again, leaving us, gives me the illusion that I’m breaking into pieces.

“I deserve that.”

“You do,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around my legs. “The next time you feel like leaving, remember that each time you do, the hurt lessens because I get used to it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

His eyes narrow. He stays silent, his thumb settling over my lip. “I’ll do right by you and Blu.”

“You’ll be an amazing father, Damon.”

He scoffs. “I can barely stand kids.”

“It’s not the same when they’re your own. You’ll get to bring Blu camping with you, teach him or her all about the world, science, the environment.”

The light from the fire catches the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“Blu will love you more than anything else on earth,” I reassure him as he stares at the fire as if contemplating throwing himself in it.

We make corn over the fire and eat it with the fries and hot dogs we picked up at a nearby fry truck.

“So what do you think of your internship so far?” He brings me between his legs after we eat, his arms engulfing my shoulders.

Quieting the heartbreak. Focusing on this moment only.

“Good.” I’m interning in all the departments of our firm for the next few months.

“The science department?”

“It’s nice to get to know the managers I deal with daily. But with my job, I feel like I have the best of both worlds.”

“Give it time. In a few weeks, you might decide you prefer to switch. Considering you went above and beyond our own experts for the Abby project, I’d say they’d be lucky to have you on their team.”

“Well, thank you.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m proud of you, but I also feel like firing someone.”

I shake my head and smile while he tilts my head up and kisses my cheek.

How does he do it? How does he turn my body warmer than the fire in front of me with the simplest of kisses?

“I’m happy with you, Damon—at work and at home.”

The piercing look in his eyes forces the next breath from my lungs. “You can’t be happy with someone when you’re left wondering if they’ll leave you behind.”

I stare at the fire again. “So then how do we move from here?”

“There’s no we , Gemma.” The rhythm of my heart slows with each word passing through his beautiful pink lips. “You don’t need to change anything.”

“That’s not true. I worry sick that you’ll leave.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm? Anyway, I brought something.” He unzips his backpack and removes the pink and purple journals.

Palmer’s diaries.

He hands me one of them and I swallow, hoping tonight won’t end up in another fight. Instead, he takes the pink journal and throws it in the fire, the flames ravenous for each piece of paper as all of her words turn into ashes.

“Go ahead. Throw the other one.”

I don’t hesitate. I throw it in, relieved when the flames destroy them both in front of our eyes.

“How do we know her sister doesn’t have a copy?”

He stares at me dead on. “She doesn’t have a digital copy. I know that much.”

“How?”

“Doesn’t matter, Gemma. Besides, Sutton doesn’t hate me enough to get me in trouble with the law, nor would she ever incriminate her own parents.”

He’s right. At least, I really hope he is.

The thought settles me once and for all.

I kiss him.

I kiss him for the pain inside my heart. I kiss him for the pain inside my head.

Most important, I kiss him because when I’m in his arms the magic spreads like the venom of a black widow. That magic clings to every corner inside of me until the agony is nothing but a distant memory.

Until nothing matters but his touch and his words.

I pull away from our kiss and stand. I remove my sneakers, the sweatpants I put on when we got here, and my panties, leaving me naked from the waist down.

I bite my lip when I see him push off his jogging pants underneath his ass, freeing his cock.

My heart pounds like a drum as I straddle him, my hands slipping beneath his black hoodie and white tee to feel the edges of his abs.

We lean forward, me gulping, him pushing my hair behind my ear. Our lips are so, so close, our breaths mingling together, allowing our desires to sync together through silence.

I slide him inside me, moaning as my hips dance against his length.

I lift my gray hoodie, baring my chest, my body thrashing in pleasure against his. It feels delicious when his mouth gives mine every bit of attention that it craves.

His hand roughly grips my chin while his hardness plunges into me. We crash one after the other, lazily, our lips inseparable, our hearts healing as one.

Then our foreheads brush, and a small laugh slips past me.

“What?” he asks, eyeing me like a treasure to behold. Eyeing me like he’s not done surveying said treasure. As if he wishes to spend his lifetime exploring my flaws, exploring my strengths.

“Nothing,” I say, stroking his cheek with my forefinger. “I just love you, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

I nod.

“No, that’s everything .”

Nature is the best alarm clock. Birds are chirping, and the misty morning dampness is felt through layers and layers of clothes.

Courtesy of Damon.

Our early hike is rewarding and damaging all at once. The woodsy smell is addicting, along with the light wind and the blazing rays of sunshine. But my feet are dying in my hiking boots as blisters are forming, and my legs tremble from the inclination of the hills at times.

“Are you okay?” Damon asks for the millionth time, handing me my water bottle.

“I’m fine.” I have his Apple Watch monitoring my heart rate. Really, in that moment, my heart feels completely full of life as I stare at Damon. Some days I’m in awe of him, and I wonder if that’s even normal to feel this way for someone.

I grab my phone from my side pocket and snap a picture of him. My new wallpaper.

We power through, with me behind him snacking on protein bars and watching him guide us up the mountain like a god bringing his mortal home.

“Wow.” I breathe out once we reach the top. The two-hour walk was worth it. “Look at this view,” I tell him as I’m about to sit on the edge of the rocky cliff.

“Gemma, don’t you dare .”

“What?” I sigh, knowing I should pacify him for a while. We’re high up. One slip of the shoe and I’d be dead. “Oh, all right.”

I sit in the center of the supporting rock. I’m all sweaty, and I need to pee again, yet my focus can’t shift from the breathtaking sight.

My eyes are fixated on the shafts of sunlight pouring into the valley when something is thrown in my lap.

A dark-green velvet box.

“Damon.” I swallow when I open the box and stare at a green stone set in a gold engagement ring.

He can’t be serious.

“Hear me out—nobody needs to know until you’re ready. No steps need to be taken until I prove to you every day that I’m committed to you, and that I won’t run again.”

“ Are you insane, Damon ? Do you think I need to be married to you to have your child?”

He comes to me, then kneels, hauling me into the same position. “Gemma, I would never be marrying you just because you’re pregnant.”

My fingers tremble in his, and I can see the telltale signs of his nervousness as he bites his lip and swallows, waiting for my reply.

He grabs the box, takes out the ring, and places it on my finger.

“If I weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t have asked.”

“Oh, really?” A sly grin appears at the corner of his mouth. “The receipt date says otherwise.”

I don’t reply. His words shock me. On one hand, I don’t understand how he could’ve bought a ring already when he kept leaving me behind. But on the other, it warms my heart to think Damon thought about our future together as well.

“But you said you could never give me the two-point-five kids and the white picket fence,” I say softly, the wind carrying the weight of my words.

He snickers, the sound music to my ears despite the edge.

I want to be married to this man. I want him in my life for this lifetime, at least.

“I also said I didn’t want your heart, which was a lie. We both know I want it all with you.”

I want him and us and Blu so badly too.

I want to say yes.

I’m screaming yes. But my fears are stomping on the words.

“Gemma, I’m serious. It was always more for me too.” He leaves his hands on both sides of my neck. “Marry me, Gemma. Marry me, and I swear you’ll see that we’re soul mates.”

“You don’t believe in soul mates.”

“I actually do.” His gaze penetrates mine. “I think you’re perfect for me, as if we’re made for each other.”

“So then why leave ?”

“Fear. The truth was always over my head. Now, I’m at peace. I also started seeing my therapist again.”

“And this therapist advised you to propose to me?”

He looks away. “Not necessarily, no. He suggested I open up to you without booze and take small steps at a time.”

“This isn’t a small step, Damon.”

He clears his throat. “You’re right. It’s a big one, but for both our sakes we’ll take it in baby steps until we feel ready. I promise.”

“If this is some sick joke and hell will freeze over tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Never.” He shakes his head, and his lips brush back and forth against mine. “I love you.”

“I love you, Damon.”

Am I really doing this?

“So, you’ll marry me?”

I eye the ring, then him. He looks as if he’s holding his breath. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

He exhales loudly, moving in closer. “You’ll marry me, baby?” he whispers seductively over my lips.

I nod.

As I’m about to say yes, he shuts me up with a kiss, his body molding closer to mine. We kiss and we kiss and we caress and our smiles are uncontrollable.

Damon even agrees to let me take a few pictures. Then I take pictures of the view and watch him take pictures of me.

“You know,” I tease him. “You were supposed to be on one knee.”

“I can be on one knee for you tonight. Promise.”