I kept my shoes on. And the necklace of seashells. Damian let me ride him. I think he liked the sight of me like that, in the moonlight. He kept his hands on my hips, trying to control the rhythm, and I kept slapping them away. We went back and forth for a while until the games dissolved, until passion overtook and we began moving as one.
The roughened pad of Damian’s thumb found my clit and he flicked it, on, off, on, off, like a switch that allowed me sharp, spiky peaks of pleasure, and then took it away. Each time I moaned, his mouth fell open, as if we were connected by some invisible thread. Damian was focused on my face, my body, like he was recording every moment, every movement. His strokes pushed me closer and closer to the edge. I rocked against the hard length of him, driving him just as crazy, reaching, reaching, reaching, until we exploded in spirals of liquid fire. I collapsed over him, heated and flushed, my heart hammering in my chest as he wrapped his arms around me.
We were both quiet in the aftermath, at a loss because it was at once beautiful and scary—beautiful because when we were together, we were whole and complete, and scary because we knew there was no turning back. We were too far gone to take any of it back.
I put away the pile of clothes that lay scattered in the bedroom and slipped into one of Damian’s shirts. I had to fold back the sleeves, but it was soft and warm, and fell just short of my knees. Twenty-one days ago, I’d abhorred putting on his t-shirt, yet here I was, burying my nose in the fabric because I couldn’t get enough of his smell.
I walked into the living room and found Damian sitting on the couch, with his gun dismantled on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning my gun.”
I watched silently as he reassembled it. The familiarity with which he held it, the precision of his movements, reminded me of the path down which he’d come. He was getting ready for tomorrow, in case we ran into trouble in Paza del Mar, in the cemetery where MaMaLu was buried. I knew Damian would not hesitate to use that gun if anything or anyone threatened to take me away from him.
“Damian, how long are we going to hide?”
He reloaded the gun and looked at me. “You want to go back?”
“You know that’s not what I mean. I could spend my whole life here, with you. I’m just tired of the uncertainty, of not knowing what happens next. I’m scared for you and what would happen if they find us. I think we should talk to someone, someone who can intervene with the authorities and help us figure out a way to resolve the situation.”
“You’re saying we should talk to your father, turn ourselves in? Correction. I should turn myself in so you can intervene on my behalf? Ask him to go easy, because we both know he’d do anything for you?”
“It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that, Skye. I’ve been ready to face the consequences all along, from the time I shoved you into the trunk of your car. I knew what I was getting into, but I had nothing to lose. Now I do. I have you, and I won’t let anyone take that away. As long as that’s what you want. But if you think you can have both me and your father in your life, you’re wrong. Either you’re with him, or you’re with me.”
“You’re not being fair, Damian.”
“Fair? You want to talk about fair? I pushed you away, Skye. Time and time again, but you wouldn’t stop. You kept tearing down my defenses until I couldn’t fight you anymore. I’m in love with you, Skye. Bare, stripped down, completely vulnerable, in love. And this whole situation kills me because I know it’s tearing you up. But I can’t help the way I feel about your father. I hated him then and I hate him now. Mark my words, Skye, I’m going to make him pay.”
My head throbbed; my heart throbbed. The vendetta between Damian and my father stood like a fang-baring monster, ripping to shreds everything good and true and precious between us. It was eating us up with dead, dark futility.
“You want to make someone pay for what happened to MaMaLu? Here.” I took the gun he was holding and pointed it to myself. “It was me. I ran into the room that afternoon. I’m the reason MaMaLu was there. I set the whole thing in motion. So shoot me, Damian.”
The gun was flush against my chest, rising and falling with every breath.
“You had it right all along,” I said. “It should have ended on the boat the night you abducted me. So let’s put a stop to this thirst for revenge. Once and for all. Shoot me, Damian. And when you’re done, shoot yourself too. Because I came looking for you, because I knew you were hiding in that hutch.”
Our hands stayed on the gun, our eyes locked. I could feel Damian’s thoughts, the force of his ragged emotions. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to pull him out of the turmoil, but this was a web only he could untangle himself from. By going along with this, by doing nothing, I was essentially saying ‘yes’ to the darkness that had tormented him for years, a darkness that would only disappear when he let it go.
I lowered the gun and placed it back on the coffee table, next to the paper giraffe note that I’d tried to fold up again.