Page 150 of Damián

Fuck, he looks so beautiful clinging to me.

“Not anymore,” he pants.

“Good…” I pull him closer, kissing his lips.

I take my time, kissing him slowly, feeling him, tasting him.

And I kiss him as I’ve never kissed anyone before… not to get off, but to reassure him that no matter what kind of hell we’re walking in, we’re facing it together. And thank Dios, he kisses me the same way.

Oliver pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to do it in person.”

“Yeah, I assumed that would be the case.” I scan the dark, freaking, creepy office. I know how much Oliver hates it here, considering all the nightmarish things he’s been through in this room. “Are you okay being in this office?”

“No. But we are very close to ending this.”

I move my gaze over the antique gun collection, to the black books, the mounted lion’s head over the fireplace, and the replica of Goya’s painting where Saturn is devouring his son.

The irony of this painting… In the end, it will be your son who ends you.

I look back at Oliver, who is waiting for my judgment. “Mierda, the gun collection is incredible, but this place is creepy.”

“If you think the decoration is creepy, you should read the manifests.” Oliver shivers in horror.

I nod toward the crystal box that’s on the mantle above the fireplace. Inside, there is a black, leather-bound book. “Is that the ledger you told me about?”

“Yep… that’s the one.”

“Why is it displayed like it’s the Declaration of Independence?”

“I always thought it looked more like Merlin’s book of curses,” Oliver says, and his eyes water.

No, no…

I panic. I don’t want to see him cry… I want him to smile.

I try to find something to distract him with, but everything within my reach right now is either dead, tied to a bad memory, or it’s probably a Horcrux.

So… I do the only thing that comes to mind, using the one thing within reach that I know Oliver likes. I grab his hips and grind against him.

He gasps, instantly distracted by the new sensations.

Success!

“Dami!”

“What? I’m only doing my job as the capable henchman I am.”

“How is grinding against your boss your job?” He glares at me, though I can tell he feels happy.

“Well, my boss was feeling down, but now he is—” I look down at his tented trousers and grin, “—up.”

Oliver bursts out laughing, and the sound makes me feel bubbles on my chest.

“Thank you, Dami.”

“Any time, boss… and I can finish what I started. If you want?”

“You are hurt.”