“You’ve done nothing but good. Listen, I know you didn’t like me much for bringing you up here on false pretenses, and I wish I had a good excuse why I did it. All I can say is that you felt important. I went back to your file over and over for the last year, and I got chills every time I read it. And I want to say I’m sorry, but I also want to say I don’t regret what I did.” Mason canted his head and murmured, “You brought him back to life, Clara.”
She took the offered mug of fragrant coffee from his hands and leaned onto the island. “I was really mad at you at first, but I already forgave you days ago. You brought me to Damon. You brought me to these mountains.” She shrugged. “I get chills here a lot, too. The good kind. The kind where I feel like I am right where I’m supposed to be. So I guess what I’m saying is I’m glad you brought me here, and I’m glad you’ve been there for Damon. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“We should come up with a crew name,” Mason teased.
Clara snorted. “It needs to be badass.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
“A pig, a bear, and a dragon walk into a bar…”
“Don’t finish that joke,” Mason said, stifling a smile.
“The Pork Rind Crew.”
“I’ll take you to the terrace now.”
And he did. Mason led her down past Damon’s bedroom, down the dark halls with the old fashioned lanterns, down a narrow walkway surrounded by rock walls, and through a set of dark double doors to an opening in the cliffs. There were no windows separating the smooth rock floor from the woods below. And standing on the edge was Damon, a striking silhouette in his dark suit with his hands on his hips as he looked over his domain. He’d removed the bandages from his right hand, and from here, it already looked half healed, though scarred. More scars, and how many would his body bear before this was through?
Mason squeezed her shoulder and left her there.
The wind whistled through the opening, hard enough that it would likely blow her over if she got too close to the ledge, but Damon stood as if the wind did not affect him. As if he was part of the stone here. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”
“Were you worried?” he asked softly, though his voice sounded like gravel and was punctuated with a long rumble.
“A little,” she admitted. He’d drawn into himself over the last week, and she hated that he was pushing her away. “I worry about losing you.”
“You won’t.”
“No, I mean, I’m worried you’ll push me away.”
Damon turned slowly, his eyes glowing silver in the shadows of the cave terrace. “I…” He blinked slowly and turned his back on her again. “I think you should leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not safe for you here—”
“It’s not safe for me out there! Damon, you tried hiding your people before and it didn’t save them. It didn’t protect them. I’m staying here, with you.” Clara touched the knife on her belt just to reassure herself. She wore it everywhere now. “I understand why you sent the crews away. I do. But I’m not part of their crews, Damon. I’m part of yours. Don’t send me away.”
He huffed a single, humorless laugh. “I knew you’d refuse.”
She approached slowly, wrapped her arms around his middle, and rested her cheek right between his shoulder blades. “Then why did you even ask?”
“Because I had to try, Clara.” His hand slid up her forearm and rested against her hands, keeping her touch there, just over his heart. His voice rang hollow when he murmured, “This place feels empty without them.”
She understood. He’d grown to care for the crews. The Ashe Crew and the Boarlanders. The Gray Backs and Kong’s Lowlanders. They had become a part of Damon’s mountains just as surely as the trees and forest animals.
“When this is all through, they’ll be back.” She hoped so because the pain and loneliness in Damon’s voice had cracked her heart open.
“And what if it’s never over? What if Marcus waits for years to come for me? To come for you? I’ll miss their entire lives. I’ll miss the babies growing up.” Damon swallowed audibly and squeezed her hands as if her letting go right now would hurt him.
Shadows danced across the walls in the glow of the lanterns, and Clara cast them a frown. Restless ghosts, uncomfortable with this kind of talk.
Damon turned in her arms, and his lips crashed onto hers. These weren’t the sweet kisses he used to tell her wordlessly that he loved her. This was allowing her to see the pain he was in. His lips were unforgiving as he deepened the kiss and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He let off a helpless sound and walked her backward. She gasped as her back hit the cold cave wall. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she bit his bottom lip and kissed him back so he could see how scared she was. He should see how determined she was to stay by his side despite that fear.