Lux (The Nocte Trilogy, #3)(42)

His eyes crinkle up a little bit as he smiles yet again. And yet again, his grin is thoroughly amused. A real smile, not a fake one like I’m accustomed to around my house.

“It’s kismet because you seem like someone I might like to know. Is that odd?”

No, because I want to know you, too.

“Maybe,” I say instead. “Is it odd that I feel like I already know you somehow?”

Because I do. There’s something so familiar about his eyes, so dark, so bottomless. But then again, I have been dreaming about them for days.

Dare raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I have that kind of face.”

I choke back a snort. Hardly.

He stares at me. “Regardless, kismet always prevails.”

I shake my head and smile. A real smile. “The jury is still out on that one.”

Dare takes a last drink of coffee, his gaze still frozen to mine, before he thunks his cup down on the table and stands up.

“Well, let me know what the jury decides.”

And then he walks away.

I’m so dazed by his abrupt departure that it takes me a second to realize something because kismet always prevails and I’m someone he might like to know.

He took my dad’s phone number with him.





Chapter Nineteen





Time swirls and twirls and twists as it goes.

It’s tenuous, it’s sharp, it’s complex.

Adair DuBray does rent the Carriage House, and he’s elusive, and he’s mysterious and every day, I want to know him more.

Every day, I feel more like I know him already.

Every night, I dream about him, growing closer and closer to him.

A month passes, and one night, we stand at my favorite place, the blue tidal pools, and stare at the stars.

Dare points upward.

“That’s Orion’s belt. And that over there…. That’s Andromeda. I don’t think we can see Perseus tonight.” He pauses and stares down at me. “Do you know their myth?”

His voice is calm and soothing and as I listen to him, I let myself drift away from my current problems and toward him, toward his dark eyes and full lips and long hands.

I nod, remembering what I’d learned about Andromeda last year in Astrology. “Yes. Andromeda’s mother insulted Poseidon, and she was condemned to die by a sea monster, but Perseus saved her and then married her.”

He nods, pleased by my answer. “Yes. And now they linger in the skies to remind young lovers everywhere of the merits of undying love.”

I snort. “Yeah. And then they had a corny movie made for them that managed to butcher several different Greek myths at once.”

Dare’s lip twitches. “Perhaps. But maybe we can overlook that due to the underlying message of eternal love.” His expression is droll and I can’t decide if he’s being serious or just trying to be ironic or something, because the irony is lost on you.

“That’s bullshit, you know,” I tell him, rolling the metaphorical dice. “Undying love, I mean. Nothing is undying. People fall out of love or their chemistry dies or maybe they even die themselves. Any way you look at it, love always dies eventually.”

I should know. I’m Funeral Home Girl. I see it all the time.

Dare looks down at me incredulously. “If you truly believe that, then you believe that death controls us, or maybe even circumstance. That’s depressing, Calla. We control ourselves.”

He seems truly bothered and I stare at him, at once nervous that I’ve disappointed him and certain that I’m right.

I am the one surrounded by it all the time, after all…by death and bad circumstances. I am the one whose mother just died and I know that the world continues to turn like nothing ever happened.

“I don’t necessarily believe that death controls us,” I amend carefully. “But you can’t argue that it wins in the long run. Every time. Because we all die, Dare. So death wins, not love.”

He snorts. “Tell that to Perseus and Andromeda. They’re immortal in the sky.”

I snort right back. “They’re also not real.”

Dare stares at me, willing me to see his point of view and I’m suddenly confused about how we started out talking about love and are now talking about death. Leave it to me to work that into conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I guess it’s a hazard of living where I do. Death is always present.”

“Death is big,” Dare acknowledges. “But there are things bigger than that. If there aren’t, then this is all for nothing. Life is worth nothing. Putting yourself out there, and taking chances and all that. All of that stuff is bollocks if it can just disappear in the end.”

I shrug and look away. “I’m sorry. I just believe in the right here and right now. That’s what we know and that’s what we can count on. And I don’t like to think about the end.”

Dare looks back at the sky, but he’s still pensive. “You seem rather pessimistic today, Calla-Lily.”

I swallow hard, because I do sound like a shrew. A jaded, ugly, bitter person.

“My mom died a few weeks ago,” I tell him and the words scrape my heart. “It’s still hard to talk about.”

He pauses and nods, as though everything makes sense now, as though he’s sorry because everyone always is. “Ah. I see. I’m sorry. I know how that feels. My mom is gone too.”