NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)(39)

He sits next to me, and I inhale him, breathing in the scent of man and rain and security and want.

I want him.

That’s what I know.

The more I’m around him, the more I want him. I want his assuredness, his sexiness, his shoulders, his hips. I want his comfort, I want his voice, I want all of him.

More than anything I’ve ever wanted.

I reach a cold hand up, tracing his jawline once again, the way I did the other night. This time, though, he doesn’t stop my hand. He doesn’t stop my fingers from running across his lips, feeling the softness that lingers there.

The electricity feels like it’s going to snap in the air, and electrocute me with the intensity, but it doesn’t. It just creates a current that runs from me to Dare and back again, lighting me up, making me tingle in places I’ve never felt before.

I swallow hard.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, looking hungrily into his eyes. He blinks, then stares, his mouth tightening.

“I shouldn’t,” he answers, low and husky.

“Do it anyway,” I reply, hoping, praying, holding my breath.

Then he does.

He lowers his beautiful face and his lips come down on mine, soft, firm, real. I sigh into his mouth, into the spearmint breath that absorbs my own, into the thing I’ve been wanting for weeks.

He feels so comfortable, so exciting, so natural to me. Kissing him is like taking a breath. It gives me life.

He pulls away abruptly, though, leaving my heart pounding and my breath broken, and then he stands up.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, taking the towel into the kitchen. I leap to my feet and chase him.

“Why not?” I demand. “I’m eighteen and I know exactly what I want.”

I want you.

But he’s already shaking his head. “You don’t know what you want,” he tells me regretfully. “Because you’re upset, and you’ve got more to deal with than most people ever will. It’s not a good time for this. It’s not fair of me to take advantage of you right now.”

“You’re not—“ I start to say, but he puts a long finger against my lips.

“I am,” he says firmly. “I can’t do that. Not today.”

But he doesn’t say never.

I stand still, my breathing harsh and ragged. Then I turn and walk away, humiliated with the rejection, but buoyed by it, too.

Because he didn’t say never.

He didn’t say never because he draws me at night and so I know he thinks about me too.

I walk out the door into the rain, ignoring the way he calls after me. I walk straight to my house, straight to my room, and after dropping my clothes and Finn’s journal onto the floor, I step into the shower.

The hot water floods my senses, blocking out the memory of his smell.

I envision his hands holding my own, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

He thinks that’s he’s not what I need, but he’s exactly what I need.

He distracts me from my pain. From my worry. From my fear.

But even as I have the thought, the truth of what he said slams into me.

It’s not a good time right now.

It’s not a good time because he doesn’t want to be a distraction.

He deserves to be a focus.

And in my current state, I can’t focus on anything, except for maybe saving my brother from insanity. Dare deserves more than that.

But my selfish side wants him anyway.

I slide to the floor and close my eyes, letting the water wash my tears away.



***



I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower, or how long I’ve been curled up in the window seat of my room since. All I know is that my father and Finn came home, and Finn disappeared into his room. I heard him rustling around in there.

I heard him clamoring down the stairs, yelling for me, yelling for Dad.

And now he’s coming back up, stomping angrily, bursting through my door.

“Where’s my journal?” he demands, his pale blue eyes like icicles, his thin hands clenched into fists at his sides.

For the first time in my life, I lie to my brother.

To his face.

“I don’t know,” I say simply, staring at him, not blinking. I don’t look away, because I don’t want to accidentally glance at the bottom drawer of my desk, where I have stashed his little book.

“You do, too,” he says angrily. “It was in my room, and now it’s not.”

“I don’t have it, Finn,” I tell him again. “Why are you so upset? It’ll turn up.”

After I have a chance to read it.

Finn’s face is taut and anxious and I do feel guilty for inflicting distress on him. I know what happens when he gets upset, but it’s a chance I have to take. I can’t help him unless I know what is truly bothering him. And this is the only way to find out.

“If you find it,” he says limply, turning to leave. “Don’t read it, Calla.”

I don’t answer, so he stops in his tracks, glancing back at me, his desperate gaze meeting mine. “You can’t read it, Cal.”

I can’t help but stare into his eyes, fascinated by the utter desolation I find there. The level of his despair over a simple book is staggering.

“Why do you feel so strongly about this, Finn?”