NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)(46)

I can’t sleep. That’s the problem. I seldom sleep now and the redness of my eyes is driving me to the brink. They burn and burn, and still sleep won’t come.

Even now, I feel Calla watching me, waiting for me to be normal, waiting for me to sleep, so I feign it. I pretend to dream.

But I’m a faker.

Instead of dreaming, I lie here listening to the f*cking voices.

SheDoesn’tDeserveYouSheDoesn’tDoesn’tDoesn’t. Don’tYouSee? Can’tYOU? Can’tYOU? SheDoesn’tKnow Shedoesn’tknow. She doesn’t.

They hiss and whisper and yell and scream and I fight the urge to flinch, to scratch, to shriek. But through it all, I lie as still as a corpse, as quiet as a ghost.

Serva me, serva bo te. Serva me. Serva me. Serva me.

Save me and I will save you.

I will save her. I will I will I will.

It’s my voice now, rising above the others, ringing out loud and clear and most important. I can fend them off for a while, for long enough to do this. For long enough to save her.

My secret will come out. But before that, I will save her.

I will.





25


VIGINTI QUINQUE

Calla





I don’t wake until morning, and when I do, Finn is gone. That’s the first thing I notice.

I open my eyes and my hand runs along the cool smooth sheets of the empty side of my bed.

The second thing I notice is the piano music.

Since I know there isn’t a funeral today, this is very odd. My mother was the only one who knew how to play in our family.

I crawl out of bed and pad down the stairs, inching into the Chapel, not sure what I expect to see. But nothing I expect prepares me for what it is.

Dare sits at the piano in the front, the sunshine pouring in from the windows above and reflecting off of his dark hair, like he’s been chosen by God Himself. His eyes closed in concentration, he plays as if the music flows through him like blood or air, like he has to play to live.

I lean against the door, watching his hands span the keys, urging the music from them, with all the grace of an accomplished pianist. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s beautiful and haunting and sad.

It’s just right for this place.

And even though Dare is wearing dark jeans and a snug black shirt and that trendy silver ring on his middle finger, he’s right for this place too.

Because he’s playing the piano as it should be played.

With reverence.

Here in this chapel, it’s only right to revere our surroundings, the quiet peacefulness of a room used to honor the dead.

I close my eyes for a minute, unable to stop myself from imagining what it would be like if his hands worshipped my body in the same way as they worship the keys. My dreams have been like foreplay, because every night, he touches me. He claims my body as his own, and every night, I enjoy it. Right now, I recall those dreams, and my cheeks flush as I picture his fingers trailing over my hip, up my abdomen, pausing at my breasts. My lips tingle from wanting his kiss. My breath hitches, my tongue darts out, licking at my lips, my face slightly feverish.

It’s only now that I realize the music has stopped.

I open my eyes and find Dare turned toward me, watching me. There is amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what I’d been daydreaming.

If ever there was a time to wish the floor would open up and swallow me, it is now.

“Hi,” he offers. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Your dad said I could come in and grab some orange juice. I saw the piano and…well, I intruded. I’m sorry.”

His accent makes everything ok. And the fact that he plays the piano. More than ok, in fact, it might make him the sexiest man alive.

“You’re not an intrusion,” I tell him. Or if he is, he’s a welcome one. “You play beautifully.”

He shrugs. “It was one of my step-father’s rules. Everyone in his family had to learn to play because that’s what refined people do.” He looks bored with the sentiment and closes the lid to the keys.

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you? Refined, I mean.”

Because his LIVE FREE tattoo begs to differ.

He smiles. “I’m a bit of a rogue, I’m afraid.”

I’m not. Afraid, that is.

“Your dad said to tell you that he had to run into town,” he offers as he gets up and lithely moves toward me. I can’t help but draw a parallel… between Dare and a graceful jungle cat. Long, lithe, slender, strong. He and I are connected by an invisible band, and he flexes that band as he strides down the aisle of the chapel before he stops in front of me like a panther.

Am I his prey?

God, I hope so.

In the light, his eyes are golden, and I find I can’t look away.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I bet my brother went with him.” I don’t mention that my brother slept in my bed last night, because that would seem weird. Like always, I have to hide certain things for appearances sake.

“I don’t know about that,” Dare answers. “I haven’t seen Finn today.”

“He must’ve,” I murmur. In fact, my father probably took Finn in to his group. I’m free to focus on what is standing in front of me.

Dare DuBray.

His smile gleams.