NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)(49)

I curl up in my room on the floor, where the dust has settled in the corners and the rain once again drenches the sill. I should get up and close the window, but I don’t.

YouCan’tYouCan’tYouCan’t.

The voice shrieks in my ear and I clasp my hands over them, holding tight, trying to drown them out, which of course doesn’t work. Because the voices come from within.

I hear Calla come inside, I hear her singing in her shower, happy with things that I have no knowledge of, yet I do.

I know it’s Dare making her happy.

He gives her hope, when all I give her is despair.

I drop my head into my hands.

Just a little longer.

Justalittlelittlelittlelittle.

She’sNotWorthThePainNotWorthItNotWorthIt.

The voices are insistent, but I know they lie. She is worth it. I can pull this off for her. I have to because she deserves it.

Act normal.

I sit up, brushing my damp hair away from my face.

For a little while longer.

I can do this. I can pretend.

For

A

Little

While

I watch the dust-motes twirl in the dying light, swatting at them before I curl up in a ball.

For Calla.





27


VIGINTI SEPTEM



Calla



I sit curled up in a chair on the side porch. From here, I have the perfect panoramic view of the ocean, the cliffs, and cascading mountainside.

I watch Finn chopping yet more wood, his pale skin glistening with sweat in the morning sun. He didn’t sleep with me last night, so apparently he didn’t have nightmares. But even still, he was out chopping wood when I got up, so he’s clearly bothered by something. He told me once that it soothes his nerves, and lately, he’s chopped piles and piles. So his nerves must be truly rattled.

Stirring my coffee, I take a sip, then take a deep breath of the clean mountain air. My father’s crematorium isn’t burning today, so there is no murky smoke to pollute the air.

“Would you like company?”

Dare’s voice is quiet on the edge of the porch, as he lingers on the top step. My heart leaps a bit, just like it does every time I see him. I nod, with a smile.

“Of course.” I shove the other chair away from the table with my foot. “It’s a perfect morning.”

He agrees as he sits down, a cup of coffee in his own hand.

As he looks out over the mountain, I shove Finn’s journal further down into my pocket. I’d meant to read more of it this morning, since alone time is rare in my house. But I can do it later. I’ll never turn away alone time with Dare, not now that he’s decided we should wait.

Ugh.

I force a smile because that thought makes me grumpy.

“You’re up early,” I point out. He smiles back, his eyes sleepy.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he admits. “So I got up early for a jog. I still feel groggy, so I came up for coffee. Your dad gave me an open invitation to raid your kitchen.”

I think about that for a second. My father is normally not all that social, despite the fact that he has to be for his job. He’s gotten to be a pro at handling grieving people, at being appropriate and kind. But on his off time, he doesn’t typically like to interact.

“He must like you,” I decide.

“You sound surprised,” Dare smiles. “People like me, you know.”

“You said they like you for your step-father’s money,” I recall. “My dad doesn’t know anything about that.”

His lip twitches. “Well, people might actually like me, too. I don’t know. But I think I’m fairly likable.”

Fairly.

I remember the way his hips felt crushed against mine, and I flush.

“You’re pretty when you blush,” Dare says matter-of-factly, as he stares at me over the rim of his coffee mug. I flush more and he grins. “You’re pretty all the time, though,” he amends, which of course lights my cheeks on fire.

“You’re trying to make me blush now,” I accuse. He grins again, not the least bit sorry.

“Am I?” he asks without any chagrin whatsoever.

I nod absently, watching Finn over his shoulder. My brother is attacking the wood with a vengeance.

“Hey,” Dare says, bringing my focus back to him. “I’d like to ask another question.”

I wait.

He smiles.

“Tell me why you haven’t had a real boyfriend.” It’s an instruction, not a question. It, of course, causes me to blush yet again, a wild crimson that spreads like fire to my chest. Dare shakes his head.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I quite like it, really. I’m just curious as to how you’ve remained an undiscovered treasure.”

God, I love the way he talks, so British and so refined.

I shrug. “I’ve always been Funeral Home Girl, remember? No one ever wanted to get close enough to know me. The mere fact that I live in a funeral home with my crazy brother is enough to creep them out.”

“That can’t be true,” Dare argues. “You’re beautiful. Teenage boys never think anything through logically. They think with the crotch of their pants, and their crotch would react to you. Trust me.”

Oh, I do. Especially when I remember how his crotch had reacted to me yesterday. A flood of feminine power and lust spreads through me suddenly, like a wave, and I want to crest on it forever. But I don’t. I turn my attention back to Dare and shrug again.