NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)(60)

I know his point is logical, but I know in my heart that Finn is here.

I know like a sister knows, like a twin.

I don’t deviate from my path, and within a couple of minutes, I’m standing on the porch of Nocte, bent over to catch my breath.

Dare runs his hand up and down my back, relaxing my muscles as my lungs fill with air. He’s my air. I give him a grateful look, then push forward, through the door and into the abandoned house.

I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight this time, but luckily, enough light shines through the dirty windows that we can see where we’re going.

“Finn!” I call out as I race along, over the electric cords and through the rooms. “Where are you?”

There’s no answer. But I still feel him here.

“He’s here,” I tell Dare over my shoulder. “I know it. We have to find him before he hurts himself.”

Dare nods and we race along the darkened pathways, into the part of the house that I hadn’t shown Dare before.

I stop in the middle of a dusty parlor. An empty noose swings from the chandelier above, while gargoyle’s faces leer from the sides of the fireplace. I feel an instant air of relief that Finn isn’t hanging from the rope. Shivering, I scan the place. Once upon a time, a “rotting” butler walked through this room, scaring visitors as they passed through. The room is empty now.

“He’s not here,” Dare tells me needlessly.

My shoulders drop and my breath exhales and I sink into a dusty velvet sofa.

“Where is he?” my voice is frail and threatens to break.

Dare sits next to me, his arm around my shoulders and I turn into his chest because all of a sudden, I can’t keep it together. The weight of it is too heavy.

All of the emotions I’ve been feeling lately come crashing down. The desperation of wanting to help my brother, the rejection I’ve felt from Dare, the anger I’ve felt toward my father. It spirals around me, too much to bear, and I sob into Dare’s shirt.

His hands are large as he comforts me, as he pats my back and strokes my shoulder.

I feel comfort here in his arms, unlike any comfort I’ve ever felt before.

He’s mine. No matter what happens, I can’t lose him.

The fear of that loss, even though it’s imagined, floods me and I grab him.

“I can’t lose you, too,” I tell him, my voice still strained. “I’m sorry that I can’t seem to hold things together. I promise I’ll get a handle on things. If you promise to stay.” I pause and there’s silence and I stare at him. “Promise me, Dare.”

He looks at me oddly, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Promise.”

His voice is so husky, and it strokes my skin. And it’s not enough. With shaking hands, I reach for him, pulling him to me and his mouth, hot and minty, closes over my own.

He kisses me with abandon, like he’s not afraid of the consequences, like it’s only him and me, and there’s nothing else around us. There is no Finn, there is no funeral home, there is no grief.

There is only Dare and Calla.

I inhale it, breathing it in my throat, and holding it deep inside by my heart.

He starts to pull away, but I stop him with a whisper.

“Please don’t. I need you. Make it all right. Please. Make it all right.”

My whisper is broken and desperate, but I don’t care. Because it gets me what I want. Dare clutches me to him, his hands stroking me everywhere, lingering over my hips, my arms, my ribs, my breasts.

My hips lift to meet him, my pelvis crushing his. But it’s an exquisite pressure, something that builds and builds within me, begging for an eruption, screaming for a release.

“Please.”

I whisper one more time.

Dare groans, and touches me again, his fingers finding me in the dark, long and smooth and cool. I clutch his shoulders, trying to get closer and closer, but I know I’ll never be close enough. Even when he’s finally inside of my body, it won’t be enough. Because I want all of him.

Now.

I pull at the button on his jeans, at his shirt, at his arms.

And he almost lets me.

Almost.

But then, with a ragged breath, he pulls away.

I reach for him, but he shakes off my arm.

“Give me a minute, Cal.”

I sit trying to breathe, as he does the same.

All I can hear is our raspy breath as we breathe and breathe, until finally, Dare looks at me again.

“I’m sorry for that.”

I’m incredulous. “For what? For doing what I want?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you understand? You’re completely beside yourself over your brother. Do you really want to have sex in in a house of horrors while you’re crying over Finn?”

“Isn’t that up to me?” I ask shakily, trying to reach for him again, because I need him. He won’t let me, though.

“No,” he finally answers. “Not today. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking clearly enough,” I answer firmly, but I don’t move toward him again. His face is set and determined.

“Why do you have to be such a gentleman?” I demand. “Is this a British thing?”

He chuckles, able to laugh now. “I guess it’s just a Dare thing.”