Verum (The Nocte Trilogy 2)

And together.

Our arms and legs tangle.

Our eyes meet and hold.

His stare into mine as he slides inside,

Then out.

I clutch his shoulders,

To hold him close.

He shudders,

The moonlight spills from the window,

Onto my skin,

And his.

His eyes, framed by thick black lashes, close.

He sleeps.

But he wakes in the night and we’re together again, and again and again.

Each time it’s new,

Each time is reverent and raw and amazing.

In the morning, as he is bathed in sunlight, Dare finally looks away. Shame in his eyes, guilt in his heart.

“She’s dead now,” Dare tells me when I ask again about his mom. “But she didn’t die with Richard.”

I don’t ask about Richard,

I don’t ask Dare to confirm what I know.

He killed his step-father,

And it made his mother crazy.

“Do you see now why I don’t deserve you?” he asks, and his voice is almost fragile.

You’re better than I deserve.

He’s said it before, over and over, and I never knew what he meant.

I know it now, but it’s still not true. I’m not better than he deserves, not by a long shot, not ever.

He sits straight up in bed.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly. “Let’s leave this place behind. You don’t need to be here to recover. We can find peace and quiet anywhere. We go can together, Calla.”

But I pause and my hesitancy is answer enough, and Dare’s face falls.

“You’re not ready to leave,” he realizes.