Verum (The Nocte Trilogy 2)

He cocks his head.

“Dare, I… I need some space.”

“Some space?”

I nod. “Yeah. I need to come to grips with things, to wrap my head around… Finn, and you, and I … I need space.”

There’s silence, and the air is charged and I ache to fold into him, to let him hold all of my fears at bay, but I can’t. I can’t be weak. Something big, bigger than me, depends on it. I just don’t know what yet.

He finally nods. “Ok. I’ll give you some space. If you need me, text me and I’ll be here in two minutes.”

I nod and he bends, pressing his lips to my forehead. I don’t shirk away.

After he leaves me, I enter my lonely bedroom and sit on my lonely bed and inhale the lonely air.

“I miss you, Finn,” I breathe aloud. Because he always ‘got me’, no matter what. I never had to explain, I never had to elaborate. Things could go unspoken.

It was a twin thing.

But now he’s gone and I’m alone.

It’s not a comfortable place, to be a half without a whole.

I glance around my room. It’s large and expansive and the chair in front of the windows beckons me, and I slouch into it, pulling my knees to my chest, picking back up Jane Eyre.

Below me, outside, the English moors roll on for miles, yawning across the perimeter of Whitley. Whitley is so similar to Thornfield Hall that Charlotte Bronte could’ve written her book from my windows.

As I watch, fog rises up from the ground, shrouding everything in mist.

It’s just when I’m glancing away to read my book that I see the movement.

I fixate again on the moors.

Focusing harder, I wait for it, almost expecting to see the mysterious man from earlier.

But it’s Dare.

He walks along the path from the gardens, gliding along in the night, his stride wide and familiar.

Then he stops.

He must feel me staring at him because he looks up.

He turns his dark head and his gaze finds me.

It’s as though he can see me watching, all the way from the stable.

His eyes are blacker than night, and he has found me.

His gaze is hot and I close my eyes, my breathing shallow.

When I open them, he’s gone.

But the strange feeling, the odd thought, lingers with me.

He’s dangerous.

I’m unsafe.