NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1) Read Online Free PDF

pass, one after the other.
    And then after twenty of them, he approaches.  
    Him.
    The sexy stranger with eyes as black as
night.   
    I feel him approach while my eyes are
still closed.   Don’t ask me how I
know it’s him, because I just know.   Don’t ask me what he’s doing here again, because I don’t care about
that.  
    All I care about is the fact that he is here.  
    My eyes pop open to find him watching me,
his eyes still as intense now as they were the other day. Still as dark, still
as bottomless.  
    His gaze finds mine, connects with it,
and holds.   
    We’re connected.
    With each step, he doesn’t look
away.  
    He’s dressed in the same sweatshirt as
the other day. The irony is lost on you.   He’s wearing dark jeans, black boots and
his middle finger is still encircled by a silver band.   He’s a rocker.   Or an artist.   Or a writer.   He’s something hopelessly in style,
timelessly romantic.  
    He’s twenty feet away.  
    Fifteen.
    Ten.  
    Five.
    The corner of his mouth tilts up as he
passes, as he continues to watch me from the side. His shoulders sway, his hips
are slim.   Then he’s gone, walking
away from me.  
    Five feet.
    Ten.
    Twenty.  
    Gone.
    I feel a sense of loss because he didn’t
stop.   Because I
wanted him to.   Because there’s something about him that I want to know.  
    I take a deep breath and close my eyes,
listening once again to my music.  
    The dark haired stranger doesn’t come
back.  

 

5
    QUINQUE

 
    The
rain might make Oregon beautiful, but at times, it’s gray and dismal.   The sound of it hitting the windows
makes me sleepy, and itch to wrap up in a sweater and curl up with a book by
the window.   At night, when it
storms, I dream. I don’t know why. It might be the electricity of the lightning
in the air, or the boom of the thunder, but it never fails to trigger my mind
to create.  
    Tonight, after finally falling asleep, I
dream of him.
    The dark-eyed stranger.
    He sits by the ocean, the breeze ruffling
his hair.   He lifts his hand to
brush his hair out of his eyes, his silver ring glinting in the sun.  
    His eyes meet mine, and electricity
stronger than a million lightning bolts connects us, holding us together.  
    His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners as
he smiles at me.  
    His grin is for me, familiar and
sexy.   He reaches for
me, his fingers knowing and familiar, and he knows just where to touch
me, just where to set my skin on fire.  
    I wake with a start, sitting straight up
in bed, my sheets clutched to my chest.  
    The moonlight pouring onto my bed looks
blue, and I glance at the clock.  
    Three a.m.
    Just
a dream.
    I curl back up, thinking of the stranger,
and then condemn myself for my ridiculousness.   He’s a stranger, for God’s sake.   It’s stupid to be so fixated on him.
    But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming
about him again.   He does different
things in my dreams.   He sails, he
swims, he drinks coffee.   His silver ring glints in the sun each
time, his dark eyes pierce into my soul like he knows me.   Like
he knows all about me. I wake up breathless each time.  
    It’s a bit unnerving.
    And a bit exciting .
    After two such nights of fitful sleep,
rain and strange dreams, Finn and I kneel in front of plastic storage boxes,
sorting through stuff from my closet.   Piles of folded clothes surround us, like mountains on the floor.   Rain pelts the window, the morning sky
dark and gray.    
    I hold up a white cardigan.   “I don’t think I’ll need many sweaters
in California, will I?”
    Finn shakes his head. “Doubtful. But take
a couple, just to be safe.”
    I toss it into the Keep pile.   As I do, I notice that Finn’s fingers
are shaking.  
    “Why are your hands shaking?” I stare at
him.   He shrugs.
    “Don’t know.”
    I eye him doubtfully, so used to watching
him for any sign for any sign of a problem.   “Are you sure?”  
    He nods.   “Quite positive.”
    I let it