The Lies Of Dawn

C H A P T E R 19

“Did you know that Mary Shelley lost her virginity on her mother’s grave? Quite grotesque, if you ask me. Not to mention impractical.” Celia yelped, dropping the book on the floor before, looking at the spot where the voice had come from.

She placed a hand on her heart, grimacing as she heard it beat erratically. She had never enjoyed jump scares, they made her feel like she was starring in some B-Horror film and she was the stereotypical dumb blonde who was about to get murdered.

“Do you live inside this place?” She inquired, laughing lightly while offering the intruder a glare. “Or are you following me?” The brown-haired man gave her a secretive smirk and a nonchalant shrug but never replied to her question.

Frankly, Mick had, indeed, followed her. To his defence, he had done it because he knew it was time he told her who he really was and just why she had had the pleasure to make his acquaintance. He wasn’t used to being dishonest with anyone or keeping secrets and she must have been pleased to meet him, he was an incredibly handsome devil and to top that he was smart as Hell. In fact, he was certain she had already made plans to leave Ax for him.

Mick strolled over to the young woman’s side, feeling the old wooden floor creak under his weight, and scrounged down, picking up the book she had dropped after he had smiled apologetically to Mrs. Doyle for frightening the poor girl.

And what a smile it was. Mick had the ability to smile at you and make you forget your every problem. He made you feel special and that’s exactly how he got out of trouble.

One smile and he was free as a bird.

He was the most beautiful mistake ever made, after all.

Except when it involved Aurelia.

She wasn’t charmed that easily.

She, apparently, preferred a good rough fuck to a smile and Mick wasn’t about to judge her for that.

“How do you know that, anyway?” Celia questioned him as he handed her the book back. Her dainty fingers swept across the cover, throwing away the imaginary dust it had acquired while relaxing on the floor, before abandoning it at a nearby table,

“That she banged Mr. Shelley on her mom’s grave?” He inquired with a roguish grin. Celia nodded softly, staring at the odd creature in front of her with a mixture of awe and curiosity. “You can Google it. Also, I studied English Lit at the University and I was really intrigued by her story.” Her jaw dropped to the floor. “I know quite a few things about her, actually. After Mr. Shelly died she kept his heart with her always and not figuratively either. She literally carried around his calcified heart. She was hardcore like that.” Her jaw had hit the floor in amazement.

There she was again, judging the book by its cover.

It certainly wasn’t one of her proudest moments but the universe ought to cut her some slack. The man standing in front of her would never make anyone assume he had studied Shakespeare and the Brontë sisters. His expression, behind that smile that seemed to grace his face on a daily basis, was grim. His eyes told stories of pain and there was something unnerving about him. The colour wasn’t important, it was what feelings it brought to the surface when they looked at you.

He was like Ax.

He was exactly like Ax, come to think of it.

He had appeared out of nothing, almost as if he had been manifested the minute she had walked inside the bookshop.

No! She placed a hand, the same one that had been holding her heart in place, to cover her pretty mouth in shock.

She wanted to bang her head against a wall for not seeing the similarity before.