Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

Excited to share my overpowering joy, I turn to George, who’s trailing behind me. An awe-inspiring look is upon his eyes as he stares directly at me.

  “Thank you,” I say, as he catches up to me. “I had no idea this was here. It’s incredible. It’s…” I can find no words to express how overwhelmed I feel right now. The expression of understanding on George’s face tells me he’s already privy to my true emotions.

  “Roya, how you feel about this place right now is how I feel about you all of the time.”

  The smile etched upon my lips falters. I step back. George makes up the distance quickly though. “I’m not trying to scare you. But Roya, don’t you want to know? Wouldn’t it be nice to know how you make other people feel, for once?”

  His words jolt me like I’m free falling. Simultaneously I’m paralyzed by their allure and also fearful of their true meaning. “George, you promised. You said you weren’t going to pressure me again.”

  “And I’m not. I knew you’d love it here, but I had no idea how much. When I felt your emotions, such brazen affection, I knew I had to say something. I’ll never get another opportunity to express the equivalence of my emotion for you.”

  I stare at him, down the long dark aisle. His brown eyes are hooded by blond hair, but I can still see the softness around them.

  “It’s different than last time, Roya,” he continues. “I’m not urging you to tell me how you feel. I won’t ever ask that of you again. I promised you that, but it’s unfair of you to silence me. And still, whatever you feel for me I’m not begging for more. I won’t do that either. All I want is the opportunity to make sure my case is clear to you.”

  The space between us is simultaneously too small and too large. Everything escapes me, words, actions, emotions. I let them bound out of me, unshielded—all messy and untamed. George’s eyes shift back and forth between mine, and I’m frozen between two solid rows of pages. Frozen by his searching gaze.

  Finally the floodgate of my emotions dissipates. Abruptly he turns, striding for the exit. “It’s late. I should get you back.”

  It takes me a moment to realize I’m no longer entranced in his emotional net. I shake my head, recapturing my wits, and stride behind him.

  “George,” I say, trying to locate my suddenly missing breath.

  “It’s all right, Roya. I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to enjoy this place. I knew you would.” He picks up his pace, intent on leaving me behind.

  “Stop, please,” I say, sounding small. Gently he halts, pauses, and turns, facing me with a masked expression.

  “Thank you for showing me this place. It’s…” Anything I say will be indicative of how he feels for me. Do I want to vocalize that?

  “You’re welcome,” George says, sounding defeated. “I really didn’t come here to confess anything to you.”

  “I believe you,” I say, hoping the pages swallow our words.

  A quiet complaint falls out of his mouth. “You have so much emotion inside. Why won’t you let it out? Why do you bottle your feelings?”

  “Because…” I stare at him, then search the rows for an answer. “Because I need them for battle,” I say without making eye contact.

  “That will probably work as an answer… until you have no more battles left to fight,” he says in a tight whisper and turns to leave.

  We exit the library and board the elevator without a word. Inside the silver confines I feel George’s tension. It’s palpable in this small space. The stainless steel walls seem to ensure that emotions and thoughts are revealed instead of absorbed. Instantly I yearn for the porous marble and wood of the library.

  Again George has confessed himself to me, and again I’ve offered him nothing in return. I’m not sure why I continue to push him away, especially since his whispered words in my ear the other night brought down walls I’d guarded to the point of exhaustion for too long. Leaning on someone doesn’t make you weak. I feel safe with George, but I also don’t want anything to ever ruin that. And every time we erase another obstacle between us I fear my refuge is disintegrating. Maybe he was right when he said the night of the party that I was playing games with him. But I’m stupid, because this isn’t a game I know how to win.

  He holds the elevator open while I disembark. I walk ahead of him, then pause at my door, the first room on this side of the rooming corridor. George turns after a few paces and searches me. “Goodnight, Roya,” he says, his voice catching on my name.

  “No, wait,” I say, stepping forward. “George, the night of the party you asked me how I specifically felt about you. Do you still want to know?”

  Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. His expression is a mix of consternation and anticipation. “Yes. But you don’t have to.”

  “And I don’t want to. I’m not ready right now, but I also don’t want that to be your last appeal.”

  “I don’t need you to prove anything to me, if that’s what you’re implying. I know how you feel. But for once, it would be nice to hear it from your own lips.”

  “Is that what you need?”

  “Yes, but not yet. If you’re going to tell me, do it after tomorrow,” he says, tone morose, and adds, “if it’s still the way you feel.”

  “Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you.” The cynical look in his eyes fractures my heart, sending me into a quiet frenzy to convince us both that we belong in each other’s arms right now. “George.” I tip my head back to look at him. Words are stuck in the hollow of my throat. Obviously I’ve hurt him by not saying enough, but I can’t…not right now.

  I step, the movement so small, it could hardly be classified as one. Still, I find myself closer to George. His true expression is plastered behind a stone face. The beat of the music from Trent’s room echoes down the corridor, but I’m a million miles from there. George and I are chained to each other through our silent, staring eyes, alone inside a bubble. One in which there’s only room for his arms to hold me like before. Tomorrow we face danger and death and who knows what other evils. Tonight I need his arms around me, erasing my pain—or at least attempting to.

  Reaching out, he cups my shoulder, yanking me forward until I’m pressed up against him. “Oh, Roya, what am I going to do with you?” he says, wrapping his arms around me, wrenching me in tightly. I bury my face in his chest, like the other night. In the flesh he smells of jasmine and wood; it must be his cologne. It’s seductive.

  My focus remains on his steady breath, the only thing I’m sure I can count on in this moment. I wrap my arms around his torso and press every inch of me against him. I never want to leave this moment. Not even the idea of people spilling out of Trent’s room deters me from wanting to stay safe in my refuge.

  “You know,” George says, breathing into my hair, “I’ll stay like this as long as you want me to.”

  I slide back and look into his tranquil, brown eyes. “I know you will.”

  With everything that weighs on my shoulders right now all I can think about is my own curiosities: What does his lips feel like pressed against mine? Does he know how long and hard to kiss me? Or will his desire overwhelm the moment?

  An inviting smile stretches across George’s face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. I’m not masking my emotions and he’s picking them up like pansies from an open field. His next moves are not as graceful as the expression he’s just adorned. He fumbles several times to find a path to my face, not always tilting the right direction at the right time and retreating when meeting an obstacle. But when he finds my lips he seizes them and lays claim in a way I’ve yet to imagine possible. And every curiosity I had is put to rest. Of course I should have known: George kisses me exactly as long and hard as I desire. His kiss is elegantly perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The lecture hall is quiet except for the soft buzzing of the overhead lights. Words blur on the page in front of me. I must have already read through my notes thirty times in the last hour. The door at my back slides ope
n. Half of me hopes it’s George and the other half prays it’s not. Being alone with him right now is probably not a good idea.

  I’m not the least bit relieved to learn its Joseph. His bloodshot eyes barely make contact with me when he sits down.

  “You’re hungover?!” I say in offensive disbelief.

  Joseph grimaces in pain. “Yes. Can you keep it down?”

  “I can’t believe this!” I pound my fist on the desk. “This is ridiculous!”

  “Warned you I was gonna screw up again and again.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “This is not the time for screwing up.”

  “Joseph doesn’t care if we have a vital mission,” Samara says behind me. I turn to find she’s taken a seat three rows back and appears as angry as I feel. “He only cares about himself, isn’t that right?”

  “You’d know better than anyone how I think, Samara,” Joseph says, a cold animosity in his tone.

  The door to the lecture hall slides back. I turn around as soon as I spy George. Hopefully there’s enough emotion in this room to occupy his attention. He slips into the seat beside me. All night I tormented myself with guilt for kissing him on the eve of this mission. Now that he’s close, I yearn to reach out and kiss him again, using passion as an outlet from my fears. Just his presence changes the way my heart beats.

  My eyes lead my chin up until they find their target. The look on his face undoes something in me I’m certain was fastened tightly in place. Unsurprisingly he’s chewing on his lip. Damn those lips. I’m too accustomed to his probe that I know right now he’s dissecting me from the inside out. George leans forward, a stern expression on his face. I clench my eyes shut, so afraid he’s going to reprimand me for my guilt.

  “Good morning, Roya,” he whispers, his breath brushing my ear.

  I peel open my eyes, looking at him sideways. He’s all stone. “Good morning, George.” Gracefully he leans back in his seat, never taking his firm gaze off me. The knot in my throat is preventing me from speaking, which is good because I’d probably regret anything I’d let spill from my mouth right now.

  “The Grotte!” Ren says, charging to the front of the room. “That’s where you’ll be vacationing tonight.” His laugh is cold. “Everyone loves a good holiday in the south of France, but I’m here to tell you that it’s no picnic. The service at the Grotte is awful, the rooms are dark and cold, and the locals make you want to stab yourself…literally.”

  “Why are we just now covering the Grotte? Seems like something we should have gone over before the day of the mission,” Joseph says, lacking decorum. Is he still drunk?

  “I wanted the information to be fresh.” Ren places his fingertip on the surface of the desk in the center of the platform and traces along it as he walks. “It’s charming you think knowing about the Grotte sooner than today was going to benefit you. Judging by your appearance, Joseph, I don’t think it matters much what you know about the Grotte, except that it will be your final resting place.” Ren flashes his eyes on Pearl. “Don’t waste your efforts healing Joseph. He’s not worth it.”

  “If that time comes,” I say, ripping Ren’s attention in my direction, “that will not be your call. It will be mine.”

  “Brav-freaking-o,” Ren says. “You’ve decided to start acting like a leader, Roya. Way to wait until the last possible moment to rise to the challenge.”

  I taper my eyes, not taking them off Ren. “The Grotte. Tell us what we need to know. Now.”

  “Well, since you’ve got your knickers in a wad already, I suppose I should,” Ren says, his calm superiority blistering the room with irritation. He gives a bored sigh. “The Grotte is a network of caves that have been crudely constructed into the Voyageurs’ headquarters. The lighting is awful, but there’s some. The layout is a confusing mess, but oddly has some logic. And the security is absolutely laughable.”

  Over the next hour we learn how to navigate the Grotte. Ren has a series of slides that outline the various routes we’ll take to the central rooms. I pay special attention to where the GAD-C is located and other rooms that will possibly be where Aiden is imprisoned. When we have completed this portion of the lesson Ren lays a blue and white map on my desk and retreats.

  “It will probably be too dark to read it, but that’s a rough sketch of the Grotte,” he says with zero emotion.

  “If it’s so dark,” Trent says, “then why don’t we bring flashlights?”

  Ren’s pretending to clean his nails with his pocket knife. I know from just spying his nails when he placed the map on my desk that they’re perfectly clean. He does this little act to make us feel small and to belittle the current topic. “Well, wise one,” Ren says, “the reason you shouldn’t outfit yourself with this battery-operated technology is because the Voyageurs don’t use it. They’re going to have a hard time explaining to themselves why people using technology they refuse are skipping around on their turf. You’ll remember that I said they’re primitive. They believe that electricity and battery-operated devices leech their mental powers. For this reason the only electricity in the entire joint is in the GAD-C room. The rest of the place is lit by fire, warmed using coal, and secured using mental prowess. So no, I’d recommend that you not carry a torch, your iPod, or any other trendy device that will make you stand out in their evil minds. Bring a match, how about that?”

  Once Ren has completely beaten us down he launches into the strategy we’ll follow. It’s quite simple, but I know all too well how one little hitch can unravel it. We each have a specific mission and purpose at all times, which changes as we enter each new phase of the plan. Furthermore, we’re divided up into sub-teams in case we need to separate. My team member is of course Joseph, which should have been a good thing but under the present circumstances makes me feel like a sluggish target.

  ♦

  Knowing I need the sustenance, I eat, although each bite threatens to come back up. Joseph sits at the table with the white coats, while Samara steams next to me. Trent and George talk over strategy, but continuously I feel George’s eager gaze on me. After a few minutes I turn to Pearl and ask, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you where you’re from.”

  She looks startled, like a bunny who’s been cornered. Pushing her hair behind her ear she says, “I grew up here. My mom is Mae, the Head of the Healing Department.”

  “Here? At the Institute?” I say a bit louder than I intended.

  “Yes,” she says meekly.

  After Trey told me that Joseph and I were separated at birth for our own protection I questioned why we weren’t raised here. He made that seem like an impossibility. He said that the Institute wasn’t the right place to raise a child. It seemed to be good enough for Pearl and Aiden. Why?

  “But I thought children couldn’t be raised here at the Institute. Aiden said he was an exception.”

  George’s eyes flick to mine at the mention of Aiden’s name. I focus on Pearl.

  She shrugs. “He’s right. And so was I. We actually spent a lot of time together growing up, since we were the only kids here.”

  A knot tightens in my throat. “Oh, you two must be close.”

  Regret marks her eyes when she nods her head. “We were, but after his parents died he became really involved with his work and we drifted apart. Still, I’ve always felt a special bond to him, since we grew up together.”

  “I’m sorry, this mission must be difficult for you.” Maybe you shouldn’t go.

  “It is, but I couldn’t imagine not being on this team. I want to be there when we rescue Aiden. I have to see him with my own eyes before I’ll stop worrying. And I’m grateful that I’ve honed my healing abilities enough that I’ll be able to help him if he’s hurt.”

  My breaths are shallow and unfulfilling. George isn’t hiding his curiosity anymore. He pinches the corner of his mouth together and stares at me, then Pearl. I’d give a million dollars right now to know what emotions he’s picking up in Pearl. Is she in love with Aiden? The idea is infuriatin
g.

  “Trey said Aiden’s parents were killed by Voyageurs. What happened?”

  Pearl looks down suddenly. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell that story. Aiden may not want me to…” Her eyes glaze over a bit as she trails off.

  I want to yell at her, tell her no one is closer to him than me. But it’s not true. At least I can’t confirm it. Apparently I hardly know the guy I’m about to risk my life to save.

  I push away my irritation with a fake smile. “Well, tell me about growing up in the Institute. What was that like?”

  “About how you’d imagine, I’m sure.”

  “How would you know what I’d imagine?” I say, irritation edging into my tone.

  She blanches. “I meant that it was different than a normal childhood, I’ve gathered that much from reading books. If it wasn’t for Aiden then I would have spent most of those years alone in this place, since all the adults were always busy working. But unlike Aiden I didn’t come into my ability to dream travel until recently. He at least was able to escape.”

  “Yes, I understand he started dream traveling very young,” I say as casually as I can muster.

  She eyes me skeptically. “Yes, that’s true. Once he became obsessed with dream traveling I spent my free time reading religious texts.”

  “A hobby of yours?”

  “Religion isn’t a hobby,” she revolts.

  Inside I smile, knowing I’ve irritated her. Tit for tat.

  “So were you the one who showed George the library?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says with a nod. “It’s a really wonderful place. My favorite place.”

  “Yes, it’s great,” I say, looking at him as he stares back at me. “It’s your favorite place too, isn’t it, George?”

  He gives me a calculated look, one that admonishes my catty behavior and also my jealously.

  “Well, thanks for the chat, Pearl. Now I must go study the map.” I push off from the table feeling like the most awful leader in the world. To resent one of the greatest assets on my team right at the eleventh hour is the worst possible thing I can do. Still, the look in her eyes when she spoke about Aiden and her obvious closeness with George make an irresistible rage flow through me. I wish I’d never asked Pearl any questions. Ten minutes ago, before I knew anything that she told me, I was only bordering on insanity over two guys. Now I’m a hundred miles past the brink.