Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

  Aiden is halfway back to his seat when Joseph calls out loudly, still not taking his eyes off me. “Hey, Livingston!”

  Aiden pauses, turns. “Yes,” he says in a much quieter voice.

  “Get over here!” Joseph says, his face burning. As his twin I feel certain parts of him and right now his anger seeks to set me on fire. I take a drink of ice water.

  “What can I do for you?” Aiden says, clapping Joseph on the back, not seeming to notice that a gesture like that could fracture my brother’s weakened frame. Heat rises in my head.

  “You can tell my sister that she can’t move out of the Institute to some boondock town. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

  A smirk unfolds on Aiden’s face, but it stays facing Joseph. “You’re right, Joseph, she can’t.”

  “See there!” Joseph says, pointing at me. “Now tell her that leaving here is stupid.”

  The Head Scientist can’t look at me. Won’t. I led the mission that rescued him and I’m not even worth a casual glance. “I don’t have to and you don’t need to worry any further. Roya isn’t going anywhere.”

  How dare he speak about me like I’m not even here? Treat me like I’m not sitting a few feet away?

  “If that’s all I’ll take my leave,” Aiden says, standing tall, eyes still not finding mine.

  “Yeah, you’re dismissed,” Joseph says, a satisfied grin on his face.

  When Aiden and I parted in the infirmary, I was still unclear on our arrangement. Now I realize there wasn’t one and that I was being used. Maybe he was making up all those excuses about why we can’t be together. Maybe the real reason is he doesn’t want to. I don’t want to believe it, but my ego can only take this neglect for so long before it decides that he never really wanted me at all. Aiden loves games and unfortunately I think I just got played.

  “Well, there you are, Stark. How do you like that?”

  “You’ve lost your mind,” I say in an undertone, watching Aiden’s retreating back. “You think that because some stupid scientist says I can’t leave it makes it true? I can do whatever I want. Campaign all you like, but the fact still remains that I’m not staying here.” I stand up from the table, press my palms down on its surface. “While I’m off enjoying the country air, try not to kill yourself, would you?!”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  When the knock sounds at my door I answer it, hoping it’s Joseph. Hoping he’s changed his attitude.

  “Don’t leave,” George says when the door slides back, a penalizing tone in his voice.

  “Please, not right now, George,” I say, wringing my hands. “I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

  “Then don’t,” he says, stepping into my room and sending the door closed behind him. “Just talk to me. Let me help you,” he pleads.

  I know how that feels: to plead. I know how it feels to wish someone would give you a chance to help them. “You don’t understand, George,” I say, looking off. “Being here—”

  “Hurts,” he finishes my sentence. “Watching him abuse himself plagues you. And you feel like leaving will erase the pain, since you can’t erase the problems.”

  He does understand. Perfectly. Simultaneously I want to rush into his arms and also shield myself from his prying. Instead I wrap my arms across my chest.

  A stricken expression marks his face. “Even after you leave here you’ll still worry. The torment won’t go away.”

  “I know. I’m cursed to carry this emotion no matter where I go. But if I’m not here then Joseph can’t pull on my energy and maybe he’ll be forced to quit this secret project. Maybe—” The smile that flickers to his lips interrupts me. “What? What are you smiling about?”

  “I love the way you think.”

  “Think? What?” My brow knits with confusion.

  “It’s exactly the same way your heart feels: selflessly. You would remove yourself from the Institute when you really don’t want to just to protect him.” He looks impressed, although the smile has faded.

  “Well, now that you understand my flawless reasoning behind leaving maybe you’ll give me a break.”

  His determined look feels to be anchored by a deep motivation. “Roya, how can I not fight you on this? How can I support this decision when it takes you away from me?”

  Takes you away from me. His heavy words stick in my core. I don’t belong to George, but do I want to?

  “You may not know what you want, but I do,” he says, a secret desperation written on his face. My eyes clench shut, frustrated that I can’t have a normal conversation with him. One where he isn’t one emotional step ahead of me.

  “I know what you want,” I say, opening my eyes to find him chewing on his lip. “You want me to stay and I appreciate—”

  “No, Roya, let me be clear. I want you with me,” he says, a careful conviction in his words. “I want to fulfill the desires you’ve buried inside you, the ones for love you don’t feel you deserve. And I can’t do that if you leave.”

  “Why?” I ask, my voice just above a hush. “Why are you so devoted to me?” What I don’t ask is why he’s still loyal to me after everything with Aiden.

  George dips his chin, studies my face. “Roya, you bring me clarity. I’ve lived my life in a cloud of emotions, but when I’m with you the way I feel is so intense that my feelings take center stage. They become the rare priority.”

  A knot settles in my throat, followed by a raw aching. He makes it sound like he needs me, like I’m the antidote to the disease he’s suffered from his entire life. How can I not give him that? Be his antidote?

  Deranged by my confusion and constant heartache I impulsively spring forward. In one movement my fist knots in his shirt, pulling him into me. Our lips meet in a rush and his startled reaction only lasts for an instant and then he’s kissing me back. Lust joins my other tangled emotions rolling around inside my chest. Then in all my furious passion, I’m interrupted by an angry shame. It roars through my head like an incensed monster.

  I firmly press my hand flat against his chest, shoving him a few inches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Guilt shivers out of my voice. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Something just took over me.”

  The light in his eyes dims. “Don’t be sorry,” he says.

  “I don’t know how I feel or what I want right now, George. I really don’t want to hurt you.” I close my eyes, not able to bear seeing his disappointment. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to know what you want right now. And you have my permission to hurt me. Break my heart into a thousand pieces, just don’t be sorry you kissed me.”

  He tilts my head up so I meet his brown eyes. “I know what I want though. You know what I want. Hell, the whole Institute knows. It isn’t a secret.” The insinuation hangs in the air like a cloud of dust.

  His hand drops, but I stay locked on his eyes. Anger blazes across his face. “You deserve to be loved openly.”

  And once again he’s done it. He’s dipped into the deepest reservoirs of my emotions and found the hollowed out part of me and filled it.

  “You do too, George.”

  “Then this kind of seems like a no-brainer to me,” he says, a smile in his voice.

  A nervous laugh escapes my mouth.

  “Before we left for the Grotte you said you’d tell me how you feel about me. I told you to wait. Will you tell me now?” He’s encased behind his normal hardened exterior. With all its intimidation it still begs to be broken.

  “Well, you already know.”

  “But I want to hear it from you.”

  “Okay,” I say to the carpet. “I feel like you sincerely care about me. I feel like your loyalty is unconditional.”

  “Never mind.” Anger flares in his words.

  “George,” I say, astonished.

  “Roya, I already know how I feel about you. That’s not what I asked.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a coward.”

  “No you’re not.” He runs hi
s thumb along my jawline. “You’re the most stunning person I’ve ever met.”

  “I feel…” I stop, studying the pulsing in my heart. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

  A question rises in his eyes, but he doesn’t speak.

  “I keep trying to convince myself that it doesn’t matter, but I fear one day you’ll wake up and see me for who I really am, and not the idolized version that I think you see right now. When that happens then I’m going to be destroyed inside because I’ll have convinced myself that my love for you was enough even with all its flaws.”

  He shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “What you don’t know is an ounce of your love is greater than most people feel in a lifetime. I felt that you could control the wind before you knew it, because you carry its power in your love.”

  In that moment he must know he owns me. I could look away and break the spell, but I don’t. Rising to my tiptoes I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me. “George, I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I’m so confused,” I say, my words brushing against his skin.

  His hands grip my hips, drawing me into him. “Stop thinking so much and just do what feels right.”

  I rub my nose against his and our lips graze. I take in the shape and firmness of his mouth. With each soft kiss I study him more, absorbing the way his hands clutch my hips, his thumbs caressing my hip bones. George’s kisses are hungry, and resonate in my lips even after he pulls away.

  ♦

  “You did what?” Samara looks at me in disbelief.

  I kick the sand a bit, feeling the weight of my bad decision in my heart. Even the brilliant blue-Gatorade-colored water on the beaches of Bora Bora aren’t making me feel better right now.

  “I know, it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” I say, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I feel so guilty kissing both Aiden and then George. I feel dirty.”

  Samara twists her long hair up on her head and pins it there with a few bobby pins. “Ummm…I disagree. It was the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

  The gentle water splashes up on my feet and ankles before receding again. “I’m sure you have some incredibly flawed reasoning that’s supporting that opinion,” I say, staring off at Mount Otemanu.

  “No offense, but you’re about as affectionate as a great white shark.”

  “Ha,” I laugh. “None taken.”

  “But George changes you,” Samara says. “When before George did you ever make the first move?”

  “Never,” I say after a little deliberation.

  “If you ask me, George is good for you.”

  I hadn’t asked her, but I should have realized the moment I told her about last night that she was going to offer unsolicited advice.

  “If I had the choice between Aiden and George I’d pick George for sure. Those shoulders and that chest,” she says, staring off like she’s imagining him right now in her head.

  I slap her playfully across the arm. “Would you stop picturing George naked for a second so we can have a productive conversation?”

  She smiles slyly.

  “Honestly, I don’t have a choice between the two,” I say. “There’s only George. Aiden has made it pretty clear that whatever we had was a joke and I’m dead to him. More than anything I want to confront him, but I can’t muster the nerve.”

  A sudden laugh rolls out of her. “You faced Zhuang and you can’t get up the courage to find out why some guy is giving you the cold shoulder? You’re ridiculous.”

  “Samara, please don’t make me break your nose again.”

  She gives me a mock look of horror and covers her nose like she’s trying to protect it.

  “Anyway, I’m not sure if I should be with George. Being with him is complicated since he’s always invading my heart. I want to believe it could work, but... And I still have feelings for Aiden. I need to purge those from my system before I commit to anything. That’s what makes me feel so guilty. I wish I would have done that before kissing George. Now I feel shameful.”

  “Yeah, apparently playing hearts runs in your blood,” Samara half jokes.

  “That’s low,” I say, kicking up water on her.

  She jumps back and laughs. Just then I notice a strange man leaning on the railing of his over-the-water hut. It’s odd because he’s staring straight at us, but I know he’s in the physical reality and can’t see us while we’re dream traveling. It must be a coincidence that his eyes follow us all the way down the beach.

  When we tire of walking, which takes a long while, we peel down to our bathing suits and swim. The water is soothing as I slice through the waves.

  “So, I’m going to go back to investigative reporting,” Samara says as she wades.

  “Oh, that’s great!” I say, moving freely with the current.

  “Yeah, I had to be cleared by my therapist. Apparently I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. After a week’s sabbatical in the psych ward I’ve been downgraded to therapy only twice a week,” she says, wiggling her nose.

  “Or you told them what they wanted to hear so they’d release you.”

  “Well, if I told them that I was still having nightmares of stabbing Pearl then I’m fairly certain they would have made me keep up the three-therapy-sessions-a-day routine. It’s impossible to get anything done with that kind of schedule.”

  “How are you feeling now?” I look at her and add, “Honestly?”

  “Good,” she chirps. “Mostly. I mean, I get it. I know I had to kill her. The logical part of my brain accepts this and has already moved on. However, there’s the emotional part of my brain that still can’t come to terms with the actions that made Pearl dead. I replay it in my head on a regular basis and it never computes. The good news is that with each passing day I replay it fewer times than the day before.” She looks at me hopefully. “I think that’s a good sign.”

  I consent with a nod.

  “You know who I spent my afternoons with?” Samara asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Misty. Can you believe it? She’s like a vegetable. She can still move and all, but she hardly ever does. Seriously, she’s like a stone statue. Nothing seems to be going on beneath the surface. She’s this shell of a person. It’s odd. Anyway, we played a lot of Chinese checkers and shockingly I won every single game.”

  The idea of Misty imprisoned in a mind that hardly functions, all because Zhuang was using her to destroy me, makes my stomach churn. Yes, she got under my skin and I could hardly stand to be in the same room with her, but I didn’t want her to become some catatonic, permanent resident of the Institute’s psych ward. What I really wanted was for her to fight Zhuang, but now I know that was never meant to happen.

  “So when do you start investigative reporting?” I ask, trying to shake off the remorse.

  “Tomorrow. Shuman said I can move into the Institute permanently and do it full-time.”

  “Wow! What about your other life?” I ask.

  “Actually I emancipated myself from my mom right before coming to the Institute. I’d been living with friends on and off for a few months prior to that. My mom and I never really got along and my stepfather pretty much hates my guts. I always told my friends that when I’d saved up enough money I was going to New York to be a model. They probably all assume that’s what I’ve done,” she says, now lying on her back, staring off at the ultramarine blue sky.

  I smile, rolling over to my back too. “Well, it sounds like you have a home now.”

  “Yeah, it feels nice.”

  ♦

  About Leaving the Institute

  Bob and Steve

  to Roya Stark

  Dear Roya,

  You didn’t tell us about Chase? Why? From how Trey described it, that was an important part of the events at the Grotte. He informed us that Chase has an unhealthy fascination with you. Furthermore, he thinks, and we both agree, that you would be safer if you remained at the Institut
e. This disappoints us greatly, but your safety comes first. Here, at our place, we can’t offer the same protection that the Institute provides. Chase is dangerous and it makes us nervous that he could want you for some reason.

  We can already sense you rebelling against the message in this email, but also know that if Trey has a concern about Chase then we must take this extremely seriously. Trey is logical and his instincts on these things are never wrong. If he thinks there’s a danger then he’s probably right. Please stay vigilant and guard yourself. Also, write as often as you like. We want to know everything that’s going on with you.

  Love,

  Bob and Steve

  This is Trey’s doing. This is due to his influence. His interference. He does control me more than I thought or was willing to admit. Angry tears well up in my eyes. I push them back with everything I have.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Unconcerned for the early hour I knock on his door. I assume he’s in his office. Sure enough a rustling greets my knock seconds later. Then the door slides back and Trey stands staring at me, bleary-eyed, tired.

  “Hello, Roya.” He looks around behind me like he assumed I wasn’t alone. “Do you want to talk to me?”

  “Briefly.”

  “You can have as much of my time as you like.” He stands back and welcomes me into his office.

  I must have been too panicked when last here. That time I didn’t notice his large wooden desk. I’m not sure how I missed it with its turrets on each side and all the exquisitely engraved details. For some reason it feels like the sturdiest piece of furniture I’ve ever seen. If there was an earthquake, I’d want to be under that thing. It looks indestructible, and also beautifully elegant.

  “It was Flynn’s,” Trey says.

  My head jerks up, wondering if he’s read my thoughts again. His eyes are resting on my hand, which I now realize is tracing along the intricate detail work on the front of the desk.

  “It’s not my style. A bit too ornate, but I wanted to keep it.” A fond nostalgia wrinkles his eyes. He must have respected Flynn very much. Everyone seems to have.