Cheating Time (Longevity, #1)

by T. R. Graves

  * * *

  Lunch and supper were uneventful. I saw more of the Rorie, who took charge of the responsibilities assigned to her by her brother. She adored the ground he walked on and would rather have chopped off both hands than disappoint him or fail at something he went out of his way to get others to agree to allow her to do.

  More interesting to me than anything was the way Rorie and Jayden bonded. If she told him to do something, he treated her like she was his general and he was her soldier. Everything about this turn of events, where she was solidly in charge and ordering around two people who followed her every command, proved that, Down syndrome or not, Rorie was a functional member of our society.

  Putting a face to the genocide, I felt more resentment than ever before over the current state of affairs whereby embryos with genetic defects were aborted by the MicroPharm. Rorie should be the poster child against these types of uninformed actions. I just had to believe there were parents who were as willing as Thorne to work with these babies and help them become as functional as Rorie.

  Even more than being functional, there were things to be learned from Rorie's simple take on every problem. Rather than worry about the ripple effects of every decision, she focused only on the most basic component of her problem, and she worked only on that problem until she had a resolution. She didn't concern herself with something that might happen hours from now, and while there were certainly instances when decisions needed to be thought through for their long-term implications, I knew not every decision needed that kind of time and attention.

  Rorie was nothing short of refreshing, and I understood perfectly why Thorne protected her by keeping her with him. I was sure there were people in the world who would take advantage of the very traits I found most endearing and use them against her.

  Against Thorne.

  I was snapped from my reverie when Jayden came up behind Rorie, grabbed her shoulders in his hands, and said, "Rorie, why don't you let Carlie and me do the dishes? You're the cook. We're the kitchen labor. You've done your part. Let us do ours."

  Rorie looked up at Jayden, and I saw the circles under her eyes that had Jayden putting an end to her day in a way that made it seem like it was the manner all kitchens were run.

  She was too tired to argue. She turned and smiled up at Jayden before saying, "Thank you."

  I'd noticed throughout the day that the more tired she got, the thicker her words were. Her gratitude as expressed to Jayden was louder than normal and uttered as if her tongue blocked the back of her throat. It was obvious Thorne had coached her on the fine art of perfectly articulating her words, using her mouth and tongue to make the words clear, and the importance of keeping her voice low.

  At this moment, we were seeing Rorie unfiltered, the way few people knew her, because Thorne sheltered her in a way that prevented her from getting too close to most people. She had something she wanted to say, and then she wanted to go to bed. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Jayden smiled. "We'll be back at it tomorrow. Go get some rest. We'll see you in the morning."

  Without another word or a backward glance, Rorie shuffled her way toward the door and was gone.

  Jayden glanced over at me and smiled. He was glad we were finally alone.

  "You're good with her," I said.

  Jayden's shoulders bobbed. "I've never seen anyone who worked so hard in my life. There's just so much to learn from her."

  I stopped and turned toward Jayden, admiring him anew.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I was just thinking the same thing. It never occurred to me you would be thinking the same thing as me," I admitted.

  Jayden's grin turned lopsided and he took a few steps toward me, pinning my back against the sink.

  "You and I've had the same thoughts several times now. Usually, when we're wrapped around each other," he whispered into my ears.

  My face flushed, but there was no way to suppress my ear-to-ear grin as I remembered the few times he and I made out. Heavily.

  "You think so?" I tried to pretend I'd not enjoyed every second of his touch, and failed miserably. My giggles told a different story.

  "Like right now," Jayden hummed. "Like me, you're thinking how much better it would be if we were kissing and not washing dishes."

  I shook my head. "No, I'm not, because I know if I do kiss you, I might never finish washing these damn dishes," I said, laughing. "Really… are they multiplying, for goodness sakes?"

  Jayden kissed my neck. In response, I tilted my head to the side and gave him open access. His warm wet breath exhilarated me as much as a ride on a rollercoaster would have.

  Jayden took advantage of my offering, kissing my neck deeper, opening his mouth, and softly drawing me in. My body responded in an unfamiliar fashion. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed the bottom of Jayden's T-shirt, sliding my palms up his stomach and to his chest.

  The Surrogate Soldier's heart racing in pace with my own. Soon, his lips found mine. We kissed long and hard until Jayden's tongue coaxed my lips apart. With him, there just didn't seem to be a way to get close enough, for me to be touching enough of his skin, for us to be together enough.

  Jayden might have kissed me, and it might have been the toe-curling kind, but he didn't push me. My hands were all over him while his remained firmly planted on my hips. With great effort, based on his trembling arms, he was doing everything in his power not to mold his body into mine the way I wanted to do with him.

  Well, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.

  Determined to have him wrap his arms around me and hug me as properly as he was kissing me, I snaked my arms around his back and ran my hands up and down the length of him while squeezing myself as deep into him as he'd allow.

  When I did that, he let out a long, feral moan and did just as I'd wanted, just as I needed. He wrapped his arms around me and slid his hands down to my bottom, pulling me between his legs.

  He pulled his lips away from mine and moved them to my ear. "I know this is wrong, Carlie, but I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone… anything. More than I've wanted my next breath or needed by next heartbeat. Jesus! That's how bad I want you," he whispered hoarsely.

  In response, I rocked into him before curling my head back, closing my eyes, and saying, "It's what I want, too, Jayden. It's not wrong if it's what I want too. Is it?"

  Suddenly sobered, Jayden stilled. He didn't physically pull away from me, but in that instant, there was something that changed between us. I was sure it was the damn promises he'd made to Dad and Mom and the guilt he'd feel if he did anything with me or to me while I was technically under his charge.

  I glanced up at him. His body may have stopped, but his eyes were sparkling jewels of jade. There was no hiding what he still wanted when I stared him down. Eye to eye.

  Irritated and knowing I was about to get a rise out of him, I said, "Jayden, you're no fun at all. You're too serious. Too worried you're not going to live up to your promises. Too much of a soldier."

  As I'd expected, he pulled away. "I was bred to be a soldier. You either like that about me or you don't."

  Jayden was hurt. I reached over to where he'd begun washing dishes and ignoring me.

  "Jayden, I wasn't talking about who you are as a person. That is what I love about you. What I meant is that you're too committed to following Dad's orders because he's your general." I leaned over and whispered into his ear like he'd done me earlier. "The last thing I need right now… is a soldier following orders. I need someone following his instincts… his heart."

  Unromantically keeping his hands in the water, he turned toward me and said, "That's the problem. I keep doing all of these things with you, and the entire time my instincts are telling me it's wrong, that your life will be harder if you're with a Surrogate… You'll be ostracized… You'll never have children… You'll be the one who sacrifices. Not me. Being with you would be a dream come true for me. For you, it
would end up being your worst nightmare. You're just too young and naïve to realize it."

  Before I could dispute him or tell him I didn't care what others think or that I had no intention of having kids anyway, someone behind me cleared his throat. Jayden glanced over my shoulder and his scowl told me exactly who it was. He'd been looking at Thorne with the same contemptuous glare every time he'd seen him.

  "What do you want?" Jayden asked gruffly.

  Proving he wasn't nearly as intelligent as I'd given him credit for in the past, Thorne ignored the clear threat in Jayden's tone and the roll of his muscles.

  "I came to walk Carles back to the infirmary." As if he had a death wish or secret knowledge that he was more powerful than the Surrogate standing before me, he said clearly and concisely, "I'm her physician, and I need to look at her wounds. Make sure they're healing properly. Then I need to refill her MicroPharm. Her monitoring systems are sending out alerts that her reserves are low."

  Jayden's contempt quickly turned into something closer to rage as he chuckled. It almost had me running, and it wasn't even directed at me.

  "If you think you—of all people—are going to see her naked or that you're going to be the one to refill her MicroPharm, you don't have any idea what I'm capable of."

  I knew where Jayden was coming from. I had bites all over my body.

  I put my hand over his soapy warm wrist and for everyone's sake—his, mine, and Thorne's—I reasoned with him. "Jayden, he's been caring for me for days. He's already seen every bite, and I suspect, given my miraculous recovery, he's had to refill my MicroPharm reservoir numerous times."

  I could tell by the hurt way he glanced over at me that he'd not considered any of that a possibility. While I carefully tried to pull my foot out of my mouth, I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  "He's my doctor. Nothing else. If you want to come with us, you can. You can be in the room while he examines me if it will make you feel better."

  I heard Thorne's humph of protest, but I kept my gaze fixed on Jayden. He was my only concern right then.

  "No, it'll be uncomfortable enough without me being in there. After I finish washing the dishes, I'll grab my sleeping bag and lay it out next to you…" He hesitated. "If you don't mind."

  I grinned back at him. "I don't mind at all."

  He nodded.

  Things back at the infirmary tent couldn't have been more awkward between Thorne and me. He led me to his version of an exam room. It had a cot that was higher off the ground than the one I slept on. I assumed its height made his examination easier. On it lay a hospital gown.

  "Strip those clothes and put on that gown. I need to assess all of the wounds," he said, pulling at a curtain that, when released from its hook, divided the exam room from the rest of the infirmary (where Rorie was sleeping soundly) and provided a bare minimum of privacy.

  It was as good as it was going to get for me and I knew it. Rather than act like an immature teenage girl, I sucked in a deep breath and did exactly as Thorne has asked. A few minutes later, my clothes were off and folded on the floor in the corner, and I had the gown on.

  I climbed onto the tall stretcher and said, "I'm ready."

  As soon as the words left my mouth, Thorne pulled the curtain back, stepped through it, and let it fall behind him. He stood staring at me in a way that made me feel like I had on less than the thin gown. Nervous, I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced away from him and his heated stare.

  "Are you cold," he asked, grabbing a sheet from the linen cart against the wall and wrapping it around my shoulders.

  Grateful for the added layer of protection, I took it.

  "Thanks," I murmured.

  "You're acting as if I'm going to take advantage of you, Carles. I've been caring for you for days. I've done nothing more than treat you as a patient, take care of you, help you get better," he said.

  He's hurt.

  "I know. I'm just not a very good patient, Thorne. Not for anyone. Not even my mother. There's just something about the thought of someone looking at me that close that makes me uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with you," I promised.

  He nodded. "I can see that. Just know I won't do anything inappropriate. Right now, I'm your doctor. Not your fiancé," he said before he took my hand in his. "Do you trust me, Carles?"

  The way he asked told me that my opinion of him was important.

  I rolled my eyes. "Of course, Thorne. I trust you. I know you wouldn't do anything inappropriate."

  "Good. Now… lie back. I'm going to start by looking at the bites on your legs. I need to make sure they're healing and that your MicroPharm's antibiotics are working."

  There was something about him and the way he started off the examination by telling me exactly what he was going to be doing that made me feel better, made me feel more comfortable.

  I followed his directions. After I was laid back and waiting for the examination to begin, Thorne grabbed another sheet and covered my legs. Then he uncovered and pulled from beneath it only the leg he needed to examine. Deciding he required more light, he slid an examination light from the corner, turned it on, and directed it toward my legs.

  It was blinding. I couldn't see anything he was doing, but Dear Lord, I could feel it. His touch on my bare leg was gentle. He stroked the area around each wound. He was inspecting them so intensely that I could even feel his breath on my legs as he moved from toe to inner thigh, where apparently—and much to my humiliation—there was at least one wound.

  There was no way for me to hold still when he made it to that injury. It was too close to a very intimate part of my body for my comfort.

  "I'm sorry, Carles. This wound seems to be faring the worst. I'm going to need to put some antibiotic ointment on it, and then I'll need to refill your MicroPharm reserves," he said, gently stroking the area. In response, a fluttering of butterflies burst up and tried to escape from my stomach.

  Oblivious to my reaction, Thorne glided his stool from the stretcher over to a cart and opened the top drawer. It took a second or two of digging, but eventually, he found what he was looking for. With a full-fledged grin on his face, he turned back to me, holding a tube similar to the ones Jayden carried in his bags just in case he was inspired to paint.

  Thorne squirted a line of the clear ointment onto a sterile gauge and dipped his gloved finger into it. There might have only been one wound that looked like it was getting infected, but he treated each and every one. He used the same gentleness applying the medication that he'd used during his assessment.

  While he was busy being my doctor, I focused on the ceiling of the tent. I studied the pole that soared up the middle and made a point in the center. During my musings, geared toward thinking of anything but Thorne and what he was doing, I decided if the tent's fabric were red and white, it would be more Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey than medical infirmary.

  The mere thought of a circus made me smile. It was a tradition in my family, one that involved me and Dad and no one else. We'd gone to the circus once a year for every year of my life. It was the only time I could imagine Dad as a little boy. He grinned widely and watched every trick with the wonderment of a child who was seeing it all for the first time.

  He and I went early and stayed late. We ate treats denied us the rest of the year. Because of the everything-in-moderation rule, Aspects weren't allowed to gorge themselves on the sweetness of air-light cotton candy, the saltiness of buttery popcorn, the greasiness of meaty corndogs, or the decadence of the powdered sugar funnel cakes very often.

  On the day more special to me than Christmas, Dad and I did just that, swearing that long before we could be flagged by the Aspects for our overindulgence and put on restrictions, we'd flush the remnants of the unhealthy food from our bodies by drinking gallons of water and enduring several days of fasting. The days following—with only water to drink and no food to eat—were absolutely miserable, but nothing, not even our self-inflicted punishment, was enough to keep us a
way the next year.

  "What, pray tell, about me treating your wounds has you grinning like that?" Thorne asked, and when I glanced down, he was still focusing on the wounds in such a way I couldn't believe he'd taken one eye off of his job.

  I shrugged. "I was just remembering how much I love circuses."

  He stopped, completely stopped, what he was doing and furrowed his brow. "What about this treatment is making you think about the circus?"

  Thorne had pulled me from my reverie and I was no longer remembering wonderful times, no longer smiling. Instead, I was thinking about how much I missed Dad, how much I missed Mom, Gran, Tawney. I missed my family, and it was bad enough to make the butterflies that were flitting around in my stomach earlier grow savage and wild and feel like they were attacking me from the inside and trying to escape.

  I didn't say anything. I just turned my head to the side and studied the linen cart full of white towels, blue gowns, and bags for dirty laundry.

  "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was curious. I shouldn't have said anything." Thorne apologized before refocusing his attention on treating my wounds.

  He covered the leg he'd been working on and uncovered the other. Before I thought it through, I tilted up and got my own look at my legs. The wounds, the bruising, and the chance of scarring were exactly as I'd remembered from earlier in the day.

  "Will I ever be able to wear a swimsuit again?" I groaned.

  Thorne's lips quirked to the side. "You almost died, and that's your biggest concern?"

  "No. It's not, but being shallow for just a few minutes keeps my mind off my family. I'm real worried about them," I confessed.

  He bobbed his head. "If Rorie wasn't with me, I think I might go crazy. I'd worry about her every second."

  "Yeah. That's what it's like, but you try to think of other things. You try to pretend it's not bothering you. Then you look up at the top of a tent and remember how much you love circuses and how much fun your dad is when you go. Then all of your defenses drop away and you're back to Crazyville. You're back worrying about something you have no power over," I murmured.

  Thorne reached his hand out for me to take so I could sit up. There were still plenty more wounds on my arms and neck for him to assess and treat, and he didn't waste any time getting to work on them.

  "At least now I know where the thoughts of the circus came from."

  "Were you afraid I was losing it?" I asked, acknowledging once again there was something about Thorne that was comforting. And safe.

  Healing was definitely his calling. I planned to be a doctor one day. Only, I wanted my profession to be more microscopes and research labs than hands-on patient care. Based on what Thorne had told me, he had a long history of researchers in his family. I knew how passionate researchers could be and would be willing to bet they were encouraging him to follow in their footsteps.

  "You're good with patients. Don't ever give up direct patient care," I blurted.

  Thorne chuckled. "I'm glad you think so. You seem to be all over the map with your thoughts and your emotions. Can I ask where that random thought came from?"

  "I've had a rough week. I'm sorry for the emotional instability. Though, I've been told being unpredictable and temperamental is normal for teenagers."

  "It's common for the rest of the world. MicroPharms have made teenage mood swings almost nonexistent. There are those who consider your mother a hero for that fact alone," Thorne said.

  "The reason I said you shouldn't give up patient care is because you're very good at what you do. You have a talent for making someone comfortable when they're uncomfortable. You're patient when explaining what you're doing and why. I think there should be more doctors like you in the world. If there were, I might not be afraid to see them," I explained.

  Humph. "My family has other plans for me, Carles. Much the way yours plans for you to become a famous genealogist. Mine expects me to partner with you—in more ways than one—and have my family's name associated with the next big thing. You. They plan for us to invent something bigger than MicroPharm. Something bigger than MediTech. Something bigger than Genetic Aging. My father has demanded you and I work together to solve the world's problems through ingenuity and inventiveness."

  I wanted to laugh when Thorne took on his father's deep baritone and mimicked someone slamming his fist against an invisible table or desk. As much as I respected Thorne, I wasn't sure I was going to have the same connection with his father, not after hearing he wanted to terminate Rorie in utero and not after seeing him through Thorne's eyes as he mocked him. It seemed to me that he was hardened, callous, and entirely too hard on his son. I just didn't get the feeling he was as good of a man as Thorne.

  I shook my head. "Those shoes are too big for either of us to fill. You do realize that, right?"

  "What do you mean? There are so many things that need to be invented and investigated," he reasoned.

  "Like what?"

  "You and I could discover the cure for cancer. Wouldn't it be wonderful? It's eluded researchers for centuries. What if you and I isolated one of its universal traits, created a vaccination, and cured cancer?"

  Thorne's excited words were sobering because with them, I remembered Tawney's diagnosis. Tawney's fate.

  I cleared my throat and looked away from him.

  "I-I'd like to be able to one day claim that as one of my accomplishments, but if Mom and Gran haven't been able to create a cure, I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to achieve something that miraculous."

  "That's the thing. Together, we can. We were born and bred to do just that."

  Thorne was passionate and emphatic. It was as if he knew things I didn't, and he wanted to share them with me so bad that they were about to burst from him. He was simply waiting for me to be ready.

  When I didn't ask questions, he seemed disappointed but didn't push me. Instead, he reverted back into the physician caring for me rather than the man born to sell me on a future where I'm the one changing the world. Not Mom or Gran. It wasn't something I could buy into just yet.

  I'm not even seventeen years old, for goodness sake.

  "I need to refill the reservoir of your MicroPharm. Then I need to scan it for viruses. After that, we'll be finished and you can get some rest."

  "'Kay," I mumbled.

  I'd only realized afterward that Thorne would have to pull the front of my gown down and almost fully expose my breasts in order to do the refill and then the scan. I was back to being just as nervous as I'd been at the beginning of the examination.

  "I-I'm sure it still has plenty of microparticles in it, Thorne. You don't need to do the refill," I insisted.

  "Don't be nervous, Carles. I'm not going to hurt you or do anything that is in the least bit inappropriate. Besides, I've refilled it at least three times since you've been here. I've respected your privacy every single time I've had to do anything with your MicroPharm. This time won't be any different," he reasoned.

  I knew I was being silly. Thorne might be an ethereally beautiful man, but he was decent. He wouldn't dare take advantage of me or the position he was in as my physician.

  "Can you just make it fast so…?" I started but couldn't really figure out how to say what I was thinking.

  So I won't be embarrassed as you see my battered and bruised body for what it really is.

  So the earlier and much kinder butterflies won't come back for a visit.

  So I won't be reminded how unbelievably gentle you are when you touch me.

  Thorne's response came in the form of action. He lowered my gown after giving me another sheet to hold up so I could make sure my body remained covered and I felt respected.

  I didn't need to look down to know what he found. Like every other MicroPharm recipient, I had a dime-sized nodule right above my heart. Beneath the skin was a port-a-cath where the MicroPharm particles could be injected. From the device, they would travel to the MicroPharm, where, when necessary, they could be combined and customized in
a way that kept my body in the perfect state at all times.

  Decades ago, drugs were compounded one type at a time and administered orally or through individual injections. Now, all of the components for every drug known to man existed in the form of microparticles that could be mixed together and injected at regular intervals. Depending on the circumstances and illness, the particles required to resolve the symptom/illness—as choreographed by the MicroPharm chip's readings and diagnoses—combined and were released directly into the veins using a gel-like dissolvable capsule called a MicroShip.

  MicroShips were important when it came to shuttling and releasing the drugs exactly where they needed to go. Again, Mom and Gran thought of everything and knew how important it was for a drug's distribution to be as precise as possible. The MicroShip gave them the ability to ensure the drugs targeted the cells or organ with the precision never seen before MicroShip's invention and in such a perfect way that pharmaceutical side effects were minimized. Quite nearly nonexistent.

  As if he'd heard the plea in my voice and his only goal in life was to make me happy, Thorne finished the refill and the virus scan in record time. I wasn't sure Mom, the device's inventor, would have been able to beat him in a timed race. Afterward, he pulled my gown back up and tied it around my neck.

  "Done. That wasn't so bad. Was it?"

  I rolled my eyes. "No. I've already told you you're good at this. You've just proven you're the best at refills. Maybe even better than Mom," I admitted.

  "You're kidding me?" Thorne asked, surprised.

  "Yes, you are. I'll have to tell her next time I see her. I really mean it. Thanks. You made this as painless as possible. I appreciate it."

  This time, Thorne laughed thoroughly. "You're welcome, Carles. Though… I'd prefer something like you're wonderful with your hands, or you're the best doctor I've ever let lay hands on me, or Thorne, I'm eternally in love with you after that examination. Can I have your baby? Really, any of those responses would have been sufficient."

  There was something hilarious about the reserved doctor before me insisting I praise him like a god and that I—cough, cough, cough—beg him to let me have his baby that struck me funny. Like him, I laughed out loud.

  "In your dreams," I said, shaking my head and pushing him away from me so I could hop off the stretcher.

  He grabbed my hand in his and squeezed it to his chest and said, "Yeah, for the last four days, that has been my dream."

  "What's going on here?" Jayden's thunderous voice ripped through the tent and uprooted our good-natured kidding with enough force to remind me that Thorne's flirting with me was dangerous for him. Jayden could kill him in an instant.

  "Damn Surrogate," Thorne mumbled under his breath.