Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (32 page)

“What’s your point?” I ask, feeling restless staring at the flashing lights all around me.

“Well, I get that kind of thing from most people so it’s pretty normal,” she says.

“So?” I pontificate, wondering where this is going.

“Well, George’s thoughts aren’t just ‘disrupted.’ That isn’t the right word.” Samara takes in a breath and then says, “Maybe ‘invaded’ is a better one.”

“I’m only going to ask this one last time,” I say, watching a jumbotron screen overhead. “What’s your point?”

“My point is George can’t do his job properly because, from the way I see it, he’s overwhelmed and can’t concentrate.”

“Seems like he’s doing all right,” I say, breathless.

“He’s managing,” Samara says. “But he’s totally distracted and it’s affecting him.”

“What do we do about it?” I ask, my frustration increasing as I unsuccessfully search for a ripple.

“We help him alleviate the problem.” Samara’s words sound uncertain.

“How?”

“That’s what I’m doing now,” she says.

“How?” I sound like a broken record.

“By telling you this.”

I go stiff.

“Wherever I track his thoughts I always find a trace of you there. I know I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Samara says, sounding only half apologetic. “But I also have read his thoughts enough to know the torment is an emotional battlefield he’s tired of dealing with. He wants you to know. He can’t stand it that you don’t know. All the time he thinks about telling you this…” Samara trails off in an exasperated hush.

“What?” I ask, wanting to hear more.

“I shouldn’t say anything.” Samara’s tone is regretful.

“Then why have you said this much?!”

“I don’t know,” she almost cries. “I guess, because I’m human. I know how humans think. I know what it feels to want someone and not have the guts to tell them.”

Cars pass in a blur and all around me people jostle by. My heart beats quickly. “Thanks, Samara, I guess it’s time we dealt with this. We can’t have a disrupted team member.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she says.

“I bet you did,” I say.

Then she says, “Sydney Opera House, Australia. Present.”

“Damn, that boy moves fast,” I spurt.

“I’m going to ring off,” she says.

“Well then, I guess our training is done?” I fail to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“You two need privacy,” Samara says. “And besides, I’ve got to get something done before morning.”

“Fine,” I say as I move through the tunnel, nervous about confronting George. Maybe this whole thing is better left alone.

“Roya?” Samara says.

“What?” I’m confused why I’m so irritated by her right now.

“I’m sorry if it was wrong to tell you, I was just following my instinct.”

“It’s too late for regrets,” I say, standing at the top of a long row of stairs. The water in the distance radiates light and reflects off the building. A click in my ear tells me Samara has dropped off, leaving me alone with George. He sits a dozen steps down.

“Are you taking a break?” I ask as I approach.

“Thought you could use one,” George says with a concerned look when I take a seat next to him.

“You’re good,” I say, taking in a full breath. “And tough to track. If it wasn’t for Samara then I’d be lost.”

“Is she still on the line?” George asks.

“Nope, she has laundry or dishes to do.”

George’s shoulder brushes mine as he leans forward. He places his elbows on his knees and tucks his chin into his chest. Every time I look at him I notice something small in his features I hadn’t noted before. Right now the strong line of his jaw is soaking up my attention. Maybe it was wrong for Samara to tell me George’s secrets. Honestly I’m drawn to him, but anything between us isn’t straightforward or simple.

“You’re staring at me,” George says, still focusing on the ground.

“Sorry.” I flush and focus forward. “I was just wondering if you’re all right. You seem distracted.”

“Do I?”

I draw back. “I just sense there’s something you’re not telling me.”

His eyes meet mine and I’m almost sure he knows I’m lying, knows Samara has breached his trust. It’s a shadow of an expression, but it flickers through me, instantly causing guilt.

“There are two things I need to tell you.” George looks contemplative. “The first is the way you make me feel.”

My breath seizes momentarily as I wait for him to continue.

“You’ll remember you had a disruptive effect on me when we first met.”

“Before I wore the frequency adjuster?” I ask between gentle beats of the water.

“Yes,” George confirms.

Maybe Samara got it wrong. Maybe George thinks about me so much because if I’m not wearing the adjuster then I’m deadly to him. Maybe it isn’t attraction, but rather repulsion?

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” I say, holding the adjuster between my fingertips.

“There’s something different about you.”

The sigh that escapes my lips is automatic, but my words are calculated. “Look, I’m not evil, but it’s possible I’m dysfunctional. That’s probably why I have such a weird effect on you.”

George chews on his lip, his eyes still intently pinned on his feet. His silence gathers in me, lighting a fuse to a bomb in my chest.

“Are you still there?” I finally say.

George turns and stares at me. I refuse to meet his gaze fully, afraid of what those placid eyes will do to me. “Roya, I feel things most people can’t.” He stops deliberating on something and then says, “Before you wore the adjuster your frequency stunned me. Now I feel your emotions and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. There’s something in you that fills me up to a capacity I can hardly manage. There’s something about you. It takes over a room. I’ve watched you do it dozens of times.” He pauses, a faint smile etched on his lips. “And the most poetic part of it is you don’t see it. You have absolutely no idea the kind of effect you have on people.”

His words open a hole in me. It’s small, but light, hot and bright, pours through. I allow my eyes to connect with his; instantly I’m locked. My heart steadily picks up speed until I break the trance.

I turn my attention to the rippling water. “You’re right, I don’t see it. And none of that explains why my frequency overwhelms you. What’s wrong with me?”

George takes a deep breath. “The way I read emotions is by picking up on the subtle changes in frequencies. I think the reason you interfere with my ability to read emotions, the reason you create interference in my head, is that the rate at which your frequency vibrates isn’t subtle. And I can tell you firsthand there’s nothing subtle about the shifts in your emotions. I’m sensitive. That’s how I’m made, and you…. overwhelm me.”

He’s poised, like a statue of himself, watching me, gauging my reaction.

Cool night air wraps around my arms and legs and I count the seconds before he speaks again. “I think you and I meeting was destiny.”

“What does destiny have to do with this?” Fatigue creeps into my words.

“I’m unaware of many people who do what I can. And I’m fairly certain there aren’t many people who vibrate at the level you do. What are the chances two people like you and I would meet?” George’s words twist around me like vines.

“And that’s fate? How?” I ask.

“Roya, I can’t tell you how many emotions I’ve felt in other people. Maybe thousands. Maybe more. You lose track, the same way you lose track of the words you’ve heard spoken.” He reaches out, taking my hand from its resting place on my lap. “Being with you, it’s the first time I ever remember experiencing emotion of my own. Your existence brings everything to light for me. It makes my dark conscious. It gives color to the light. Meeting someone who does what you do to me is fate. It must be.”

How can I respond to those words? There’s no way.

“I’m not responsible for any of this,” I finally say. “I wish I was. I’m just a girl who showed up and gave you a migraine.” The laugh that escapes my lips feels fake. “I’m not as important as you’re making me out to be.”

“That’s because you’re always doubting yourself.” He guides my hand until it rests against his chest. My heart flutters. “Somehow I’m going to prove to you that our meeting is more than coincidence, it’s synchronization. It’s destiny.”

I’m an anchor and he is the sea and I sink into his tenderness as he presses my hand to his heart. I lean forward, now only slightly perched on the edge of the stair. My face sits in empty space watching him, waiting. Something drifts across George’s face. He squeezes my hand once and leans into me, but at the wrong angle, the wrong height. His lips graze my forehead.

Disappointment unravels in my stomach. With the little energy I have left I push it down, hoping he can’t feel it.

“George,” I say, pulling back. “You said there were two things concerning you. What’s the second?”

The warmth in his face turns serious. “The second is about the way I make you feel.”

I don’t respond, but just hold George’s gaze.

He pulls my hand onto his outstretched leg. “Does it bother you that I know what you’re feeling?” he asks bluntly.

“That isn’t a fair question,” I say at once. “What you do is just another sense. That’s like asking if it bothers me that you can see or hear or feel me.”

“What I do is more complex than the other five senses.” His tone is straightforward, but there’s an edge to it. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he says with a clipped frustration.

The air around us changes in an instant. “Why are you even asking me this question?” I say skeptically. “Don’t you already know the answer?”

George sighs and stares off into the distance. “Most people are irritated that they can’t mask their emotions from me. My gift has ruined every single relationship I’ve ever had.”

Like a tidal wave it hits me, blunt and hard and all encompassing. George has always had the upper hand in any relationship, which gives him all the power. He knows how the other person feels before they even voice it, taking the element of uncertainty out of romance. Would being with George be impossible? I want to believe it would be incredible, but is that a fantasy? And while I process all of this, I know George is too. He’s processing me and maybe that
is
unfair. How can he know how I feel before I even get a chance to?

“I’m torn.” George chews on his bottom lip. “It’s my ability to read your emotions which draws me to you so completely, but I know this is the very same thing which can ruin this.”

I blink a few times, trying to push down the melancholy his words create. “Maybe it won’t,” I say. “It could make us more connected.”

George gives a small, heartbroken smile. “Maybe, but in my experience it creates more obstacles. You’ll come to resent me for spying on your emotions and I’ll go paranoid.”

“Paranoid? Why?”

“I feel your fleeting desires, your secrets, the things you should be able to keep hidden. And if you throw up a wall, then I know there’s something you’re trying to hide. It all makes me paranoid.”

The realization is cold once it settles over me, like a cape made of ice. He knows my secrets, those hidden insecurities, the darkest parts of me. He knows my desires, the ones I covet and protect, unable to properly deal with right now. He knows about Aiden. “Why are we having this discussion? This is ridiculous.”

“Roya, you have the right to know how I feel about you and to know I know how you feel. I don’t want either one of us to get hurt.” His words end abruptly and I listen, thinking he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say. Why do we have to figure everything out right now?”

“Roya, I’m just being honest.” Gloom clings to each of his words.

“Okay, then I will too. I’m overwhelmed right now. I have no idea if you and I have a future and that’s mostly because I don’t think I
have
much of a future.” I stop to contain myself. “Can’t we just enjoy the moment? Can’t we figure this all out later?”

George regards me for a long time. His tourmaline eyes lighten, but the prior reservation still masks his face. He leans forward and places a soft kiss on my cheek. “Sure,” he breathes into my ear.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“S
eriously, I’m begging you,” I plead, holding my hands together. “I promise if you do this, then I won’t ever ask you to do anything ever again.”

“That’s a big fat lie.” Joseph laughs. “You forget I see the future.”

“Fine, let’s bargain for it. What do you want?” I ask, impatient to get my way.

“Oh no, li’l sis. There’s no bargaining. I told ya plain and simple, I won’t do it. This is your deal.” Joseph fails to hide the pleasure he’s getting out of making me beg.

“How do you know I’m the younger sibling? We’re twins and our birth is a big cover-up from the Institute,” I say.

“I wasn’t referring to you in birth order. You’re smaller than me and therefore you’re the ‘little’ one. If you want to change that title then start eating something besides rabbit food.”

“Don’t go changing the subject,” I scold.

“You’re taking your anger out on me. I think we both know who you really want to direct it at, so why don’t you?”

“I really don’t think I’m ready to face him right now,” I almost whimper, trying to suppress the dull ache.

“I know.” Joseph’s tone changes, becoming softer, less playful. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to.”

I scowl at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Something behind Joseph’s eyes skirts away, but not before I realize he’s hiding something. Maybe a vision. Maybe just another one of his games. It’s hard to say with him. I glare at him for a long minute and then soften my expression. “Please.”

“This is a good lesson for you.” He pushes up off the bed, taking a long glance in the mirror. I swear if I wanted to distract him all I’d have to do is put his reflection in front of him and he’d be lost for days. He pushes a few stray golden hairs back into place and says, “When I say I won’t do somethin’ I mean it. I’m not a pliant piece of wood you can bend in whatever direction you choose. I’m the one person in this place who can resist your influence.”