Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2) (10 page)

He takes the seat next to mine, giving me a flirtatious look. I’m all nerves and anticipation.

“How do I get you to do
that
more often?” he asks.

“What?”

“Smile. You don’t do it as much as you should.”

I hadn’t realized that I was smiling but of course this whole surprise date has lifted my mood considerably.

“So how do we play this game?”

Aiden shuffles the deck. “It’s very simple. The object is to have the most spades when the game is over, hence the name. I’ll deal us both out some cards, and there’s also a center stack. I’ll go first because I’m the oldest. Then—”

“Wait, that doesn’t seem fair.”

“Please don’t interrupt your elder,” he scolds with a smile. “Anyway, you can pick up from the card that’s upturned or pull from the pile, but you must always discard.”

I nod. Sounds a bit like gin rummy.

“Now when someone lays down five or more spades then the other person has to pick up the discard pile. That is, unless it’s your birthday month then you have one free pass. And if you don’t have five spades then you can throw down three and make your opponent pick up three from the discard pile. Oh, and if you want to pick up a few extra from either the deck or the upturned cards then all you have to do is have a straight flush of any other suit. Then you’re—”

“Do you have any idea how to actually play this game?” I suppress the urge to laugh, although I’m losing my resolve.

Dealing out some cards, he smirks. “I read the rules. They’re lame…so I added some of my own.”

After the last card is thrown out he says, “All right you have thirteen cards and I have twelve because I’m the dealer.”

I scowl at him, fanning the multitude of cards out in front of my face.

Aiden takes a card from the deck and discards. “So, Roya, what are your plans once you leave the Institute?”

I take a card and throw away a two of diamonds. “I’m going to do the reality TV circuit.”

“Oh, is that all?”

I nod.

“And after you grow bored of that, as I’m sure you will? What are your plans?”

I sigh. “I crave some normalcy, so I’m going to bathe in that until I grow tired of it. Then I’ll apply to college. I’m looking into a degree in comparative literature. Stanford has an exceptional program. I’m hoping Trey can write me a reference letter; maybe say something about my role in freeing the population’s consciousness from Zhuang’s greedy hands.”

“Oh, that would get you in without ever having to take the entrance exams.”

“Hmmm…Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Aiden?”

“Yes.” He looks at me expectantly.

I throw down five spades. “Time for you to add some cards to your hand.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your plans all sound great and all...”

“But…”

“But, couldn’t you do them here?”

“What am I supposed to do, dream travel to class? I’m certain my professors won’t go for that. ‘Yes, I’ll be there even if you don’t see me. Trust me.’”

He smirks. “I’m just saying, couldn’t you find a way to do what you want and also stay here?”

“This coming from the guy who puts his career at the forefront of everything, and never compromises anything for it?”

He takes a frustrated breath, then throws down three cards.

“Is that all you got?” I tease.

“Oh, just you wait.”

The air between us grows quiet, interrupted only by the slapping of our cards as we lay them on the table or pick them up.

“Aiden, this place is suffocating me right now. I have to get away. You understand that, right?”

He stops. Puts down his cards and stares at me across the table. There’s such earnestness in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I continue, my nerves humming in my chest. “The people who raised me aren’t my real family. They’re all I’ve ever known. It feels like everything is wrong. My whole life has been a lie. I have so many questions and every time I try to dissect them I get nowhere. I thought Joseph could help me, but he’s…lost. I need to figure out who I am. Please tell me you can understand that.”

He swallows. A rawness fills the space between us. “Yes, of course,” he says. Regret coats his words and I don’t believe for a minute that he understands, or maybe I don’t want him to. Maybe I want him to make me stay, make me need to stay.

“Oops,” he chirps a moment later. “I forgot the music. I’ll be back momentarily.”

Under the bowl of grapes and cherries is a stack of books. I set the fruit to the side and pick up the book on top right as a gentle drum beat echoes from the speakers. It’s soon met by the soft plucking of a guitar. The rhythm is enchanting, calming. The voice that accompanies the instruments is deep, perfectly smooth, and overflowing with soul. I close my eyes and let the chords of the piano wash over me. It feels like I’ve heard this melody a thousand times, but I know this is the first. Opening my eyes I smile as Aiden strolls back in my direction. He returns the smile, eyes bright.

“Gregory Alan Isakov,” he says, answering the question I was about to ask. “I never tire of listening to his music. It has depth.”

I tap the book I took from the stack. “
Entanglement, The Greatest Mystery in Physics,
” I read from the cover of the book. “Light reading to help you drift off at night?”

A relaxed grin spreads along his mouth. Instantly he’s in one hundred percent Head Scientist mode, passion lighting his eyes, and a thrill in his tone. “Actually, it’s very easy stuff to understand.” He takes a seat on the sofa that sits in the study area on the opposite wall. It’s ensconced with shelves of books and objects. “Come here and I’ll show you a diagram that will make it crystal clear.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I say to mask my hesitation as I take the seat next to him on the dark leather couch.

He flips expertly through the book, like he has all 300 pages memorized.

“Ever heard about the double slit experiment?”

I shake my head.

“How about Schrodinger’s cat?”

Another shake.

“Particle theory?” There’s an edge of doubt in his voice.

“Nope,” I say.

Aiden rubs his hands together, eyes eager. “That means I have the very privileged honor of blowing your mind with quantum physics. Yes!”

You’d think he just won the lottery, with so much giddy excitement oozing out of him.

“I’m ready to have my mind blown,” I say.

Provocatively he narrows his eyes. “Well,” he draws out the word. “Let’s start with entanglement. It’s what I centered my dissertation on. Simply put, the theory states that when two particles have an interaction then they become intertwined. The result to this is whatever happens to one particle will have an effect on the other. And it doesn’t matter how far the particles are separated from one another. They are forever entangled.”

A chill runs down my spine. I’m at a loss as to why, but it’s similar to the way I feel after déjà vu. “That’s crazy. How’s that possible?”

“The quantum world makes all sorts of impossible things possible,” he says enthusiastically.

“You truly love what you do, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Have you always been this way? Passionate about science? Bordering on obsessed?”

A smile tugs on his perfect mouth. “Yes.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Science, my work, is like music. I feel like an artist driven to create. And I fear that if I don’t push myself then I might die with something really great inside me. That would be the worst possible thing to ever happen.”

I gulp. That makes sense. Perfect sense. Yet it’s heartbreaking for some reason. How can you ever know if you were done, if you’d created your legacy or if you died before you finished?

“Hasn’t there ever been anything else? A hobby? A sport?”

He shakes his head. Maybe this complex guy really is simple after all.

“Even when you were growing up?” I ask.

He shakes his head again, still looking at me intently like he’s having a different conversation in his mind, something secret about me.

“Where
did
you grow up?”

“Here,” he says, shutting the book.

My eyes widen with surprise. “What? I thought that wasn’t possible. Trey said…” I trail off, trying to make sense of that idea.

“I was a special case,” Aiden says.

“Obviously.” I’m hoping he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. “So you really spend all your time working?” I ask again, still disbelieving that this handsome, extraordinarily suave guy doesn’t hang out at clubs every weekend.

“I do. I never let anything distract me…until now.” He looks down at me under hooded eyes.

“What about your family?” I ask. “Don’t you spend time with them?”

He shakes his head, this time sharply. It’s a slight movement, but it means something powerful.

Is he like me? A transplant? An orphan?

“Did the Lucidites take you away from your parents too?”

“No. I grew up with them.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” There’s a pause. “They’re dead.”

My face probably says exactly what I’m feeling. Aiden shakes his head again. He doesn’t want my pity. Doesn’t need it. Maybe he’s more like me than I give him credit for. Maybe he’s not all smiles. He opens the book again and flips to another page. He’s reading, trying to find a certain passage or page, but I’m reading him. I feel him desperately trying to avoid the topic we’ve approached. It’s his weak spot, and I gather he doesn’t have many of those. Right now in this space, I feel a brand new pull to him. I’ve always been drawn to his features, his brilliance, his laughter, his passion. But right now I’m attracted to his pain. It makes him human. It makes him real. It makes him something he hardly ever is to me: accessible.

I touch his hand as it thumbs through the book, drawing his attention to me, away from his thoughts. He hasn’t composed himself after our conversation and traces of the pain still lurk in his eyes. We’re frozen in time for a moment, watching each other. I want to pull him to me, but I just stay gripped on his hand, his eyes.

Aiden runs his bottom lip under his top teeth. There’s a shift in the air. His grip slips from mine as he leans forward; the book clatters to the floor. A warm hand slides along my neck until he cups the back of my head. I rush into his lips, wishing he’d kissed me earlier, so ecstatic to kiss him now. My lips part under his hungry pressure. I push back on the couch, letting him direct the space we occupy. Together. His other hand finds mine, entangles in my fingers and guides it to the cushion lying behind my head. Hovering above me, he strokes my neck and glides his lips along mine. Maybe it’s the sensitivity of the conversation that launched us into this moment, but I suddenly feel wild. Bewitched. By him. By what we are when we’re together.

Aiden eases back, separating us. He hovers over me looking intense, almost frazzled as he whispers, “Tell me…please tell me you feel this too.”

There’s no question to what he’s referring. Never in my life have I felt something so pure. So dynamic. It has color and texture. Like a volt of electricity. It’s the charge I feel when his lips touch mine. I bite my lip and nod. “Yes,” I whisper.

Satisfaction flickers across his eyes. “Good.” He dips down and kisses me again, but this time gently, brandishing his lips so lightly against mine, each touch accompanied by a tiny spark. Having been electrocuted before I never thought electricity could feel good, but this current between us is amazing. Intriguing. Stimulating. He slides back enough that I see the blue of his eyes again.

“Roya, I really do understand why you’re leaving. I do.” Fingers brush the hair back from my face. “I’m being selfish for wanting you to stay, but I almost lost you once and I can’t imagine it happening again. I’m not going to complicate things by asking you to stay, but I also want you to know where I stand. Whatever you do I support you one hundred percent.”

“Will you dream travel to meet me?” My question is loaded with hope. “At least every now and then,” I add.

Disappointment falls on his face before he recovers. “Of course.”

“Good.”

My free hand knots in his shirt, yanking him back to me—urgent to feel his lips again. Heat rushes down my body as he trails hungry kisses along my chin and neck. My heavy breaths catch in his ear. Hands I forgot I possessed tug against his waistband, pulling him closer into me, zipping up all space between us. A satisfied grunt reverberates against my neck. I’ve never wanted anything more than what comes next in this moment. I’m starving for it.

He breaks away, a crazed look in his heated eyes. “Although budget meetings feel like they last an eternity, they really don’t,” he says, panting. “You should go very soon.”

I pout and press into him.

Aiden growls in my ear. Nibbles my lobe. I respond by ever so gently trailing my fingertips up his lean back. He shivers. I’m about to press my lips to his again when he grabs my free hand and locks it above my head with the other one, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.

“Ms. Stark, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

“You don’t even need to try, but the point that you are is making it increasingly difficult to resist you.”

I peer up at my restrained hands above my head. “Is this you resisting me? Because it looks like you’re trying to make me resist you.”

Aiden leans in closer and howls quietly, his breath stroking my cheek. One single kiss graces my lips before he rocks back, taking a seat on the far side of the couch. “I still have to work here even after you’ve gone skipping off to Texas. So against my every desire I have to insist you leave.”

“You don’t
have
to work here,” I suggest. “There are other, non-corrupt, places you could find employment.”

He gives me a tempting smile. “We both know I’m not suited for the real world.”

Chapter Fourteen

T
o my astonishment, the Institute is actually paying me for my news reports. I thought it was charity work or my exchange for room and board. A bank account has already been set up for me and the Institute is depositing $400 into it for each of my reports. Being paid to news report actually puts a new pressure on the job. It was easier to deliver stories when I thought I was giving away information. Now it’s weird knowing whatever I report equates to cash. Still, that anxiety doesn’t deter me. I love news reporting and will miss it like crazy when I leave. I’ve never had a job. Hell, as a kid I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now I’m a member of an elite department and making more in a week than my fake father makes in a month.