Undiscovered (Unremembered #1.5)(13)

When I reluctantly broke away, her purple eyes were ablaze. Her face was flushed. Her hair was tousled and drenched. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been twisting my fingers in it.

“Kiss,” she repeated, this time with more of an appreciation than a curiosity. A smile danced on her lips, which I longed to kiss again.

Kiss forever.

“Yes,” I replied, my breathing still heavy.

“I like it,” she decided.

“I love you.” The words came out of my mouth before I could think about them. Before I could stop them. But as soon as I’d said them, I knew I wouldn’t have stopped myself if I could.

Because it was the truth.

“I know you don’t understand what that means,” I rushed to say, “but just know that it means something important. You mean something important.”

“I understand,” she said quietly, and I felt the relief wash over me.

Because I knew, even if they took this—and they would—I would still have it. I would guard it with my life.

I would hold this memory safe. For both of us.

I kissed her again. This time with delicacy. As though I were being careful not to shatter this fragile moment.

“Zen,” she breathed as our lips parted.

I looked at her, my eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s a word,” she explained. “I read it in one of the texts you brought me. It means—”

“At peace,” I answered.

“Like you.”

I shook my head, still confused.

“Lyzender.”

Hearing my name on her tongue nearly made me lose my balance.

“Are you saying I’m at peace?” I asked, a doubtful grin on my still-tingling lips. If anything I was the opposite. I was always angry. Always frustrated. Always disturbing the peace. Ask any authoritative figure on this compound.

“I’m saying you make me feel at peace.”

I closed my eyes, soaking in her words, her sweet voice. And that’s when I realized that she had never seen that other part of me. She didn’t know that angry, bitter person who terrorized the compound. Because whenever I was here, that part of me simply ceased to exist. It evaporated into the parched desert air. I was a better person here with her.

A zen person.

The memory of my mother’s departure flashed through my mind.

“However long it takes.”

Those were my mother’s last words to me. And I heard them ringing in my ears as I reluctantly left Seraphina alone on the porch and disappeared back into the dark night.

They were true for me, too.

I made a promise to myself that night. One that I swore I would keep no matter what happened.

I would protect her.

I would take her away from this place. I would set her free.

However long it took.





11: Convincing


Seraphina looked out of place in Paris. She was too beautiful. Too inquisitive. She walked down the Avenue de l’Opera, gazing wide-eyed into every shop window, gawking incredulously at every passing pedestrian. She was more than a tourist in the city. She was a tourist on the planet. And watching her stare in amazement at the grand opera house at the end of the street, I had the unsettling feeling that she would stand out no matter where she went. That her adorable awkwardness would attract attention everywhere we tried to hide.

But I couldn’t let that stop me.

I would just have to teach her to blend.

Fortunately, none of the people shuffling past her on the avenue right now knew she existed. At least not yet.

They weren’t real.

If they were, they might be stopping to gawk at her, too.

I tapped at my DigiSlate, accessing another projection. “This is the state of Colorado,” I explained as the Paris street slowly faded. The gray overcast sky dissolved, brightening into a gorgeous clear blue painted sky. The two-hundred-year-old buildings dispersed, leaving behind a scattering of snowcapped mountains. A hawk flew right over our heads.

Seraphina gasped and ducked, still not grasping the essence of the technology.

Although I had to admit, it looked terrifyingly real. Like we were literally standing on the peak of an enormous mountain. I almost felt as though I could bend down and scoop up a handful of powdery snow and it would feel cold and wet in my hand.

I’d never used this program before. I always thought it was kind of amateur. Why digitally project yourself into another world? Doesn’t that only intensify your longing to leave this one?

But now it was a necessity. I had to make her understand. I had to show her that there was an entire world outside these compound walls. Outside her own wall. And it wasn’t dangerous, as they’d been brainwashing her to believe. It was beautiful. It was endless. It was safe.

Sera spun in a slow circle, taking it in. She didn’t make a sound. She just absorbed. With her superior vision, I wondered if the illusion was incomplete. Did the programmers include enough detail to convince even her eyes?

From the look on her face, I would say yes.

“What is it?” she asked, looking at her feet.

She’d run countless blurry laps around this yard to show me her speed.

She’d lifted massive objects effortlessly into the air to show me her strength.

But this was the first time I’d ever heard her breathless.