Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Nicola Claire
need. My mechanic will see to it."
"Was it the roadster?"
He knew damn well the roadster was in the basement garage. I lifted superior eyes to his face and held his stare. He was the first to look away. You don't question an Honourable. Unless you're an Overseer or Cardinal.
"The elevator, if you please," I demanded in my best Elite tone of voice. My father had taught me well.
In many, many things.
The concierge immediately rushed to the lifts, turning his back on me and allowing a moment to limp unobserved behind him. He took his time pressing the button, as though he knew I required a few seconds longer to make his side unseen.
Our society was a confused one. We're trained from birth to obey the rules, model Citizens with no need to think for ourselves. But I see the longing in the dull eyes and turned-down lips. I see the burgeoning desire to break free.
It's what caused so much death and destruction during the Uprising. It's what killed my father.
We should not desire for more than we have. Wánměi provides all that we need.
Then why do I break so many rules? I blame boredom. Being an Elite is quite mundane.
The lift doors opened and I forced myself to walk in a sedate and refined manner past the concierge and into the box. I was shaking imperceptibly by the time I turned to face him.
His surprisingly bright brown eyes met mine and he said, " Wánměi above all others," clacking his heels in an imitation of Cardinal correctness.
"Wánměi leads the way," I dutifully replied. Cameras lurked in these public spaces. I'd pushed my luck enough today.
The doors closed and I swayed as the lift shot skywards, soft, ethereal music seeping from the unobtrusive speakers. By the time I made the uppermost floor, I knew I was going to vomit. It took all of my strength and willpower not to give in to the desperate need. I moved with snail-like pace down the lush hallway, pausing at my doorway to surreptitiously remove my contact lenses. Swallowing convulsively, I lowered my sweat-soaked face to the eScanner and counted off the seconds in my head as the green laser light flowed over my eyeball.
A soft hum, a buzz and then the click of the door opening, and I stumbled through to the cool and dim interior of my official home.
"Welcome, Honourable Selena Carstairs," Shiloh sounded out. "Have you been a model Citizen today?"
"Yes," I mumbled and staggered to my bathroom.
"Would you like to take your test?" she asked, helpfully.
"Override, Lena Carr, 241386," I managed to gasp out before I was on my knees and vomiting into the toilet bowl.
I didn't feel a hell of a lot better by the time I was through, the pain had turned into tingles in my fingertips, which was not a good sign at all. I fished out my cellphone, fumbling to remove the backing and replace the SIM card with the spare I carried sewn into the lining of my suit. I powered the unit back on and sent off a saved text. Nothing the Overseers could complain about. Something to do with the weather and fishing on the lake, but Aiko would immediately know I was in dire straits and required medical attention. The fact that I was using Selena Carstairs' cellphone would clue her in to my current location.
And that was it. That was all I could do. The blackness encroached as I slowly slid sideways, thankfully landing on my good shoulder as unconsciousness took hold.
For the first time in ten years I felt at peace. Even though I knew it was artificial and would end all too soon.
As it happens, it was over far quicker than even I suspected, but then how would I know? I'd been out cold until some enterprising individual pulled my shoulder back into its socket and sent me screaming up off the floor and practically to the ceiling.
"Easy, Elite," a familiar drawl met my ears. "Anyone would think you're a pansy."
"Tan," I managed, rolling to a sitting position, sucking in much needed air and gingerly testing the movement in my fingers, wrist and shoulder.
"Slow rotations," he
"Was it the roadster?"
He knew damn well the roadster was in the basement garage. I lifted superior eyes to his face and held his stare. He was the first to look away. You don't question an Honourable. Unless you're an Overseer or Cardinal.
"The elevator, if you please," I demanded in my best Elite tone of voice. My father had taught me well.
In many, many things.
The concierge immediately rushed to the lifts, turning his back on me and allowing a moment to limp unobserved behind him. He took his time pressing the button, as though he knew I required a few seconds longer to make his side unseen.
Our society was a confused one. We're trained from birth to obey the rules, model Citizens with no need to think for ourselves. But I see the longing in the dull eyes and turned-down lips. I see the burgeoning desire to break free.
It's what caused so much death and destruction during the Uprising. It's what killed my father.
We should not desire for more than we have. Wánměi provides all that we need.
Then why do I break so many rules? I blame boredom. Being an Elite is quite mundane.
The lift doors opened and I forced myself to walk in a sedate and refined manner past the concierge and into the box. I was shaking imperceptibly by the time I turned to face him.
His surprisingly bright brown eyes met mine and he said, " Wánměi above all others," clacking his heels in an imitation of Cardinal correctness.
"Wánměi leads the way," I dutifully replied. Cameras lurked in these public spaces. I'd pushed my luck enough today.
The doors closed and I swayed as the lift shot skywards, soft, ethereal music seeping from the unobtrusive speakers. By the time I made the uppermost floor, I knew I was going to vomit. It took all of my strength and willpower not to give in to the desperate need. I moved with snail-like pace down the lush hallway, pausing at my doorway to surreptitiously remove my contact lenses. Swallowing convulsively, I lowered my sweat-soaked face to the eScanner and counted off the seconds in my head as the green laser light flowed over my eyeball.
A soft hum, a buzz and then the click of the door opening, and I stumbled through to the cool and dim interior of my official home.
"Welcome, Honourable Selena Carstairs," Shiloh sounded out. "Have you been a model Citizen today?"
"Yes," I mumbled and staggered to my bathroom.
"Would you like to take your test?" she asked, helpfully.
"Override, Lena Carr, 241386," I managed to gasp out before I was on my knees and vomiting into the toilet bowl.
I didn't feel a hell of a lot better by the time I was through, the pain had turned into tingles in my fingertips, which was not a good sign at all. I fished out my cellphone, fumbling to remove the backing and replace the SIM card with the spare I carried sewn into the lining of my suit. I powered the unit back on and sent off a saved text. Nothing the Overseers could complain about. Something to do with the weather and fishing on the lake, but Aiko would immediately know I was in dire straits and required medical attention. The fact that I was using Selena Carstairs' cellphone would clue her in to my current location.
And that was it. That was all I could do. The blackness encroached as I slowly slid sideways, thankfully landing on my good shoulder as unconsciousness took hold.
For the first time in ten years I felt at peace. Even though I knew it was artificial and would end all too soon.
As it happens, it was over far quicker than even I suspected, but then how would I know? I'd been out cold until some enterprising individual pulled my shoulder back into its socket and sent me screaming up off the floor and practically to the ceiling.
"Easy, Elite," a familiar drawl met my ears. "Anyone would think you're a pansy."
"Tan," I managed, rolling to a sitting position, sucking in much needed air and gingerly testing the movement in my fingers, wrist and shoulder.
"Slow rotations," he
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