Devotion (Central Cities #1)

Chapter 1

1

It’s on the 163rd day of my selection period that I’m woken up early with the rest of the candidates to get dressed and ready for presentation.

A new palace administrator will be choosing his partner today.

The selection group always consists of thirty, evenly split between men and women. As soon as one is chosen as a partner or one’s six-month candidacy runs out, the empty spot is immediately filled by someone else.

I have only four weeks remaining of my candidacy, so I’m more anxious than excited as I bathe quickly and begin working on my hair.

If I don’t get chosen before the month is over, I’ll be sent home as a failure. I’ll be forced to live a life I’ve never wanted.

In the months I’ve been a candidate, only seven administrators have chosen partners. Two women and one man preferred to partner with men, so for those selections I wasn’t even a viable option. The other three male administrators chose women, but they selected the small, delicate, fluttery types who are currently in vogue in the palace. I’m not that, and despite genuine effort, I can’t even fake it effectively.

Last month there was a new female administrator who talked to me for a few minutes and appeared interested. I entertained a brief hope she would choose me, but she went with Kyra with her vibrant red hair and sultry manner instead.

Sultry is another thing I’m not and can’t fake.

So I’m still here, the longest holdout of the current selection group.

I have more reason than anyone else to be in a flurry right now as we fight for mirror space in the large room where we eat, sleep, dress, and spend most of our time.

This might be my last chance.

I’ve rubbed almond-scented oil into my long brown hair and am in the middle of pinning it into a simple, elegant bun at the back of my head when Poppy comes over with her dress hanging open in the back.

“Hey, Jess,” she says with a nervous smile. She’s only been here two months. She was painfully shy for the first couple of weeks and is still reluctant to talk to anyone but me. “When you’re done with your hair, do you mind getting these buttons?”

“Sure.” I slide in the last pin and study my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are the same nut-brown color as my hair. My skin is fair and my cheeks perpetually rosy. My neck and shoulders look almost graceful with my hair pulled up this way. With a little makeup, I’ll be as pretty as I’m capable of being.

I wouldn’t have been approved as a selection candidate if I weren’t attractive and articulate and well-mannered and reasonably intelligent. It’s probably bad luck more than my inherent qualities that have kept me from being selected as a partner yet.

“You look beautiful,” Poppy says. “I bet you’ll be picked today.”

I smile, shaking my head as I turn toward her. “You have as much chance as I have. And it might be someone who prefers men, in which case neither of us will have a chance.”

“Maeve said it’s a man who likes women today.”

“Oh really?” My heartbeat speeds up as I work on the row of tiny buttons on the back of Poppy’s dress. The buttonholes are small and the fabric is slippery, so it’s not an easy endeavor. My dress fastens in the front, so I’ll manage it myself. “That’s promising. She’s always up on the gossip.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I finish the buttons and smooth down the back of her dress. “There. You’re gorgeous, as always. I wish I could wear a dress like that.”

During my initial consultation with Barrett, the Director of Palace Selection, he told me in no uncertain terms that I need to dress with a starkly simple elegance to counteract my figure, my heart-shaped face, and my dimples. With the pronounced curves of my tits and ass, he said in his bland, matter-of-fact way, I would look cheap and blowsy if I wore overtly sexy dresses and unbound hair.

Those were his words. Cheap and blowsy .

Unlike a lot of the other candidates, my family is labor class instead of desk or leisure class, so maybe that somehow leaks into my appearance. Poppy thinks Barrett’s critique was ridiculous and he was simply being an ass, but I do wonder if he was right.

Barrett is in his mid-sixties, which means he was alive for twenty years before the Fall. Everyone I’ve ever known who witnessed the old world changing to the new one possesses the wisdom of hard experience and a certain kind of exhausted cynicism. He has no reason to lie to me or be mean for the sake of meanness. Maybe there is something about me that has the potential to look cheap .

Maybe it will always drag me down.

“Everything all right?” Poppy asks, watching me in the mirror.

“Yes.” I smile at her again. My smile is my best feature. Warm and open and contagious. Everyone says so.

“Then you better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

I focus again, applying color to my lips and eyes before I slip on my pale rose dress.

I definitely don’t want to be late, or I’ll miss one of my final chances to make ten years of dreaming come true.

The first appearance of the new palace administrator evokes a soft murmur of excitement from the group of candidates. He is, indeed, a man and not a bad-looking one.

His hair looks medium brown from a distance, but as he gets closer, I realize it’s actually a dark brown threaded with a lot of silver. The gray must be premature because his face doesn’t look older than his early forties. He’s got a tall, fit body. Good shoulders and long legs. Strong, classic features and eyes so blue I can see their color all the way across the large room.

I’d find him more attractive if his expression was something other than the faintly annoyed impatience that’s radiating off him.

His name is Gabriel. He’s been hired by the president as Coordinator of Special Projects. I pick up that much from Maeve as we line up, separated into groups of men and women as always.

Barrett is talking to the new administrator privately as the thirty candidates get in position, but I hear the tail end of the conversation as they approach.

“I understand it’s one of the benefits of a palace position,” Gabriel is saying. His voice is soft. He sounds educated and quietly frustrated. “But I’m genuinely not interested.”

“Yes. It’s a new idea for outsiders and newcomers to the Capital, but you’ll get used to it and come to appreciate it eventually.” Barrett is slender and blandly confident in himself and his position in the palace.

“I’d rather not bother. I’m here to work, not waste time.” He scans the line of young, attractive, well-dressed men and women with obvious reluctance. His gaze lingers on me briefly, but that’s probably because I’m the only one who meets his eyes. Everyone else has their gaze properly downcast as we’ve all been taught in order to convey our desire to submit. “This feels… sleazy.”

“It’s not sleazy,” Barrett replies sharply. “And you’d be wise not to let anyone else hear you refer to the president’s special practices in that manner. A partner is a key facet of the benefit package of palace administration, and it is not optional.” He bites out the final words with a crisp staccato.

Gabriel gets the point. “Understood. So I just pick someone?”

“Anyone you want. I believe you prefer women?”

“Yes.”

Barrett motions toward the line of male candidates, and they retreat to the rear of the room in a not-quite-orderly fashion. Then he waves toward Poppy at the end of the remaining line, indicating that the women should spread out.

Gabriel looks from one end of the row to the other, still clearly impatient and annoyed with the whole procedure. His hair is longer than is typical in the Capital. He’s got it pulled back with a tie at the nape of his neck, but it’s thick and doesn’t seem inclined to stay neatly restrained.

He glances over at Barrett. “And you’re assuring me they’re here by choice? They aren’t trafficked or?—”

“Of course not!” Barrett is offended, and who can blame him? As if anyone would ever be forced to be a palace partner. “You can talk to any one of them. Ask how they came to be here and listen to what they tell you.”

Gabriel looks down the line again, and once more his gaze pauses with me. I tried dropping my eyes a minute ago but was too intrigued by the conversation to sustain it for more than ten seconds.

Barrett is probably annoyed with me for staring so gauchely, but I’ve never met anyone who wouldn’t jump eagerly at the chance to choose a palace partner.

Who the hell is this man?

“Tell me how you got here,” Gabriel demands of me curtly.

It’s a vague directive, but I answer the real question he’s asking. “When I was eleven, my cousin was chosen to be the partner of an administrator. She always came back on her weekly visit wearing pretty clothes and bringing treats for us. She told me all about her job and her life. She was so happy. I decided then that I wanted to be a partner too, and I’ve spent the past ten years working toward that goal. I started in the hospitality industry when I was thirteen, washing dishes at first but eventually working my way up to a front hostess so I could learn proper behavior. As soon as I turned twenty-one, I applied for the selection-candidate group. I was chosen on my third attempt. This has been my dream for more than half my life, and I’m incredibly lucky to have gotten this far since so many other people want this position too.”

Gabriel hears me. I know he does. I can see a reaction on his face—like a tension relaxes inside him.

Barrett catches my gaze with a discreet nod. He’s clearly pleased by my response.

“All right,” Gabriel says at last. “I get it. I’ll take her.”

I blink. It’s several seconds before it processes that I’m the her he’s referring to.

Barrett says, “Excellent choice. Jess is intelligent and experienced as well as beautiful. You won’t be disappointed.”

I’m flushed as I glance around, trying to catch up to what just happened. Poppy grins at me from farther down the line, and Maeve is decidedly pissed.

Gabriel looks impatient again, and his expression doesn’t change as I walk over to stand in front of him. He stares down at me for a minute, then finally shakes his head. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

I’m not sure whether he’s talking to me or to himself, but either way, it’s not a promising sign of things to come.

I’ve never been in one of the private suites in the palace before, so I’m exhilarated and rather awestruck as I follow Gabriel back to his room on the third floor of the main building in the sprawling palace complex.

It’s a large space with high ceilings and three wide windows across one wall. There are piles of books and papers on the desk, which is positioned to take advantage of the view out the central window. In one corner is a seating group—a sofa and two upholstered chairs—as well as a small two-person dining table. In the other corner is a big bed with luxurious covers in shades of slate blue. The floors are a polished tile with area rugs in the seating area and next to the bed. There’s a door leading to a private bathroom, and one of the windows has a deep alcove fitted with a covered mattress and an arrangement of cushions and blankets.

I immediately hurry over and settle into the window nook, my designated spot.

Gabriel stands in the middle of the room and stares at me. A couple of strands of his hair have slipped out of the tie. He’s got thin, mobile lips and high cheekbones. A broad forehead. He’s wearing what I’d consider a perfectly average outfit for an administrator. Basic black trousers and a loose, collarless shirt in a dark gray. The clothes are well tailored, but he clearly doesn’t spend a lot of time on his appearance, unlike other palace officials I’ve met. He comes across as smart and mature. Cerebral rather than carnal. But he’s in good physical shape for a man with a desk job. He must exercise regularly.

When he doesn’t say anything, I smile at him. “Can I do anything for you right now?”

“I don’t need to be waited on. I’m used to doing things myself.”

I raise my eyebrows, wondering if he’s never had a partner’s role fully explained. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy about it. “I’m not here to wait on you. There’s domestic staff at the palace who handle all the cooking and cleaning and errands. I’m your partner.”

He clears his throat. “I understand that you chose this, but I’m not… from around here. This is not how I do relationships.”

“Oh. I see the confusion.” I’ve been trying to keep my eyes down in the manner I’ve been taught, but I don’t like having conversations like that. I need to see Gabriel’s face so I can get a sense of what he’s thinking. “This isn’t a romantic relationship. I’m also not a pet or a prostitute. You’re misunderstanding my role.”

He’s frowning again. More in confusion than in annoyance now. “Explain it to me one more time. Because I understood this was mostly about sex. And maybe I’m not in sync with this sophisticated palace lifestyle, but I’m not inclined toward picking sex partners out of a lineup.”

He’s clever. His dry tone makes me want to chuckle. I don’t, of course. “It often involves sex, but it doesn’t have to. My job is to soften your life. Bring you pleasure and relief when you need it. I can help you relax. You’re going to need it since administrators have such difficult, stressful jobs. I can do that with as much intimacy as you prefer.”

“How exactly would you bring me pleasure in a way that’s not intimate?” He’s thinking through what I’ve told him. He’s taking me seriously. I can see it on his face.

“We don’t have to fuck. A lot of people prefer not to fuck their partners. I can pleasure you orally. That’s very common and much less intimate.” I explain that to him in a straightforward manner because it’s clear he needs to better understand palace culture. I’m not remotely embarrassed by what I told him.

Not until I see him flushing slightly. “Pleasure me… orally.”

I can’t tell if the repeated words are a question or instructions he wants me to follow. “Yes. Of course I can do that. Would you like me to?”

“And that’s less intimate than sex?”

“Yes. Why would it be intimate?” I’m genuinely confused now and getting kind of flustered by the repeated questioning. It’s making me feel unsure about my role now, when before it’s always been so clear-cut and simple in my mind. “It would make you feel good and relax you without us sharing anything of ourselves.”

“You’re serious? You would give me a blow job and not feel like it’s intimate at all?”

“Of course.” My eyes are wide. I probably look bewildered because that’s how I feel. I’ve never been very good at hiding my emotions.

“So you’ve had a lot of sex before, and you’re able to detach from it?”

“No. I’ve actually never had intercourse before because I’ve known I wanted to be a partner for most of my life. Some administrators prefer for their partners to be virgins. Not everyone cares, but why eliminate possibilities unnecessarily? But I’ve pleasured men and women orally before. I needed practice so I could be good at it. I don’t detach. It’s not something bad or unpleasant that I need to detach from. You understood what I told you before, right? I’ve been working toward this position for ten years. I want to do this, and I think I’ll do a good job if you let me.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, glancing away.

I haven’t heard anyone reference a deity in ages—not since my Christian grandmother died when I was twelve. No one uses it as even an exclamation anymore. Gabriel must be from farther away from the Central Cities than I imagined.

Before I can say anything else, he mutters, “This is the weirdest fucking city.”

Hurt by his remark, I drop my eyes and stiffen my shoulders.

He must recognize it because he says, “I’m sorry. Please don’t take it personally. I’m just… not from around here.”

“I understand.”

“It’s not about you. You’re beautiful—really damn beautiful—and I’m sure you’d be great at… at your job. But this isn’t who I am.”

“I see.” I take a shaky little breath, still upset and more confused than ever. “So what would you like me to do?”

“I don’t care.” He rubs his mouth and chin with one hand and glances over at the desk. “You can do whatever you’d like. I’ve got a ton of work to do, so I need to get started on it.”

I return to my window nook and settle myself comfortably. I watch him as he goes over to his desk, glancing back toward me a couple of times as if my presence is distracting him. He must overcome it, however, because he starts reading through a large sheaf of papers, occasionally making notes to himself in a notebook. After a while he appears to forget I’m even in the room.

I’ve had dreams about being a partner for years, and I’ll be the first to admit some of my dreams were likely unrealistic.

But never would I have imagined spending my first day as a partner bored out of my mind.