CHAPTER THREE #2
I glanced up, his eyes still on me like the room behind me held no interest. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Rule Four: Respect is demanded at all times. Failure to show respect will risk your usefulness to the Greater Good. Without use there is no purpose for you. Without a purpose there is no place for you.
“I’m confused,” I admitted, my voice small. Those lecture hall rules conflicted with the man before me.
He leaned toward me, concern mixing with his assessment. “Why is that?”
“Your kindness,” I said before I could stop myself. “I didn’t expect it.” His impressive jaw bulged as a man in dark gray approached us.
“Good evening,” the man interrupted, holding a silver portable scanner.
“May I have your arm, please, for our nutrient system?” he inquired, his device directed at me.
I raised my left arm across the table, balling my fist to ease the trembling.
The man scanned me before leaving us alone with my confession between us.
“Was your birth family unkind to you?” Collin asked. “You were born to Elites.”
Rule Five: You are obligated to answer any questions your Elite Mate may have. The truth is expected at all times. Lying is not permitted.
“They were unsatisfied with my status,” I told him quietly, “which is to be expected.”
“All of them?” Collin inquired, his eyes snagging on my curly hair.
I knew I had Elite brothers based on my birth father’s need to compare me to them.
I had never met them. I was confined to a small room cared for by those in gray who served my family.
But more than once, growing up, I swore I had seen hair like mine upon the lawn at the Academy.
“I’ve never met any of them. Only my birth parents. ”
Collin nodded, then cleared his throat. “On their behalf, I am sorry for their unkindness. It was unwarranted.”
“Why?” slipped from my mouth before I could stop myself. My cheeks grew warm at my daring. “I’m sorry,” I muttered quickly. “I just meant you do not owe me an apology, nor do they.”
His jaw sat tight, and his fingers drummed along the edge of his glass. “I disagree,” he said, and disbelief left me off-balance. His eyes found mine. “They had no right to be unkind for something you did not ask for.”
I stared, unnerved, at the man before me. His kindness felt like daggers destroying my own facade. I should not speak—should not think. Perhaps my defect ran deeper than heterochromia because I couldn’t follow the rules. I never had.
“Why bother with the pretenses?” I whispered, carefully controlling my expression to avoid attracting the attention of nearby Elites, whose eyes I felt burning holes into my back. “I am a Defect, a vessel.”
He leaned forward, his eyes becoming twin crystal beams, piercing straight through me. Danger and awareness prickled along my skin.
“Don’t believe everything you see up here, Emeline,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “You aren’t what I expected either.”
There it was. The first thing that made sense. I looked down at my hands folded in my lap, clenching the fine silk between my fingers. “I am a disappointment.”
I knew what would come. Next, he would tell me there would be no need for a Cohabitation Agreement. Maybe he would reject the entire match. They had that power. To deny a proposed Mate. I had no such thing. I was made to wait for his judgment.
It was easy to say I didn’t care. All of it was easy to say with my feet on the ground. From there, it felt safe. Yet, from up here, the fall would be lethal.
“You misunderstand me.” He raked his eyes over me, lifting his glass to his lips. His gaze never left mine, calculating. “You seem to think so poorly of the Elite that you would assume I’d pass judgment so nonchalantly.”
“None of you have ever given me a reason to think otherwise.” The words left me before I could think better. I swallowed a groan.
His brows threatened to disappear, a glint in his sapphire eyes. “So it seems. Maybe it is time someone remedies that. And I am not disappointed, Emeline. You are simply different from the Minors I have encountered.”
Encountered? “Have you Mated with a Minor before?”
“I have not. This is my first mating,” Collin told me as the man in gray returned with plates of food. He placed Collin’s dish, a bowl of red liquid, before placing a plate before me. I stared at it, confused, the conversation falling away.
Every meal I had ever had was the same, never varying in texture, taste, or appearance. It was nutritional mush and a shake, dictated by MIND nutrient measurements. Before me was a colorful array of different foods and textures and strange, beckoning aromas. My mouth watered.
“Is something wrong with your dish?” Collin asked.
“Does food always look like this?”
“No, our nutrient system provides us with a varied offering that is best for each individual based on the information collected from the MIND.”
I grabbed the fork next to the plate and took a small bite. Freshness burst across my tongue, and my eyes slid closed. I wasted no time taking another and another.
“Your salad and beets are satisfactory, I take it?” Collin asked, jarring me. Embarrassment flushed up my neck. It was like I was trying to sabotage myself into losing this agreement.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” I put my fork down, attempting to act civilized. He took another small bite, and his mouth pulled tight. “Do you not like your food?”
“I don’t particularly enjoy tomatoes. The dish becomes quite irksome when made to eat them every day.”
“Are those important for you?”
“Yes, they contain lycopene, a nutrient that boosts my”—he quirked a brow—“quality.”
“Quality of what?” I asked.
“I don’t believe it is an appropriate dinner conversation, Emeline.”
My brows pulled in. Oh—oh.
My face flushed even hotter, matching his soup. The lessons from the Academy hit me. Diagrams and the science behind mating. My fork hit the table, leaving a ruby stain on the white tablecloth.
Rule Six: If your Mate wishes to practice prior to the three-moon courtship, you are to indulge your Mate’s wants.
The attendant returned, as if knowing exactly when I needed him to save me from my constant embarrassment. If that were the case, he would have a long night ahead. My stomach protested longingly as I watched my half-eaten dish disappear. The price of being saved.
“There will be more courses,” Collin assured me. I nodded, feeling too exposed. I looked around the Garden and caught the eye of several women and men, their noses turned up in disgust. I cast my attention back to Collin. “Do you like the Garden?” he asked, his eyes sweeping the room coldly.
“It is beautiful. It reminds me of paintings I’ve cataloged at my job.”
He watched me, something in those depths. “I’d like to talk plainly before you have more food to eat so enthusiastically.” His lips tugged up slightly. I nodded, nervous.
“About our Procreation Agreement, I had a contract drawn up. I will have a copy sent to you tomorrow morning. You may, of course, look it over,” Collin said.
We both knew I didn’t have a say in this.
“If everything is in order, we shall sign, commencing our official Courting Phase. When we reach the three-moon minimum, we can commence cohabitation. When our efforts are successful”—Collin cleared his throat before continuing—“I feel it is in the best interest to have a four-year Cohabitation Agreement in place to be present for our offspring. You will remain with me until the offspring goes to the Academy,” Collin finished, grabbing his drink.
I did as well, just to do something with my shaking hands.
Most women in my position would say yes to this instantly.
It was the ideal outcome, a proper public Courting and cohabitation.
There wasn’t a single mention of the Sanctuary or Low Town.
There was no talk of the steps and rules required to impress your Mate.
The man before me had yet to act or say anything I had been made to believe. I didn’t understand.
“Am I not to be judged throughout our Courting Phase?” I asked him.
“Would you prefer to, what is it, anticipate my needs and successfully fulfill them?” Collin retorted, reciting Rule Seven as his eyes bored into mine. “Would you like to be judged?”
“I was unaware I had a say,” I challenged, feeling that familiar fire rise in my chest.
Collin leaned back in his chair. “Are you unsatisfied with my offer?”
“What would you do if I said I was?”
I knew, I knew I was being too bold. But it was like I couldn’t control myself in the face of his consideration.
Collin shook his head slightly. “I would tell you, Our next three moons will be eventful, Emeline.”
“Forgive me; I’m trying to understand. You seem rather okay with this pairing. Collin, I . . .” I took a steadying breath. “I am a Defect.”
“I’m aware of your status,” he assured me, his eyes on mine. “I knew your status when I chose you.”
“Chose me?”
“I prolonged my bachelorhood as long as I could. I was told to take a Mate. I was not given an option, at least not one I was willing to take. The system paired us as an excellent match. I accepted.”
“Did you not wish for a Mate of your status?” I asked, again too boldly.
Collin’s eyes slid over my shoulder before returning to me. “If the Illum’s procreation matching system declared us a worthy match, should that not be enough?”
“Won’t they—” I stopped, working to swallow. “Won’t the Elite have something to say about this?”
Collin’s eyes locked on mine. He seemed to exude power into the room. “I stopped caring about the Elite’s opinions long ago.”
“I—” I began, but the attendant returned, placing another beautiful plate in front of me. This new revelation that food could be art thrilled me.
“Your main courses,” he informed us.
“Thank you,” I said as the server made to leave the table. Shock flashed in his eyes before he hurried away.