Page 30 of Conform
“I figured as much. What were you thinking about this time?”
“It’s just—” I began as he leaned back from me. “Nothing, never mind.”
His eyes collided with mine. “But I do mind, Emeline. I mind a great deal.”
I took a shaky breath. “I just assumed it would be different. I had prepared for . . . a private contract. I didn’t think anyone would want to be seen with me in public. I didn’t expect you,” I finished, and I couldn’t deny how my body wanted him closer, despite how I felt about the Illum.
“I do not hide. I do not have to adhere to the Elite’s standards. And”—his lips brushed my ear, and I shivered—“I wasn’t expecting you either.”
Collin pulled away, cold air swarming me as he stepped off the platform, jarring me. When had we reached the landing? He waited once more, his hand extended toward me.
I took it and something that felt like hope blossomed inside me. Everything the Starlings had said still haunted me, but maybe he truly was different. I smiled as I stepped onto the landing. His eyes flared.
“Emeline.” My spine stiffened. Dread swept in, washing away that moment of hope. “Yes, it is her. Emeline.” Only one woman among the Elite knew my name.
Never look at the Elite, Emeline. Just look down and they will leave you be. You must look down.
But I looked up.
Another platform drifted right toward us. The only members of the Elite I hoped to never see.
My birth family. In all their Elite perfection.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FAMILIES SHARED A LAST NAME BEFORE THE WAR. WE DON’Tnow. The Procreation Act focused on genetic histories to repopulate the world. Without a family name, it was easier to sever ties with genetically defective offspring.
My heart swelled painfully, hollowing out the rest of my insides as my birth family arrived on the landing. Even if there were family names, I would never choose to share one with them.
Collin turned in their direction, his hand warm around mine. The landing immediately felt too small. My eyes flew to the transparent bridge that had felt like a death sentence upon my arrival, and I debated sprinting down it to get away from the people who had ensured I knew my place in the world before I could speak.
“Emeline,” my birth mother repeated in her beautiful voice, her blue eyes running over my face. Helen looked the same as the day I left for the Academy twenty-three years ago. She was slightly shorter than I was, with the same deep brown hair tied up in an elegant twist. She wore a long-sleeve red dress, and a diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. I tried to step away, but Collin’s hand tightened around mine, keeping me there.
Collin nodded toward the man with the curly hair and blue eyes from the atrium. “Phillip.”
Phillip tipped his head. “Collin, Emeline.”
My stomach bottomed out, and I looked to the other two men, who must be Richard and Gregory. One stared me down, while the other looked bored.
“I thought Edward was making things up when he was running his mouth all over the sky,” Vincent drawled. “But it appears for once the fool was reporting the truth.”
His disapproval slid down my spine. The urge to run was overwhelming. I stepped back only to meet warmth. Collin released my hand to touch my lower back, his hand brushing gently against my skin, reminding me I was not in gray—I was in a gown with a Mate, a Mate who was a member of the group my birth father cared about more than anything else.
I swallowed thickly as my birth mother’s eyes went wide, landing on my glowing wrist. “Collin, we are honored to be blessed by the Illum. You’re—”
My ears rang, muffling her words. Of course now she spoke. She had been delicate and quiet in the few hazy memories I had of her. Her light footsteps outside my door were my only real tie to her—always outside but never inside the room. But now that I had obtained a momentary place in their clouds, now that I could breed, she suddenly saw me. My throat threatened to close.
“Mated, yes,” Collin informed her, an edge to his voice. One of my birth brothers, the bored one with brutally short hair, snorted. His crystal blue gaze skated over us.
“You’ll be silent, Gregory,” Vincent ordered. Gregory rolled his eyes and blew out a breath.
“Fertile blessings,” Phillip said, his face yielding nothing.
“It would seem some topics weren’t covered today,” Vincent said. My birth father had been at the meeting.
Vincent remained strong in his advanced age, with his high cheekbones, straight nose, and full mouth. Our resemblance was uncanny. The similarities tortured him, I assumed. His hateful gaze narrowed at my matching eyes. The same immovable disappointment and hatred I had always known stared back at me. I couldn’t breathe beneath his stare, reduced once again to a powerless little girl.
“You talk as if the Elite are privy to all of the Illum’s choices,” Collin stated, no warmth to his voice. “The Elite are not worthy of input into our inner workings. Even the council.”
