16 Rosalynn

We sit at tables like other couples dressed in the formal attire of our home worlds. The Abr committee gave me a black silk floor-length gown with only one shoulder strap and a swooping neckline that feels far too low for my less than bountiful chest. Still, Zinnar can’t stop staring at my cleavage.

I bare my teeth at him and feign a smile as another couple passes. “Zinnar. I’m up here. Be polite.”

Seven courses is a lot of food with a lot of little forks and knives as well as an odd thing called a whastu that helps us eat a squiggly noodle-like fruity entrée. But I’m grateful for the smaller portions as they bring us a taste of seven different worlds. There’s sadly nothing from Zinnar’s homeworld.

“Have you had this sulanti before?” I ask him, eying the mysterious black gelatin looking item on my plate.

“I’ve had most of these at one point or another. This one is highly nutritious. You should eat it.” Zinnar’s is already gone.

“What is it made of?”

“Do you want to have dessert?”

“Probably.”

“Then let’s just pretend its fruit.” He chuckles and watches me take a bite.

It does have a berry sort of flavor, so I close my eyes and nod. “Fruit. Sure.”

“Anyway, we help out other worlds with their battles when the Nebs invade. So I’ve had everything from neon pink frusca pudding to tanna-lo, which are legs of smaller amphibians like your frogs.”

Our dessert is set before us: a tray of various cakes, cookies, and things called neeboms, which are candy-coated bugs from another planet, according to our event announcer.

“What’s your favorite?” I ask him.

“I believe they are called Earth tacos.” He dances his brows suggestively. The corniness of his response yet the hint of interest in his eyes makes my core tense in anticipation.

“You can have one of those later.” I circle a finger at him. “Now about that cool trick.”

He hovers his hand over a knife and looks at me. The knife quickly lifts and plants in his hand, defying gravity.

“Yeah, that one. Is everyone on your planet similarly capable?”

“Yes. Only elite soldiers and royalty get the special treatments to give us exceptional skills.”

He doesn’t seem thrilled as he shifts his cloak behind him again. “If I had known that not all children got the treatments, I would’ve stopped and given my slot to someone else. I get to live in a fucking castle. Why do I need the best of everything? Why can’t I give to others to make their lives better?”

“I think that’s sweet that you want to play fair,” I offer. “But I have learned that we all have our own talents. My super sniffing, Aryssa’s sass, your tongue.” A woman walks past and glances at Zinnar. I cough. “Your language is just amazing.”

Zinnar watches her leave then lets out the chuckle he was holding in. “My tongue huh?”

I toss the last bite of my cookie in my mouth as the music changes to a slow song. “Uh huh, yep. Definitely your best talent. Way better than your magnetism.”

He rests an elbow on the table and plants his chin in his palm, then stares at me in admiration for several breaths. “Could say the same about you.”

“Okay, now it’s getting awkward. I did my best.” I take my chance and wave him up and out of his seat. When he follows, I take his hand and lead him to an open area between tables. Several other couples dance around us.

I pull Zinnar close and sway us to the music. It is a wonderful feeling to have him against me, to linger in the heat of him and his pleasant scent.

Zinnar slides an arm around my waist and spins us out of the room and into the race field arena. “It was very good.”

We dance in the grass, alone but together under the stars.

I draw in a long breath of his scent and smile. “You’re wearing Spear-mint by Harrowing Scents For Males.”

His nose wrinkles as he fights a grin.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I like it.”

Zinnar rests his lips to my temple. “Are you happy, Rosa?”

Rosa— I like that he’s picked up Aryssa’s nickname for me.

“ It’s much better than the beginning of the week.

“Good. I’d like to request an extension to your stay to convince my father and our people that you are mine.”

“Fine, just show me your—uh—super cool badass magnet superhero skills now and then,” I giggle. Then I eye him and mouth with your tongue .

He grins and nods. “Okay. Somewhere with less people, and on a day when I’m not in my cloak again.”

“Why do you wear it if you hate it?” I ask.

“Because it’s tradition, and symbols can be inspirational. I want to help my people as much as I’m allowed. My father keeps a tight leash on me at every opportunity.”

Zinnar kisses me. And it makes me hungry for more.

When the music finally stops for the night, he hugs me with desperation like I’m going to slip away. “You ready?”

“Hell yes.”

“I mean to head in for the night—sleep.”

I’m a bit disappointed as he walks me back to my room and stops at the doorway.

“Won’t you come in? I don’t want to be away from you,” I say, knowing the camera drone is still hovering and listening. But it is the truth.

“Not sure I can control myself,” he replies.

“Then don’t.”

“I must wait until we are bonded.” But I see it in his eyes. He’s saying what the viewers expect, what his people expect. And yet in his gaze is a lust so strong I can tell he’s undressing me in his mind.

So I kiss him deeply, savor the velvety soft heat of his tongue against mine. “Come back as soon as you can. I will let you in. ”

He pants a breath and sags. “You’re making this really hard.”

I chuckle and close the door to a crack between us. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

“Sunrise tomorrow, I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

I bite a lip and close the door between us, wishing he meant everything he said. But I’m not sure what he does that’s part of our pact and what’s real, anymore.