Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,1

sunlight.

I’d never seen anything like it before.

“Do you want to go?” Beck asked from just over my shoulder.

I tapped off my wristlet and the butterflies and the box disappeared. “No. But we don’t have a choice.

It’s my brother’s binding, and Mother summoned us.”

Beck’s eyes took on a distant look. Not that I blamed him. The last time we had visited Mother’s estate, my brother Callum took immense pleasure in tormenting Beck and me. He even locked Beck outside, without protective gear, in a snowstorm.

But three years had passed and I hoped we were all beyond such childish things.

I reached up to pat Beck’s cheek, and wanting to sound mature, mimicked formal State speech. “I’m the one who dislikes this type of thing, not you.”

Beck sighed. “I’m…I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

I tossed my chestnut ponytail over my shoulder and squeezed his hand. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be okay. I’ll practice what to say with Bethina.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Besides, I’ll have you with me.”

Beck ran his hand through his shock of blond, wavy hair. His olive colored eyes rested on my face and my heart thrummed. “I’ll never leave your side.”

Unlike other children, Beck and I had been paired off as infants–selected by the State as each other’s perfect mate. Our own binding ceremony was less than three years in the future.

“I know you won’t.” If there was one thing I could always depend on, it was Beck.

He pointed to my wristlet. “What’s her name–Callum’s mate?”

“Annalise.” I turned on the invitation and the box reappeared. “Annalise Delacruz.”

#

I slink between the last layer of people separating me from the vast empty space around Beck. Normally, people clamor to talk to us, so finding him alone like this is a bit odd.

“Where is everyone?” I joke as I slide up to him. “It hardly seems fair I have to endure all the attention on my own.”

Beck looks up at me, and a floppy piece of hair droops over his eye before he brushes it away. “I never thought I’d hear you complain about finding me alone.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s just different.”

“This whole day has been different,” he says with an unusual lack of energy.

“What do you mean?”

Beck stares at noisy crowd. “I’m your shadow today.”

He doesn’t sound bitter or angry. Just factual. That’s one of the things I like about him–he never sugar-coats things.

“Well in that case, you’re not a very good shadow! You disappeared as soon as we stepped into the room.” Unlike earlier, when I was surrounded by States people, my smile is genuine. “And how do you know they weren’t begging me for an introduction to the elusive Beck Channing?”

He chuckles and flicks the tip of my nose. “Because you are Malin Greene’s daughter and we’re at your brother’s binding. Why would anyone care about me?”

It is odd, the way no one, other than Caterpillar Brows, has mentioned Beck. And at the ceremony, people stared at us and whispered behind their hands.

“Have you spoken to Malin yet?” he asks

I shake my head. Since we arrived yesterday, I’ve only glimpsed my mother sitting in the front row at the Binding Hall. She never came to welcome us. Not that I expected her to–the handful of times Beck and I have visited her home, she’s barely acknowledged our presence, instead leaving us in the care of her household staff.

“I’m sure she’s busy. Throwing a binding like this must be time consuming.”

Beck rests his hand on my bare arm and rubs his thumb back and forth. That small gesture tells me he knows how upset I am, but he’s kind enough to not say it aloud. All week, I’ve practiced what I’d say to Mother and dreamt of our conversations.To not speak to her is a disappointment.

The tempo of the music changes and the crowd shifts to accommodate dancing couples at the center of the room.

Beck holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

Newscaster cameras zoom over the dance floor, zeroing in on unsuspecting couples. So far, they’ve left us alone, but we both know as soon as we step onto the floor, we’ll be mobbed.

“C’mon, Lark. You love to dance. Don’t let the cameras stop you.”

He’s right. I love the feel of music vibrating in my core, the rush of air across my skin as we twirl and spin. But the cameras. I knew I’d be subjected to them by coming here, but it doesn’t mean I accept the invasion of my privacy.

“I don’t know. I don’t want