Synnr's Hope - Kate Rudolph Page 0,15

everyone. But now the pressure closed in and Solan was beginning to think a nice lunch meeting or drink would have been wiser.

No turning back now.

Something tugged at his consciousness and he turned toward the main house. There was Lena, walking down the decorated path. Her dark hair was swept up and she wore a shimmering gold dress that set off the warm brown tones of her skin perfectly. The dress was short, revealing long legs that he wanted to touch.

No.

He slammed his eyes shut and took a deep breath of the sweet air all around him. Whatever happened between him and Lena would be a professional arrangement. They’d be tied together for life, but there was no need to complicate it with sex. He’d seen how a Match could ruin things and he didn’t want it to happen to him. He wouldn’t let himself get hurt or hurt her in that way.

But his cock still twitched at the sight of her.

Braz.

“You’re looking good.” Lena had managed to cross the yard while he was busy chastising himself, but at least Solan had control now.

His light trousers wouldn’t hide much. “That dress is lovely.”

She rolled her eyes and plucked at the fabric. “This old thing?”

What? He looked at her again, trying to make sense of what she’d said. “Is it borrowed?”

Lena tipped her head back and laughed, and somehow the throaty sound was even better than just looking at her. “It’s an Earth thing, sorry. And Emily convinced me to buy it at the market.”

“Oh.” It got a bit awkward then, as if Solan didn’t know the script. Perhaps neither of them did. Another reason their Match would be difficult.

When had he started thinking about it as an inevitability? Difficult but not impossible.

The carnal part of himself wanted to say it was when he got a glimpse of the dress, but he’d been thinking it all day.

“Are there chairs or something? Can’t say I’ve ever been to a bonding ceremony before,” Lena pressed on, finding a subject even if it was incredibly mundane.

Solan had been to his first bonding ceremony at the age of seven. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Lena might need an explanation. But of course she would. They didn’t Match on Earth.

He led her towards the ceremonial circle and somehow his hand ended up resting on the small of her back, cradling her warm skin. It felt so completely natural that he didn’t realize he was doing it for several minutes, and when he did he yanked his arm away fast enough to make them both stumble.

He didn’t apologize. If he did, that would only call more attention to it. He pointed towards the machine and technician once he’d found them a perfect spot. Others were starting to make their way over, and soon the ceremony would be underway. “Oz and Emily will use their combined spark to power up the machine. Then the technician will apply the stylus to each of their arms and their sparks will dictate the design. After that we’ll all go up and take a look, then we party until the sun comes up... or... well, the sun doesn’t actually go down this time of year, so we party until it’s time to leave.” The alcohol and food would flow, along with a few other temporary mood-altering substances, and then everyone would thankfully leave his property.

“So it’s basically a wedding. That’s what I thought.” She nodded as if it all made sense now.

“A wedding takes three days.” And that was after all the contracts were signed. They were much more involved than bonding ceremonies. Most of the lower classes didn’t even bother.

“Okay,” she grinned, “that does sound like home. But I always had fun at my cousins’ weddings. It’s nice to know some things are the same.” She settled in beside him, and a few minutes later the ceremonial circle was full and Emily and Oz made their way to the center.

It was a quiet ceremony. Most bondings were. Any vows spoken between the Matched were a private thing. Their marked arms were enough to show their devotion. Again, Solan’s arm tingled where a Matching Mark would go. Many Zulir chose to leave a space for one in case a Match occurred. He’d purposefully covered his arm with art based on the leaves from the plants in the atrium, and the design would be ruined by a mark, his silent protest of ever bonding.

But as he watched his best friend lace