Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

17 Meeting the Parents

Iris~~

Stay composed.

"That's quite the accusation, Preeminence."

He has the gall to smile. "What did I say about ending with my title?"

"People don't live past their Expiration Dates. You of all people should know that."

His smile softens, and he shakes his head. Is that smile good or bad? Does it mean a quick or a slow death? Also, shaking his head isn't good. It means he doesn't believe me. "I looked you up in our databases. I know when you were born, where you were born, and your last place of residence. It told me you're five foot six. You have red hair." He takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. "Though I can see that for myself, including the green eyes it told me you have." He lets go. "They're beautiful eyes." I could snort at that—it's more like I have Molly's eyes. "They're your own," he says though I didn't voice my thought aloud. He glances at the door. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You are nineteen-years-old. You were born June 22, 1995, and you were going to die August 10, 2014."

"I—"

"For anyone who looks you up in the future, though, they'll see that your Expiration Date says August 10, 2064."

I blink. "I don't understand. Why?"

He lets go of my arm. "Can you imagine if the wrong person found out?"

"Aren't you the most wrong of them all?"

He steps back, offended almost. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Again, why? You're the Preeminence."

"I only recently became Preeminence. I don't want my first major act of power to be killing someone." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "In return, I hope you don't go through with Erik's foolhardy plan to expose your Mark."

I stay perfectly still.

"You didn't think I'd automatically assume what his intentions were once I knew you were Expired?" his voice lowers on that fatal word. "No one would believe it. They'll see the video or picture and think it's edited. You are an impossibility after all."

Words fail me. He knows I'm Expired and my plans. I never even had to say them.

He steps toward me again. "You probably aren't inclined to do anything for me, so do it for yourself . . . and Erik. Exposed in that way and there's almost nothing I can do to save you." He's only inches from me now. Too close to stab me but perfectly positioned to strangle me.

"And why would you care about saving me?"

He trails his fingers down my cheek and my eyes close. Are his fingers what death feels like? Soft and tender? Or are they life? Something about his touch feels curious. "Do you not consider yourself worth sparing, Iris?"

I open my eyes, finding myself looking into his. Last night at Brydan's, my mind felt like it was trying to push through a fog, and I experienced the same thing when Erik spoke to Colton, and when I encountered their sister minutes ago. When I first met the Preeminence's eyes at Brydan's, such a powerful ache rolled through my head. Now though, my mind feels alert, awake. No pain. No fuzziness. Confusion, yes, but while my thoughts are most certainly scattered, there's a clarity there as if the clouds of haze have rolled back and all that's left is clear open sky minus chirping birds.

"Well?"

I suppose people think that when posed this question by the person who is to decide whether to spare you, they would be able to give a firm, confident yes. It's what I thought. But suddenly every horrible thing I've done, every good thing I never actually did, whisks in and plagues my answer.

His arm has brushed up against me, and in the quiet of this room, shielded from what's beyond the door, I can hear his heartbeat. Or maybe that's my own, but we're standing so close to each other that I wonder if it even matters. I've always been told the Society has no humanity, but watching their leader's chest rising and falling with the need to breathe like every other human seems to contradict that. Very much so.

"No, I don't."

His hand slides to the side of my neck, and my chest tightens. Can I really blame him if he does decide to strangle me after the answer I gave? His fingers are light, though, as if they're trying to lure me into a sense of serenity. "You don't think—"

"Jonas," a man's voice says through door. "Everyone would like to eat now."

One moment my eyes are on the door, the next, they're back on him. I think it's at this moment that we both grasp the inappropriateness of our position as we hastily step back from the other.

"One moment, Father," the Preeminence answers. Father. That means the former Preeminence, the nightmare of the country, is on the other side of the door calling his son to dinner. The absurdity of how normal this situation seems threatens to make me laugh.

"Can we come in?" his father asks.

The Preeminence stiffens. "Again, one moment." His voice sounds strained.

The door swings open. "We don't have a—oh, hello." The woman in the doorway freezes while her black hair, separated by lush curls, still sways. Her cheeks blossom against her pale skin. Her most striking feature is no doubt her eyes. They're a light violet. It seems I've thrown Erik's warning of respect to the wind as I take in the man behind her, the former Preeminence and current Beta until Colton takes up the title. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I feel as though I might throw up. He's caused so many people, me included, agony.

The Preeminence and his siblings must have gotten their hair and complexion from their mother because their father's hair is a light brown and his skin tanner. I'm disappointed his hair isn't gray in the slightest. Did the decisions he made that hurt many in excruciating ways not cause him enough stress to even turn one hair gray? Was killing ever hard for him? His children undeniably got their eyes from him—those burning blue eyes. The moment I meet his eyes, I'm greeted with that all too familiar ache, and I start to doubt Erik's warning is about respect, but if I were to voice that doubt, I would sound outrageous. And if that doubt ended up not being so irrational, I'd probably find myself dead. I should heed Erik's warning, especially as once I pull my eyes away from the former Preeminence, my head clears.

"Who is this?" the woman asks, her voice pleasant but with a hint of strain.

"Father, Mother, I would like to introduce you to Miss Iris Levine." He motions to me. "Miss Levine, these are my parents, Cyrus and Marilana Blackwood."

I curtsy to them, my gaze now firmly planted on the rug which is good because I don't know if I can keep my disgust at the former Preeminence off my face.

I can see Cyrus Blackwood's feet step past his wife. "Marilana, would you escort Miss Levine to dinner while I have a quick word with our son?"

"Of course."

I raise my gaze enough to see her holding out a hand to me, which she places on my back when I step next to her. I look back once, to look at him, the current Preeminence. If he was going to punish me for daring to make eye contact with him, he would have already done so. The look I find on the Preeminence's face makes my stomach churn and wish I had kept my damn head down. He looks as if I'm walking to my execution, with his mouth opened as if to say something and every feature stricken.

Marilana Blackwood guides me away before he can make a sound.