The Astronomer

by Charmaine Pauls

  Fraya stood awkwardly in the spacious room, not sure if she should thank Marguerite or not.

  Marguerite addressed Emilio. “Shall we get started?”

  “Please,” Emilio said. “We have a mating to take care of in a few hours.”

  “I’ve got it all set up. I need a blood sample from both of you.” Marguerite directed them to a reclining chair and motioned for Fraya to sit. She gave Fraya a sunny smile. “Ladies first?”

  Fraya only nodded and watched in silence as the doctor inserted a needle in her arm and took a vial of blood. She repeated the process with Emilio before moving to a counter where she inserted the vials into a testing cylinder. Within minutes she collected the results from her printer and examined it, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  When she finally looked up, her smile was even broader than before. “No problems here. You’ve certainly got a green light. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but you have something rare. Compatibility scored a hundred percent. You seem to be the perfect mates.”

  Again her eyes were curious when they rested on Fraya. “With a score like this, I suppose you’d like to start breeding immediately.”

  “No.” Fraya’s answer came a little bit too quickly.

  The doctor lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Emilio. He gave Fraya a dark look, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’d like to have a birth control shot,” Fraya said.

  Somehow she got the impression that Emilio wasn’t happy, but then again, they agreed to only have sex. Nothing more. Surely he wouldn’t object to birth control. He would welcome it, seeing that they didn’t even know if they’d still be together after a year.

  “Alright,” Marguerite said. “Fraya, I also detected a hormone in your blood, suppressing the breeding need.”

  “Fraya used a serum to lessen the symptoms of arousal,” Emilio said.

  “Would you want to continue using the serum, Fraya?” Marguerite said. “I need to know because it would determine what kind of birth control to use. The serum could counteract normal preventatives.”

  “No,” Emilio said. “Fraya won’t be needing the serum any longer.”

  Fraya frowned. Emilio’s response surprised her. “I don’t think so. I prefer to continue with the treatment.”

  “No,” Emilio said again, the single word unbending.

  “But I’ll be working in Paranal, Antofagasta for eight straight days at a time,” Fraya said.

  And he would be based in Santiago. There was not a chance in hell she could survive eight days with a need burning in her veins.

  “And you won’t have contact during those eight days?” the doctor asked.

  “Not necessarily,” Emilio said.

  “In that case, I strongly advise that Fraya continues to administer the serum.”

  Emilio’s expression darkened. “I’ve lived through this for a year with no serum to relieve my symptoms. My future mate can live with it too.”

  “You have to understand that the female body’s reaction is much more severe than the male’s,” Marguerite said. “The male body carries the microbe that invades the female’s. While the male may suffer, it’s nothing compared to the physical discomfort the female may experience.”

  “We’ll live through it,” Emilio said, his jaw set in a determined line. “We’ll do this the way nature intended. Or until my mate can admit that she needs me.”

  Fraya regarded him with narrowed eyes. The first week after their physical contact she thought she would die without release. She couldn’t sleep or eat, let alone focus. But she’d be damned before she was going to beg for mercy. Her pride wouldn’t let her. If he wanted her to suffer, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing that she was. She had always been strong. She could survive this, could find a way around it. The mind was stronger than the body.

  She lifted her chin. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then we stop the treatment.”

  Marguerite pursed her lips. “Alright. It’s your decision. But I have to warn you, this won’t be a joyride.” She turned to Emilio. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “I’ve been playing with fire since I’ve met Fraya.”

  Marguerite shrugged. “You’ve always been hard-headed. I just hope this time it won’t harm your mate.” She handed Emilio a piece of paper. “Here’s your mating certificate. I’ll give Fraya a birth control shot now. It has to be repeated every six months, but I’d like her to run tests every month to be sure it’s effective. There hasn’t been much research on a unique blend of hormones like yours.”

  He took the certificate. “Thank you. It will be worth your effort in points.”

  Marguerite smiled. “Oh, I’ve never doubted that.”

  While Marguerite prepared and administered the birth control shot, Fraya pinched her eyes shut. Since her accident Fraya didn’t like hospitals, doctors or injections much. Having needles injected into her flesh twice in one day wasn’t her idea of having fun.

  Marguerite gave Fraya a cotton swab to press on the mark where the needle had punctured her skin and said, “All done.” She turned to Emilio. “May I offer the two of you a celebratory drink? It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other and I’d love to catch up.”

  Emilio offered Fraya his hand to help her from the chair. “Sorry Doc, but we still have to get the tattoo and the ceremony is in a few hours. Maybe next time.”

  The pricks Fraya felt nuzzling up the inside of her arm hardened her breasts torturously. She quickly withdrew her hand from Emilio’s grasp. Emilio’s expression tightened, while the doctor watched them intently, the small smile still playing on her lips.

  “Congratulations,” Marguerite said, more to Fraya than to Emilio. She shook her head. “I’ll be here if ever you need me, Fraya.”

  “Thank you,” Emilio said as he ushered Fraya back into the hallway.

  Their next stop was at a clinic only five miles up the road. Fraya discovered that here they were also expected. They didn’t fall in line with the rest of the couples queuing for their tattoos, but were met at the entrance by a woman in a light blue overcoat who escorted them to a room at the back of the building. It bordered on an indoor garden, the glass wall giving them the privilege of the view.

  “I didn’t know you made an appointment,” Fraya said.

  “I called while you were getting dressed.”

  The door opened and a mouse-like man with thinning, ash-brown hair entered. He scurried to a desk and opened a file. Everything about his manner seemed hurried. Instead of offering a greeting, he pointed at a white leather chair with a matching footrest.

  “Please, ma’am, take a seat.”

  Fraya suddenly felt anxious. As if he read her reaction, Emilio placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the corner of the room, pushing her gently into the seat. He didn’t keep his hands on her for long, but even the slight touch did impossible things to her libido. Fraya flushed, hoping he couldn’t sense how desperately she needed him, how ready her body was for him.

  The man held a card with an intricate pattern inside a circle up.

  “Is this your emblem, sir?” he asked Emilio.

  Emilio nodded.

  The man gave a high-pitched laugh. “We have to check. Won’t do any good if the emblems somehow got mixed up and your mate carries another’s sign.”

  Fraya could see Emilio’s body tense next to her. The man took a laser gun from a stainless steel tray and inserted a clear disk. After typing in a code on the computer, Emilio’s family emblem appeared on a large flat screen monitor mounted on the wall. Enlarged, Fraya could see that the abstract lines represented a puma, a snake and a condor.

  The man inserted the laser gun into a slot. “I’m burning the disk,” he said. “There we go. Almost there.” Another few seconds later he switched off the screen and removed the gun.

  He gave a soft chuckle and wiped his brow. “This will only sting a bit. It takes about three seconds for
the laser to cut through the seven skin layers. Don’t move, or it’ll blur.”

  Fraya’s body went rigid as the man wheeled a lab stool to her side and sat, the gun poised over her arm. Emilio’s hand in her hair caught her by surprise. She looked up at him.

  “Nervous?” he said, giving her that reassuring smile she remembered so well.

  She only took a deep breath.

  “Ready?” the man said.

  “Hold on.” Emilio went down on his hunches. He took her wrist in his large hand, turning it upward, resting her arm on his. She saw Emilio nod to the man, heard him say, “Ready,” but her mind was on the sensation ripping through her womb and contracting in a place that needed more. When the cold metal made contact with her skin and the burning pierced her flesh a second later, she clenched her teeth in an effort not to give sound to the prick of pain she felt. Emilio straightened, careful to keep her arm still, and before she could anticipate his intention, his lips curved over hers in a delicious, hot kiss that had her melting in the chair. He pulled her lips into his mouth, drawing out her tongue, fluttering his over the curve of her lower lip before nipping it gently, inviting a strangled moan that crept into the kiss.

  Fraya wasn’t sure for how long exactly he had kissed her, but all she knew was that when Emilio finally pulled away, the mousy man was back at the counter. The fire in her loins was far more devastating than any laser beam. Comprehension washed over her. Emilio had kissed her, knowing the heat she would feel would distract her from the physical pain inflicted by the tattoo. She looked down at the emblem, a permanent mating mark, on her skin. Fraya felt Emilio’s fingers folding around her hand, turning her wrist to the light. An array of emotions washed over his face, but she wasn’t sure how to place them. Pride? Possessiveness? She couldn’t distinguish his feelings from the veil of lust that had crept into his eyes with that kiss.

  Emilio blew a kiss over the inflamed skin.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching.

  Fraya had to clear her throat to get the words past the lump of passion stuck there. “A little.”

  “Sorry, baby,” he said, his eyes traveling over her body. They remained fixed on her heaving breasts, frowning some more.

  “It’s more than the tattoo that’s hurting, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes somber now.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine.”

  That kissed had almost killed her. She needed him so badly she wasn’t sure her knees would carry her back to the car. Hormones. Serum. She needed a double dose to get her through the rest of the day.

  The medical officer came back with a swab and a jar of ointment. “Keep it covered for a week. Use the salve four times a day, at least for four weeks. No sun for a month.”

  “Is that it?” Emilio said, pulling Fraya to her feet.

  “If you follow my instructions, it won’t get infected,” the man said, already on his way to the door.

  Realization suddenly washed over Fraya. She stared at her tattoo and bit her lip. That was it. She was branded. She was Emilio’s. For life. Even if she did walk away after a year, anyone had only to glimpse at her wrist to know. Her heart beat with a pounding rhythm, one that was both pleasing and frightening.

  She caught Emilio studying her.

  “Too late for regrets,” he said, his gentleness gone, his voice cold.

  Fraya couldn’t think of anything to say. She was too overwhelmed.

  “I’ll call a driver to take you home. I have a wedding suit to take care of.” Emilio offered her his hand, but seemed to reconsider and retracted it. He turned for the door. “No more working this morning. You’ve done enough. I’ll send someone to give you a spa treatment at home. I know a great beauty salon that specializes in exactly that.”

  “I’m going to the hall at twelve,” Fraya said. “I have a lot to look over.”

  “No you don’t. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Fraya watched Emilio leave and wrapped her arms around herself. Yes, Emilio would take care of everything. If she allowed him, he would take over her life. He had the power to ruin it, if she wasn’t careful with her heart. The pain set into her wrist in pumping pulses.

  Chapter Ten

  Fraya took a step back and studied her reflection in the mirror of the hotel room she used for changing into her mating gown. Despite her protests, the girls Emilio had sent had massaged her skin with essential oils, did her hair and applied her make-up. The dress was a simple cut, a halter neck with chiffon inlays, something she had chosen with Gene in mind. He would have liked it. Fraya realized that she had no idea what would please Emilio. She stared at the white fabric covering the tattoo on her wrist. Emilio would cut the band during the ceremony, revealing the mark that proved to the world that she was his. It felt too unreal. Until yesterday she believed that it would be Gene performing the ritual.

  Fraya took a calming breath. She had visited Gene’s parents in their hotel after her appointment with the doctor and clinic to break the news to them in person. They hadn’t taken it well. Emilio had offered to speak to them on her behalf, but it was something she felt she had to do. She was sorry for the kind people who had adopted her as their own, who had cared for her since the day she had crashed into their lives. Where was Gene? What was going on in his mind right now? Did he think about today with a sigh of relief or a pinch of regret?

  Resentment for Gene’s behavior left her angry and confused. She had believed they shared the same sentiment, the same loyalty to one another. If Gene had given her as much as an inkling that he had doubts about his decision to mate her, this would not have happened. She wouldn’t have been standing here in a white dress, waiting to be married to Emilio.

  She couldn’t deny that she craved Emilio with a desire that frightened her. Of course love didn’t exist. Their addiction was physical, but it was a reaction neither she nor Emilio had any control over, and that scared her more than anything.

  The serum gave her the restraint she couldn’t otherwise manage. Now, Emilio had eliminated that option, and by doing so had taken away her self-control. She was worried for her body’s response. The longest she had functioned without the treatment had been one week. With Emilio’s sperm there wouldn’t be a need for the medication, unless they were separated by distance, like they would be when she took up her job.

  Fraya checked the clock on the wall. It was time. She pulled at her dress and fiddled with her hair one last time before she stepped into the hallway where the driver Emilio had sent already waited. He nodded formally and led the way down the stairs. Fraya followed wordlessly, her mind still somewhere else. If Emilio only wanted sex from her, would she, after a year, still only want the same from him? The thought was scary. What if he didn’t need her any longer? What if her body wasn’t enough? What if she decided to stay, and grew old and ugly? Could a lifelong relationship be built on physical addiction alone? A shudder crept over her body as she got into the vehicle. For the remainder of the short trip to the wedding venue she refused to think about her future. She was going to need all her strength to focus on getting through the day and dealing with the questions she knew would follow. Speaking to everyone on the phone had been difficult enough. This is not at all how she had pictured her wedding. She just wanted this day to be over.

  Patrick met Fraya when the car came to a halt at the hotel where the ceremony and reception were to be held. It wasn’t anyplace fancy or spectacular, but it was what Fraya and Gene could afford. It was a small, modern hotel that made up for the character it lacked with a pretty view. The reception hall overlooked a green lawn and the river cutting across it. The patio on the first floor had been set up as the area where Fraya and Emilio would exchange their vows with the guests bearing witness. Some people still referred to the mating ceremony as a wedding, even if the customary rituals had changed during the last century. Who would have believed that a chemical bomb could wipe out half the population of the world, almost exterminat
ing all humans with an O blood group, that a new blood type would evolve, and with it the physical breeding compatibility phenomenon that led to controlled mating?

  Patrick would no longer walk Fraya down the aisle to meet her groom, but he slipped his arm through hers as he walked her up the flight of stairs to the door behind which a crowd and her new mate were waiting. The desire to flee was suddenly overpowering. Fraya stopped in her tracks.

  “I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered.

  Patrick shook his head. “It’s too late now, my dear. I wish to God it was Gene standing on the other side of that door, but I have no doubt Emilio will make a good husband.” He pinched her cheek. “Come on. Give us a smile now,” he said bravely, trying hard to cover up the quiver she could hear in his voice with a cough.

  Fraya tried to draw strength from his forced courage. She handed Patrick the box with her customary gift for Emilio that they would exchange during the ceremony. When a bell chimed and the doorman opened the double doors on cue, all faces turned her way. Aware of the questioning glances from the wedding guests, Fraya tried to focus on Emilio. He stood at the end of the short aisle, his strong body erect, proud, looking more dashing than ever in an off-white tux, his cravat and embroidered waistcoat a shade darker than the swallowtail jacket. His hair was pulled back and his blue eyes shone against his tanned skin. The smile he offered Fraya seemed to be just for her as she made her way toward him. She silently thanked him for his reassuring smile. She had never needed it more. He pulled her next to him and kissed her lightly before facing the court official who was to perform the ceremony.

  The mating officer’s speech made no impression on Fraya. All she wanted was for the ordeal to be over, not to have to face the sympathetic or envious eyes she felt burning into her back. When it was finally time to exchange their gifts, Emilio handed her a golden box with an engraved lid. Opening it, she found a single, speckled feather. She shot him a curious glance, but only received a conspiring smile in return. Her box was a much humbler wooden one, one her father had made for her as a little girl, and inside was her father’s map, the one her life had been spinning around since the day her daddy had put her on his knee and told her his stories. Emilio fingered the box, lifted his eyes to her, and what she saw there made her heart jump. It was as if all his accumulated passion reflected from his soul through those pools of blue in that moment. It was a look so intense, that she found herself faltering and had to look away.