by Lucas
A man in a cargo jacket sat down in front of her, and she smiled. “What’ll you have?” When he lifted his face toward the light, her heart stuttered a beat before normalizing. Her smile held.
“You got any scotch? Any Glenlivet? They still sell that around here?”
She turned but watched him out of the corner of her eye. “We don’t have that, not anymore... only Wells.”
“That’ll do.”
“Straight?” she asked.
“On the rocks.”
“Ice’ll cost you. Here it’s more than the alcohol itself.”
“That’s fine. I’m on vacation. I don’t give a crap about money.”
Clara shrugged and fixed the drink, sliding it to him. Another person walked in at that moment, a regular, one who liked her privacy and sat away and at the other end of the bar.
“So what brings you to this part of the world for vacation? Why not the stars?” she asked.
The man chugged his drink like the world was about to end and she quickly poured him a second before he could ask. Ice and all.
He was handsome, ruggedly so, but screamed military to his very core. They got the military customers sometimes but not often, and not men like this guy.
“I live in space. Lived up there since I was a kid and there’s nothing left to see for me there, but I was born right here in the central swamp. A good friend of mine told me to get my feet back on the ground for a while, so here I am, trying to figure out why I listened to her in the first place.”
“A lover?” Clara laughed as the guy started in on his second drink.
“More like a sister.”
“She sounds like an interesting person, especially if she can sway a man like you.”
“Oh she is, and what do you mean? A man like me?” He eyed her over his glass, his lip twitched up in a smile.
“Military. High up, I’m guessing?”
Clara began to feel at ease and moved to the girl at the other end. She handed her the usual soda, kept frozen for her within their precious ice. Her gloved hand reached for it and brought it toward her chest, cupping it quietly. She’d given up trying to talk to the girl weeks ago. Now, she only protected her like the rest of their small community had started to do.
There were rumors. Rumors that she wasn’t really human. But no one ever said it out loud, and no one would. Bengie, her boss, supplied the girl with hair dye and contacts and that was all that there was to it.
“You guess right.”
She went back to the cargo guy. More customers filtered in. She rubbed her back.
“How high?” she asked.
“As high as I want or willing to go for now,” he laughed but looked beyond her to the quiet, hooded girl. Clara stepped between them.
“So we’re graced with a celebrity?”
“Only one of the best space pilots in the fleet.”
“Is that so?” Clara could do this. Flirt. And with each passing drink she plied the guy, the easier and safer it got having him there. Third one down. Several locals watched them from beyond. The door swung open and her eyes lifted away from the game and landed on the one being she’d hoped would never walk in.
Cargo guy kept talking, but she didn’t hear him. Not as Reid sat down at his side. The bar went tensely quiet but kept up its nonchalant front. Clara plastered a new, brighter smile on her face.
He watched her like he always did. Like a hawk. Or a very hungry mongrel.
After she’d arrived and stumbled into Bengie’s bar, she’d been given a job that same day, and started that very evening. She’d traded her vehicle in and found temporary housing outside the park in a used trailer. It drove, but not in the air, and that was fine with her. On her late nights or double shifts, she was allowed to park it behind the bar, but for the rest of the time, she had a plot of land she rented to buy out in the middle of nowhere.
Then Reid showed up, as a shadow at first and she’d thought she’d gone crazy until she caught a real glimpse of him lurking the perimeter of her home. Once she was sure it was him and not a stray dog, she made it a point to pretend he didn’t exist.
Now here he is, in his stupid suit, making it hard to forget him.
“What’ll you have?”
“Same as him.” His eyes didn’t leave hers.
“Ice and all?”
“And all.”
Her fake smile faltered, but she made the drink without spilling it and slid it over to him. He haunted her, and she had begun to like his haunting.
“Keep mine coming,” military man said.
Reid turned from her, suddenly, and faced him. She went and opened another bottle of the scotch, wondering when it was the last time someone had gone through one so fast, and wishing for a moment that she wasn’t pregnant so she could have a drink too.
“You’re Chris Anders,” Reid said as she turned around.
“And here I was hoping no one would recognize me,” he grumbled, slurring his words slightly. The stranger, Chris, faced Reid and frowned. “Another fucking Cyborg? Of course there is. I’m on vacation if you’re here to retrieve me.”
Clara moved away, needing the space, finding it suddenly hard to breathe and helped some of the other customers out. Bengie tapped her shoulder when she had cleared enough space between her and the men that were making her life a nightmare this evening.
“What’s happening?” Bengie asked.
She glanced over at Reid and he was looking right at her. She quickly looked away. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Check on the girl. She’s acting strange.” Clara looked over at their hooded regular, the soda still held tightly between her hands, tension radiating off her in thick waves. And Clara thought her night was going bad.
Oh fucking no. Her eyes widened and she grabbed Bengie’s arm and dragged him outside.
“What’s wrong? What the hell you doing, Clara?”
“Ben,” she hissed and leaned up to whisper in his ear as low as possible. “There’s a Cyborg in the bar.” Reid was sitting several yards from a complete and utter disaster. Clara wasn’t positive, not until that moment, that the girl was a Trentian.
It seemed like an eternity passed by before he got what she was saying and her suspicions were confirmed.
“Get him out of here!”
But he never needed to say it because Reid stormed out the back door, silencing the two of them. The look on his face, cold and hard, and so familiar it hurt her heart.
“Clara,” both men said in unison.
I can’t with this. But she faced her boss with another fake smile. “Mind if I take a break, Ben? I’ll make it up to you, promise.” It was so sickeningly sweet it made her teeth ache.
“You sure?” Ben watched Reid like he wanted to stab him through the heart, like a vampire and a Cyborg were the exact same type of bloodsucking monster.
“I’m sure.”
When it was just her and Reid again, alone except for the crickets, her fake pleasantries fell away.
“I’m leaving.”
It was the last thing she ever expected him to say. Her heart grew heavy.
“Why?”
“My brethren need help, elsewhere, and I can’t not go to them.” His eyes pierced hers but then looked away and down to her baby bump. “Helping them helps us.”
“What do you mean? Is that why you came to the bar tonight after all this time?”
He reached out to her but stopped short and dropped his hand to his side. Clara stiffened, waiting, wishing he would touch her, hoping that whatever went through his head would convince him to make the first move.
“Can we go somewhere else to talk?” he asked.
“I can’t leave mid-shift.”
“Afterward?” the plea in his voice unsettled her.
“Yes. Okay, afterward. But you have to go. You can’t stay at the bar.” She glanced behind her then back to him. “If you stay, you’ll get me in
trouble,” she lied, hoping it’d take.
“I’ll meet you at my home then.”
Reid lifted his fingers and traced her cheeks without touching them before turning away—without argument—and leaving her standing in the dark alone.
At home.
SHE COULDN’T WAIT FOR her shift to be over and as she chugged the scrappy trailer onto her land, Reid was already standing in the middle, waiting for her.
Once again, the bar had survived a near disaster. It was like that every other night. But tonight as she wiped the counters and gave Bengie a big hug goodbye, something in her gut told her she wouldn’t be coming back and that she wouldn’t see him again.
Clara parked the trailer and opened the door, this time, letting in her stray—as she’d come to think of him— willingly. They sat at a small table in the back.
“I’ve been waiting, you know,” she said, breaking the silence first. “For you to make the first move.”
“And you don’t call prowling your land and lurking in the shadows not making the first move?” he guffawed.
“No. I hated that.”
“You loved it,” he countered.
“I didn’t.”
“You loved every fucking minute of it. It made you feel safe. It gave you space but was a constant reminder that you wouldn’t be alone for long.”
“You only care about the baby,” Clara choked.
“Babies.”
She followed his gaze to her belly. “You can’t be serious? How can you tell?”
Annoying laughter filled her ears—his laughter. “The same way I knew the moment I got you pregnant. And I am a dog, it only makes sense.”
She got up and rushed to the bathroom mirror to look at herself. Reid filled the space behind her. “No way.”
“I promise, I’m not lying this time.”
His words sobered her. “Good to know. So you’re leaving?”
He let her slip by him and move back to the table to sit down. “Yes.”
“When?” Did she want to know?
“Today.”
REID WOULD’VE SLICED off his own hands to touch her but held himself back. Every minute of every day that he followed and watched her, he wanted to touch her. Knowing that he couldn’t made it all that much harder. He sat heavily opposite her, soaking up her presence while he could.
She lifted her sad eyes to him. It took him aback and he lifted his lips into a weak smile. “Don’t be sad. You’re too beautiful when you’re sad.”
“Where are you going?” Even her voice had grown sad.
“A place called Ghost. A space station where a lot of Cyborgs frequent.”
“And it’s off-world, off Earth then? Obviously... what am I saying?”
“Yes. As far from Earth as one can go.” He pulled at his collar and cracked his neck, watching Clara look out the window and off at nothing. “As far from here as anyone could get...”
Several excruciatingly long minutes went by for him as Clara stared off, the only tell she gave him was the crinkle of her brow. Reid ran his hand over the back of his neck.
When she shifted and looked at him again, a building pressure lifted from his chest.
“What happened to Santino?”
He leaned back, surprised. “So he’s what you’re thinking about when you stare off into space?”
“How else would I think about someone who scares me?” Clara frowned.
“Think about me! Me!” Reid slammed his hand on the table, making it shake. “When someone scares you. Tell me, and I’ll fix it!” He clenched his teeth, searching for calm. “Santino’s gone.” And if he had any say—and he did—he would be gone for good.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
Clara ran her hands over her face, reddening her skin. He wanted to reach across the short distance between them and take her hands away, to clear the wariness in her eyes, to bury his nose behind her ear and into her hair, but he didn’t dare; he couldn’t imagine going back to exile after he had spoken to her again. If touching her sent him back to the yard, he’d ball up his fists and keep his hands to himself.
“Want me to?”
“I thought you may already have...” she shivered. “Nothing has happened since I’ve been here, nothing,” she breathed deeply, “but you.”
“I didn’t kill him but I made sure the rest of his life will be everything but easy. I—”
“—I don’t want to know!” she squeaked out, stopping him. “Save it for a bad day!”
His lips twitched back up into a grin. “So, today isn’t bad?”
“Not yet! I don’t know...”
Her mouth opened and closed again, again and again. He liked it when she flustered.
“I feel a lot of things right now...”
“I’m sorry,” Reid blurted it out before the courage left him. He was sorry. He was sorry when she drove away from him two months ago, when he saw nothing but red for the next several days; he was sorry when he finally caught up with Santino and maimed him, deciding to let the fucker live the rest of his life as half a man in a prison system he’d never escape from. Sorry that he hurt her. Reid was a lot of things then but life moved on, and eventually, that life picked him up and took him with it.
She stared at him, her violet eyes sad and wide, and it stabbed him in the heart. The silence killed him.
“I love you,” he said.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Reid watched her cry and when the silence bore on, he mustered up enough courage to catch some of her tears with his fingertips. “You really are beautiful when you cry,” he whispered.
“I think it’s the pregnancy,” she sobbed, dramatically, and the floodgates opened up in full force. “It’s not because of you. I’m not crying because of you!”
He snorted, unable to help it, and lifted her from her seat to hold in his arms. The way he wished he had months ago when he had her in his bed—and filled with his seed.
Clara buried her face in his chest as he held her, smelling her delicious scent, made only for him, and petted her hair.
“You really are a horrible, nasty liar,” she sniffled out.
“Not anymore. Not when it comes to you.”
“How can I believe anything you say?”
“Because I’m going to make it up to you every damn day for the rest of our lives. Even if you don’t believe me now, you’ll believe me soon.”
She lifted her face from his chest and looked up at him. Reid brushed the loose tendrils of her hair behind her ears, relishing the silken feel of it against his skin.
I forgot how much I missed this.
“But you’re leaving...”
He caught her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “Come with me,” he begged. Please come with me. I can’t be without you. I can’t live without my pack. The press of her swollen belly made his heart skip a beat. Reid knew if he lost her, it would be the end of him. His soul had been broken too many times when he was young; he knew he couldn’t go through it again—the solitude, the loneliness, the endless, tormenting need to have someone belong to him, and to belong to another.
No matter how human he looked or how much metal was in his body, he was still a mutt at heart. A dog that wanted a family to protect because they were his. The years had made him into a mongrel, but they had also led him on the path to her. He looked into her bottomless violet eyes, and only saw himself reflected in them.
“I can’t leave Earth,” she said.
Reid brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “You can.”
“I’ll never be allowed to.” Her voice was sad.
“You will.”
Clara turned her face and looked out the musty window and he slid his fingers over her damp cheek, over the bridge of her ear, slipping his fingers into her hair and cupping her head. Her hair fell in waves from its band.
“Do you have a spaceship?”
“I do,” he said. She glanced back at him, eyes alight.
�
��You do?”
Reid chuckled. “A damn decent one too. What kind of Cyborg would I be if I didn’t have my own ship?”
She sniffled but laughed with him. “A normal one? Making a normal living wage? One who apparently wasn’t ungodly rich and can afford his own spacecraft!”
“Yeah, well, this doctor knows how to doctor anything. Even getting a pregnant female off Earth.”
Clara sobered again at his words. “Even so. I wouldn’t be able to leave without processing. I’ve looked into it... a lot, and even if we were—” Her lips went thin.
“Married?” he finished.
“Yes. That. It wouldn’t happen. I don’t know about being with a Cyborg, but,” she placed her hand on her stomach, “there’s no way in hell I’d be allowed to leave. Even if I wanted to. And what about Bengie and the bar?”
“Clara, I think you’re lying through your teeth.”
She shifted on his lap and rolled her eyes. The smell of her berries mixed with the salty tang of her dried tears, and the fading aroma of liquor, had him running his free hand up her leg and under her long skirt to settle over her thigh.
She shivered but didn’t stop him, sighing, “If you take me, we’ll never be able to return.”
Sure we could. But he didn’t say it.
“I’ve always wanted to see what else was out there,” she continued. “Do you think it’d be okay? For the babies?”
He bit back a laugh and squeezed her leg and pushed back his chair an extra inch. “Seriously?”
“Don’t be an asshole. My hormones are all over the place. I don’t think I have any more patience left in me for your hot and cold ride.”
Reid pulled at her body and shifted her in his lap until she straddled and faced him. His shaft twitched and pressed up to feel her sex, having missed it every second of every day since she left. “I know your hormones are erratic.”
Clara gripped his shoulders and dug her nails into him, biting through the expensive fabric. He had never replaced so many suits since she walked into his life. His own fingers grabbed her hips, under her skirt, and pressed her down onto his erection.
