by Marie Dry
Balthazar would come. She had to believe that he’d come for her, because he couldn’t live without her, either. She only hoped he hadn’t been thinking about his cyborg getting killed after the peace agreement. Or her using his off switch code on him. She combed her fingers through her hair then sighed. If she kept this up, she’d be running for a comb, and fresh make up when Balthazar got here.
Would he trust her not to report his movements? There might be a fragile truce, but President Clark would take him hostage if the chance came up. Even if it was just to get out of the arranged marriage. She smiled. That moment when the president had called her to ask her to convince Balthazar to give up on the arranged marriage idea would always be one of her fondest memories.
The press had romanticized the upcoming marriage. Speculating how the president had met Anatu. During a press conference at the World Government offices, the president had announced his forthcoming wedding, the bride conspicuous in her absence. During Aurora’s time on the ship, Anatu had never talked to her. She’d seem very fierce, and she reminded Aurora a bit of Ter. Now Aurora wished she’d taken the time to get to know the cyborg woman.
Aurora bit her lip and looked around. The table gleamed with white porcelain and silver settings in the open-plan dining room. She sighed and again carefully checked her lip-gloss in the mirror. She didn’t want to smile at him after all this time with funny colored teeth and chew marks on her lips.
She’d worn one of the medieval style formal dresses he liked so much. She had to adapt the dance, because the dress limited her range of movement. She’d wear it one last time for Balthazar. Like all the free women out there, she’d wear business suits and jeans when she chose. Maybe even shorts.
She looked around, checking everything one last time. Where would the inter-dimensional door that brought him here appear? What if she stood where he opened the doorway, and it incinerated her?
A glimmer started in the corner, and she straightened her shoulders, smoothed out the velvet folds of her dress. She touched her hair out of sheer nerves, barely had time to clasp her hands in front of her, before he stepped out of the triangle. Big and alien and so handsome, he took her breath away. Something about him was different, but she was too excited to have him here in her quarters to be able to figure out what.
Aurora wanted to smile at him, run into his arms, but this moment was so eerily similar to the time she’d waited for her parents to be sorry for selling them, to come and get her. Similar and so different in all the ways that mattered. Her blood danced through her veins, making her light headed. He came for her.
“You came.”
She had a place where she belonged, and she believed it, trusted it in the deepest reaches of the soul he’d tried so hard to shake loose. She didn’t have to punish herself anymore. She could grab this happiness.
“I will always come for you.”
He stepped toward her, and she held up a hand. He stopped, his eyes narrowed. She knew that look. He was thinking of grabbing her and stepping through the inter-dimensional barrier with her. Instead of alarm, that feeling of belonging wrapped her in reassurance, like a mother carefully wrapped a new born in the softest blanket she could find.
This cyborg, this person with his beautiful soul, would never let her go, never again would she face life alone. And she wanted to give him something in return--a small gift in comparison to what he had given her.
This was her gift to him. Small compared to the freedom he gave her when he found Ter. She wanted to give him something worth more than riches. An intimate gift they would both remember in the years to come.
He took another determined step toward her.
She held up a hand, palm out. “Please wait. Please, Balthazar, let me do this for you.”
Taking his hand, she led him to the chair she’d placed facing the area she’d cleared of furniture. He sat down tense, clearly not knowing what to expect. Her stomach knotted. What if he didn’t like it? She went to the middle of the room, stood with one arm above her head, the other gracefully away from her hips.
“Music,” she said.
It started soft, slow, and Aurora moved her hands in the opening sequence of the dance, moved her ankles and then rotated her hips. The nerves and uncertainty left her. There was only movement, music, and Balthazar. Never breaking eye contact, she performed the complicated steps of the eastern dance.
His eyes heated. He followed each graceful dip and arch. The desire in his eyes heated the air around her. If she stood too close to him, she’d burn. He looked like an alien who had been offered heaven.
Aurora turned, looked over her shoulder, never losing eye contact with him, softly swaying, her hands moving gracefully above her head. She gave everything she had to the dance, to him. During every graceful step, each hip sway, and erotic dance move, she kept her gaze locked on his fiery one. The music faded away to a soft haunting beat. Aurora sank down gracefully onto the floor. She’d been practicing this for the last few weeks, but her breath left her lips, fast and choppy.
Silence, he didn’t speak or come to her.
Slow, so slow, she lifted her head, afraid to look at Balthazar. He sat absolutely still, staring at her as if she was an unknown creature that might be dangerous. Her stomach fluttered again. Didn’t he like her dance? Maybe he didn’t understand what she wanted to give to him with this very private dance.
When at last he spoke, his voice was rough, the way it got when they made love. “You are beautiful when you move. You will dance for me again.” He came forward and helped her up. “Many times.”
Aurora could’ve cried in relief and smoothed her hands over the dress to hide the glimmer in her eyes. “You always said you liked the way I moved. I’ve never danced for anybody before. I wanted to give that to you.” Dancing had been her salvation when she’d despaired of finding Ter. The one release she’d allowed herself. “This is just for you. You never have to share it with Ter or anyone else.”
“It is a great gift. I will treasure it.” He added, with a glint in those yellow eyes, “You will give it to me every night before you show me your hooha.”
She giggled, enjoying something so silly without feeling guilty. He called it a gift, so he did understand the significance. “How about once a month instead?”
“Every night.”
“We’ll see.” She led him to the table and gave the signal for the white clad servers to bring in the food. The man in front stopped dead and stared at Balthazar, his mouth opening and closing. If he said tinner, she’d grab him by the throat. For security reasons, she didn’t warn anyone that her guest was one of the aliens. She’d made them sign a confidentiality agreement, and if any of them tried to sell news or images of Balthazar, she’d sue them for so much that their great grandchildren would have to work to pay off the debt.
The server visibly composed himself and continued into the room, presenting the first course.
She’d wanted them to have an intimate dinner, but she also didn’t want to run around serving food. She’d compromised in the end. The servers withdrew with silent professionalism.
The table was small enough that she could reach out and stroke a hand over his uniformed clad shoulder. “I would like to continue my work with the foundation. With the children.”
He checked his recoil the moment it happened. “You wish to stay here.”
“I’m hoping I don’t have to. I can do most of it from the ship if I can speak to Samantha every day. If I can use the dimensional door, I can come down here a few times a week.” Her heartbeat changed rhythm, unpleasantly out of beat. What if she presumed too much, and he didn’t mean for her to be with him full time?
Pure joy blazed from his eyes, lit with orange sparks, and burned over her. “You wish to stay with me?”
She could see he didn’t quite believe it. “You know that recording of the wasp you keep watching?”
He took her hands in his, loosely held it on the table in his three fingered
grip. “Yes.”
“That wasp could never appreciate my dance and music. The way you looked at me. Balthazar, only a person with a soul can do that.”
He cocked his head, confusion clear on his face. “I did not think the wasp could understand music and dance.”
Aurora smiled and shook her head. “What I’m trying to say is, if you were truly just a machine, seeing me dance just now would’ve meant nothing to you.”
“It means everything to me,” he said with reverence.
Aurora pressed his hand. So different from hers and yet the same. “You are a person, Balthazar, you matter.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “No more watching the wasp, hmmm?” His tattoo moved to his cheek, covering most of his face and neck. Something about that was important, but she was too focused on their conversation to grasp what it was.
“No, I have you to watch now.”
“Believe you are a person, Balthazar. It is so important that you believe that deep in your heart.” Just as it was important for her to forgive herself for being human. For running when she’d been a frightened child.
“I will believe this.”
The servers brought in dessert, trying their best to act professional and failing. They kept staring at Balthazar, who ignored them.
Once they left, she smiled and, pulling him up, rose on tiptoe, pulled down his head, and kissed him. “Make love to me, Balthazar.”
He picked her up. “It is one concept I have mastered brilliantly.” He kissed her, and she forgot about dancing and that she had a world-famous chef standing by to serve them coffee. She forgot everything, but the feel of his lips against hers. Balthazar lifted his head and looked around. “Where is your bed?”
She pointed and busied herself kissing his neck, down to his chest while he carried her to her bedroom. Their bedroom.
He walked into the wall and stilled. Something dangerous emanated from him. “It’s just a wall, kiss me and keep going. We need that bed.”
He relaxed and walked into her room. His gaze scorched her. “You are also beautiful when you do not move,” he said.
She ran her fingers through his shiny black hair. “So I’m not ugly with a squashed-in face and spider hands anymore,” she said demurely.
“Your squashed face and spider hands are beautiful.” He trailed his fingers down the side of her face, over her shoulders, until he took her hand in his. He placed a kiss in her palm.
“I think you’re beautiful too. I should say you’re handsome, men don’t like being called beautiful, but, to me, that is what you are.”
“You may think me beautiful. I will punish anyone who dares to disagree with you. It will be one of the rules of cyborgs.”
She giggled, the second time tonight she acted like a schoolgirl, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt truly young and carefree. She could believe a wonderful life lay ahead of her.
He touched the gold braid running down the front of her dress and frowned when he couldn’t find the fastenings. “How do you open your dress?”
“The laces are in back.” She’d worn one of the dresses that were made with historical accuracy.
He turned her around, and she looked over her shoulder to find him examining her laces with a seriousness she found endearing. “Just break them, I don’t mind.”
“I will never break your things.” He undid the laces with painstaking care, his hands scraped and pressed over her back as he unraveled them, unexpectedly erotic. By the time he turned her to face him, she was about ready to jump him.
With the same slow, deliberate care with which he’d undone her laces, he pulled off the embroidered outer dress. He briefly swiped a finger over the intricate embroidery. “Did you do this?”
“No, there is a designer in New York who does hand embroidery. She’s been making ceremonial dresses for the foundation since forever.”
He carefully folded her dress over the wingback chair, turned back to her, and stared down at the second layer. “Do you not overheat when you wear clothes three times?”
She laughed and surged up to kiss him, and she forgot about embroidery and clothes and how much of it she wore.
At last, he pushed her back. “I wish to take off every piece of clothing and examine it.”
“Wouldn’t you rather examine every piece of me?” she asked with a demure smile.
His gaze scorched her. “I will be thorough.”
He picked her up and laid her down on the bed, kissed every inch he exposed. Scraped his rough tongue over every inch he kissed. “You are most beautiful. Beautiful when you dance, beautiful when you walk, beautiful when you lay here.”
She swallowed and said simply, “Thank you. Take off your clothes, Balthazar. I wanted to take my time undressing you the way you undressed me, but I want you naked. Now.”
He straightened and shrugged out of his jacket, drew his shirt over his head, his movements so beautifully masculine she couldn’t look away if she wanted to. Her breath caught in her throat. He pushed off his pants and straightened.
Aurora bolted upright. She’d been trying to figure out what was different about him the whole evening and now she realized what it was. “Balthazar, your tattoo.” Every inch of his body was covered with it.
He stared down at his naked body, looked up at her, and audibly swallowed. “You are ready to gift me with a soul.”
“Me? I haven’t done anything.” She’d noticed it covered more of him from time to time, but hadn’t really paid attention.
“My ryhov covers my whole body, like it does the Tunrians’. When you give me my soul, it will pulse with blue.”
How on earth would she get him to understand that she couldn’t give him his soul? She’d have to pray for a miracle.
He took her in his arms, seemed to forget about his tattoos as he kissed her until her toes curled, and she barely remembered her own name. He kissed her and made love to her as if he needed to absorb her into his very skin. For the first time, Aurora allowed herself to relax, to let go and climax without guilt, and to trust him to still be there when she came down from the peak of pleasure.
A long time later she traced his tattoo, his ryhov, with her forefinger, following the swirls. Balthazar trembled. She stroked a finger over his chest. “I feel as if I belong somewhere. It’s been a very long time since I felt like that.” She had a place in their society, teaching them how to be people and not machines, while at the same time learning from them as well. What she did mattered. It impacted their lives, she believed, for the better.
“I don’t think I ever really belonged anywhere,” he said. “I knew I was responsible for the other cyborgs, because I promised them a better life if they followed me, but I never had this feeling before.”
Aurora nodded. “Coming to your spaceship is the best thing I’ve ever done, but I still feel betrayed, as if the president should’ve at least tried to keep me safe.”
“I will keep you safe.”
She kissed him, a quick touch of her lips before she laid her head on his chest. “We will keep each other safe.”
She stroked his ryhov while he moved his fingers lazily up and down her back. A blue curlicue moved under her hand, and she traced its outline. It pulsed, as if it wanted to purr at her touch.
“Anything else you knew that you didn’t tell me about?” She found another blue design and followed its outline with her finger.
“I knew from the beginning that you used finger talk to give messages to the president.”
Aurora cringed, unfortunately remembering every detail of what she reported. “Yes, you mentioned before that you could understand everything we said to each other.”
“Yes.
“So, why did you allow it? I’d have thought you’d want to make sure I didn’t tell him anything.”
“You did not know anything useful, and you never told him about the failsafe code.”
She traced another blue sliver. “I’m sorry I used it, but, at the time, I didn�
��t know how else to stop you from bombing my people. If you’d done that, we wouldn’t be together now. I don’t think I could’ve lived with anyone who could destroy a planet.”
“I do not want to be at war with you. I made a deal with your president.”
“What deal?”
“We will guard Earth and trade for supplies while we talk about coexisting.”
More and more blue appeared among the designs on his body.
She followed a blue triangle that morphed in a flower like shape. “I’d love to be only with you, Balthazar, but the work I do here is important to me. I need to help children like Ter.” She sat upright, stared down at his chest. “Balthazar, I think something’s happening.”
He sat up and grabbed something from beneath the cushion, ready to take on an assailant.
“When did you--never mind. Look at your tattoo--I mean your ryhov.”
He scanned the room, listened intently, and, only then, did he focus on his chest to where she pointed.
Balthazar frowned and went so still she feared somehow she’d frozen him again.
“What is it, Balthazar? It’s beautiful.”
And it was. Fine blue threads wove through the tattoos even as she watched.
“My soul. You shared your soul with me.”
When he looked at her, there was so much reverence, so much love in his gaze, she had to swallow emotion-filled tears. “I think you got your soul because you are a wonderful, caring person who deserves to have one.”
He lay back down and drew her into his arms. She sensed he didn’t know what to do, how to react. He probably never truly believed he would get his soul. Aurora didn’t know if she believed that the blue ryhov meant he suddenly had a soul. But he believed it, and that was what was important.
They fell asleep, holding each other, and the next morning he convinced her to leave for the ship early, to have breakfast in the mess hall. She knew he wanted to show the other cyborgs his ryhov.
“Your clothes and belongings are still in my cabin,” he said, staring down at her suitcase with that baffled look.
