Bitter Oath (New Atlantis)(25)

The piston beat began in earnest again, and she lost herself to the rhythm. It fleetingly reminded her of the sight of Travis orchestrating colour. But it was her blood that was swirling now, thrumming like a taut string from her toes to the top of her head. And it was the heat of Rene’s body that fuelled the fever inside her, until she exploded in white-hot flames around him, screaming out his name as she fell into darkness once more



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CHAPTER THIRTEEN





The next week was the happiest and most contented Rene had ever known. The world was more beautiful than he had ever realised. For so long, he had only seen the wounds of their damaged planet. All that stood out was what had been lost. In his mind, the Earth had seemed like a mutilated and broken victim of some awful crime, the blood and filth hiding everything else that was there. But now it was as if he saw what was beneath, what had always been beneath, even in the worst moments of destruction. He saw the strength and resilience of life. He saw the beauty of all that had survived.

And his sense of wonder expanded every time Liv gasped with awe at one thing or another. He saw his world anew through her eyes – not a dying planet, but a reborn one, filled with fresh and exciting possibilities.

When he had shown her the terrarium with the giant earthworms burrowing down to the water below, she was fascinated. So much so, that he was hard pressed to get her out of the laboratory again. Her questions were all intelligent, and sometimes they pushed him into areas he hadn’t considered before. She was insatiable, in bed and out of it.

When he thought of the person he had been before her, and the person he was now, it was hard to credit. For hundreds of years, it was as if he had been sleeping or comatose. His brain had functioned, but his body and emotions had been dead. Now they were alive, coursing through him like fire. Jane had observed that he was lighter after meeting Liv. But it was more than lightness; it was energy – pulsing, insistent energy. And it kept him on a constant high.

Some days, he couldn’t work out what he needed more – to be inside her, or to be showing her the wonders of his world. When he did one, there was a part of him that was anxious and impatient to be doing the other. There didn’t seem to be enough time. He felt like he was on some kind of drug like MDMA, which used to be popularly called Ecstasy.

At other times, particularly as they lay together after sex, he felt a peace he had never known. It was as if he wanted for nothing, as long as she was beside him. The world was perfect, just the way it was.

And he wanted to be perfect for her. He wanted to root out all his shortcomings, and correct them. Where this insecurity came from, he wasn’t sure, but it drove him relentlessly.

One morning, toward the end of their honeymoon week, they were quietly watching the sun rise over the silver ocean. Liv’s golden hair was spread like a blanket over his chest, and he kept breathing it in, and stoking its glossy smoothness. She had taken one hand in his, and was studying it closely, as if it were one of his specimens. He became only too aware of the darkness of his skin, and the squareness of his hands. They were not pale and elegant like hers. Workman’s hands, and even though these particular hands had no callouses, there had been many sets before these that had been calloused and rough, from hard manual labour for the tribe.

‘There is cream I can use to lighten the colour… if you prefer…’ he found himself saying, trying to draw his hand away, to hide it.

‘Why would I prefer it?’ she asked, clinging to his hand. Then she shifted onto her side, and eased up onto an elbow so she could look down into his eyes. Her hair fell about her face like a waterfall of gold.

‘Do you know how often you say things like that? Would I prefer you this way or that…’

He felt flustered and a little angered by the way that made him sound. He wasn’t that needy and insecure. It never mattered to him what people thought of him.

It had never mattered before what people thought of him. But now it did, he realised with a start. Now he cared too much what this one person thought of him.

‘Rene, you are handsome, intelligent and worthy of respect and love. Why would I “prefer” you to be different?’

He thought about her question, and when he felt he had an honest answer, he started to talk. Self-reflection did not come naturally to him, but he understood her need for it. So he gave her what he could.

‘I am not normally like this. Usually, I could care a less for how others see me, physically or in terms of the choices I have made in my life. Even as a youth, in the days before the Last Great Plague, I was a little bit wild, and considered no one’s point of view but my own.

‘Being of mixed race sometimes caused me grief. There was not a lot of racial prejudice in my time. But occasionally the tensions created by a dying planet resulted in racially directed unrest. My skin was dark, compared to most of the people I associated with at school and University. I got used to people – women, I suppose – either finding it attractive or repellent. I used the attraction, and ignored those who were obviously repelled. I got used to people commenting on my eyes, as if I was some exotic species. I got used to seeing myself as different. In the tribes I lived with for lifetimes, I was always different. Back here, I was always the primitive. I walked two paths and never belonged to either. And it never mattered – because it was my path.

‘But since I met you, I find I look at myself through your eyes – and I see my imperfections. My skin is too dark, and my hands are too square and clumsy. I wish my manhood was larger so it would please you more. I wish I didn’t look like a hairless youth. My feet seem too big. I am too serious. I do not know how to entertain you with my words. I watch you looking at other men, and I wonder what they have that I do not. And if I knew, I would get it… whatever it took.’

Throughout his speech, Liv had been shaking her head very slightly. Finally, she put her hand over his mouth.

‘I understand a little of what you are feeling. I look at Jane, and wish I was as pretty as her. I wonder if you would have fallen in love with her, if she had not met Julio first. No…do not say anything.’ She kept her hand over his mouth to stop his denial from being spoken. ‘I know you love me. I know you think I am beautiful. It is just the insecurities of love that make me think this way. Just as it is only the insecurities of love that make you feel the way you do.

‘Your brown skin is beautiful. I wish my skin was that colour. I like that your hands are big and square. They are strong hands. I wouldn’t want you hairy, or with smaller feet. I do not look at other men, and wish you looked more like them. I look at them, and see only you. I do not care that your ancestry is mixed. It makes you unique. I love that you are different from everyone else. I love that you are serious about saving the planet. I am no silly Miss who must be entertained. I am capable of entertaining myself, if need be. But talking to you about weighty matters, like your plans for regeneration: that is entertainment to me. I am a serious woman, I require a serious man.’

She frowned for a moment, and then her face cleared. ‘Ah, that is the one I missed. I do not require a man with a larger appendage. You give me more pleasure than any woman could or should expect. And I think I have now covered everything. Which brings me to my inept skills at pleasing you…’

He shook off her hand, and grabbed a length of her hair. He drew her face down to his. As their lips met, he said against hers, ‘You are a quick study, Ma Chere, in everything you do. No woman could please me more.’

Then he was kissing her with the feverish intensity that was his perpetual state. As the morning sun warmed their skin, he heated their bodies until all thoughts of insecurities or imperfections were gone. If she thought him perfect, then that was all that mattered.

But the acid that ate silently away at his contentment continued. If he was all that she thought he was, he would be able to find a way to save her. He would not give up and let her die, not matter what his government and the committee said. A real man did not let such a thing happen. A real man would fight to keep what was his.





Autumn 2335 New Atlantis, GAIAN CONFEDERACY



‘I can see young Bart has been on the scene,’ Jane said, as she approached her friend at the experimental garden on the edge of the city. Liv looked up from the Tablet, on which she had been mentally recording her findings, and smiled.

‘Oh yes, Bartholomew is like a small tornado, but he means well. Faith had him out here helping, earlier this morning. She says he is settling in much better now. At first he did not like being separated from his charges.’

‘That kid has been a little protector ever since he was rescued from the Death Train. They call him Luke’s MiniMe. I didn’t get it until I watched Austin Powers. But he really is Luke, right down to the ground. I’m glad Luke and Faith adopted him.’

‘As am I. But I still do not understand Austin Powers’ humour, although I do comprehend the reference.’ Liv made the Dr Evil gesture, and Jane laughed.