Rora moved through her usual routine atop the slackline. As she did, her cyborg hand droned its mechanical melancholy.
Lunging forward, she caught the rope with her hands and flipped herself back to her feet. Before she could complete the flip, her hand sparked. A bolt of electricity shot up her arm and into her shoulder.
Pain pulsed through her so sharply, her head swam.
Gasping, she lost her grip on the wire, elbows slapping the mat on the ground below.
The room twisted under her gaze before settling. A strange smell like burning hair and sulfur filled the air. It took her another moment to realize her cyborg wrist was smoking.
“Shit!”
Grabbing a sweat towel, Rora clapped the fabric over the growing smoke.
Marzanna, who had been rehearsing nearby, dashed over and hauled her to her feet. “Come on! It’s time you see the new tinkerer about that hand.”
Despite Rora’s plan, she hesitated, feeling suddenly very small and very nervous.
Marzanna pulled her along toward the tinkerer’s office, knocking briskly on the doorframe before marching in with Rora in tow.
“Tinkerer,” Marzanna said as a way of greeting. “We require your immediate attention. Ms. Lockwood’s arm is smoking.”
Hunched over several books and sitting cross-legged on the patient table, the tinkerer looked up and blinked as though lost in thought. Cyborg eye settling on them, she jumped to her feet, shoving the books off the table and indicating for Rora to sit.
Rora’s cheeks heated.
This hadn’t been what she’d had in mind about seducing this woman.
Suppressing a groan, Rora sat on the table and removed the towel, which had blackened in a patch from her smoking hand.
Grabbing tools and parts from the shelves, the tinkerer shuffled over and placed the equipment beside Rora on the table. Turning to Marzanna, the tinkerer said, “If you don’t mind, I’d ask you to return to your activities while I care for…”
She looked at Rora, eyebrows raised.
“Rora Lockwood,” Rora blurted.
“Right, for Ms. Lockwood,” she said. “My name is Gwendolyn Grimm.”
Marzanna opened her mouth to object, but Rora held up a hand. “I’m fine, really. Thanks for your help.”
Nodding, Marzanna returned to the theater.
Feeling as though she’d just swallowed a lump of nut butter, Rora cleared her throat. But Gwendolyn paid her no mind, donning rubber gloves and tracing the wiring and metal gears near where the smoking had started. Rora felt cheated on by her own hand.
I’d like some of her attention as well, thank you.
Plucking up a screwdriver, Gwendolyn sat beside her and unscrewed the top metal plating, which opened with a click, revealing the machinery underneath. When smoke spewed up, the tinkerer cursed, fingers rummaging through the technology.
It felt like someone had pulled up Rora’s dress to look at her undergarments. Blood rushed to her cheeks.
This is not how this seduction was supposed to go.
Yesterday, Rora had concocted a plan to get the new hand she so desperately needed. And the plan was simple—to seduce the tinkerer.
At Cirque du Borge, one rule was sacred: cyborgs only received new or refurbished implants upon entering the circus.
After the Cyborg Prohibition Law was put into place and the manufacturing of implants illegalized, implants, replaceable parts, and the rechargeable batteries powering them became scarce, and, therefore, incredibly valuable. Even the base implants were worth millions of marks. Should anything unexpectedly malfunction before its time, like Rora’s hand, the cyborg was out of luck. If the malfunctioning implant impacted performances and audience engagement, the performer could be subject to contract termination, which could mean expulsion from the circus or worse.
Tinkerers were prohibited from using the circus’ resources to purchase additional parts or to construct a new cyborg hand.
Unfortunately for Rora, the last tinkerer had been a following-the-rules kind of gent. He’d disappeared mysteriously a few months before his thirteen-year contract was up. But this tinkerer would be different.
Gwendolyn Grimm would be so smitten that she’d do anything for Rora—even make her a new hand. With a new hand, Rora could perform even more incredible stunts. In so doing, she’d secure one of the top ten spots to perform for the emperor.
Finally, she’d prove she was good enough.
“What’s wrong with it?” Rora asked, foregoing all her carefully planned conversations.
Gwendolyn didn’t respond as she worked.
“Ms. Grimm?”
“What?” She looked up as though noticing Rora for the first time. “Oh… It’s just Gwen.”
Progress?
“Something is wrong with the unit, and perhaps the mainframe as well,” Gwen continued. “The original unit is at least ten years old, so it’s hard to tell which went first.” She bit her tongue between her teeth as she worked. “What were you doing out there anyway?”
“Practicing. I was doing a flip when my hand went haywire.”
Gwen nodded absently. “Did you experience any shocks or bolts of electricity from the implant?”
“Yes.”
Releasing Rora’s hand, Gwen scratched the back of her head. “On a ship, if that sort of thing happened, I’d take the whole machine apart to see where the malfunctioning originated…” She trailed off. Finally, she shook her head before resuming her work. “I’m hoping if I can replace a few wires that your hand will return to its previous functionality.”
Which wasn’t very good to begin with.
Patience.
“I trust you,” Rora said.
Gwen stiffened but didn’t look up from her work.
Turning, Gwen shifted her grip on Rora’s arm. As she did, her fingers traced lightly over the skin on her elbow, sending gooseflesh up her arms.
Rora wanted to rub her arm, to hide what this woman’s touch did to her, but she forced herself to remain motionless.
“I’ve met a bunch of crybabies all morning,” Gwen finally said. “You’re the first person who hasn’t complained about the lack of instantaneous success.”
Rora laughed. “For once, I don’t have decent competition? Excellent.”
Abruptly, Gwen screwed the metal plating back into place and stood. “I’m hoping that should do it. You’re all set, Ms. Lockwood.”
Rora’s eyes connected with Gwen’s. For a moment, she forgot how to move. Dark lashes framed an iris as infinite as the stars. Her cyborg eye emitted a golden glow from the light where her iris and pupil would have been.
Just what can she see with that cyborg eye?
Recalling her plan, Rora leaned forward on the table until her face was only inches from Gwen’s. It was then she noticed how tall Gwen was. But with Rora sitting on the table, her lips were mere inches lower than Gwen’s.
“Call me Rora.”
Gwen licked her lips, her chest rising and falling visibly.
“Will you be going to the ball?” Rora put on her sweetest, shyest smile.
Gwen cleared her throat, but she didn’t step back. “Not if I can help it.”
“Although attendance is mandatory…” Rora dared to lean close enough that she whispered the next words into the tinkerer’s ear. “I hope I can persuade you to come.” Slowly, she pulled herself away and slid off the table. She walked toward the door with a performer’s saunter. “We performers can be a dramatic bunch, but we do know how to throw one hell of a party.”
A lie, but the tinkerer didn’t need to know that.
“If you’d like a good time, Gwen, I’d be happy to show you.”
Rora paused long enough to smile mischievously up at Gwen, whose dark eye was rimmed with possibility—a single eyebrow raised in unspoken question.
Those eyes narrowed as she considered. “Mandatory attendance, you say?” With a chuckle, she placed the screwdriver on one of the shelves, giving Rora a great view of an ass the sun would orbit.
Rora’s gaze swept up to the tinkerer’s full hips and narrow waist.
When Gwen turned around, a small smile was on her lips. “So, are you going to ask me, or what?”
Well, she certainly doesn’t mess around.
Or does she?
Butterflies fluttered through Rora’s stomach.
Smiling, she tried to keep her face smooth. It wouldn’t do to show how much Gwen affected her—not if she was going to have this girl wrapped around her finger. Still, she could play along.
“Would you like to go to the ball with me?”
“Do you care if your date wears… informal attire?” Gwen gestured to her tinkerer’s clothes. “I’m afraid everything else I own is back on Anchorage.”
That’s where Bastian picked her up.
Closing the distance between them, she grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Don’t worry. I have just the thing.”
Linking her fingers through Gwen’s, Rora led her out of the theater. To her surprise, Gwen clasped Rora’s hand in return.
Excited to spend time alone with Gwen, she didn’t notice the drone had returned to her cyborg hand.