Half-Moon Glow

Witch's Heart

Her lower back, exposed by the trim of her blouse, rested on the edge of the bar, cool under her touch.

Aurora was aware of the looks she was getting. She was no stranger to them. Many a trooper walked by her, winking an eye, baring his teeth in as seductive a grin as he could manage. She would ignore some, entertain a few others—nothing that would incite much conversation.

The night was still young.

Even the bartender seemed intrigued by her, as was made obvious by him telling her that her next cocktail, a delightful, berry-flavored vodka cocktail appropriately named The Witch's Heart, would be on the house.

Aurora had learned to love the attention.

Sipping on her cocktail, she looked around the bar, and despite it being the clone bar, she didn't see many familiar faces.

Commander Cody certainly wasn't there that night, and she had to admit, with the alcohol, the music, and the dancing, she missed his presence.

On the next sip, Aurora turned around on her seat at the bar, now facing the diverse bottles of liquor and alcohol that decorated the wall. From her purse, she took out a tiny round mirror, one with a light blue vinyl coating on the outside that fit perfectly in her palm. She opened it and gazed at herself, checking that the little faux gemstones she'd outlined her yellow markings with were still in place.

They were perfect.

Her full lips, tainted with deep blue, looked plump and inviting. As she tapped the mirror shut, Aurora felt her wavy lavender hair falling down her back, its tips gently brushing the bit of exposed blue skin on her lower back. The alcohol sent waves of euphoria down her body; if she left the bar that night without a man on her arm, it would be solely because she denied them all.

She could almost feel how they all wanted her.

The moment her glass was set down on the table, she felt a presence next to her—perhaps the only one who'd been brave enough to walk up to her and start a conversation. He was on her right side, a man who clearly didn't care about regulation as he wasn't wearing any sort of uniform.

And though he didn't look like it, he was still a clone.

"Couldn't help but notice you're here all by yourself," he spoke in the smoothest voice, deep and coiled, a whisper at twilight.

Aurora huffed as she took another sip from her cocktail, not yet dignifying the man with a look, though his voice did intrigue her. Slowly, Aurora turned her body to face his, angling herself perfectly, enhancing her own beauty. Like a wave, her eyes were the final part to reach him, and she observed.

Taller than most, if not all. Much slimmer, his complexion long and thin. His hair was silver—and it looked as though it was that way naturally. He wore all dark clothes; a dark red shirt, black pants, a black light jacket. His eyes, dark brown, narrow, were darting into her, dark and lustful.

This was a man who didn't play games, and he knew what he wanted.

"So rude of you to come by so unannounced," Aurora teased him, taking another sip of the berry cocktail, her eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, feigning remorse. "I can right my wrongs."

"Better prove that to me," she spoke as her gaze lingered on the thinly outlined rangefinder tattoo over his right eye.

The man snickered again, the sound velvety and rich. Confidently, he shifted his weight onto the bar and called the bartender's attention with only the wave of a hand.