Steampunk Cyborg (Mecha Origin Book 1)

by Eve Langlais

  His tongue found her clit and worked it, flicking the swollen nub. Pulling at it with his lips. Lashing it with his tongue.

  She whimpered, the sign she approached her climax. And he wanted to taste it. Feel it on his tongue.

  He rammed a finger inside her as he worked her nub. Two, the third had her tightening hard, her body going into orgasm. He flicked her nub faster. Even before she screamed, he felt it, the tremble, the severe clench of her channel on his fingers.

  Then the wave as she undulated in bliss. He wanted to feel it. He sprang to his feet, cock jutting, hard and ready. He rubbed the head of it on her still throbbing flesh.

  She squirmed and reached for him.

  He went into her arms, finding her lips for a kiss as he slammed himself into her undulating sheath.

  Pure pleasure. The waving tightness had him rocking quickly in and out of her. He pulled her leg up to give himself the best possible angle inside her. The one that made her gasp.

  The special spot. Now that he had it, he pistoned into her, hips pulling back and forth, pushing him in and out, harder and faster.

  Her nails dug into his back again as she moaned. “Jules. Yes. Oh God, please.” The whispered pleas undid him.

  The second climax, the one that fisted his cock before pulsing in a way that drew his own orgasm, snapped his head back. He almost howled. His gears alternately spun madly and stopped inside him.

  He held himself within her as all his systems took a moment to reboot and sync their running again. Sync with something new.

  He opened his eyes and found her already staring at him.

  Their gazes locked.

  Their gears moving as one.

  A creak of a door.

  “We have company,” he grumbled as he rolled out of bed.

  13

  When he said, “Hide,” she didn’t argue.

  Especially since he rolled out of bed and dove for the gun in the holster lying on the floor. The door to their room opened, and she wondered if maybe he was being paranoid. Could be a servant with a midnight snack. Or that demon doctor with some kind of miracle cure.

  It wasn’t.

  She didn’t recognize the male who entered the room, though he had a distinctive face. White hair slicked back in a strip. Blue skin. Hawkish nose. A really big gun.

  “Bazl sent you, I assume?” Jules said, for some reason not shooting.

  “You have something he wants.” The intruder glanced at her.

  Her blood ran cold. Shoot him. The mental thought apparently bounced off Jules since he kept talking.

  Since when did he talk instead of act?

  “The Amann won’t condone his attack of a guest on their planet.”

  “Good thing they won’t find out. The record of your trip to my employer’s home has already been changed. Really, taking a human to the always-hungry Carnyjung quarter. Not a good idea. They’re known to pick the bones clean.” The guy shook his head, faking chagrin.

  “What’s the plan? Kill me and take the gear?”

  “We both know you’re hard to kill, and Bazl is a reasonable sort. He says your payment for bringing him the cog is your life. I’d take it.”

  Aggie trembled as she heard the deal. Would Jules take it?

  “I’m not leaving without her. She’s worth too much.”

  Not I love her. Not, hell no, she won’t go. Did he really only care about the gear in her head?

  “Then you die, and I take her anyhow.” The other guy’s gun began changing color going from a dull gray to a brightening orange.

  Still, Jules didn’t shoot.

  Shit was getting real.

  Aggie took in a deep breath and said, “I’ll go. No need for anyone to shoot anybody. Just give me a second to grab some clothes.” She leaned over the bed, rummaging among the strewn pile, hearing the intruder’s impatient, “Hurry up.”

  Whereas Jules muttered, “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping you alive,” she grumbled, shoving at the pile before sitting upright and pulling on her shirt. Once she could drop the sheet, she stood, cheeks red, aware the shirt hit her mid-thigh. Not that the blue intruder noticed. He kept his gaze on Jules.

  The real threat. Not her. She kicked around the clothes again before pouncing on her pants.

  “Hurry up,” grumbled the one-man blue show.

  Only one.

  An idea percolated when she saw the holster in the pile of their clothes with the knife in it.

  She grabbed it with her coat and boots. “I’m coming.”

  “Don’t move,” Jules ordered.

  But she had a plan. A plan that would save them both.

  The moment she was beside blue guy, who still paid her no attention, she pulled the knife and held it on him. “Drop the gun.”

  He turned an incredulous gaze on her. Laughed. Then stopped laughing as Jules shot him.

  She eyed the bleeding body on the floor.

  “Good job distracting him,” he commended.

  “Uh…” It occurred to her that things could have gone quickly wrong.

  Then they got worse.

  An alarm sounded.

  “What’s that?”

  Jules’s lips compressed. “Bazl’s backup plan. We took out his soldier. Now he’ll try to take us out.”

  “How?

  “By using the laws of this planet against us,” Jules snapped. “We must move quickly.” He dragged her through the door, and she barely held on to her boots, keeping pace. They no sooner hit the hall than Jules raised his gun and fired as a head appeared at the top of the spiraling staircase.

  “Maybe if you stopped killing people we could explain what happened.”

  “They’re not dead,” he mumbled as they stepped over the prone body slumped in the stairs. “At least he isn’t. The Amann still consider it an act of violence.”

  “But they attacked first,” she argued as he skipped down the stairs ahead of her, gun out.

  “He’s a citizen, we aren’t. They’ll believe him over us.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Welcome to the universe.” Jules shot her a grin. “Fear not, I had a sense he might try and betray us.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They ran into the giant red-skinned demon just past the front door, a small army of blue guys behind him.

  “Apprehend them both,” Bazl commanded, pointing a claw, triumph and apology in his gaze.

  Jules appeared quite at ease when he said, “Do you really want to do that? Remember that thing we talked about awhile back?”

  The slit in Bazl’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

  Jules reached into his pocket and pulled out a single thing. A feather. A white one. A little battered and yet Bazl’s expression turned rapt.

  “You found a feather. Give it.” The greedy demand punctuated his words with an outstretched hand.

  “Only if you let me and Aggie go.”

  “You can have your life, but I have a buyer for the girl.”

  Jules held his gun to the feather. “No deal.”

  “Wait!” Bazl appeared quite panicked.

  “Your word we can both leave.”

  It took Bazl a moment of grumbling and smoking from the ears before he said, “Agreed.”

  It was clear Jules didn’t trust him Bazl as he inched past, Aggie glued to his side, the gun on the feather the whole time.

  Only when they reached the edge of the weird transit system did Jules finally toss the feather.

  Bazl dove for it as Jules snared her around the waist and stepped into the weird ley line of this world.

  But not before they heard a cry of rage. “It’s a fake!”

  And someone wasn’t happy about it.

  Emerging from the road, her stomach a few steps behind but her hair still perfectly pillow-and-sex-tousled, she cast a glance behind her.

  “Run!” Jules yelled. In this place of many people, they looked out of place, rac
ing across the cobbled stone.

  “Get them! They attacked me,” Bazl bellowed the moment he emerged from the transit line.

  “Did not!” Aggie yelled over her shoulder, only to squeak as a tiny army of blue soldiers came trotting out of an archway at the far end of the concourse.

  “Keep going,” Jules advised, dragging her through a door that looked like all the other doors. Then they were in a long hall that looked a lot like the one they’d arrived in.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” A tunnel that could decontaminate might be able to eradicate just as easily.

  “No.” The king of non-reassurance, who dragged her at a run.

  She heard a commotion from behind. Screams. Explosions.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Remember that feather I gave Bazl?”

  “The one he called a fake?” she replied, the trip through the tunnel much shorter at a run.

  “It was a fake. With a bomb built into it.”

  That caused her to stumble. “You blew him up!”

  “I caused a distraction,” he corrected. “Thank me later.”

  The mega egg was in sight. They’d made it to the ladder when a siren went off.

  He didn’t ask but tossed her over a brawny shoulder and got them up that ladder fast. She didn’t complain when he dumped her and ran for this console.

  His urgency proved contagious. She slipped past him and up the ladder to see through the dome what was happening.

  She was in time to see the door they’d come through open. A squad of blue soldiers emerged, as did a singed Bazl. He didn’t look too damaged, but given the smoke pouring out of him, he was pissed.

  Well so was she. Double-crossing devil.

  She gave him the bird as they lifted off.

  14

  The steam puffed and whistled at the cracks. Dials hovered in dangerous zones. And yet Jwls didn’t dare lift off gently. Not when he knew the entire Luux force might be arrayed against him.

  Indeed, he didn’t need her shrieked, “I think they’re shooting at us,” to notice the missiles headed for his craft. Not wanting to use his shields more than necessary, he angled and wove, not exactly the quickest way to exit the atmosphere.

  He ejected a few drones, their heat signatures providing a decoy that drew away some of the surface-to-air missiles

  That only took care of a few of the explosions. Others hit the ship and rumbled it. On his board he could see enemy craft approaching.

  Fast. Dexterous. Deadly.

  The Amann were a mighty foe. Innovators of the best design.

  He would know. They’d created his ship.

  Which meant he could use their own technology against them. Since he would never be welcome in this galaxy again, he had no qualms about firing his own weapons. Let them dodge and dart and lose some of their shield protection.

  The pressure of the atmosphere pushed and pulled on his ship. Not a pleasant feeling, which was why he ignored Aggie’s yodeling up top. Only when they hit space did she finally get herself down the ladder yelling, “Dude, did you not hear me! Something hit us up top. The dome is cracking.”

  “We are also under attack, in case you’d not noticed.” Clearing the planet didn’t shake the ships chasing him.

  “If the dome blows, we’re dead.”

  “If the Amann vessels get close enough, we’ll be dead as well,” he countered

  “We’re gonna die,” she moaned.

  “Only if you fail.” He jabbed a finger at the ladder. “Second floor. Giant canister. Pink goo inside. You need to smear it on the crack to repair it.”

  “Me?” she yelped.

  “Yes, you. I’m busy. Do it right or we’ll be space chunks,” he advised, sending the egg into a spin that wouldn’t help the dome. “And quickly!”

  “Aye, aye, Captain Asshole,” she muttered with a mock salute. She ran for the ladder, and for once, he didn’t have time to watch her climb.

  Nor could he worry if she managed to complete her repair task. He didn’t know what she did up there, too busy keeping them from getting turned into space dust. The Amann brought out the ship equipped with the giant gun. The one even his shield would fold against.

  If he could just get out of sight, he could cloak.

  He swung them here and there, speeding through the galaxy, losing his pursuers bit by bit while cursing from above entertained him. Loud expletives. And thumps. He turned on his intercom to listen.

  “Stupid fucking goo.” Slap. Bang. Slop. “Jesus. How did I manage to step in it?” Wet slopping again. More grumbling.

  It provided an interesting litany that lulled him as he managed to finally lose sight of his pursuers and engage the cloak.

  Only then did he stretch and pop his joints. A short break before he clambered up the ladder to see what disaster she’d wrought.

  The good news? The crack was sealed. The whole bucket used because he’d not specified thin layers

  Nor had he thought to tell her to wear protective gear, which meant Aggie was partially covered in goo and scowling. “Stuff is like crazy glue. I’m not good with crazy glue. I got my fingers stuck together.” She held up her hand. “And at the end, I lost the brush in the bucket.” She eyed it mournfully.

  Whereas Jwls laughed. Laughed as he ran the cleaner over her, removing every hard chunk. Even chuckled when he took the grinder to the thick ridge running over the dome.

  But he didn’t keep his humor. The incident in Luux showcased a lot of things. First and foremost, people would do anything to get their hands on a God Gear.

  Two, that gear wasn’t coming out of her face by gentle means.

  And three, there would be more attacks. Which was why, after they moved quickly out of the Amann galaxy, he skipped to the closest black hole then zigzagged for others, cloaked the entire way, severely depleting his energy stores.

  But they were alive. Something that brought them together over and over again. Jwls couldn’t help but touch her. Unable to get enough of her skin. Her heat.

  Hoping each time he sank into her that he could find a way to extricate them from their problem.

  Because he didn’t want her to die.

  So what option did that leave him?

  He didn’t know. Needing time, he set course for the Siyborgh planet. A place similar to her Earth with a blue sky and green lands when they weren’t in an Ice Age phase.

  It had just started, too, so it would be cold most of the time. Not that the cold bothered him much. And he thought the pristine whiteness quite pretty.

  So did she. When they emerged from the hatch onto the snowy plateau, she gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  If by beautiful she meant stark. The gray snow, still contaminated after all these centuries, covered the land in a thick blanket, and more kept falling. She glanced up at the sky. “Do you ever see the sun?”

  “Sometimes. Not as often as we did.”

  She shivered despite the layers they’d wrapped her in. “It’s cold.”

  “It’s not too far.” By his standards. Yet she struggled with the climb, which was why he ended up swinging her into his arms and running up the mountain.

  When they reached the halfway mark, he slowed and veered off the path. He simply had to place his hand on the rock for his home to recognize him. Gears spun and ground as the door rolled open. He stepped inside, the air warmer than outside but with a hint of chill.

  He pulled the lever to lock them in before playing with a few more dials—cranking the heat, opening the windows all over his mountain. When absent, he kept them sealed shut against the wild storms.

  “In the cyborg’s lair.” She peered around with curiosity. “I feel like we should have music for this.”

  “If you insist.” Another dial turned fed music to the speakers strung through the place.

  She gaped. “This place might look mountain-man bare, but it’s high tech.”

  “If you mean geared up with the best of everything.” He shrugged.
“I’ve done well and can afford a few upgrades.”

  “No kidding. So, where’s the bedroom?” She winked, and they never made it. He took her against the window that overlooked the valley and his ship.

  Sank into her and decided he’d made the right choice. They’d hide out here for a while. He’d been cloaked the entire route. Even now, he had his ship hidden from sight. A hologram emitting a sub temperature covered his mountain, meaning no one would even see he was home.

  He could hide out here with Aggie…for as long as they needed. There was food. Entertainment.

  Sex.

  Lots of sex.

  A few days after his arrival, he got the message.

  The crew was back on planet, and they wanted to meet.

  At his place.

  There was no easy way of saying no, but he did set the time. Late. After Aggie went to bed.

  “So where’s the piece?” Ray asked upon walking in. He’d chosen to wear a cape of all things today. Despite the incident a few years back with Kiio. You’d never catch Jwls in one. Too dangerous. He stuck to his duster instead.

  But Ray liked to lead the way when it came to style.

  “Let’s wait until everyone is here.”

  It didn’t take long. The crew arrived in spurts. The last ones being Wulff and Ursy, still together, if sniping at each other.

  “Lovers’ spat?” Ray teased.

  “Want to die?” was Ursy’s reply with a pointed gun. Whereas Wulff grabbed him in a headlock.

  “Take it back,” growled the big man.

  “Touchy, touchy,” Zak quipped. “Makes me wonder if they’re on to something.”

  The glares and dual noes said it best.

  But Jwls really didn’t care if Ursy and Wulff were getting their body parts stuck together.

  The moment of truth had come. The crew was here, and he didn’t think it was just to say hello.

  “Let’s see it. Where’s the God Gear?” Ursy demanded.

  “There is a bit of a problem,” Jwls admitted, hoping said problem wouldn’t wake up and come wandering into his living room. It might be hard to explain why he had four of his friends over and why they wanted to cut off her head.