by Susan Hayes
The wind picked up with every step he took, rattling in the branches and sending the last of the leaves fluttering to the ground.
“This is a storm?”
“A large one,” he confirmed. “Your first?”
That won him a tiny smile. “Yup. So, where are we going?”
“Shelter.” His voice cracked a little, and she laid a hand on his throat. Her gentle touch felt so good he almost lost his balance and ran them into a tree.
The rain started a few seconds later, a few drops at first, but it wasn’t long before the sky went black and the rain became a torrent poured over their heads.
Lightning arced overhead and thunder shook the ground. Maggie trembled in his arms but didn’t utter a sound, her hazel eyes locked on the sky.
By the time he reached his cabin, they were both soaked to the skin. He had to set her down to unlatch the door.
“I was expecting a cave. This is much better.”
“Cave? No. I’m civilized. Mostly.” He stepped aside and swept an arm toward the door in invitation.
It wasn’t a large space, but it was everything he needed—warm, dry, and secure. He’d built it himself so he had a comfortable place to sleep those days he didn’t feel like going back to town. He might be designed to endure the elements and weather on any world, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
Right now it was little more than simple shelter to keep out the wind, rain, and predators, but he had plans. And he wasn’t the only one. A few of them were carving their own places out in the wilds. Wreckage and Ruin had a place a few kilometers away, and Axe had claimed a spot for himself by the river. A few Vardarians were setting up out in the woods, too. They were on the other side of the river, but the need for space was the same.
“This is nice,” Maggie said.
He tried to ignore how happy her approval made him. It didn’t matter what she thought. This was his place. Made to suit his needs and no one else’s, even if she did make the best cookies he’d ever tasted.
Striker’s home wasn’t like she’d expected. Not that she really thought he lived in a cave. In fact, she’d been expecting something more modern. He was a cyborg after all, and they lived with an alien race that was far more technologically advanced than humans. A log cabin wasn’t what she’d envisioned, but that’s what it was. Oh, there were modern touches. She’d seen solar panels on the roof and the interior was lit up by light cubes instead of candles, but it was still a cabin made of stacked logs with a door that didn’t hang straight.
“You made this place yourself?”
He nodded, shaking himself off before coming inside and shutting the door against the wind and rain. He moved past her to crouch in front of a space heater, activating it with a few quick touches.
While he did that, she set down the box of cookies on a rough-hewn table and started going through her pack. The thermal blanket came out first. She shed her soaked-through jacket and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders to hold on to what body heat she had left.
Fresh socks came next, and she dropped onto a sturdy bench to undo her boots and swap her wet socks for dry ones. She might not have been outside before coming to this planet, but the lower levels of Athens Two were prone to floods and she’d learned early on that a fresh pair of socks made everything seem better.
“How long will this go on?” She pointed at the roof.
He held up two fingers and then added a third.
“Two to three hours? It came out of nowhere.”
“Check your comms.” His voice was rougher now.
“Stop talking if it hurts. This time, I brought a tablet. We can talk that way.”
“Pain blocked.”
She’d heard cyborgs could do that. It wasn’t a kindness, though. Their creators had given them the ability so they could maintain battle functionality for as long as possible. The idea that he’d do that so he could talk to her… She rose and padded over to him. “Don’t do that for me.”
He cocked his head and arched one blond brow.
She moved in closer, reaching up to lay her hand over his scarred throat. “I don’t like the idea of you hurting later because you talked to me right now. I’m okay. You got me someplace warm and dry. If I had been out there alone, I’d be terrified right now. But I’m here, with you, and I’m not scared.”
“Smart person would be.” He grinned a little. “Scary cyborg killing machine.”
She snorted. “No one who likes cookies as much as you do can be that scary.”
He covered her hand with his own. He was warmer than she was, and she leaned in closer without realizing she was doing it until she was pressed up against his broad chest. “My batch-brother gave me this scar. Right before I killed him.”
Her first impulse was to pull away, but that was what he wanted. She went with her second thought instead. She rose on her toes and managed to brush a kiss to the tip of his chin. “You had to do it. Didn’t you? They made you.”
He linked his fingers with hers and slid her hand to the back of his neck, his gaze locked on hers. “Why aren’t you like the others?”
It was hard to think when he was staring at her like that, but she managed to find enough functional brain cells to organize an answer. “You’ve only known the ones who worked for the corporations. They’re assholes. Not all humans are like that. Some of us are awesome.”
His full lips quirked up in a lopsided smile. Silken ribbons of desire unfurled inside her, amplifying her attraction and making her shiver in anticipation of the kiss she knew was coming.
It didn’t happen.
He moved away from her, letting go of her hand and turning toward the small kitchenette that took up one corner of the cabin. “You’re cold. Go sit by the heater. I’ll make hot drinks. Do you want ja’kreesh or coffee?”
What she’d like was for him to come back and kiss her, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. She buried her disappointment and moved closer to the heater. “You shouldn’t be talking so much.”
He looked up in surprise. Had he not realized how much he was talking? It wasn’t a kiss… but it was progress.
“Ja’kreesh is that Torski jet fuel I’ve heard about. Right? Do you think it’s safe for me to try it?”
He considered and then nodded as he held up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.
“That sounds good. Thank you.” She gestured around them. “It would seem you rescued me again. I… I’m not used to anyone doing that for me. Jade did, but she’s gone and I don’t know how the fraxx to find her.”
She hadn’t meant to talk about any of it, but once the words started, they came in a flood she couldn’t stop. She told him how much she missed her friend and how worried she was. She left out the details of what Jade had been doing and why, but the rest was more of the truth than she’d told anyone in a long time.
Striker brought her a towel, made her tea, and listened. He didn’t interrupt or try to tell her what to do next. He just nodded and made the right noises every time she paused.
By the time she’d finished sharing, she was warm enough to leave the heater and move to the table. He set down a steel mug half full of something dark and steaming in front of her and then took a seat across from her.
“Drink slowly,” he said.
“No talking. And thank you.” She pulled out the tablet she’d brought and set it down between them as a reminder they had another way to communicate.
“How about this instead?” His voice, or something close to it, was coming through the tablet now.
“How the fraxx are you doing that?” She’d thought he could type on it, not project his voice.
“Cyborg, remember?” He tapped his temple. “I was designed for tactical infiltration. That includes accessing other battle groups’ tech and communications channels.”
It was weird to hold a conversation with someone this way. Striker wasn’t actually talking. His mouth didn’t move, and the voice coming from the tablet
speaker was flat and toneless. It was him, though. And this was better than him trying to talk and hurting himself.
She’d looked up a number of sign languages since their first meeting, but she didn’t know which one he used. “Your signs. Which language are they? I looked, but there are so many.”
“My own. This happened while I was a prisoner. They deactivated our internal comm channels, so I had to come up with another way to communicate.”
Well, fraxx. So much for teaching herself.
“Why do you ask?”
“I thought…” She took a sip of her drink to buy herself more time. The flavor was nutty and smooth.
“This is delicious!” She took a bigger drink.
Striker raised a hand in warning. “Slow! You’re going to feel it when that hits your system in a few minutes. And I want to know what you were about to say.”
“I thought I could try to learn sign language. So I could understand you. I guess that doesn’t matter so much now that I know we can talk like this.”
“Why?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question? She couldn’t tell him she thought about him all the time. Or that he was featured in some very x-rated dreams. She’d already baked him cookies and arranged for weekly deliveries of the same. If she said anything more, she might as well put out a flashing holo-sign confessing she had a crush on him.
“I wanted to learn it because I didn’t like the idea of you being on your own out here with no one to talk to. I forgot about your internal comms. You can talk to the other cyborgs any time you want. Can’t you?”
He nodded, and she ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks. Idiot. He wasn’t alone at all. He didn’t need her company.
“What’s wrong?”
She downed another mouthful of the warm drink without thinking. “Nothing’s wrong. I just… whoa.”
It was like someone had attached a booster rocket to her energy levels. She was suddenly alert and ready to take on the world.
“And that’s enough of that for you. Your heart rate just went through the stratosphere.” Striker moved her mug to his side of the table, out of easy reach.
“I’m fine.” She held out her hand to prove her point and then frowned when she noticed her fingers were shaking. “Or maybe I should eat something to soak up that rocket fuel I drank.”
“You haven’t eaten lately?”
“I was busy making cookies and forgot to have lunch.”
Striker got to his feet and went back to the kitchenette, pulling open cupboards and taking down various boxes and containers. Within minutes, a pile of food was heaped onto the table in front of her. Crackers, food tabs, dried fruit and trail bars.
“Eat.”
“Anyone ever mention you’re kind of bossy?”
“All part of my charm. And part of my programming. I was the leader of my unit.”
“That explains a lot.” She’d been learning about the way cyborg units were made. They were usually composed of batch-siblings, genetically linked cyborgs created with complementary skill sets and behavior programming. They were even brought online at the same time.
“You don’t like bossy men?” His expression stayed as neutral as his synthesized voice.
She had no clue how to answer the question. If she said she didn’t, would he be insulted? If she said she did, would he start telling her what to do all the time? “Not usually. I find that most guys who like to give orders expect everyone around them to obey without question, and they like to punish anyone who thinks for themselves.”
“Punish? Who did it? Someone here?” He was at her side so quickly she barely saw him move, his hand slamming down on the table beside her with enough force to rattle their mugs.
“Here? No. Before. Back on Earth.” She set her hand on his to try and calm him.
“No one will hurt you here. I won’t let them.”
She squeezed his hand. “And you’re going to teach me how to protect myself.”
“Yes.” He spoke this time, his voice so rough now it was barely more than a growl.
A thrill of desire danced down her spine. Bossy or not, Striker was sexy when he was riled. She liked it more than she wanted to admit. “I don’t like bossy men, but you’re not like the others I’ve known. You’re different.”
“You have no idea.” He flashed her a smile that should have scared her half to death. All it did was make her heart beat a tattoo against her ribs. Or maybe that was the ja’kreesh.
She knew it wasn’t. It was him, and she was in so much trouble.
5
Once the ja’kreesh hit her bloodstream, Maggie didn’t stop talking. The constant chatter should have made Striker crazy, but he discovered he really didn’t mind. In fact, it was a nice change from the silence he usually lived with.
She talked openly about any subject he asked her about. Not that she told him everything, but he didn’t expect her to. He’d already gleaned enough to realize that whatever Maggie had been back on Earth, she was trying to put that part of her life behind her. That was the only thing everyone in Haven had in common. They were all looking for a fresh start at a new life.
The storm behaved differently than the others he’d experienced. The thunder and lightning ended quickly, but the wind and rain intensified. Maggie got several concerned messages asking where she was and if she needed help. She gave them all the same answer. She was hunkered down somewhere safe and would be back when the storm ended. She never mentioned where, or who she was with. His little human was protecting him.
Not that she was his anything. And he certainly didn’t need her protection. She needed his.
“How’s the cabin?” Edge’s voice sounded inside his head.
“Dry and snug. I need a bigger heater, though. This place is going to get cold when winter hits.”
“Or you could stay in your big, comfy home in town,” Edge said.
“I like having options. There a reason you’re checking in on me?”
“Skye is worried about one of her humans. Apparently she likes to go for long walks in the woods and got caught out in the storm. Skye wants me to organize a group to go look for her before night falls. I know you’re not a fan of the humans being here, but we could use your help to find her.”
Fraxx. So much for secrets.
“No need to send out a search party. I already know where she is.”
After a long, pregnant pause Edge asked, “And where is that?”
“Maggie is currently bouncing off the walls of my cabin. I may have given her a little ja’kreesh to warm her up. Humans really don’t handle that stuff very well.”
“Maggie Piper, a human, is in your cabin. Your cabin that I have yet to be invited to visit.”
“If I had left her outside, she’d have gotten hurt or killed. I was protecting the colony’s interests. Do me a favor, though. Don’t tell Skye where she is. Just tell her I’ll get Maggie back before dinner. Apparently they’re having something called macaroni and cheese and Maggie doesn’t want to miss it.”
“Did you get hit by lightning while you were out there? Maybe take a branch to the head?”
“Asshole.”
“And there’s the Striker I know. I was worried for a second there.”
“I’m fine. Maggie will be back soon. She’s… not so bad. For a human.”
“Uh huh. I’m going to need to meet this paragon of her kind at some point. That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Did I mention you’re an asshole? I need to get back to Maggie. She’s telling me about what her life on Earth was like. Did you know they actually eat the mold that grows inside the air recyclers?”
“That’s disgusting. Go. Talk to your human. I’ll deal with Skye.”
Striker brought his full attention back to Maggie. She’d gone quiet. A quick replay of his audio told him she’d stopped about ten seconds ago. “Sorry. That was Edge. Skye was trying to organize a search party to find you and bring you home. He wanted me to jo
in in.”
“I told her I was fine!” Maggie was indignant.
“She worries.” And he knew why. Skye had been created after the Resource Wars, and her behavioral programming wasn’t standard. The lab rats at Reamus had done something to her and a handful of other female cyborgs, turning them into den mothers who spent most of their time taking care of the others. They were still combat capable, but they were generally calmer and less aggressive. They kept the peace, treated minor injuries, and made life easier for both captives and captors.
“So, they know where I am?”
“Edge does. All Skye knows is that you’re safe and I’ll have you back for dinner.”
“Do you really think she’s going to be satisfied with that?”
He made a wry face. “Probably not.”
Maggie’s comms chimed. “Guess who that is.”
“Busted,” he said and then gestured for her to answer it.
Maggie pasted a bright smile on her face and opened a video channel instead of replying by text this time. “Hi, Skye.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“The same place I was the last time you asked. Safe and sound.”
“You’re with Striker. That’s… not what I’d call safe.”
“He can hear you.”
“Oh good, that will save me repeating myself later. Striker, if anything happens to Maggie, I will kick your ass so hard you’ll reach high orbit.”
Maggie turned her screen so he could see it. “He’s not going to hurt me! I gave him cookies. It’s all fine.”
Skye pinched the bridge of her nose. “You gave him the cookies you made? Wait. That’s why you took them into the forest? They were for him?”
“Uh. Yeah. He saved me from a bark spider the other day, and I wanted to thank him.”
“You do realize that when I warned you there were dangerous cyborgs in the woods, he’s the one I was talking about. Right? And what the fraxx is a bark spider?”
He’d heard enough. He stepped into view and made an obscene gesture at Skye with both hands. “She’ll be home by dinner.” Then he exerted enough control over Maggie’s comm unit to end the call.
