Cyborg Nation

by Kaitlyn O’Connor

  Jerico frowned, but thoughtfully. “We do not know, either way, that we will have off-spring of our own. I want a woman … even if I can not have a family.”

  “A woman?”

  Jerico reddened at Gideon’s question. “Bronte.”

  “You are more clumsy even than I at this courting business. You have already cut your throat with your tongue. You might as well slash your wrists, as well—You and Gabriel.”

  Gabriel gave him an indignant look. “How do you figure that?”

  Gideon favored him with a satisfied smile. “If you had not had your mind on your cock, you would have noticed the same as I that Bronte’s reaction was not because of what you said when we were dining together. She heard what you said earlier.”

  Jerico stared at him a long moment and looked a little ill. “When we were talking before?”

  Gideon nodded, pushing away from the wall.

  “She told you that?” Gabriel demanded.

  “She did not have to. I knew she was listening at the door.”

  Gabriel glared him resentfully, but he was trying to recall exactly what it was that he had said.

  “How?” Jerico demanded.

  “Because I would have—we are her enemies the same as she is ours. She is probably listening now.”

  Gabriel and Jerico both turned to stare at the closed door of the cabin as Gideon strode past them to the bridge. After a moment, they exchanged a speaking glance and followed him.

  “That was a damned low down trick!” Gabriel snarled.

  “I thought it was clever myself,” Gideon responded goadingly.

  Gabriel’s hands balled into fists.

  Gideon eyed them with raised brows. “You will have to learn to control your brutal tendencies if you expect to have any chance of courting Bronte. I admit I do not have the finesse the Hunters can claim, but I am very good at observing, and I did not get the sense that Bronte was favorably impressed with your display earlier.”

  Grinding his teeth, Gabriel unclenched his fists with an effort. “You are plotting something,” he said finally.

  Gideon shrugged. “I was only thinking that, if I must share her—and I do not mind telling you that I would rather not—you and I and Jerico have been comrades in arms through many battles on many worlds. There is no one I would rather have at my back in any battle—including this one.

  “And I was thinking we have a tactical advantage, for once, and we would be fools not to utilize it when we are already agreed that Bronte suits us.”

  Jerico and Gabriel exchanged a look. Slowly, they began to smile. “We have her,” Jerico murmured.

  “Exactly,” Gideon agreed. “For months. If we can not figure out in that space of time how to win her....”

  “We can manufacture a problem with the ship and squeeze in a few more weeks, at least,” Gabriel said thoughtfully.

  Gideon frowned, turning his head to stare at the door of the sleeping quarters thoughtfully. “God help us! We will kill each other if it takes half that long. I am ready to tear her clothes off and try to convince her another way already!”

  Jerico frowned. “Mayhap that is not such a bad idea,” he murmured thoughtfully. “We were fully programmed in that, at least.”

  “Tearing her clothes off is a good idea?” Gabriel asked, his eyes glazed and vaguely unfocused.

  “I told you his mind was on his cock,” Gideon said dryly.

  “And yours is not?” Gabriel growled.

  “Not that part of the idea,” Jerico snapped. “If we pleasured her she would not have as much time to consider that we are not skilled at flirtation and have no idea how to converse in a courtship, or what sort of things please a woman outside the bedroom … or any of those things.”

  An expression of annoyance crossed Gideon’s features. “I tried that,” he said irritably. “She bit me. And I had not even gotten started.”

  “Maybe it was the way you went about it?” Jerico asked uneasily, obviously reluctant to give up his idea.

  “She was asleep … or just wakened, rather. If she had not … rooted all over me as we slept I would not have considered trying it,” Gideon said crossly. “I will certainly not object if either of you want to give it a try, but I have to tell you I do not believe that method of guerrilla warfare will work on Bronte. If she knees you in the balls, do not come to me to complain.”

  Gabriel was frowning doubtfully. “It is hardly an ideal situation since we were sent to capture her. She is bound to hold a grudge over that.”

  “I never said it was ideal,” Gideon said irritably. “Ideal would be a woman for every man—or two. Not one woman to five or six and having to share a mate or do without. Ideal would be if she was cyborg, as we are, and not an enemy.”

  “The council is expecting the man,” Jerico pointed out.

  “They expect a qualified pediatrician capable of also teaching parenting skills,” Gideon said testily. “And she is qualified.”

  Jerico shook his head. “I mean—they expect a man. They will not have considered the laws pertaining to a woman who is human. The council may not allow us to contract with her even if we do manage to persuade her.”

  Gideon and Gabriel exchanged a worried glance. “Then we will demand that they consider it. If she is to be a citizen, then she would have the same rights, and obligations, as every other. The laws governing the family units would have to pertain to her, as well—no less that two, no more than four.”

  “I do not like that we do not have a fourth,” Gabriel put in. “As sure as hell, a damned Hunter will come wooing her once we land and then we will be made to look more brutish and uncouth by comparison!”

  Gideon frowned, obviously no more pleased by that prospect that Gabriel, but seemed to dismiss it after a moment. “I do not see that we can do anything about that now. We will have to ‘discourage’ any that get the notion,” he said decisively. “But there is no sense in concerning ourselves about problems we do not have to face at the moment. If we do not convince her before we reach home, you may be certain the council will immediately be considering her as a potential mate, for there will be a great demand, and then she may decide that she wants nothing to do with any of us.”

  Gabriel’s expression darkened. “I would feel better if we could contract with her before we land. Even if we could convince her to agree to contract, then there is always the chance that she might change her mind after we are home and she sees that she may choose from many more than just us three.”

  “That is what the courting is for,” Gideon said irritably. “Theoretically, the female develops an affection and then she does not want to chose another.”

  Gabriel glared at him. “I know that much, damn it! It is the way of getting them to feel the affection I do not understand.”

  “I uploaded the data,” Jerico said helpfully.

  Both Gabriel and Gideon turned to glare at him. “I also uploaded,” they said almost in unison.

  “And it is little more than a list of generalities—no help at all that I can see. It is not the same as behavioral programming,” Gideon added, “which is not available to us. And it is certainly not the same as the ‘experience’ programming the Hunters have had since they were programmed to believe themselves human and have ‘memories’ to draw from, even childhood memories—which help them to understand human emotions far better than I do … or either of you.”

  “They like gifts,” Jerico said stubbornly.

  Gabriel surveyed the small ship. “I do not see flowers or chocolates,” he growled.

  “We can give her the things we took from her office—there were books. She might find pleasure in having those to read.”

  Gideon gave him a look. “She will no doubt be delighted when we give her what we stole from her in the first place!”

  Jerico reddened. “At least she will not be bored!”

  Gideon and Gabriel exchanged a look. Gabriel shrugged. “There is that.”

  Gideon drummed his fi
ngers thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. “She is more likely to curse us or throw them at us … or perhaps both. But I suppose it is worth a try. You get them for her. If she does not begin to scream and cry, then Gabriel and I will try to find something else in the hold that she might like.”

  “Why should I do it?” Jerico demanded indignantly.

  “Because it was your idea,” Gideon reminded him reasonably. “And you were the one who took the books.”

  “You were the one who told me to get the books!”

  Gideon shrugged. “That is beside the point. You got them.”

  Gabriel let out an irritated huff. “I will get them. It is my rest period anyway, and she is already convinced I am a soulless bastard. She can not hold me in less esteem than she does already.”

  Gideon and Jerico turned to watch with interest when Gabriel returned from the hold with a container filled with books and headed toward the cabin. He was frowning when he left the room again a few minutes later.

  “I did not hear a scream,” Jerico observed. “That is a good sign.”

  “She is sleeping under the bunk,” Gabriel announced.

  A vague look of discomfort skittered across Gideon’s features. It occurred to him belatedly that mayhap it had not been the wisest course to point out the obvious to her. But he thought she could not have failed to notice that they desired her and he had thought it might be best for her to begin to adjust to the idea that they had no intention of depriving themselves of the opportunity of bedding her. “I believe there may be a trust issue.”

  Chapter Six

  “We were told to bring anything you might need to work.”

  Bronte glanced up from the books she had been studying and saw that Gabriel was watching her with a mixture of wariness and defensiveness. The expression disappeared as she met his gaze, wiped clean as if it had never been there at all.

  He looked refreshed, she thought with annoyance as she allowed her gaze to flicker over him where he sat on the edge of the bunk. She, on the other hand, had not slept well at all. He had dragged her from beneath the bunk, where she had retreated in hope of enjoying her solitude when she’d grown too tired to maintain enough anxiety to keep her awake, and settled her on the mattress, and then climbed in beside her as if he’d been invited.

  She wasn’t certain if it was just that they didn’t seem to grasp subtle snubs; if they were grimly determined not to allow her even to get away with passive resistance; or if it was because she had helped herself to the only blanket. He hadn’t made any attempt to take advantage of her vulnerable state, though, and she hadn’t known what to make of his behavior when she’d woken with him sleeping beside her as if he belonged there.

  “I don’t suppose it occurred to any of you to drop by my apartment and clean that out, as well?” she asked mildly.

  He looked disconcerted and then angry/defensive again. “The mission was to extract a doctor and the things he would need to do his job.”

  “My father, I know,” she said, releasing an audible sigh that was equal parts frustration and resignation as she returned her gaze to the books.

  He had ‘angry’ eyebrows, she thought distractedly as she stared at the volumes without really seeing them. Straight, thick, and black, when he lowered that thunderous line over his eerily pale eyes it made him look infinitely dangerous and sent an involuntary shiver along her spine. Oddly enough, those same two black slashes were very disarming when he drew them together to form an upside down v above the bridge of his nose anytime he was disconcerted, giving him a vulnerable look that made her chest tighten uncomfortably.

  It also had the undesirable effect of evoking the impulse to smooth that ‘worried puppy’ look from his face.

  It was a seriously dangerous, and potent, combination of polar opposites to find in one man, who also happened to be more handsome than he had any right to be and was built like an anti-missile tank besides. How stupid was it to find that expression so charming and disarming when it was attached to a giant of a man that could go through a steel door like it was made out of paper?

  “Thank you,” she said finally as he pushed himself off the bunk and headed toward the facilities.

  He came to a halt, swiveling to look at her with a mixture of surprise and hopefulness. “You are welcome,” he said finally, hesitantly, his voice gruff, as if he wasn’t sure whether she actually meant it or was being sarcastic.

  She smiled at him when she saw his black brows twitch upwards above the bridge of his nose, because she couldn’t seem to help herself. He stiffened, looked for a handful of heartbeats as if he was battling the urge to move closer and finally continued on his way.

  Bronte let her breath out in a rush, not realizing until he’d disappeared that she’d been holding her breath, braced for assault.

  The books were welcome. She’d felt a twinge of resentment when she recognized them and realized they’d been filched from her office, but then it had dawned on her that she was probably several light-years from her office already and unlikely ever to see anything that had been left behind again. And she realized it was comforting to have familiar things around her, even though it also made her feel a pang of homesickness.

  Besides, the books gave her something to occupy herself with other than the dark, unnerving thoughts that had been her constant companion since they’d snatched her away from the life she’d had. She’d read most of them already, but there were a few that she’d been meaning to get around to reading and hadn’t been able to find the time. Those on the list of ‘to be read’ were primarily novels she’d bought purely for entertainment. They were the ‘rewards’ she’d never gotten around to giving herself for studying the dry texts she needed to read to keep abreast of developments in her field.

  After a short mental debate, she studied the titles of the novels and finally chose one. A quick search of the room revealed the unsurprising information that the bunk was the only comfortable furnishing she could retreat to to read. Climbing on the mattress, she settled with her back against the wall, drew her knees up, and depressed the button that opened the book. When she’d drawn the film from the cylindrical case, she brushed her fingers across the film until she reached the opening chapter, sighed blissfully, and settled to reading.

  She was an old fashioned sort of a gal, she supposed. She still preferred to actually hold a book in her hands, feel the crispness of film beneath her fingers, smell the faint odors of plasti-metal and warming circuits. The holo-books that read to her just weren’t the same. She preferred her own voice in her head as she read to the mechanical voice of the holo-books.

  Discovering she was squinting to try to focus, she worked on zooming in and out on the text for several moments before it dawned on her that she didn’t have her glasses. She frowned, trying to remember what she’d done with them, and finally recalled she’d placed them on the floor near her when she’d crawled under the bunk. Setting her book aside, she climbed off of the bunk, got down on her hands and knees, and peered under the bed for the glasses. She heard Gabriel leave the facilities, but she didn’t think much of it even when she heard him head toward her … until she felt a hand glide over the curve of her ass and fingers wedged between her legs, curling into her cleft. Letting out a yelp of surprise, she surged forward, scraping her lower back against the bottom edge of the bed and then pan-caking against the hard floor.

  Gabriel, now on all fours, was peering at her as she whirled around to glare indignantly in his direction. Glaring back at her, he grabbed her by one thigh and dragged her from beneath the bed. She made a grab for her glasses and managed to snag them on her way out.

  “You do not need to hide,” he said irritably.

  “I wasn’t trying to hide!” Bronte said testily, feeling her face heat at the reminder that she’d already established a habit of crawling into tight, dark spaces to elude them. “I was trying to get my glasses.”

  He eyed the glasses she was shaking in his face, studied her expressio
n for a moment and abruptly caught her face between two big hands, dragging her—by her head—toward him. More surprised than anything else, she merely gaped at the face zooming in on hers. The moment his lips closed over hers, though, and his tongue speared between her parted lips to delve inside her mouth, she reacted instinctively by clamping down on it with her teeth. He retreated, releasing her as abruptly as he’d caught her as if he’d just discovered he’d grabbed a hot coal. They stared at one another—Bronte with dismay that she’d yielded, again, to an impulse it would’ve been far wiser to ignore, and Gabriel with indignation.

  Abruptly remembering what had happened the last time she’d given in to the impulse to bite, Bronte crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t even wearing under clothes anymore because she didn’t have a change of under clothes.

  He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, as if searching for damage.

  She hadn’t bitten him that hard, she thought uneasily.

  He caught her wrists with the same lightening, mind numbing speed he’d caught her before, too quickly for her mind to actually grasp what had happened for several moments. Instead of trying to pry her arms from across her chest, however, he surged to his feet, taking her with him. She wasn’t certain if it was surprise that slackened her resistance, or if she had been lulled by the false conclusion that he was only helping her to her feet. Either way, he caught her off guard again when he jerked her arms straight and then shoved them behind her back. The pressure arched her back, bringing her up on her toes and plastering her chest against his. After staring down at her upturned face for a long moment, as if he was trying to decide what he wanted to do in the form of retribution, he transferred her wrists to one hand, lifted the other to close it tightly around the back of her skull and dipped his head toward her again.

  This time, instead of trying to kiss her, however, he lowered his mouth to her exposed throat. Her breath caught in her chest as she felt the tip of his nose brush the delicate skin and then his lips. In an almost leisurely manner, he explored the entire area and finally sank his teeth into the side of her neck, just hard enough to sting and cause an explosion of pebbly flesh as the fine hairs all over her body came erect with anticipation. Blood rushed to flood both her nipples and her sex, bringing them to pulsing life as he sucked the sting away. Spearing her with his intense gaze as he lifted his head to look at her again, he released her wrists and cupped her buttocks, trapping them as he curled his hips into hers, tilting her hips just enough to press his erection against her engorged clit.