Hers To Command (Cyborg Sizzle Book 8)

by Cynthia Sax

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and licked the blood. Her skin fizzed.

  “Let me see.” Ace took her hand. The wounds were already closing. He laved them once, twice, three times with his tongue.

  The pain faded. The males didn’t disappear.

  “This isn’t a dream.” She gazed at them, stunned. “You’re real. But how did you get into my chambers?” She glanced back at the control panel.

  Only she had access to her private space.

  “Your systems are old.” Ace scowled, not releasing her hand. “Your security is insufficient.”

  “We’ll upgrade all of the systems.” Thrasher took the dagger from her and spun it on one finger. Light reflected off the blade, dazzling Carys.

  “You’re the danger I’ve been sensing.” She stepped backward. “You’re trying to commandeer my battle station.” She reached for her guns, prepared to protect her crew, her vessel.

  One moment, she was holding the weapons. The next moment, they were in Ace’s hands.

  “What danger are you referring to, Commander?” He tilted his head, studying her.

  The enemy was studying her. Shit.

  She turned, pressed her unwounded palm on the door’s control panel. For once, she wished her chambers hadn’t that extra security. It slowed her exit.

  Thrasher grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from the device. “What danger are you in, Commander?”

  They were the danger facing her battle station. “My gut.” She panted, struggling, unable to break his grasp. “It tells me when something is wrong.”

  The two males exchanged glances.

  “I’ll monitor the exterior.” Ace tapped his fingers against one of the large wall viewscreens, his movements inhumanly fast. Thousands of tabs opened, the images rapidly layering over each other.

  “I’ll monitor the interior.” Thrasher picked her up and slung her over his right shoulder, acting as though she weighed nothing.

  She yelped and kicked. He fastened one arm across her legs, pinning her to him, and strode to another viewscreen.

  “Put me down.” She slapped his bare back, leaving pink handprints on his skin. “I’m a commander, not a sack of nourishment bars.”

  “You’ve been a naughty Commander.” Thrasher smacked her ass and she jerked, the pain both infuriating and arousing her. “You damaged your hand and you put yourself in danger.”

  “You’re the danger.” Weren’t they? And if they were, why did they sound so concerned about her safety? “I don’t know what you want but--”

  “We want you.” Ace pressed his shoulder against Thrasher’s and tugged her toward him, shifting her until she was draped over both of them.

  It was a precarious perch. She glanced at the floor. If either of them moved, she’d fall on her face.

  “And we would never damage you.” Ace said that as though he expected her to believe him, a near-stranger, an intruder in her private space. “We’d battle the universe to keep you safe.”

  “I do the fighting,” Carys muttered, gazing down at two of the sexiest, firmest asses she’d ever seen, feeling needy and confused. “I’m the being with the battle station. Release me so I can perform my role.” She couldn’t think rationally while they touched her.

  “Those clever beings.” Ace leaned forward and she squeaked, wobbling dangerously. Both of them placed a hand on her lower back, stabilizing her. “They’ve set up a matrix of bombs.”

  “What?” Carys twisted, looking over her shoulder. “I don’t see anything.” The viewscreen displayed the blackness of space.

  Ace expanded the image. Tiny green specks glowed, barely visible.

  “Those are extremely tiny bombs.” Would they do any damage to her battle station?

  “They’re tiny but powerful, just like you.” It was Ace’s turn to slap her ass and she liked it, a little too much. “That’s Erinomean Green Fire, thousands of capsules of it, and we’re heading directly for them.”

  “Shit.” She wiggled. One canister of Erinomean Green Fire was sufficient to blow up the vessel. “I have to notify the bridge.”

  Thrasher lowered her until her booted feet touched the floor. “What’s your plan?”

  She reviewed the stats, confirmed that the battle station was out of range of the explosion. “I’m shooting a missile into the matrix, setting the bombs off.”

  She hailed the bridge, utilizing voice only. The crew didn’t need to know there were two huge naked males in her chamber.

  “First Officer responding.”

  “This is your commander.” Carys’ tone was brusque. “Bring the battle station to a full stop.”

  “Battle station brought to a full stop, Commander,” her first officer verified.

  “Fix target as…” She tapped on a bomb located in the middle of the matrix.

  Ace displayed its coordinates.

  Carys recited them.

  “There’s nothing out there, Commander.”

  “Expand view by two thousand percent,” Carys instructed.

  “Oh, shit,” her first officer muttered. Voices yelled in the background. Every being on the bridge had seen the bombs. “Target visually verified and fixed.”

  “Fire one missile.” She wouldn’t waste ammunition. They had a long war ahead of them.

  “Missile fired.”

  Carys held her breath. Ace and Thrasher held her, placing her between their big bodies, wrapping their arms around her, their embrace comforting.

  They were naked. She was aware of that fact yet was too concerned to think erotic thoughts. If she’d made a miscalculation, they could all die.

  The missile connected with the first bomb. It exploded in a brilliant flash of green light, detonating the capsules around it. The flame radiated from the center, growing in size, swept outward, the fingers of devastating heat reaching, reaching.

  Had she made an error? Were they too close to the detonation field?

  Carys gripped Ace and Thrasher’s waists, bracing herself. They tightened their hold on her, closing around her, blocking her view, protecting her with their large forms.

  The battle station rocked. It didn’t explode.

  “We survived,” she whispered, sagging, trusting them to keep her upright.

  “We survived.” Thrasher kissed her forehead, his lips firm, reassuring. Ace did the same.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the connection, the sense of security, of safety. As a commander, she was accustomed to others relying on her. To lean on another being, another two beings, was a unique experience.

  One she couldn’t get used to.

  “I have to check on the others.” Carys stuck her right hand through a gap and waved at the viewscreen in front of her, signaling she needed access to it. “They’re my crew.”

  “They’re our crew now also.” Ace kissed her forehead one more time. “Verify their safety.”

  The males stepped back, releasing her.

  She missed the contact immediately, had to force herself to focus. “Damage report, First?”

  “No damage to report, Commander.”

  Thank the stars. She gazed at Ace and then at Thrasher. And thank her mysterious males. “Add three crew members to monitor our surroundings at that magnification.”

  “Consider it done, Commander.”

  “Wait for the area to stabilize and then change course.” Carys tapped on the viewscreen. “I’m sending the coordinates.”

  “Received.” The female’s voice was curt. “That isn’t an authorized route.”

  That was the point. The Humanoid Alliance had laid the trap along an authorized route. Very few beings on board the battle station had access to that information. She controlled which of her crew saw it and trusted all of those beings.

  She didn’t control who saw the information at Rebel headquarters. “I recognize that it isn’t an authorized route. Notify me if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “I will, Commander.”

&nbs
p; Carys ended the communications. “I have one more task to complete.”

  “Breeding with us?” Thrasher grinned.

  “Before we do that.” Her face heated.

  She didn’t know why they were on her battle station or what type of beings they were. Whoever they were and whatever they wanted, it was doubtful they sneaked on board merely for sex. They had some larger purpose for being here.

  But they would fuck. Carys knew that for certain. She’d almost died this planet rotation. They’d saved her, earning at least one sexual encounter.

  She wanted them. Her gaze drifted over their toned bodies. Their long thick cocks remained erect. And it was the kind thing to do. That unabated hardness had to be uncomfortable.

  “What is your one more task, Commander?” Ace’s eyes blazed with a toe-curling lust.

  “My one more task?” She blinked. “Oh yes, I must notify the others.”

  She tapped on a viewscreen, sending a quick communication to all of the Rebel commanders, warning them of the dangers, the traps their enemies might have laid for them.

  All vessels were at risk. Ships not involved in the conflict would be unaware of these deadly matrixes. Her lips flattened. Those ships could be holding families, children…

  Two-solar-cycle little girls who had begged and pleaded to fly with their mommies.

  “Share your emotional damage with us, Commander.” Thrasher dragged his hot mouth over her neck and she trembled. “We’ll repair you.”

  “You can’t repair me.” She turned, a sad smile on her face. “That isn’t possible.”

  “We could try.” Ace unfastened her uniform and eased the garment over her shoulders. “It might be possible.”

  “I don’t want to be repaired.” Carys allowed them to undress her. She was past the life stage of shyness. Multiple beings had seen her give birth many, many solar cycles ago. “I like my emotional damage.”

  “That’s not logical.” Ace stroked his fingertips along her right forearm, circled her elbow, traced her lean biceps. “No being likes to be damaged.”

  “She might not consider it to be damage.” Thrasher placed his hand on top of Ace’s. “I don’t consider us to be defective.”

  “We are defective and don’t touch me.” Ace pulled his hand away. “Focus on our Commander.”

  Someone was in denial about his feelings. Carys watched the interchange with interest. Is that why Ace considered himself defective—because he desired the other male? “Your Commander wants to kiss both of you.”

  Ace covered her lips with his.

  She drew back, breaking the embrace. “No. I want to kiss both of you. Keep your mouth slightly open. Allow Thrasher to join us.”

  She kissed him, demonstrating, leaving space for the other warrior. Thrasher, the more fearless of the two, filled that space.

  Ace’s body twitched. She petted his cheek, soothing him, reassuring her cautious warrior that this was what she wanted, what they all needed.

  Lips pressed against lips. Tongues tumbled with tongues. Some might view what they were doing as unnatural. It felt right to Carys.

  The bubbling intensified, originating with the two males, flowing down her neck, along her arms, torso, legs. Her hand no longer pained her. The bad feeling in her gut had vanished. She pushed aside her responsibilities, her regrets, her memories, and focused on Ace and Thrasher.

  They wrapped their arms around her and around each other. Their cocks pushed against her thighs. Their metallic male taste filled her mouth.

  They weren’t human. Their bodies were too hard, too unrelenting under the layers of skin and muscle. She panted. Their breaths were steady, as solid as their control.

  The males wanted something from her, from her crew, from her ship. There were younger, more desirable females on board. They chose her because she was the commander.

  But the warriors didn’t wish her or her crew dead. They weren’t a threat.

  And, in this moment, Carys didn’t care what else they were. She curled her fingers over the back of their necks, savoring the encounter, not knowing if they’d have another. The Humanoid Alliance could attack. One or more of them might die. They might disappear to wherever they came from, not returning for another two hundred planet rotations, maybe longer, maybe forever.

  She wouldn’t waste a single moment.

  Chapter Four

  Thrasher was kissing their female, a female he had never believed they’d be fortunate to have. He was also kissing the male he had loved for his entire lifespan.

  Not that he’d ever express that caring out loud or even over the private transmission line he shared with Ace. His extremely cautious warrior would have a complete processor meltdown.

  He knew why Ace was careful.

  Thrasher had witnessed the decommissioning of their so-called defective brethren also. The males had shared a bond similar to the one he shared with Ace, and every cyborg in their compound, including him, had watched the scene through the warriors’ eyes, heard their screams of agony, experienced that wrenching loss.

  While they were under the Humanoid Alliance’s control, Thrasher had hidden his feelings for Ace, hadn’t acted on his desire.

  But when they’d escaped, nothing had changed. Ace was almost as wary of the cyborg council as he had been of the humans.

  He might be right.

  A warrior’s nanocybotics were supposed to be unique. Theirs weren’t, Ace’s nanocybotics meshing perfectly with his. That was…unnatural, against their design. The cyborg council could deem them defective and attempt to eliminate them.

  Thrasher was willing to risk that. They’d almost lost their female this planet rotation. If they hadn’t arrived when they did, the battle station would have hit the minefield. She would have died.

  His grip tightened on their Carys, on Ace. Another planet rotation wasn’t guaranteed. He was tired of suppressing his feelings, of denying who he truly was.

  Ace was as stressed as he was. Thrasher swept his fingers over the male’s back, savoring the dips and swells, the definition in his manufactured form. The muscles were pulled tight, no give in them.

  Concentrate on pleasing our female. Ace pushed against his shoulder. She’s our focus.

  We’re cyborgs. Thrasher flicked his tongue against Ace’s. I can please both of you.

  Touching our female pleases me.

  Touching me pleases you too, Ass.

  It pleases her that I touch you. Ace didn’t deny it pleased him.

  Thrasher smirked, his lips lifting theirs. They were cyborgs and cyborgs couldn’t lie. Ace liked touching him. He flexed, his form firming with pride.

  His muscles rippled. Ace stiffened so much; he risked snapping his metal frame into two. Their Carys sucked in her breath, the musk of her arousal strengthening.

  “You’re fit.” Her small soft hands drifted down their chests, setting off emotional explosions as acute as Erinomean Green Fire. “Both of you. And your skin is flawless. You don’t have single scar.”

  Thrasher’s stomach fluttered as she traced his pecs, navigated his cascading abs. “We heal quickly.”

  When they bred with their Carys, they’d transfer their nanocybotics to her. She’d heal as quickly as they did, have the potential to live forever.

  His cock bobbed, wanting to breed with her immediately.

  She glanced down and grinned, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling. “As long as you don’t do everything quickly.”

  She was referring to breeding. He grinned back at her, enjoying her quick wit, her naughty sense of humor. “We can last as long as you desire, Commander.”

  “Really?” Their Carys lifted one of her eyebrows. “I plan to test that claim, warrior.”

  She skimmed her fingers along their sides and lowered to her knees before them, giving them a ball-tightening view of her spectacular breasts.

  In her uniform, their female was an intimidating sight, her lushness rigidly contained in fabric, her stance proud and excitingly aut
horitative. Naked, she was soft and rounded all over. The markings on her breasts, stomach, and upper thighs fascinated him.

  He bent over and cupped one of her breasts. Ace did the same.

  “Are these battle scars?” Thrasher explored the tiny depressions in her skin.

  She moaned softly. “You could call them that.” She slapped his wrists. “Straighten.” Her voice rang with command. “I’m testing your last forever claim.”

  They complied, Thrasher reluctantly ceasing his examination of her markings. Their Carys curled her fingers around their hard shafts, her snug grip tightening his balls, their innovative female undaunted about pleasuring two warriors at one time.

  Thanks to you, she plans to torture us. Ace sounded as affected as Thrasher was by her hold.

  She’s torturing us with ecstasy. If he was to die, this was the way he wanted to go. What’s the problem, ass? Do you need to ask for mercy already?

  Frag you. Ace glared at him.

  Their Carys pumped them slowly. Warm pressure ran along Thrasher’s cock. Pleasure shot up his body. Pre-cum beaded on his tip. He might be the male asking for mercy. Her hands on his body felt exquisite, better than a dagger slicing into an enemy’s stomach.

  She knew the effect she had on them, her lips lifting upward. “Every being has a weakness, even skilled warriors such as yourselves.” She swiped her thumbs over their cock heads, spreading their essence over their skin. “The key to winning battles is finding that weakness.” She stroked them faster. “And exploiting it.”

  Her words were as hot as her hands. “You won’t defeat me, Commander.” As soon as Thrasher said that, he knew he had made a strategic error.

  “No?” She leaned into him, pressing her beautiful face into his balls and mouthing over his sensitive flesh, sucking, tugging, stripping his restraint with her tongue, mouth, frag, even her chin.

  Thrasher shook, folding his fingers into tight fists. Ace. He called for backup.

  Do you need to ask for mercy already, Ace mocked him.

  If he wasn’t an ally, he was the opposition. “You’re focusing on the wrong warrior.” Thrasher was unable to erase the need from his voice. “I’m emotion-driven. Ace relies on logic. He’s the tougher male to break.”