by Cynthia Sax
She didn’t sway hers. Joan leaned into Rage. He angled his body backward, as though seeking more of her touch.
“They’re right.” Doc wandered out of the ship, his gaze on his handheld’s small screen. “There are no more beings inside. That’s strange.”
“No stranger than a cyborg forming an attachment to a human female.” Vector pivoted on his booted heels. “Follow me. We’ll discuss the stipulations of your surrender in my working chambers.” He walked quickly through the docking bay.
They trailed him. “You aren’t asking us to disarm?” Suspicion edged Rage’s voice.
“Would you disarm if I asked you to?”
“No.”
“Then what would be the point?” Doors opened and shut around them. “I’m not the enemy, Rage. We have the rules for a reason. Many cyborgs would attack a human on sight. Is that the fate you wish for your female?”
She’d never be welcome in their Homeland. Joan’s shoulders slumped.
“Then let us go.” Rage, again, offered to walk away from his new home for her. “Joan wouldn’t betray us. I give you my vow.”
“I don’t have the authority to let you go.” Vector sounded genuinely regretful. “But I can vow that no being will harm her while she’s imprisoned. You can petition the council to make an exception for her, to give her permission to leave.”
She doubted they would ever allow that. She knew too much. Joan blew out her breath. She’d be imprisoned for her entire lifespan.
“I don’t need your vow. I know no being will harm her because I’ll be standing by her side at all times, making certain of that.” Rage glanced over his shoulder at her. “Where you go, I go, little female.”
“You can’t give up your freedom for me.” She wouldn’t allow that.
Rage grunted. He was an obstinate cyborg.
They entered a being mover. He slid behind her, wrapping his arms around her smaller form, curving his palms over her stomach. His heat soothed her. Gap, Crash, Doc, and three of the cyborg guards crowded around her.
Joan stared at backs and chests, all of the cyborgs taller than her, all of them male. She folded farther into Rage’s body, trusting him to protect her.
The door closed. “Life-threatening condition detected,” a robotic voice chimed, a red light on the wall flashing. “Medical staff has been notified.”
“What is the state of your injury?” A face appeared on a viewscreen on the wall.
No one answered. Joan looked around her. She was too short to see any being other than the cyborgs positioned immediately in front of her.
“Is some being injured?” Doc asked.
Silence stretched.
“What’s the nature of the emergency reported?” he asked the projected male.
“A weaker than optimal heartbeat has been detected, sir.”
“That’s the same anomaly.” Doc’s forehead wrinkled. “Run a detailed analysis.” He met Vector’s gaze. “And redirect the being mover to the isolation level.”
Vector’s lips flattened. “Contagion is a possibility?”
Rage’s grip on her tightened.
“The humans have been known to use viral weapons.” Doc glanced at Joan and her face heated. They thought she was responsible for this. “We’ll isolate the source.”
Isolate was code for kill. Sweat trickled down her spine. “Can’t you use your handheld device to detect it?”
“It’s not that exact.” Doc shook his head. “The device detects all of the life-forms within a specific radius. It doesn’t narrow the life-form’s location.”
“Oh.” That wouldn’t help them. Joan turned the problem over in her mind. Could the Humanoid Alliance have added a kill switch in cyborgs, should they try to escape? Had she missed something? “Crash, did you run across anything about kill switches or viral weapons in the database?”
“Nothing.” Rage’s friend pushed closer to her. “Could the virus have been implanted when we were manufactured?”
“It could have been, but why would it be implanted in only one of you?” She covered Rage’s hands with hers. “And why would it result in a secondary heartbeat?”
“Two hearts would require double the energy and double the nourishment,” Doc pointed out. “If that wasn’t supplied, the cyborg would operate sub-optimally. Have any of you experienced unusual exhaustion or hunger recently?”
“We haven’t.” Crash looked at Joan.
Her stomach chose that time to growl. “I’m not a cyborg.” She shook her head. “Does any being here have a nourishment bar?”
Rage handed her one.
“I love you.” She unwrapped the bar and bit into it. “Have I told you that lately?”
“Twice this planet rotation.” His eyes glimmered.
“How do you know you’re not a cyborg?” Gap leaned forward, sniffing the air. “You smell like one.”
“She smells like me,” Rage rumbled. “Because I breed with her three times a planet rotation. And, no, as I’ve told you multiple times, breeding with a human female can’t change her into a cyborg.”
The cyborg guards sniggered.
Joan popped the last piece of bar into her mouth, swallowing sweetness and her embarrassment. Complete strangers now knew how often they were breeding. “Let’s focus on this virus problem.”
“The results of the detailed analysis aren’t logical, sir.” The projected male returned.
“Relay them,” Doc instructed.
“The heart is currently twenty percent the size of a normal organ yet beats twice as quickly. It belongs to an undetermined cyborg male.”
Doc’s eyebrows lifted. “It doesn’t match any existing models?”
“No, sir, but that isn’t the most illogical part. It’s situated in the middle of the space. There’s a human heart beating a quarter of a G model torso above it.”
Every cyborg looked at her.
“I knew it,” Gap crowed. “She’s a cyborg.”
“I’m not a cyborg.” She realized then what that meant. Oh fuck. “I’m the being infected.” She tried to step away from Rage, not wanting to spread her illness to him. He wouldn’t release her. “I don’t want to hurt you, sir.”
“The damage is already done.” Rage turned her within the circle of his arms. “We’ll survive this, female.” He pressed her face against his body armor. “Because that’s who we are.”
“Survivors,” she mumbled against the hard material. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He grunted, rubbing her back.
“Every being in this being mover and in the docking bay will be isolated until we determine if it is viral and how it is transferred.” Doc tapped his fingers against his handheld. “Did you have any contact with the other ships?”
Joan groaned. “I had contact with all of them. I put every cyborg in danger.” How could this have happened? “Could the humans have implanted me during the attack, Rage?”
“They didn’t expect you to live.” He dismissed that theory. “They planned on me killing you.”
“We’ll uncover how later.” Vector bent his head over his handheld device. “Until the threat is over, I won’t grant clearance for the ships to land. We’re officially on lockdown.”
Because of her. Joan cringed. She might have killed them all.
Chapter Eighteen
Rage wanted to go back in time and kill the humans on the battle station a second time, inflicting more pain upon them. His female was ill, infected by the rectal wipes.
He paced their shared chambers, moving back and forth, back and forth, needing to take action, any action.
Joan sat on a horizontal support, munching on a nourishment bar as she watched him. Between bites, she chattered about carriers and incubation periods and other things he didn’t fully understand.
They were together, and, for that, he was grateful. Doc had suggested separating them. One look at Rage’s face had rerouted his processors. The cyborg had placed them in these chambers and retreated to pre
pare, whatever that meant.
Crash. Rage transmitted over their private line. Do you require assistance?
Every word echoed. He frowned. That had never happened before now.
Not yet but judging by Vector’s face, we might soon. The resonance continued. They placed all of us in the same chambers and you know how C models enjoy crowded spaces. Even Crash’s chuckle repeated.
Do you hear that? It wasn’t normal. Rage glanced at Joan, his suspicions knotting his stomach.
The echo? Yes. What’s causing that?
Rage could think of only one cause. I’m infected. I’m closing down my transmissions. It’s too late for me but it might not be for you. Goodbye, my friend. Fight well.
Rage—
He closed the line. Fraggin’ hole. The virus had entered his processors. He didn’t have much time left and he knew how he wanted to spend it. Rage stalked toward Joan, stripping off his body armor with each step. “Female.”
She’d unfastened her flight suit as it had been restricting her breathing. The glimpse of pale skin through the gaps in the fabric hardened his cock.
“Sir?” Joan gazed up at him, love reflecting in her eyes.
He captured her face between his hands and covered her lips with his, kissing her, knowing it might be the last time. She opened to him as she always did, following his unspoken commands, and their tongues twined, tangled. She tasted of sweetness and female and even when his processors fractured, he knew he’d never forget her.
She was a part of him. He pushed her flight suit over her shoulders, baring more of her skin. Joan murmured against his lips, lifted her hips, allowing him to remove the garment completely.
No other female would have surrendered like that to him, without a single protest, with no hesitation. He mouthed over Joan’s rounded chin, down her neck, feeling the pulse of her veins against his tongue.
No other female smelled as good. He inhaled her unique scent. He’d been angered when the cyborg female dared to touch him. He belonged to Joan. Only she had that right.
He cupped her breasts, relishing their weight, their softness, and she moaned, arching into his palms, her responsiveness exciting him. Rage laved his tongue over the swell of her curves, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. She filled the silence with words of encouragement, sank her fingers into his hair, holding him to her.
He sucked first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, tugging on the taut pinkness, drawing louder cries from his female. Her musky scent intensified. He could taste her need on the tip of his tongue.
He lit that fire within her. He gazed down at her with pride. Vector, that other C Model cyborg, had less scarring, was more skilled with words, yet he’d invoked no desire in Joan.
Rage worried her nipple with lip-covered teeth. He was the sole cyborg to arouse her, had aroused her the moment they met, and her need hadn’t faded.
“Rage.” She bucked, her attempts to dislodge him ineffective and adorable.
“Be still, female.” He pressed her backward, onto the horizontal support, and continued his explorations, worshipping her stomach. She was more voluptuous than she’d been this morning and that appealed to his primitive nature.
She was fertile. He didn’t have to taste her to know that. Logically, he knew they couldn’t create offspring. Instinctively, he was driven to try, to claim her.
He threaded his fingers through the curls covering her mons, enjoying the contrast of brown hair against white skin, and opened her to him.
Frag. He breathed in. Her scent was intoxicating.
Rage pulled her ass to the edge of the horizontal support. She murmured about precarious positioning and falling. He ignored her concerns, bent his head, and licked her from ass to clit.
Joan cried his name, squirming under him. Her flavor exploded on his tongue, straining his already fractured control. His ball ached. His cock was as hard as his favorite dagger.
Be. His transmission lines opened. Be. Be. How. Know. You. A stream of babble flooded his processors. You. You. Be. The tone was happy, the words quick.
He was losing the fight against the mysterious virus. Rage closed the line once more. The transmissions ceased, the only sounds coming from his lust-dazed female.
Thank the designer. He nuzzled against her clit, teasing her with his mouth and tongue, seeking to lose himself in her.
“Yes.” She spread her thighs wider, giving him access to more of her.
Rage licked each delicate pink fold, savoring her taste, paying homage to her female form. She was everything a cyborg could want, warm, wet, willing, loving. He poked his tongue into her entrance and she shrieked, clenching her pussy walls around him.
Rage speared into her again and again, searching for more of her moisture, more of her. He wanted to become one with Joan, wanted to climb inside her, to barricade himself within her. Maybe then they could defeat the enemy stalking them, slay the virus chipping away at their lifespans.
Joan rocked against him, holding onto his shoulders, panting, too lost for words. Her inner walls constricted more and more. She needed to come and he yearned to give her that release.
Rage returned his attention to her clit, brushed against the sensitive nub once, twice. Her breath hitched with each slow swipe.
“Joan.” He looked up at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes widened. His clever female knew what was coming.
Rage fluttered his tongue over her.
She screamed his name and drove her hips upward. A rush of liquid streamed from her pussy. He fastened his lips over her entrance and slurped lustily, tasting her fulfillment, quenching his thirst for her.
She was magnificent, worth the grim future they now faced. He drew her into his arms and rubbed her back, soothing her as she calmed.
Beeeeee. The virus screeched across Rage’s transmission lines. Beeeeee. Beeeeee. Beeeeee. The word drilled at his processors, the volume loud, the tone fraught with an irritating mixture of fear and sadness.
Rage closed the lines, securing them. If the virus continued at this rate, he soon wouldn’t remember the code to reopen them. That means of communication would be cut off from him.
He’d be less cyborg, more like his human female.
“I have to breed with you.” He couldn’t process that fate right now. Rage pushed his hard cock into Joan’s pliant pussy, engulfing himself with her softness, her heat.
She tilted her hips, easing the slide, embracing him with a knee-weakening passion. He watched her beautiful face. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed as he took her, sinking into her up to his base.
She felt too good. He gritted his teeth. Her inner walls rippled over his shaft, the aftermath of her first orgasm stripping his restraint.
“Fast.” It wouldn’t be one of their more leisurely breedings. Rage pulled out to his tip and slammed back into her, jiggling her curves.
“Yes, fast.” Joan gripped his shoulders and pulled herself upright. “And hard.” She wrapped her legs around his waist.
That was all the permission Rage needed. He rode his female with a relentless determination, retreating, advancing, retreating, advancing, intent on driving the concerns from their minds.
She called for more, more, more, bouncing her heels against his ass, clawing at his shoulders and he gave it to her, unleashing the primal creature inside him.
Was this savage need to own each other due to the virus? It could be. His machine was partially incapacitated, offline, his organic half in control. Joan would sense that, respond to the change in his nanocybotics.
Whatever the reason, the result was magnificent. Her pale skin glistened with sweat. Her curls stuck to her cheeks. The wildness in her eyes called to him.
He increased his pace, swaying the horizontal support with his thrusts. Still she begged for faster, harder. He didn’t give it to her. His unwavering need to protect her, to keep his female safe, stopped Rage from using all of his strength.
He couldn’t stop the impending
release. Rage drove into her, ground down, and as she screamed her release, he came, pumping his seed into her heated pussy. Pleasure ripped its way up his spine, coursed through his veins.
He pushed deeper. Joan fought him, her strength pleasing his inner warrior, and he subdued her with his hips, chest, hands.
“Rage.” She became still, her head falling forward, her skin slapping against his chest.
“I love you, Joan.” He wanted to say the words before the virus erased them from his processors.
“Do you?” His little female gazed at him with wonder.
“I do.” Rage kissed the tip of her nose and she blinked. “I—”
The door opened. He turned, instinctively shielding Joan from the potential threat.
“You’re finally finished.” Doc helped another cyborg push a machine over the threshold. The newcomer was covered from head to toe with fabric, a mask partially concealing his features. “Surge wanted to interrupt you while you were breeding but I like my skull where it is. Plus, we’ve never observed a cyborg-human breeding. Are human females always so vocal?”
“No.” Rage scowled. Joan was unique. “Keep your distance. I’m infected.”
Behind him, his female inhaled sharply, the scent of her fear burning his nostrils.
“How can you be certain?” Doc studied him. Surge, his assistant, touched the protective mask he was wearing, as though to ensure it remained in place. “What are your symptoms?”
“The virus has attacked my processors.” Rage felt Joan’s soft hands on his bare back. “At first, I heard echoes over my secured transmission lines and then single words, varying in volume and tone.”
“Are the words transmitted quickly without ceasing?”
“Yes.” The virus talked more than his female.
Doc exchanged a look with his assistant. “We’re infected also.”
Joan whimpered.
“Instruct your female to lie on the horizontal support and cover her body with this.” Doc handed a blue cyborg-sized scanning blanket to Rage. “Hurry. I can’t predict how long our processors will continue to function.”
“I killed them, Rage.” Tears streamed down his female’s cheeks. “And I killed you.”
