Dash

by Kelsey Nicole Price

  Dash

  The Cyborg Chronicles

  Book 1

  By,

  Kelsea Nicole Price

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kelsey Nicole Price

  All rights reserved. The author gives no permission for reproduction of all or any portion of this book. Nor may it be used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in review of the book.

  Table of Contents

  Disclaimer:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  *Iris*

  I blew out a breath, sending dust flying in every direction. With the next inhale, I caught some in my mouth, choking on the small particles.

  I uttered a curse. “That was stupid, Iris. Next time just grab a straw,” my voice echoed in the empty space.

  I was completely alone; no one around to offer a sharp quip in response. I lived for nights like this. Just me and some dusty, forgotten warehouse begging for exploration as I searched for treasure.

  Okay, junk. Well, most people would call it junk. I didn’t. To me it was treasure.

  Little bits of the past tucked away in dingy, dirty places that time forgot. Ever since my childhood, items belonging to the past called to me. I did my best to find as many as I could, filling my pink and blue bedroom to the brim. There came a time when I had acquired so many things they began to spill into the rest of house.

  My mother displayed her most horrified expression. Dirty old things had no place in her home. So, with tears streaming down my face, she forced me to get rid of it—all of it.

  To tell the truth, I might have developed a complex. A small one, mind you.

  Fine! I was a hoarder. There, I said it.

  Nowadays, no one forced me to get rid of a single thing. My finds had even become profitable, allowing me to keep a roof over my head and put food in my mouth. I was barely scraping by, but it didn’t matter. I had a house full of the past and a job I loved.

  “I’ll take box number one please,” I snorted, the action caused me to suck dust into my already burning nostrils, but I kept going.

  I used my palm to brush the remaining dust and grime off the surface of the box, my eyes caught several lines of words and numbers burned into the wood.

  PROPERTY OF THE GLOBAL ALLEGIANCE

  SERVICE UNIT

  MODEL NUMBER 478 DASH 942

  "Service unit?" I whispered in the empty space, keeping my voice low, though no one was near to hear me.

  In the past, The Global Allegiance was responsible for designing cyborgs for different tasks. The designed purpose of service units was to deliver pleasure whenever and however their owner demanded. I couldn't believe what I had just read; if the words on the box were correct, I was now in the possession of a cyborg.

  A straight-up machine; created not born. Produced in a laboratory, fully-formed and with advanced capabilities. It possessed upgraded hearing, vision, strength, and intelligence. The company designed cyborgs for the single purpose of serving mankind. Of course, that's just what The Global Allegiance drilled into people’s heads over and over.

  A bunch of propaganda allowed humans to sleep safe and secure each night. They believed the things residing in their homes were nothing more than human-shaped toasters. Those toasters turned out to be more human than machine. Once they discovered that defect, The Global Allegiance provided a new mandate; cyborg owners would relinquish their models for disposal.

  Now, thirty years later, cyborgs and The Global Allegiance were nothing more than stories for historians. Rumors persisted that the wealthy still had them hidden away in their mansions.

  Money could buy everything. Cyborgs were the new antique cars. A collector's item for the rich and famous if you believed the rumors of course—and I did.

  Not that I knew for sure; I wasn’t alive when the country allowed them, and I sure wouldn’t have had the credits to afford to buy one anyhow.

  Even if I had, I would have probably gotten executed for trying to set it free.

  My mother always criticized me; telling me I was far too soft-hearted about the way the world worked. Still, I had never been able to shake my kindness. My heart refused to harden despite life’s letdowns and cruelties.

  I dug my fingers into the seam of the box and tried to pry it open, but it refused to budge. A good sign I had hit the jackpot. Hope surged in my chest. Maybe this was the real deal! No one sealed a box this well unless they wanted the contents to remain inside.

  I released the lid and searched for anything that would help me open it. My eyes landed on a crowbar haphazardly tossed into a corner. I smiled. Sure, there were more advanced methods, but what would be the fun in that?

  One didn’t collect the number of things I did to not use them one day. I felt every piece should be cherished—even if it was old and outdated. You can upgrade and improve things and make them faster and stronger, but you can’t replicate their history. Each item carried its past with it.

  I was a girl who chased the past as fast as possible; an old soul in a modern world.

  Grabbing the crowbar, I slid the flat end into the seam and tugged hard, sweat broke out on my brow as I pulled harder; my arms strained as I gave one more, hard tug. “Come on! Open up stupid box!” my voice raised to match my frustration.

  I heard a pop as the box split open, dumping me on my ass; pain burned through my cheeks. Yes, those cheeks.

  The pain didn’t matter for long. I stared upward at the now-destroyed box in disbelief. My eyes opened wide as saucers, while my jaw dropped.

  Slapping my palms against the floor I pushed back to my feet. “Holy fuck! You really are a cyborg,” awe filled my voice.

  My fingers reached out with longing. I was desperate to touch the spectacular being resting in the box. He was beautiful—and blue.

  Towering over my own 5’10” frame by at least six inches, his blueish skin gave off a slight glow.

  He had no hair, but suddenly, bald was sexy. Long dark eyelashes dusted his cheekbones. What color would those eyes be when he opened them?

  I reached out to trace h
is hard jaw line before brushing my thumb over his full, surprisingly pliant lips. His face was so captivating; I had to see the rest of him.

  Holy shit! This cyborg was naked! Naked like the day he was born. He held no shame in showing his goods.

  I stumbled back, my heel caught on something and tripped me during my ungraceful retreat.

  My cheeks clenched trying to protect themselves from impending impact. This would be the second time my ass hit the ground today.

  A blue arm shot forward and caught me around my waist, reversing my state of gravity as my body landed with an oomph against a very hard chest.

  I found myself pressed against a naked cyborg, his strong arm locking itself around me, keeping me upright.

  I put my palms against his chest and gave a slight push. The shove prompted him to loosen his hold and added a few inches between his body and mine.

  That mere few inches of space allowed me to tilt my head enough to see his face.

  Just keep looking at his face, Iris. Don’t think about anything else. Especially don’t think about the big blue sausage now in direct contact with your lady-bits.

  His lips stayed pressed together as he stared back at me, unblinking.

  His wide-open eyes were a deeper, darker shade of blue. A blue so dark one might mistake them for black.

  “You caught me...” I stammered, my brain trying to figure out how he had activated himself.

  His navy eyes narrowed. “You were falling and would have injured yourself if you had struck the ground. Should I have let you fall?” He tilted his head waiting for my response.

  “No, I’m glad you caught me. Thank you. I don’t think my ass could have handled another make-out session with the ground today,” I gave a short laugh.

  His tilted his head to the other side, his eyebrows rising as he took in my words. “You fell previously?” the timber of his deep voice sent chills racing up my arms. Without warning, he stepped out of what remained of the box. I had no choice but to go with him.

  Free of his crate, his hands now slid up to grip my hips before he spun me around to face away from him.

  My ass was presented to him like a Thanksgiving turkey. The cyborg dropped to his knees. He got up-close and personal with my ass as a set of warm fingers gently inspected each cheek.

  A cyborg was currently copping a feel of my ass. I let out a small squeak.

  “Hands off mister,” I choked out, twisting within his hold.

  His hands immediately fell from my body.

  My ass tingled from his touch; the feel of his hands on my body had sent a bolt of lust straight through my system. “Get it together, Iris. I know it’s been a long time since anyone has touched you, but damn girl you are making a fool of yourself,” I whispered shaking my head.

  “Do you require my service?” The cyborg asked the question like he was inquiring about doing the dishes for me instead of offering to fuck me.

  It had not moved from his position on the floor. Still kneeling before me, his cobalt eyes searched mine, seeking a response to his question.

  Without thinking, I stepped closer, lust pulled my body towards him like a puppet on a string. Strong fingers wrapped around my inner thigh as his nose pressed against my thin cotton pants.

  He inhaled, his eyes turning an impossibly darker shade, and I wondered if he could detect the faint trace of my arousal. Duh. Cyborg, Iris. My mind had the nerve to inform me.

  Service unit. The words on the box cruelly taunted me with the purpose of his creation. Built like sin, he was all wrapped up in a mind-numbly gorgeous package. A gorgeous blue package.

  Why did blue have to be my favorite color? Because I was fucked. If this cyborg kept smelling my inner thigh like it was the most amazing fragrance in the world, I would be—literally.

  “Stop it!” I hissed, shaking my leg to dislodge his hold.

  “I can smell that you are aroused. Your words ask me to stop but your body wants me to continue. Are you afraid I won’t please you? I wouldn’t fail in my task. Anything you want I can do.”

  The words sounded far too good coming out of that delicious mouth. Damn this cyborg.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of something other than sex. I had just freed him from a box for goodness sake. Who knew how long he laid there all alone without any type of connection to the outside world.

  I opened my eyes and took him in. Not as a machine created to please others, but as the man behind the metal and design.

  I gasped. Scars crisscrossed his perfect frame, his chest covered in pale blue lines across his skin, and they didn’t stop there. The marks continued downward, wrapping around his waist and dropping down his legs to mar every bit of blue flesh.

  What type of monster had owned him, hurt him, and then stuffed him in a box like he was nothing but meaningless trash?

  My gasp caused him to flinch, his hand falling from my thigh, and his head tipped forward hiding his face from view. “I know I am no longer perfect, but I can still please you if you give me a chance,” he whispered the words as he kept his head bowed, his eyes pointed towards the floor.

  I dropped down to my knees in front of him. The act seemed to surprise him. His head shot up to stare at me kneeling with him on the ground.

  “I am just fucking this up, aren’t I?” I tried offering him a smile as I took his hand in mine and squeezed—a simple act of reassurance.

  He had no reason to trust me; no reason to expect anything more than what the past had taught him.

  Nothing could change what he went through, but maybe I could change his future.

  I squeezed his hand one more time. “For the record, you are absolutely perfect.”

  Chapter Two

  *Dash*

  The human female held my hand while something I didn’t understand flashed in her eyes. My purpose: to serve—created to do whatever my human wanted. Even if what they wanted would cause me pain, humiliation, or lasting scars.

  As a cyborg, my skin was far more difficult to damage. That didn’t stop my owners from trying and eventually finding ways to scar my artificial skin. I had to allow it, to fight would have assuredly led to my termination.

  This human confused me, her words did not make sense. She owned me, didn’t she understand? I was hers, every breath belonged to her. She didn’t need to offer kindness or deny my purpose. It had been so long since anyone touched me, I didn’t even care if she hurt me.

  I was desperate for a connection, a fleeting moment of belonging to another being. I tugged my hand free and trailed it over her face, pleading with her to understand me. “Please.”

  She captured my hand and stopped it from moving over her features. Fear welled up within me. I waited for her to remove my hand from her cheek. Instead, she pressed it tighter against her skin.

  I couldn’t help it, my eyes drifted closed to savor the sensation.

  “Do you have a name?” When I opened my eyes, I saw her smiling sweetly at me.

  “I’m 478 DASH 942.”

  She huffed out a breath sending a lock of brown hair flying. “That’s not a name, that’s a set of numbers. I can’t call you that.”

  I fixed my gaze on her hair. It was far shorter than any human female I had ever encountered. I reached out, fingering a lock of her short, coffee-colored strands. “Are you no longer perfect too? Is that why your hair refuses to grow?”

  She stared at me in disbelief, her mouth going slack as her eyes widened. “No, I just cut it off. Short hair works better in my line of work. Long hair just gets in my way.”

  I processed her words, but they didn’t offer any more insight into the female I now belonged to. I needed more information. “Most females keep their hair longer to attract males. Do you have trouble finding someone to share your bed with? Is that why you purchased me?”

  The female flinched, jerking back out of my grasp. Had I said something wrong?

  She shook her head and released deep breaths followed by a sigh. The sound
was a clear signal I had made a mistake.

  My empty palm left me feeling hollow. My fingers ached to find a way back to her skin. I had a single purpose. Had it been so long since they deactivated me that my reason for existing had somehow become obsolete?

  In the box, there was no sense of time only never-ending blackness. No light. No sound. Kept locked away from the world like a useless, broken toy no one wanted.

  This female was my only hope for connection. If she didn’t accept ownership of me I would have no choice but to return to the box.

  The idea caused me to shudder, my eyes jerked to the box and stared at it with horror. I trembled, my heartbeat picking up speed as I fought the rising panic. I turned my eyes back to the female, silently begging her to not put me back in the dark.

  *Iris*

  I could easily see the cyborg’s distress. His heartbeat increased; I could see it pounding in his chest. He trembled, his eyes darted from me to the box. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was on the verge of a panic attack. Can cyborgs have panic attacks? I honestly didn’t know, but I could practically see the fear rolling off him. Was he afraid I would put him back?

  He had asked a simple question but I had reacted strongly to it. He just managed to hit a nerve. Too often, I had heard about my many flaws. My mother constantly reminded me that no man would ever want a girl who was like me.

  What husband would want a girl that collected junk like it was treasure? One who talked to herself? One who cared more about rummaging around in dirty, dingy places than staying home to cook dinner or keep house. “There’s no need to look like a boy on top of that,” my mother would chastise.

  I scooted closer and placed my hand on his muscular and very naked thigh hoping to help calm his fear. “It’s okay, all you did was ask a question, you may ask as many questions as you want.”

  The cyborg searched my face before dropping his gaze to stare at my hand resting on his thigh. “Why...Why did you purchase me?” his voice came out so soft I barely heard him.

  Wow, he doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? I released another sigh. “Look, I believe in being honest. I didn’t purchase you. I found you. I stumbled across your box while on my hunt. Hunting for things is what I do for a living. I find old, abandoned places and dig through them looking for things that others have simply tossed away. People abandoned this warehouse years ago. Whoever put you here must have forgotten about you. The thing is, cyborgs are only history nowadays. They deemed your kind a failure thirty years ago. Manufacturers recalled all the cyborgs and informed the humans that they had terminated the lot. Rumors persisted that cyborgs were still around somewhere, but The Global Allegiance made sure we knew that hiding cyborgs resulted in death. Still, that didn’t stop me from hoping one day I would meet one.” I smiled, trying to ease some of his fear.