by Cynthia Sax
“The warriors with females claim it does.” Death stomped up the ramp, his body humming with anticipation. If she employed that talented tongue of hers, he wouldn’t last long. “They repair faster.”
“And you tell me this now?” She smacked his shoulder. “I could have healed you while you were cleaning me. Hmmm…” She hummed, that sexy sound flowing down his chest and curling around his balls. “I wonder…if I lick Thrasher, will I heal him faster also?”
“No licking other males.” He entered the sleeping chamber with her. “Your nanocybotics are mine. They only repair my damage.”
“Because they’re unique to each cyborg.” She grabbed a cleaning cloth as they passed the horizontal support. “Lie down on the sleeping support. I need access to your big body.”
He’d give her all the access she wanted. Death discarded what was left of his armor and reclined on the surface. He then set her lush ass on his thighs. She murmured a thank you. He quickly stripped her of her flight suit, revealing her endless curves, pale skin, pink nipples.
One flick of the fabric removed the other warrior’s scent. He tossed the garment to the side and concentrated on his female, covering her with his hands, marking her body as his.
Tifara swept the cleaning cloth over his skin, humming as she worked, that erotic sound teasing his already hard cock. She’d fought for him today. She loved him. His little medic bent over him, licking the gash on his cheek. Pain mixed with pleasure. His grip on her hips tightened.
“It’s working.” She beamed at him and he blinked, her beauty stunning him. “This wound.” She prodded the cut on his other cheek. “Was as deep yet it is healing much slower.”
His female was experimenting on him. Death gazed up at her, bemused by the sparkle in her eyes, the passion in her face. Some of that passion was for him, as well as for medical research. Her pussy juices bathed his thighs with scent. Her nipples were taut, her breathing rapid.
He kneaded her ass, waiting with growing desire, as she licked each wound, laving his chin, flicking her tongue over his pecs, tracing the stripped skin on his arms. His muscles had repaired. A thin layer of skin formed over the damage.
His medic tended to him with her renowned focus, all of her attention on him. Not a scratch or bruise was left untreated.
“You’re a wonder of genetic engineering.” Her eyes glowed. “And you’re mine.”
The possessiveness in her voice thrilled him. “I’m yours.”
“You’re mine to examine, to repair, to study.” She skimmed the tip of her tongue over his abs, outlining each cascading dip, downward. “To pleasure, to please, to love.”
Death stretched out his arms, reveling in her touch, savoring this moment with her, knowing they might not have many more. The cyborg warriors were coming for him and he’d surrender, give up his lifespan without a fight, to ensure she remained safe, protected.
“I look at your body and see a lifespan of research before me.” Tifara wiggled down his form, her breasts jiggling. “Questions requiring answers.” She searched for more torn skin to repair. “Science I don’t yet know.”
He liked that he was a puzzle she hadn’t solved and he wished his lifespan could be longer, that he could spend solar cycles, not mere planet rotations with her.
She licked along his hipbones. Lines of concentration creased her forehead. The lights above them lit the fiery strands in her brown hair, hinting of passion amidst her logic.
“You missed a spot.” He pushed his hips upward, presenting his hard cock to her.
“I’m not sucking your cock.” Her eyes flashed. “You don’t have any wounds there.”
“That you can see.” Death lifted her above him, deciding to take her pussy instead, hoping to put their offspring inside her, to leave her with another part of him.
Tifara muttered about the unlikelihood of hidden damage. His little medic wasn’t taking any risks with him, however. She positioned him at her entrance.
A grin crept across Death’s face. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He lowered his little human upon his shaft.
Her wet heat engulfed him and his vision system flickered, his processors nearly shorting out from bliss. He stared up at her, making no attempt to hide his emotions.
Tifara looked downward, met his gaze, and her eyes softened. “Oh, Death.” She leaned forward, her mouth a breath away from his. “I feel the same way about you.”
He raised his head and glided his lips over hers, tasting her smile, her wonder, her love. No words were necessary. She rocked, the shallow motion massaging his cock, her breasts drifting over his chest.
Death deepened their kiss, their tongues tumbling, the flavor of her the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. She moaned into his mouth and moved faster, the musk of her arousal heavy in the air.
He flattened his palms on her back, lying under her, allowing his female to lead their encounter. Her hair fell forward, creating a veil around them, a sanctuary no enemy could penetrate. The decadent curls caressed his face, back and forth, back and forth.
Death’s lips stretched into a wide smile. Before her, he didn’t trust in destiny, in fate, but he believed now. This was a gift from the universe, this moment with his female. “You’re beautiful.”
“The fight must have rattled your processors loose, cyborg.” She grinned. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m now laughing.” He released the joy building inside him. The sound filled the chamber, foreign even to his own auditory system, yet it felt right, so fraggin’ right.
Tifara stared at him for a moment and then her laughter joined his, musical and light compared to his deep boom.
They held each other and laughed, fearlessly, with everything they had. He rolled her onto her back and thrust into that happiness, filling her giggling mouth with his tongue and her hot pussy with his hard shaft. Their chests shook, her nipples teasing his skin.
Their mirth faded, replaced by passion. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, the pain reminding him he was alive, was with her, his female.
He ravished her curvaceous form, desperate with wanting, with need. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooked her ankles over his ass, holding onto him. His lips, chest, hips, hummed from the contact. A sheen of moisture covered her pale skin.
“Love. You,” she panted. “Love. You.” She repeated those words over and over and he captured them in both his processors and his humanlike memory.
They’d be replayed, an endless loop of caring, giving him strength and the ability to do what he must. He sucked on her rounded chin.
“Yes, Death, yes.” She slapped her heels against his clenched ass cheeks, urging him to take her faster, deeper, his female wild in her ardor.
He gritted his teeth, plunged into her and pulled himself back, plunged into her and pulled himself back. His balls ached. An exquisite pressure formed at the base of his spine. She was so soft, so giving.
Her inner walls closed around his shaft, increasing her grip on him, the friction, the warmth, the joy inside him. Death grunted, vocalizing his happiness, past words, past logic, his processors shutting down.
Only the most primitive part of him remained, the portion of him driven by passion. He no longer controlled his emotions. They controlled him. And he didn’t try to fight it. Death gave Tifara all of it, showed her his heart.
He loved her. It wasn’t rational but it was the truth. He loved his little female. Death gazed down at her, that realization in his eyes
Her breath hitched. “Death.” She clenched down on him.
“Tifara.” Death howled her name and snapped his hips, the last wall inside him crumbling. He poured his love into her, filling her with heat, with cum, with himself.
She screamed, raking her fingernails over his skin, writhing under him. He pinned her ass to the sleeping support, pushing deeper inside her, wanting more of him to touch more of her, and he came, again and again, setting off more mini explosions within his female.
The pleasure became
too much. “Frag.” He shuddered and fell into her curves. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clasping his body to hers, her warmth soothing him, reassuring him.
His female was with him, secure, protected. Death nuzzled against her neck and she stroked his back, murmuring words of comfort, of love.
That allowed him to do what had to be done next. He opened his transmission lines. A barrage of chatter swept over him and he jerked.
“Shhhh…” Tifara mouthed over his skin. “I have you, cyborg. You’re safe.”
He wouldn’t be safe for much longer. Death tightened his grip on his female, listening to the talk on the lines. The cyborgs were coming for him and when they arrived, he’d surrender and he’d die.
But before he faced that fate. Death flipped onto his back, bringing Tifara with him. He’d breed with his human two, three, perhaps four more times, adding those happy moments to his databases.
Death grazed her forehead with his lips.
He was a fortunate warrior.
Chapter Eighteen
“What is it?” Tifara frowned at her stubborn cyborg. She knew he wasn’t telling her something. She felt the desperation in his touch. “We’re a team. That means we communicate.”
The sun had set and then risen and he remained silent.
Death cut a nutrition bar into small, perfect squares, his head lowered, his lips set in a grim white line.
They’d made love five times, each encounter more frantic than the last. And that was exactly what it had been—making love. Death hadn’t said the words but she’d seen the caring in his dark eyes.
Her killer cyborg loved her.
He had always loved her. She simply hadn’t seen it.
Tifara gazed at the squares Death sliced so diligently with his dagger. The Erinomean girl had offered him pieces of nutrition bars. That had been his first experience with love.
And now he offered them to her. He sheathed the dagger and slid the squares toward her. “Eat.”
“I love you too.” She tossed one into her mouth.
His eyes gleamed.
The ship shuddered. She swayed, holding onto him for support. “What was that?”
“Fate.”
“Every time you say that, something terrible happens.” Tifara’s bad feeling intensified. “I don’t think you understand the concept of fate. It can be positive.”
“Yes, it can be positive.” He cupped her chin and their gazes locked, the passion in his eyes taking her breath away. “You were my fate and that has brought me unparalleled happiness.”
“It was more likely genetics, not fate.” Her voice was husky.
“Other warriors will search multiple worlds for many human lifespans and never find their females.” Death skimmed his lips over hers. “It’s a large universe.”
She forced herself to focus on his words. “But if it is genetic, there are databases containing that information. Cyborgs could access those systems and look there.”
“They don’t know what they’re looking for.”
“Yet.” Tifara held up one of her index fingers. “You and I are—”
“It’s time.” Death straightened his shoulders. His chest was distractingly bare, all golden skin and muscles. The lower half of his body was covered in black armor. “We have to leave.” He clasped her hand.
His fingers trembled and that scared the shit out of Tifara. “What is it time for, Death?” She allowed him to lead her toward the exit. “And don’t say fate.”
He said nothing.
When they descended the ramp, her questioning stopped. She now knew, as he did. They were in deep shit.
Hundreds of warriors faced them. Judging by the model numbers inked in their cheeks and their black body armor, they were all cyborgs.
Except for a familiar form standing beside a gray-skinned male.
“Safyre.” Her friend was alive. Tifara’s gaze dropped to her friend’s left hand. It rested on the gray-skinned cyborg’s thigh. And she was in love.
“Tifara.” Safyre stepped forward. The cyborg held her back. The unlikely couple exchanged a heated glance. Her friend had a temper as intense as her orange hair.
Yet she didn’t win the silent argument. Safyre backed down.
She never backed down.
Tifara’s sense of foreboding escalated. She gripped Death’s hand harder. “We battle this together.”
“All of us.” Menace stood by the ramp, his arm around an agitated Ada-971. “You’re not alone, my friend.”
Death grunted.
Tifara didn’t like that sound of that. “I need weapons.” She reached for a dagger.
“No.” Death stopped her. “We negotiate.”
Now, she was petrified. “You don’t negotiate.”
He stepped forward. “Crash.”
“Death.” The gray-skinned cyborg did the same. His black-eyed gaze darted to Tifara and then back to Death. “If you had told me about your link, this wouldn’t have been necessary. I would have talked with the cyborg council, changed the plan.”
“I told you what I would do.” Death lifted his chin. “And I did it.”
Tifara gazed at him with admiration. He was so damn dominant.
“It’s too late now.” Crash wasn’t intimidated. “I’m not authorized to negotiate with you. And there’s no reason for me to seek authorization. You wouldn’t win a fight. There are four of you. You’re outnumbered.”
“Are we?” Death held the cyborg’s gaze.
A J model cyborg broke ranks, marched to the other side, and stood behind Death, his boots braced apart, his hands resting on his guns.
“You’d rebel against your own brethren?” Crash raised his eyebrows. “That will result in your death.”
One by one, the cyborgs joined the first, repositioning with Death, Tifara, Menace and Ada-971. Only a few youthful looking K models remained behind Crash, their uncertainty reflecting in their eyes.
“Oh shit.” Safyre’s face turned pale. “It’s a fuckin’ mutiny.”
“It’s loyalty.” Menace was uncharacteristically serious. “Death has earned it. The cyborg council hasn’t.”
“Is there a reason to negotiate now?” Death demanded.
“Why would you do that?” Crash looked pointedly at the males facing him. “You now have the advantage. You’d win any fight.”
“A fight would risk our females—yours.” Death nodded at Safyre. “Menace’s.” He looked at Ada-971. “Mine.” His gaze rested on Tifara’s, all of his love, his passion in his eyes. “They are too precious, too valuable to put in peril.”
A lump formed in Tifara’s throat.
“You rebelled against the cyborg council.” Crash’s voice was gruff. “If they show you leniency, all warriors would rebel, try to find their females. That would place our brethren remaining in the Humanoid Alliance’s control at risk.”
“I would never put my brethren at risk.” Death’s jaw jutted. “And I haven’t asked for leniency.”
“What? No.” Tifara gripped his hand. “You’ll show him leniency. You have to.”
“What do you want?” Crash ignored her.
“I want forgiveness for Menace and the J models who have supported me. They shouldn’t be reprimanded for their loyalty.”
“You stubborn ass,” Menace muttered.
“I’ll insist upon it,” Crash vowed.
“You will ensure Menace’s female is never separated from him,” Death continued.
Crash’s gaze slid to the clone female. “The council is unlikely to take a female away from her male. Compatible couples remain disturbingly rare.”
Death was her male. Tifara blew out her breath, relieved. They wouldn’t take him away from her either.
“You will vow to always protect my female, with your life if—” Death’s voice broke.
“No. No. No.” Tifara shook her head. “That will never be necessary. Protecting me is your job, Death.”
He stared at Crash, refusing to look at
her, his face as hard as stone, forbidding, grimmer than it had ever been.
“Death.” She moved in front of him.
He wouldn’t make eye contact with her.
“I will always protect your female,” Crash confirmed.
“My last request is that you make the kill quick and clean.” Death fell to his knees and lowered his head, exposing his neck. “I regret nothing. These moments with my Tifara have been the happiest I’ve ever known. I will go to my death having loved and having been loved. I wish the same fate for every warrior.”
Murmurs rolled through the J models. Tifara paid them no attention, her focus on her big male. “Stand up.” She tugged on his right arm. “Fight for me, Death. Fight for us.”
“I don’t want to do this.” Crash extracted one of the swords from the sheath slung across his back.
“Then don’t do it, my male,” Safyre snapped, her friend vibrating with emotion. “Transport Death to the Homeland and let the cyborg council carry out their own fuckin’ orders.”
“That’s not possible, my female.” Light gleamed off the sharp blade.
Tifara’s panic increased “No.” She flung herself over Death’s back, covering his neck with her body. “We’re a team. If you kill Death, you have to kill me also.”
“My Tifara—”
“I’m not going anywhere, cyborg.” She slapped his shoulder, trying to smack some sense into him. “I won’t live without you.”
“My Safyre.” Crash’s voice was strained. “Move your friend.”
“Fuck, no.” Safyre jammed her fists on her hips, the tuft of orange hair on top of her head sticking straight up. She looked like the warrior she was. “I don’t know anything about your fucked-up cyborg council but I know Tifara and I know Death, and if they thought it was necessary to rebel, it was necessary to rebel.”
Crash gritted his teeth. “Death rebelled to find his female.”
“I’m not merely his female.” Tifara searched her brain for a reason, any reason to justify Death’s rebellion to the cyborg council. “I’m a medic, one of the foremost experts in the universe on viruses.”
“Cyborgs don’t get viruses.”
“Let her talk.” Safyre whacked Crash’s arm. “She’s making a point.”
