Dominance and Dissent

by Cynthia Sax

  Her surroundings had changed. Her state hadn’t. She remained a slave, merely had a new master. At the moment, this master treated her with kindness. But her father had treated her with kindness also.

  And then he’d used her as collateral, selling her to a male known for his cruelty.

  “No.” She slipped under the male’s left arm, scurried off the sleeping support. “I’m not your female. I will never be your female.”

  The male flinched as though she had struck him. “I might not be your male.” He straightened to his full height. “But you will always be my female.”

  Shit. He was a big fucker. Her gaze flicked to his semi-hard cock. He was big all over, his lack of hair accentuating his size.

  “There is no reason to fear me.” He approached her, holding out his empty palms.

  The male didn’t need a weapon to harm her. One of those huge hands held the strength to snap her neck.

  There was every reason to be wary of him.

  She looked around her for a possible weapon. Daggers and guns were neatly arranged on a horizontal support, proof she was in the chambers with a violent male. She grabbed a blade, held it in front of her. “Stay where you are.”

  “Where you are is where I will be.” He didn’t stop moving, advancing until the dagger’s edge was pressed against his throat. “Always.”

  “Don’t move.” She struggled to hold the weapon steady. He was tall. She was not. She had to stretch to reach his neck. “I will kill you.”

  That was a bluff. She wanted to be free. More than anything in the universe. But she doubted she could end a lifespan to achieve that status.

  “You can try to kill me.” His eyes gleamed with that challenge. “I’m a cyborg, little human. We’re manufactured to survive brutal combat.”

  She had survived brutality also. “I’ve heard of cyborgs. You’re a fuckin’ machine.”

  A fuckin’ machine wanted to own her. Anger rose within her.

  Her grip on the dagger tightened. “A machine will never be my master.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  Shit. He could disarm her with that glance alone. Her hands shook, the urge to surrender to his unspoken authority tremendous. It took all her willpower to stand her ground, to not back down.

  “I wish to be your male, not your master.” He covered her fingers with his. “And cyborgs are part organic, part machine.” He helped her hold the dagger against his own throat.

  “My male? My master?” She shrugged, her bravado an act she clung to. “They’re different words but they mean the same thing. You wish to own me.”

  “I wish to care for you.” His voice was soft.

  “That’s bovine shit.” She was a slave. No one cared for slaves.

  “If you believe that is bovine shit, slit my throat.” His gaze locked with hers. “Attempt to end my lifespan.”

  She should do that. If she killed him, she’d be free. She could steal a ship, fly to a distant planet—a place where slavery was outlawed and she wouldn’t answer to anyone.

  But the bubbling inside her remained. She suspected those were his nanocybotics, the part of himself he’d transferred to heal her. And there was a connection between them. The fuck she’d believed was a dream lingered, softening her soul.

  And she was no killer. “I will escape you.” She lowered the dagger.

  “You will never escape me.” He hooked his arms around her waist, pulled her to him.

  She struggled. He didn’t release her.

  Because he believed he owned her.

  Her rage rose yet again, her anger against the cruelty of males and the unfairness of the universe reviving. She had reached her breaking point, couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow anyone else to hurt her, to use her. That part of her lifespan was over, even if it meant her death.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” She lifted her weapon once more, intent on utilizing threats of violence to buy her freedom. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me go.”

  “I’m not letting you go.” The cyborg curved his fingers around hers, gripping the hilt. “So do it. Attempt to kill me.”

  Fuck. He would call her bluff.

  “I-I-I…” She didn’t have a next step in her plan. He was supposed to capitulate to her threats.

  “I’ll assist you.” He slid the dagger over his throat.

  The blade sliced deep. She watched in horror as blood spurted and flesh parted. Light glinted off silver metal.

  “What the fuck did you do?” She released the dagger. Her stomach heaved.

  The cyborg caught the weapon as it fell. “You wanted to slit my throat. I assisted you.”

  “Did I say I wanted to slit your throat?” She tried to close the gash with her fingers, attempting to undo the damage she’d done, to reverse the action she never truly desired to take. Blood streamed down her arms. Bile rose in her throat. “Did I fuckin’ say that?”

  “You said you were going to kill me.” He gazed at her with a calmness she was far from feeling. “You placed the dagger blade against my skin. That you would attempt to achieve your goal by slitting my throat was the logical conclusion.”

  “It isn’t logical.” Her voice raised. “None of this is fuckin’ logical.”

  The flow of blood appeared to slow but she couldn’t tell that for certain. There was so much of it. Everywhere.

  “You need a medic. Now.” She looked around her. “You have to contact one. I can’t do that.” Medics didn’t respond to slaves. “There’s a private viewscreen on the horizontal support by the door.”

  “I don’t require a medic.” The cyborg grasped her wrists, pulled her hands away from his throat. “I’m repairing.”

  She examined him. The bleeding had stopped. New skin, a shade lighter than the rest of him, had formed over the wound, closing the slash.

  “That would have killed a human.” She questioned the information her eyes relayed.

  “I’m a cyborg.” He reminded her of that fact. “My nanocybotics repaired me.”

  “You’re a cyborg.” She repeated those words. “You didn’t die.” Relief lifted the weight on her shoulders. “I didn’t kill you.”

  “You would have to pierce my frame to kill me.” He shared that terrible information in a matter-of-fact tone, as though he was merely sharing tips on how to fabricate nourishment bars. “My frame safeguards my vital systems. The Humanoid Alliance utilizes a—”

  “I’m not killing you.” She bracketed his handsome face with her blood-covered hands. “And you’re not helping me kill you. It was a threat. That was all it was. I was angry. I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

  “Humans can lie.” His head dipped.

  It wasn’t a lie. She opened her mouth to tell him that.

  Then she closed it again. It wasn’t the truth either.

  She located a cleaning cloth, swept it over his skin, tidying him.

  “You were angry when you said you’d escape me.” The corners of his lips lifted. “That was another lie.”

  “That was the truth.” She snapped the fabric square to refresh it, glided it along his neck. “I will escape you. But I won’t kill you to do that.”

  It felt strange to be tending to a male voluntarily. He wasn’t uttering orders, wasn’t directing her. She was in control.

  It was an illusion. He was bigger, stronger, could take command of the situation easily, forcing her to do what he wanted, disregarding her wishes.

  She couldn’t forget that.

  “I killed to escape the Humanoid Alliance.” The cyborg rested his hands on her hips. “I’ve killed many beings.”

  “You’re a warrior.” She assumed that based on the arsenal displayed on the horizontal support and the speed with which he had dispatched the Balazoid. “Warriors have that strength.”

  “You have that strength also.” His eyes glowed. “A weak being wouldn’t have attempted to escape the torture.”

  He viewed her as being powerful. That admir
ation was unwarranted. “They planned to kill me.”

  “They.” His face grew hard. “There are others.”

  “There are many others.” She was ashamed of that fact. “And there will be many more…if I don’t liberate myself.”

  “There will be no more males.” His clasp on her hips tightened. “No one else will touch you.”

  Zloy had initially been that possessive of her also. Then the novelty had worn off and he’d shared her with more and more cronies, until most of the males in the settlement had used her.

  “You’re new here.” She voiced that realization.

  A being who had been in the settlement for more than three or four planet rotations would know her history. He wouldn’t view her as though she was special, an object to be closely guarded.

  His head dipped. “My brethren and I have a mission to complete in this settlement.”

  He would tire of her before his mission was over, would share her with those brethren, then sell her to another being…if Zloy didn’t retrieve her first. A shudder rolled through her.

  “You are more important to me than the mission.” He misunderstood her reaction.

  “Fucking me is more important to you than your mission.” She corrected him, unable to hide her bitterness. “You don’t know me. To you, I’m an object to be used.”

  “You are a female to be cherished.” He frowned at her. “Cyborgs were treated as objects. It damaged our emotional systems. We would never treat another being that way, my…” He paused.

  She waited for him to call her his slut or his slave or some other demeaning descriptor.

  “If you prefer to be called by your name, you must relay it to me.” He shocked her with that statement. “It isn’t in my database.”

  She frowned. “Don’t fuck with me. You’re not concerned with my preferences. I’m a slave.”

  “You’re no longer a slave.” He frowned back at her. “And I’m a cyborg. We can’t lie. If I indicate concern, as you refer to that emotional state, I am concerned.”

  He was correct. There was no reason to lie. Males considered exhibiting caring to be weakness.

  The stranger was concerned about her, a slave he didn’t consider to be a slave. She blinked once, twice, absorbing that revelation.

  “If I’m not worthy of your name, I will wait until I have earned that honor.” His tone was sincere. “The Humanoid Alliance, our manufacturers, referred to me and my brethren by our model number only.” He touched the letter and numbers high on his cheek. “They weren’t worthy of our names.”

  “My name is on my ownership documents.” Anyone could access those records. “Knowledge of it isn’t a fuckin’ honor.”

  He stared at her for a moment. His hands returned to her hips. “It is…Greer.”

  She gaped at him. “You scanned the settlement’s records, locating my image?”

  “I’m a cyborg.” He said that as though it explained everything. “I’ve deleted your information, Greer. You’re free.”

  She was free for the moment. Zloy knew everyone in the settlement and everyone knew of him. He’d merely have the information re-entered.

  But she was touched by the cyborg’s actions, moved that he sought to free her, that he utilized her name. It had been ninety-three planet rotations since she’d heard it on another being’s lips.

  She felt almost…human.

  “My name is Dissent.” He must have deemed her, a slave, worthy of his name also.

  A rattling noise followed that information. It originated from what appeared to be a small chamber to her right.

  “And that is Nibbler.” The cyborg…Dissent grinned, joy illuminating his handsome face. “He requires nourishment.” Dissent retrieved an armful of fruit from a horizontal support. “He’s an offspring and a miljoonasuut. Miljoonasuuts are always hungry.”

  He stalked toward the noise. Similar rattling sounds came from his lips.

  She glanced at the door. It wasn’t guarded and she wasn’t being watched. There was no collar around her neck, no energy chains binding her wrists or ankles. Escape would be easy.

  But there would be opportunities to escape later…when Dissent left the chamber to complete his mission, whatever that was, and she was curious, had never encountered a miljoonasuut.

  She followed him.

  Heat wafted from the small chamber. The illumination in the space activated. The cyborg was holding a creature in his hands. It wiggled its many legs, trying to free itself.

  Greer sympathized with it immediately.

  “Greer, this is Nibbler. Nibbler.” Dissent made a series of clicking sounds. “Greer.”

  He introduced them like a settlement resident would introduce a free human or humanoid to another free human or humanoid. There was no mention of her being a slave, no declaration of his ownership over her.

  A ball of emotion formed in her throat. She swallowed. Hard. “Nibbler.” She reached out her hand.

  Dissent stepped back, taking the creature with him. That physical rebuff was like a slap in the face.

  He didn’t view her as a being. She was a fool to think he did.

  “You can go fuck yourself.” She lowered her hand. “I don’t need you.” She turned, preparing to flee, to leave the chambers, the settlement, the planet.

  “Don’t move.” The dominance in his voice caused her to hesitate. “I will fuck myself later. Nibbler requires nourishment now and he views everything and everyone around him as a source of that. I’m explaining that he is not to consume you.”

  He was protecting her from the creature. Greer stood still. “He’s too small to consume me.”

  “He might be merely an offspring but he’s already an effective killer.” Dissent showed her the multiple mouths filled with sharp, snapping teeth on the creature’s underside. “And he is angry. Miljoonasuuts don’t like excessive illumination.”

  He hunched over the creature, shielding him from the light. That was…surprisingly kind. Her heart softened a little bit toward the cyborg.

  “Where are his parents?” She looked around them. There were no signs of more miljoonasuuts in the space. “He should be with them.” Why would a baby like him be alone? Oh, fuck. “Did his father sell him?” As her father had sold her?

  “A merchant in the market sold Nibbler to me.” Dissent’s expression was fierce. “The male took him from Khambalia 5, his home planet. Nibbler’s father tried to protect him.” The cyborg’s voice lowered once more. “But the merchant and his team had a missile launcher. They killed Nibbler’s father.”

  “His father lost his lifespan trying to protect him.” While her father had sold her for a handful of credits. “He must have loved Nibbler very much.”

  Dissent dipped his head, confirming her statement.

  A creature had known more caring than she had. Fuck.

  “Now, Nibbler is alone.” As she was. “On a strange planet.” They both had to leave Altair Alpha. They both had to escape their new master.

  “Nibbler isn’t alone.” Dissent, the being they had to flee, shook his head. “He has us. Once I obtain a ship, we’ll return him to his home planet.”

  Us. We. She stared at the cyborg. He spoke as through they were equal…which they weren’t.

  “Khambalia 5 is covered by clouds.” Dissent fed Nibbler fruit and talked about the creature’s home planet, describing it in such detail she could almost see it.

  Greer leaned against the wall as she listened to his stories. Dissent treated her as though she was a free being, calling her by her name, not censoring his speech. He communicated with the miljoonasuut also, switching to the other language without pausing. She didn’t understand those words but she heard the affection in his voice, the caring.

  It wooed her into a false sense of comradery…which was dangerous. His respect for them, for her, was an illusion. He owned her as he owned Nibbler, controlling them both.

  She could never forget that.

  Chapter Five

&nbs
p; His female wished to escape him.

  She stood with one foot in the cleansing chamber and one foot in the larger private chamber, as she tossed fruit into Nibbler’s multiple mouths. Every couple of moments, she glanced at the door.

  Each furtive look damaged his big cyborg heart.

  Nibbler fought his caring also. The miljoonasuut wiggled, seeking to free itself, and it rattled its exoskeleton, threatening to chew Dissent’s face off and devour Greer’s arms.

  Dissent understood their emotional damage. The Humanoid Alliance had tortured him and killed many of his brethren. He viewed those humans as the enemy, would chew their faces off if they tried to re-capture him.

  Greer and Nibbler had known the harshest of treatments at the hands of other males, other two legs. They believed he was like their tormenters, perceived their rescues as transfers of ownership, of control. It would take time, patience, persistence, to convince them he was different.

  Until he accomplished that feat, he would tolerate their grumblings and their curses, circumvent their attempts to escape him. The dangers outside the domicile were many, and he would protect them from those perils. Eventually, he would earn their trust, their affection.

  “His movements are slowing.” His female took a bite of the fruit before feeding the rest of it to Nibbler.

  Her mouth would be sweet. Dissent gazed at her full pink lips, yearning to taste her, to kiss her, to claim her once more. His cock was hard. His desire was intense.

  She wanted him also. He breathed in the musk of her arousal, saw the wetness on her upper thighs. His fingers twitched, her need straining his restraint. He longed to skim his hands over her taut nipples, cup her large breasts, weighing their bounty in his palms.

  To warrant her trust, he had to suppress his wanting. He had to wait for her to initiate their next breeding. That choice had to be hers.

  “Nibbler is tiring.” Dissent leaned forward slightly.

  It was an attempt to block as much of the light as possible. Miljoonasuuts preferred low illumination, but plunging the cleansing chamber into darkness wouldn’t allow Greer, with her suboptimal human vision system, to see the offspring.