Crash and Burn (Cyborg Sizzle #3)

by Cynthia Sax

  “That E model cyborg is flying our freighter.” Crash stood. He was large and imposing and clearly in command.

  That turned her on.

  “A cyborg at the helm communicates that we’re free.” Death dipped his dark head. “Now, we can all find our females with hair like flame.”

  Safyre’s face heated. “This female with hair like flame wants to be at the helm of her own ship.”

  Death glanced at her. “Your ship was a refuse bin.”

  “Beings should stop saying that. Especially if they want to live.” She waved her hands. “I’ve flown that ship halfway across the universe.”

  “Did it break down before you could fly it all the way across?” Crash grinned.

  The cyborgs laughed.

  And she couldn’t curse at them. Because she realized how special that moment was. They were laughing freely, not fearing if humans would hear and punish them.

  “I’m not happy with you,” she muttered.

  Her cyborg breathed deeply. You smell very happy to me.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed again.

  Chapter Eight

  Crash was happy. His female’s threats to escape grew weaker and weaker. She wanted him, the scent of her musk filling his nostrils. Gap appeared content to dream about his Nymphia and wasn’t actively plotting to save her.

  They’d be within communications range of the newly manufactured cyborgs in a planet rotation. If the Humanoid Alliance hadn’t somehow blocked cyborg transmissions, he’d be able to contact them. He could ask them to rescue Safyre’s friend.

  Nymphia would be safe. Gap would be distracted. The J model cyborgs would be free. And he had found his female.

  She shifted in her seat. His female had been sitting for half a planet rotation.

  “Gap, you have the bridge.” Crash stood. “I’m taking a break.”

  “Cyborgs don’t require breaks.” Death gazed at him with disbelief.

  “Cyborgs with females do.” Crash crouched in front of Safyre and unfastened her bindings, storing the strap around the sleeve of his body armor. He rubbed her calves.

  She made small circles with her boot-clad ankles. “My ass is numb.”

  “We’ll walk.” He pulled her to her feet. She swayed. He held onto her until she steadied.

  “Or she could try to escape and you could chase her,” Death joked.

  “I’m glad I entertain you.” Her smile took the bite out of her words. She leaned heavily on Crash’s arm.

  He liked that. Very much.

  Crash led her into the hallway and turned her toward the docking bay. Death followed them. Her knees loosened and her gait became smoother. She didn’t release his arm.

  Cyborgs waited in every alcove, joining them as they passed. Crash said nothing. They were all curious about her reaction.

  She’d either be very pleased, treating them to one of her wide infectious smiles, or she’d lose her temper, entertaining his brethren with an emotional rant.

  It was a constant gamble with his female.

  Her pace slowed as they approached her ship. Cyborgs stood in front of it, proud of the repairs they’d made. It looked… better. It would never be a new ship. The panels remained different colors. Not all of the needed modifications were possible. The systems could only be upgraded to adequate levels.

  But it was now safe to fly. The rattling that had irritated him over their transmission line was gone. All of the engines worked.

  She gazed up at it, her eyes wide, a mixture of emotions flitting across her beautiful face—awe, yearning, sadness. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I wanted you to see the repairs on your ship.”

  “My ship?” Her voice rose with excitement. “You didn’t take away my access to fly it?”

  “You can fly it when I’m your co-pilot.” His body might be enthralled by her touch but his processors remained fully operational. If he gave her access to fly her ship solo, she’d escape in it. “We’re a team.”

  “You have a ship.” She glanced to the left.

  His ship was more modern and more luxurious, but she was giving up the rest of her life. He could give up his accommodations in space. “I’ll travel in your ship.”

  She frowned. “You could force me to travel in your ship.”

  “I could.” That had been a possibility. “But why would I?”

  “Because it’s your ship.” She waved her hands at it. “It belongs to you. It’s your home.”

  It was his home, not his ship, his home. “My home is where you are.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Her voice softened.

  “I do.”

  Safyre gazed up at the ceiling, her bottom lip trembling.

  Moments passed.

  Her back straightened. “I’m looking inside.” She stomped up the ramp, not waiting for his permission.

  Crash trailed her, watching as she swept her fingers over the white scarf wrapped around a pillar, as she tapped the brightly colored container set on a horizontal surface, as she jingled the string of Palavian shells hanging by the captain’s seat.

  She plunked her lush ass in that chair and stared out the main viewscreen. Crash sat in the other seat and did the same. Their view was of the docking bay wall.

  “I’ve always lived in other being’s abodes. First, my parents’ domicile. Then the Academy. After that, battle stations.” She rubbed the armrests of her chairs. Strips of fabric decorated the black leather. “This is the only home that has ever been mine.”

  “It remains yours.”

  She turned her head and gazed at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I know.” Her voice was choked. “I thought when I saw the cyborgs dismantling it that all this” she waved her hands “the heart of it, would be gone. But it isn’t. You kept what made it a home and made it better.”

  “You like it.” His shoulders lowered.

  “I love it, warrior.” She scooted out of her chair and climbed onto his lap, her generous curves layering over his body armor. “I’d love it even more if I could fly the ship solo.”

  His female was gloriously stubborn. “There’s no need to fly it solo.” Crash smoothed her eyebrows with his lips. “I’ll always be by your side.”

  “Hmmm…” Her fingers skimmed along his armor, veering closer and closer to one of his dagger-filled sheaths. Would she reach for the weapon, try to force him into giving her access?

  It wouldn’t work. He’d stop her. Again. Her speed would never match his.

  Her hands ceased moving. “Nymphia is a part of me, Crash.” The love in her voice made him envious. Would she ever care for him that strongly? “If she dies alone--” Her voice cracked.

  “She won’t.” He covered her hands with his. “Not if I can prevent it.”

  “How will you prevent that?” Her lips twisted. “You refuse to land on Tau Ceti.”

  “I have a plan, remember?” Crash squeezed her fingers. “Trust me to save your friend.”

  “Trust me with your plan,” she pushed back.

  “I’ll share it with you next planet rotation.” He’d know, at that point, if he could communicate with the cyborgs on the planet. “Wait until then to take action.”

  She gazed at him. He gazed back.

  The moment stretched. Would she trust him?

  “This plan of yours is plausible?” Hope filled her voice.

  “Yes.” It was more plausible than hers was and had much less risk.

  “Then I’ll wait until next planet rotation.” She relaxed against him. “I’m trusting you with my honor, with my vow to Nymphia.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Crash was cognizant that his little female didn’t trust easily. She was giving him a gift and he wouldn’t damage it. “If it’s at all possible, we’ll save her.”

  “At the very least, you have to reach her.” She rested her cheek against his armor-clad chest. “She’s trapped and alone, Crash.” She trembled. “Nymphia doesn’t like being alone. When
we were young, she’d climb onto my sleeping support, needing that connection with another being. She must be so scared.”

  “She knows you.” He rubbed her back. “She realizes you’re coming for her. You’d never let her down.” Safyre would give that same loyalty to the male she loved, to the offspring she’d nurture. She’d protect them, keep them safe.

  And he’d keep her safe. Crash nuzzled against her hair. He’d be the male she loved, the male she trusted.

  A companionable silence fell between them. Crash played with her orange hair, watching the light dance on the strands. He’d never seen hair like hers.

  She was unique and his.

  The chatter on the cyborg transmission lines increased. “The warriors ask if you’re happy about the ship’s transformation.”

  “You didn’t tell them?” Safyre shifted, teasing him with her body. “I thought you shared everything with them.”

  “You wanted me to limit the information I shared.”

  “Fuck, warrior.” She hopped off his lap, her eyes flashing. “You should tell me when you do that. They completed all of this hard work.” She swept her hands through the air. “And I left them waiting outside. They must think I’m an ungrateful ass.”

  She stomped toward the door, her boot heels striking the tiled floor.

  His female was angry with him once more. Crash followed her, amused and intrigued. Thus far, he’d discerned little logic in her emotion system. The causes of her fury appeared to be random variables, yet there must be a connection between them.

  The challenge of solving his Safyre excited him.

  She stopped at the top of the ramp and looked out at the cyborg warriors. They gazed at her with interest. Crash inhaled deeply. But they didn’t lust after her. They knew she belonged to him.

  “I had a look at some of the modifications you’ve performed on my ship.” Safyre beamed, her beauty stunning him. “I love what you’ve done. Thank you so much.”

  The cyborgs cheered.

  Hear their joy? Crash communicated through their private transmission line. They trust you not to punish them for expressing it.

  I would never hurt them.

  Her words rang with the ferocity of a vow. She wouldn’t harm his brethren. He clasped her right hand and led her down the ramp.

  “I added the compartments for your weapons.” Mayhem was the first warrior to approach them. “They’re hidden in the wall panels.”

  “That’s very clever.” She smiled at the cyborg. “Thank you.”

  Mayhem stood taller. Compliments were rare in their world.

  “I upgraded the circuits,” another warrior pointed out, looking for the same appreciation.

  The cyborgs gathered around them. Each male clamored for Safyre’s attention, proudly sharing his contribution to the repairs.

  She listened to their stories and generously praised their work, her words making the tough warriors’ chests expand with self-importance. Crash folded her into his body, ensuring every warrior knew she was his.

  The cyborgs dispersed, chattering excitedly about their plans for their own females, ships they would modify for themselves.

  Death waited for them, appearing as solemn as always.

  “I realize you had no time to help with the repairs. You were searching for the tracking devices,” Safyre addressed the warrior, her tone light.

  “I contributed.” Death shifted his weight from his right foot to his left.

  “Really?” She lifted her eyebrows. “How?”

  “I repaired the seats.”

  Death repaired the black leather seats. Crash looked at the warrior’s forearms. “You used your restraints for those repairs.”

  They were part of a cyborg’s body armor and sometimes were the difference between life and death. It was significant that Death had removed them.

  “We’re free.” The cyborg acted more certain about their status. “No being will reprimand me for giving them away. If I require more restraints, I’ll source them.”

  “No being will ever reprimand you again.” Safyre gazed up at the much larger warrior. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”

  “You won’t allow anyone to hurt me?” The grim line of Death’s mouth softened. “Would you fight the Humanoid Alliance for me?”

  “My female would fight for every cyborg, including J models.” Crash grinned. “Come, little warrior.” He led her toward the freighter’s bridge. “We have a ship to fly.”

  “We,” she repeated.

  “We.” Crash walked beside his female, shortening his stride to match hers, their fingers linked. He’d limit communications and allow her to access the controls. “If you want to be my copilot, the seat is yours.”

  “I’d love that.” She beamed at him.

  They entered the bridge. Gap jumped to his feet, his face animated. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

  “Do I think who will like what?” Safyre slowed. Crash did also.

  “Will my female like her new chamber on your ship?” Gap danced in place. “It’s the smaller of the two. Crash, being a more primitive model, is larger than I am. He requires more space.”

  “The ship belongs to my female,” Crash drawled. “She has earned the larger chamber.” Safyre claimed the chair beside his, where she should be.

  Gap moved to her right. “I scavenged the freighter for the most brightly colored materials. In every recording I’ve watched, my Nymphia is clad in bright colors. Was that the right choice or should I decorate the chambers in gray?”

  Questions spilled out of the young cyborg’s mouth. How many flight suits would Nymphia require? Which type of nutrition bar did she like? Was there a scent she preferred?

  Crash reluctantly released his female’s hand and accessed the control panels, allowing the ship’s systems to flow through his palms, up his arms, shoulders, neck, linking with his processors. It was a connection no human pilot could make.

  Aren’t you going to restrain me? Safyre asked through their private transmission line.

  Do you wish to be restrained?

  Why would any being wish to be restrained?

  He didn’t know. She seemed to enjoy it.

  Crash gave his female partial control of the freighter. The vessel was designed to be flown with little effort, autopilot taking over when a being wasn’t actively piloting it.

  It didn’t take two beings to operate it.

  Which was good because Gap continued to bombard Safyre with queries about Nymphia.

  Moments passed. Her responses grew more and more vague. She glanced at Crash. He met her gaze. She quickly looked back at the main viewscreen.

  This wordless exchange happened three more times.

  Crash inhaled deeply, sampling the air around them. Her desire for him hung in the air but it wasn’t at elevated levels. He didn’t smell blood.

  Crash waited. Safyre would tell him when she was ready to speak. She wasn’t shy about voicing her opinions.

  He liked that.

  Don’t you care that I might escape? Her transmission was soft.

  Did she equate being bound to caring? I care. She was his female, the being he’d spend his lifespan with. But you said you’d wait to take action and I trust you.

  Oh.

  He suppressed his grin. His little female liked being bound. She was stubborn and wouldn’t admit to it. “I should restrain you.” He removed a leather strap from the sleeve of his body armor. “Some being might try to take you.” He wrapped the strap around her wrists. Her shift as his copilot had ended.

  “She’s surrounded by cyborgs.” Gap lifted his eyebrows. “Your female is in no danger.”

  “My Safyre is too valuable to leave free.” He drifted his fingertips up her arms, across her collarbone. Her tantalizing musk filled his nostrils. “A warrior can never be too careful when he’s guarding his female.”

  Her eyes glowed. “Are you guarding me?”

  “Yes.” He leaned toward her and grazed his lips ove
r hers. She tasted of willing female and breeding and a future spent together. “Leave the bridge, Gap.”

  “I have more questions.”

  “They’ll wait until later.” Crash had a female to comfort, to please. He unfastened her flight suit, revealing more of her pale skin.

  “Cool your engines, warrior.” She bumped one of her shoulders against him. “We’re not alone.” Her gaze slid to his friend.

  “Gap, transfer our belongings to my female’s ship.” The transferring wouldn’t take long. They were cyborgs. They didn’t have very many material possessions. But Gap would fuss over how they were arranged, painfully eager to impress the female he considered his.

  Crash was as eager to please the female he knew was his. He cupped Safyre’s flight-suit-clad breasts and she sucked in her breath, her nipples pressing against the fabric.

  “Consider it done.” Gap sauntered out of the space, the doors opening and closing around him.

  “While he’s doing that.” Safyre plucked at his body armor. “You can do me.”

  Frag yes. Crash stripped quickly, freeing his hard cock, fighting the urge to come. That was the effect she had on him. He could find release from merely looking at her, smelling her, hearing her husky voice.

  Safyre’s gaze drifted down his body and she hummed her approval, the sound rolling over him, causing his muscles to ripple. “I want you to concentrate on me and only me.” Her voice was a low drone. “No talking with your cyborg buddies. No monitoring our surroundings. If the freighter detects another ship, it’ll warn us.”

  The warriors would warn him also.

  “You have my attention, my female.” Crash faded the constant transmissions from his brethren, focusing on her, molding his hands to her breasts, savoring the weight and fullness of her curves. She was lush and his. He swept his thumbs over her cloth-covered nipples and she trembled.

  “I plan to hold your attention.” She leaned forward and licked his right pec. Pleasure shot across his chest and his grip on her intensified. “Keep your eyes on me, warrior.”

  “I can’t look away.” He was captivated by the sparkle in her brown eyes.

  She placed her bound hands on his lower abs, stroking his skin with her fingertips. Her hands were soft yet firm. He pushed her flight suit over her shoulders, revealing her feminine form, every part of her rounded, generous.