Taking Vengeance (Cyborg Sizzle Book 12)

by Cynthia Sax

  She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted another being.

  If the warrior had been a friend, rather than her foe, if he wanted to fuck her, not kill her, she would throw him down to the ground, rip off his body armor, mount the male, and ride him until they both shrieked with pleasure.

  She pressed her inner thighs together, her pussy dripping.

  But he was the enemy, and worse than that, he was a cyborg. His kind had killed her loved ones, decimated her entire clan.

  Her lust flowed to guilt which escalated her anger until she burned with it, her rage consuming her. She would avenge them.

  “This is for my clan.”

  The cyborg’s beautiful blue eyes widened. His big body blurred.

  She tapped the surface of the private viewscreen. The boom was temporarily deafening. Debris blasted upward, tearing the two ships to pieces. Astrid hugged the ground as waves of wind and heat swept over her, the impact felt even as far away as she was positioned. Flames engulfed the site, an orange, yellow, and red vortex of destruction.

  No one, not even a cyborg, could have survived that.

  That thought should have filled her with triumph. She had won, had protected the planet and herself, delivered justice for her loved ones.

  Astrid found no joy in the warrior’s death. Instead, she experienced disappointment, a bewildering sense of loss.

  That was due to the battle being over so soon. She pushed herself to her booted feet. Stuck on her home planet, with merely the ghosts for company, she wouldn’t face another opponent soon.

  Unless the cyborg had called for backup. That was unlikely.

  She dusted off her ass coverings. He’d been an arrogant brute, full of himself.

  Your ass will be captured by the end of the planet rotation. He’d declared in that deep voice of his.

  “I guess you were wrong about that, cyborg.” She drew her long gun, gripping it in her hands.

  The warrior should be dead, but she wasn’t a fool. Until she found his body and confirmed the kill, she would assume he remained alive, a threat to her.

  A part of her hoped that was true, the part of her that had already relented on her vow not to honor him with a warrior’s send-off. She couldn’t curse him to an eternity of aimless wandering, couldn’t deny him the ability to fight in the Great Battle alongside his clan.

  Astrid didn’t have the heart to do that, couldn’t be as callous as his kind had been to her loved ones.

  Fuel-laden smoke seared her nostrils, filled her lungs. She walked through the rubble, looking for the shiny silver of a cyborg’s frame. Fires burned. Cords snapped with energy. She kicked pieces of a ship’s panel out of the way, searching the site for any signs of her enemy.

  The blast location was large, her vessel destroyed along with his. She would have to arrange a pickup if she wanted to leave the planet.

  There was no urgency. Her clan had survived for many generations with no outside assistance, drinking the water in the streams, hunting the creatures in the woods. She could do the same.

  Moments passed as she strode back and forth, back and forth, covering the debris field again and again. She spotted nothing, no silver frame, no flesh, no gray skin.

  And she felt as though she was being watched, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She stopped, looked around her, saw no sign of another being.

  But the smoke stung her eyes and reduced her visibility, creating shadows a skilled warrior could hide within. Astrid couldn’t trust her vision.

  She did trust her arousal. The battle was over, yet her nipples remained taut, an ache building in her core. She wouldn’t be turned-on by rubble.

  Only he would affect her like that.

  Blast it. She tightened her grip on her guns. “How did you survive, cyborg?”

  He laughed, that stimulating sound originating from directly behind her.

  The enemy was close, too close.

  She ran.

  Chapter Three

  For the first time in many, many solar cycles, Vengeance was enjoying himself.

  He was in pain. His skull, shoulders, ass burned. The human female’s muttered words hadn’t given him enough of a warning to avoid all of the blast. Shrapnel had grated much of the skin and flesh off his backside. The agony had been excruciating, had temporarily shorted his circuits.

  But he felt alive, gloriously alive, his processors spinning, fully engaged in the moment. She had almost shot his ship out of the sky, had blown him up, taking out her own vessel at the same time.

  The human female hadn’t truly been seeking to kill him. If that had been the enemy’s agenda, they would have stationed more than one warrior on the planet. His ship’s lifeform scans relayed they hadn’t.

  The human female was trying to pique his interest, and fraggin’ hole, she was succeeding. She was excitingly fierce.

  His opponent now ran along a pathway, her leather-clad ass cheeks clenching and unclenching as she moved, her plaited brown hair streaming behind her.

  Why would an experienced warrior like her stick to an established route? Why wouldn’t she seek cover, zigging and zagging between the trees?

  He scanned the forest and his grin spread. Barely visible strips of metal were strung from trunk to trunk. They probably were tripwires for more explosives. He would be capturing her on her turf, and she had prepared for an attack.

  Being a C Model, he would succeed in his mission, but that assignment would be more challenging to fulfill than he had expected.

  Vengeance liked that.

  “You run too slow, human.” He yelled at her back.

  She kicked a plank spanning a trench, removing that bridge, and jumped into the furrow in the ground. “I shoot faster.” She propped the long gun on the lip of the trench and fired at him.

  It was a warning shot. He was too far away for a projectile to reach, its only victim being the dirt in front of him. But the distance between them would soon decrease.

  Vengeance picked up a panel to use as a shield.

  “Hiding behind a piece of metal, cyborg?” The human female clicked her tongue, disapproval written across her beautiful face. “I expected more from you.”

  Then he would give her more. He flung the panel far from him. It clipped one of the wires. The boom shook the ground. Rocks flew upward. Trees fell.

  He propelled himself forward, moving at full cyborg speed. His opponent, not distracted by the explosion, shot at him.

  He dodged the projectiles, turning his body to the left and to the right. Pain skimmed along his right shoulder, seared his left thigh, slicing through what was left of his body armor.

  “Fuck.” The human female fired more and more wildly, her voice turning him on.

  Everything about her aroused him. Her body was even more luscious in reality than it was in images, her hips and shoulders wide, her breasts large and full, her thighs thick enough to snap a human male’s neck.

  Or to wrap around a C Model cyborg during breeding. His balls ached with wanting, the desire to conquer the female, to claim her, riding him hard.

  He’d deny his urges. She was human, the enemy. His desire was manufactured, wasn’t real.

  She must have realized she couldn’t stop him with projectiles. The human female scrambled up the far side of the trench. He jumped into the trough in the ground and grabbed both ends of her long gun, using the weapon to draw her back to him.

  She fought her capture, kicking backward, her generous ass wiggling, grinding into his groin. Her boot heel connected with his right shin and he gritted his teeth, agony shooting up his leg.

  “Enough.” He forced her to face him. “You’re captured. Surrender.”

  “Never.” Her eyes flashed and her left knee raised.

  He caught her leg between his thighs and squeezed, holding it there, stopping the attempted ball crushing. Her lips parted, the surprise in her expression giving him pleasure.

  He had her captured. She was—

&nb
sp; She clipped him on the chin with her right fist, snapping his head back.

  Frag, she was glorious. Vengeance encircled her wrists with his fingers before she could clock him again.

  “Kill me.” She tilted her face upward. “What are you waiting for, cyborg?”

  He lifted her until her booted feet dangled above the ground and his gaze met hers directly. “My name is Vengeance, not cyborg.” He wasn’t a nameless opponent.

  “And my name is Astrid, not human.” She rolled her eyes, that action tempting him to kiss the sass out of her countenance. “You’ve killed children and babies. Why are you hesitating to kill me?”

  He frowned, disturbed both by her comment and his urge to cover her lips with his, to discover if she tasted as tart as she acted. “I haven’t killed children and babies since I escaped the Humanoid Alliance.”

  The humans had forced him and his brethren to take those despicable actions, threatening them all with death if they refused. He had ended those innocent lifespans as quickly, as painlessly as possible, but the guilt had stayed with him.

  “Oh, that makes it all right, then.” Her tone was sarcastic.

  He also heard the anger, the pain in her words. “No, it doesn’t make it all right, but that is war. Beings die during battle. You’ve killed my brethren—”

  “They were cyborgs.” She spat that reply. “I’ve killed warriors. Warriors die during battle. That is what we do.”

  “We?” His eyebrows lifted. Was she including him, her enemy, in that statement?

  “My clan and myself. Honorable warriors. Warriors who don’t kill babies.”

  “I was under the control of the humans at the time.” He clenched his jaw, unaccustomed to anyone questioning his honor. “I had no choice.” He brought his face closer to hers. “Either I ended those lifespans or all of my brethren, everywhere, died.”

  “My clan would have chosen death.” Doubt flickered in her eyes.

  She was a stubborn being, would never admit she might have made the same decision he had.

  He stared at her. She stared back at him.

  His gaze lowered to her mouth. Her bottom lip trembled.

  From arousal, not fear. Her musk flavored the air, escalating his desire.

  He wanted to bite that bottom lip, pull on her flesh. “Who did you lose?” Was the baby her brethren had killed hers? “What—”

  She slammed her forehead against his.

  Vengeance dropped her. The contact hadn’t hurt him…much. He’d endured worse pain. But he didn’t want her to do that again. His skull was metal, and hers was much more fragile.

  She turned, scrambled up the side of the trench, and ran. The scent of her blood teased his nostrils.

  The fraggin’ female had damaged herself. He retrieved the long gun and sprinted after her.

  There was another trench before them. He approved of her defenses, would have done the same thing, encircling his command post with deep and wide ditches, making the ground more challenging for the enemy to navigate.

  She stomped across the bridge, extracted a small bomb from a pocket, pulled the pin and tossed it onto the wooden plank. The explosion shattered the bridge, splinters of wood flying everywhere.

  The female believed that would stop him…which meant there must be something preventing him from entering the trench.

  He stopped short of her range. “I can jump it, female.” He told her. “I am a cyborg.”

  “I can shoot you out of the air, male.” She drew two guns, pointed both of them at him. “I am a great shot.”

  Blood dripped from her forehead, the crimson rivulet angering him. “My skull is metal. Don’t head butt me again.”

  “I won’t need to head butt you.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll soon be dead.”

  He sniffed the air. Her musk had intensified, not diminished, the scent reaching out to him, disrupting his processors, calling him closer.

  “You won’t kill me.” He grinned at her. “You want me.”

  Her face turned an interesting shade of red. “Battle excites me.”

  “It excites me also.” Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. It wasn’t her, a dreaded human, that aroused him. It was the thrill of battle.

  He hadn’t felt this intensity of wanting during previous combat situations because he hadn’t ever fought a female opponent like her.

  She was unique and would inspire a unique level of desire.

  Her gaze lowered to the ridge in his body armor. “I can see how much battle excites you.” Her tongue, small, pink, wet, darted over her lips.

  Vengeance imagined the feel of that tongue against his shaft. His cock bobbed.

  The female noted that movement. Her grip tightened on her guns, her scarred knuckles whitening.

  He wanted her to see all of him. Before he could examine why, he stripped his body armor, what remained of it, from his big form. He stood in front of her, naked except for the boots on his feet.

  She scanned his body, her perusal slow, thorough, stimulating…for both of them. Although she said nothing, he smelled her response, saw her eyes darken with appreciation.

  “I’m not hiding behind anything now, female.” He clasped the long gun in his right hand. Using it wasn’t an option. A projectile could end her lifespan, and he had to bring her back to the Homeland alive. But he liked having a weapon.

  “I’m going to shoot your big balls off.” Her husky voice swept over him, as thrilling as a touch. “If the spikes in the trench don’t kill you first. I’ve studied my enemy. You can’t make this jump.”

  “You haven’t studied me.” He backed up, eyeing the distance. It would be close.

  He sprinted forward at his top speed, pumping his arms, keeping his gaze on the female. On the second-to-last step, he lowered his body, bending his knee, placing his booted foot flat on the ground. Then he propelled himself forward, pushing with his full sole.

  She shot at him. He batted the projectiles with the long gun as he sailed over the spike-filled trench. Pain scorched his right ear. Agony blasted the little finger of his left hand.

  She’d shot that part of him cleanly off.

  The female had done what no other adversary had accomplished. She had permanently damaged him. Nanocybotics would repair the rest of him. They couldn’t replace body parts, couldn’t return the tip of his finger to him.

  He landed on the edge of the trench and teetered, his focus on his beautiful opponent.

  If she shot him now, he’d fall, be impaled on the spikes.

  Knowing his resourceful female, the tips would be sharp enough to pierce his frame. He’d die, his lifespan ended by a mere human, a species he’d long viewed as being inferior.

  Vengeance’s lips twisted, the irony not lost on him.

  His human female aimed both of her guns at him. Her fingers caressed the triggers again and again, moving in slow circles over them, the brush of skin against metal barely audible.

  She gazed at him. He gazed at her.

  A single heartbeat stretched into an eternity.

  What was she waiting for? They were enemies. He hated all humans. She hated all cyborgs. Why wasn’t she pressing the triggers?

  “I can’t do it.” She spun around and dashed away from him.

  Astrid Ragnhild, the Buoir Berserker, a warrior who had admitted to ending many of his brethren’s lifespans, couldn’t end his.

  Because killing him wouldn’t serve her goals. An irrational disappointment wrapped around Vengeance’s heart.

  The female planned to leverage their link, utilize her connection to him to infiltrate the Homeland. She couldn’t manipulate him if he was dead.

  Using the long gun, he pushed himself forward, stabilizing his position on the ground.

  She was a deceitful human, her talk of honor merely that—talk. He was a fool to believe it to be the truth.

  He caught up to her easily, the female running at human speeds.

  That appeared to tax her remaining energy
levels. Her breathing was strained. Her leather garments were soaked with perspiration.

  “Human—”

  “Don’t talk to me, cyborg.” She slowed to a walk, her hips swaying.

  He trailed her at a distance, watching her, waiting to see what she’d do next, what other tactics she’d use to try to ensnare him. She wouldn’t be successful, wouldn’t trick him.

  The female ventured off the pathway and stopped abruptly, facing away from him, her back to him, her enemy.

  “I couldn’t press the trigger.” Her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. “You’re my enemy, and I couldn’t kill you.”

  “That wasn’t your mission, human.” He squashed his sympathy for her.

  “Killing cyborgs, avenging my kinfolk, is my sole reason for living.” She folded her fingers into fists. “I have never hesitated in the past. Never.”

  The vehemence in her voice tempted Vengeance to believe her. “That was in the past.” He reminded himself, counterattacking her emotional offensive with facts. “Not now.”

  “I allowed the battle lust and your words to cloud my mind.” She shook her head as though trying to clear it. “That’s weakness. Warriors don’t show softness toward the enemy.”

  She sounded as though she was rallying herself to take action, deadly action. He frowned, doubts flooding him. “Your mission—”

  “Is to kill you.” Her head lifted. “There’s more than one way to do that.”

  He followed her line of sight. A tripwire was strung across two tree trunks in front of her.

  Was she bluffing or was her mission truly to kill him, even if the cost of fulfilling it was her own lifespan? “Don’t take any action you’ll regret, human.”

  “This will achieve justice for my clan.” She reached out her right hand. “It will restore my honor. I’ll die as a warrior.”

  He froze, a chill settling low in his torso. She wouldn’t do it…would she?

  “I’ll have no regrets if I take the enemy with me.” She pulled on the wire.

  Fraggin’ hole. Vengeance surged forward, scooping her into his arms. He ran at cyborg speed, moving as far and as fast away from the point of detonation as possible, his heart pounding.