by Cynthia Sax
“Mine.” Ghost rumbled.
Lethe blinked back tears.
He grunted, hooked one of his arms around her, his forearm sliding under her ass and he hefted her upward, balanced her over his shoulder.
She yelped and grabbed fistfuls of his flight suit. “Ghost.”
“Leave now.” His guns remained in his hands.
They had to depart before he decided to use them. “We’ll escort you for a planet rotation.” She informed the sisters. “Ensure your systems are working.”
The two females were stopping at a non-Humanoid Alliance-controlled planet to replenish supplies. It wasn’t on the course to Earth Minor, the destination she and Ghost had set, but a two-planet-rotation delay wouldn’t make a difference in their plans.
“Thank you.” Rhea told her. “For everything.” She hugged her sister.
Paloma stiffened but allowed the embrace.
Ghost carried Lethe through the merchant ship, heading for the exit.
“What happened to pretending you’re a machine?” She muttered against his back. “Would a machine lug around its handler?”
“Handler safe.” He slapped her ass, his hand as hard as the gun he held, and she jerked, surprised, aroused, needy. “Programming.”
“Oh.” She thought about his answer. “Is that why you keep me safe—it’s in your programming?”
“Mine.” He stalked through the merchant ship’s outer door. “Still.” He released her, put his guns in his pockets, and secured the door. Lethe wobbled. He strapped his arm across her legs, preventing her from falling.
“Both Rhea and Paloma like you.” She had to address that situation. “They want to be yours.”
“Not Mine.” He closed the warship’s door, locked it.
The docking connectors disengaged. The two ships drifted slowly apart.
“You’re free now. You can choose to be with them. You don’t have to stay with me.” If he was going to leave her, it would be less painful if he did that now, before she became attached to him.
Before she became more attached to him. He already owned a slice of her heart.
When they parted ways, she would miss him.
Ghost rubbed her over him, the action, the friction exciting Lethe, making the conversation they had to have even more difficult.
“I’m not a good being.” She had to tell him what she’d done. He wouldn’t remain with her then. She realized that. But she had to be honest with him. “You heard what I did to my family. I made them believe I didn’t love them and then they died.”
They would never know how much she cared, how much she loved them even now, a lifetime after their deaths.
Ghost breathed deeply and his nose wrinkled with disgust.
She cringed. “That’s not the worst of it.” She had to tell him everything. “I fucked a male, a stranger, for a container of water. I fucked another male, another stranger, to earn a seat on his ship, a seat reserved for a mother and her baby. I fucked—”
“No.” He set her on her booted feet. “Too much.”
“It is too much.” Her heart sank. “No male could accept the things I’ve done.” She was a fool to dream a relationship with him was possible. “I’m a horrible being.”
“Smell bad.” Ghost yanked on his flight suit again and again, shredding the garment into strips. “On me.” He shuddered. Gray skin rippled over hard muscle. “All over.”
She stared at him, confused. “What smell?”
“Females.” He picked her up once more, slid her up and down him. “Smell wrong. Sound wrong.” He tilted his head to one side and then the other, wincing as though it pained him. “Not ours. Not Mine.”
He brushed her body over his, covering himself with her scent.
Lethe fought her arousal, forcing herself to focus on his words. “They smell wrong and I smell right?”
He grunted.
That was a ‘yes.’
Cyborgs had enhanced senses. She’d read that in a database. And her male was even more primitive, more beastlike than the models she’d studied. It was logical that he would be sensitive to scents.
“You could find another female who smelled right.” Then he’d want her too.
“Mine always.” He nuzzled his face into her hair.
“You don’t know that.” And she couldn’t trust in that.
“Know.” His lips curled upward, his expression blissful. “Cyborg. One female.”
“Cyborgs only have one female?” Some species mated for life. Were cyborgs one of them?
He nodded, his hair falling over his eyes.
She pushed the strands back. “And I’m your one female?” Lethe found that hard to believe. She was no one’s female.
His head dipped again.
She was his female, this gorgeous warrior’s one compatible mate. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like me or not.” Another female might view that as a bad thing. Lethe saw it as a miracle. “I’m the only female you can fuck.”
“Breed.” Ghost gripped her chest covering.
“No.” She slapped his hands. “Don’t tear my uniform.”
He lowered her booted feet to the floor. She stripped, which was difficult to do as he crowded against her, not giving her any space.
That was how much he wanted her. Her. His one female.
It was a physical bond. He’d said nothing about caring, about love. But it was more than she’d ever had.
She’d take it, cherish it.
Lethe slipped her feet into her boots. Ghost didn’t wait for her to fasten them. He boosted her high in the air, positioned her pussy hole above his tip, and drove her downward, impaling her on his hard cock with one fluid movement.
Lethe screamed, the shocking sensation of going from empty to overwhelmingly full in one heartbeat stimulating, as sexy as all space. Her boots fell, clunking on the floor. She wrapped her legs around him.
He grunted his satisfaction, held her in place while she writhed, dancing against him.
“You’re a brute,” she said as soon as she caught her breath.
“No males.” Ghost held her gaze, his face like stone. “Mine.” He had listened to her confession yet he wanted to fuck her anyway.
Because he had no choice, Lethe rationalized. She was his one.
“No other males,” she agreed. “I’ll only fuck you and you’ll only fuck me. Deal?”
“Breed.” He lifted her until only his cock head was inside her. “Deal.”
He dropped her.
She yelped, her pussy lips gliding along his shaft, stretched around his thickness.
He lifted her, dropped her, lifted her, dropped her. She wasn’t a small female but he showed no signs of exertion. No sweat beaded on his brow. His breathing remained level.
He was a savage being, her cyborg. Lethe dragged her fingernails along his arms, leaving red tracks on his gray skin, marking him as hers.
He snarled, his top lip curling, revealing perfect white teeth, and he fucked her faster, harder, taking her the way she needed to be taken, erasing thoughts of those other males, those other dissatisfying fucks.
Her feminine folds smacked against his base. Her breasts slapped against his chest. He was hard all over, skin over metal, organic and machine, male to his manufactured core.
She licked his neck, savoring his unique taste, and her big strong warrior trembled, that reaction turning her on. With him, she wasn’t a disposable female. She was his, his one, his only. They had a future.
That should have decreased her desperation.
It didn’t. It made her even more frantic to have him, to fill her pussy with his cum. She skimmed her teeth along his neck.
“Mine,” he shouted. “Mine.” He humped her with a mind-numbing ferocity, squeezing her ass, his grip on her bruising, erotic, right.
Civilized was fake. Restrained and polite couldn’t be trusted. During the invasion, she’d seen how easily those fragile façades could be stripped from beings, leaving their pr
imal souls exposed.
As Ghost’s true self was exposed in this moment, his passion, his brutality, his protectiveness, his need revealed. She saw all of him and he was glorious, a male to treasure, a male to align with, courageous and strong.
“Mine.” She joined her call with his, their voices echoing in the warship’s corridors. Her inner walls closed around his shaft. Her juices slicked the fall.
He drove her down on him again and again. His eyes blazed with energy. His jaw was defined. His nostrils flared.
Lethe clung to his broad shoulders, panting, her body throbbing with desire. Sweat ran in streams of warmth down her spine, between her ass cheeks. The scent of sex hung heavily in the air. The sound of their fucking punctuated their verbal claiming.
That was what it was—a claiming. He owned her and she owned him. That was their deal...for however long it lasted.
“Ghost.” The yearning became too acute. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t last.
“Mine.” He slammed her down on his cock, shaking her beleaguered form, and she shattered, decimated like a domicile during a missile attack.
She arched her back and wailed her release, pieces of her flying in all different directions. He howled a reply. Hard spurts of cum hit her, the pleasure pounding her to dust.
He came and came and came, the ecstasy never-ending. Lethe held onto him, calling his name until her voice faded, twisting and turning in his arms, a wild thing fighting for her survival, determined to endure.
He had stripped her bare. She was as exposed as he was, naked in her passion. She quivered. He shook but he didn’t collapse, didn’t fall to his knees, and he never let her go.
“Strong,” she mumbled against his bare chest.
Her cyborg would have survived the invasion. She closed her eyes. If he had been with her, he might have protected her.
He might have stayed with her, not abandoned her as the others had.
Because he needed her. She was his only female, his one.
Lethe smiled.
Chapter Nine
His little human was sleeping again. Ghost gathered her things, carried her to the bridge, claimed the captain’s chair, her chair, and set her carefully across his legs.
He relaxed. Her naked body against his felt right, the contact reassuring him.
He folded her uniform into a neat square, plunked the garment and her boots on the console beside them. His female’s fingers twitched. Ghost placed her dagger in her hands and the movement stopped. She sighed, the sound echoing his contentment, and she snuggled against his chest, breathing deeply, warm and soft and still.
Peace was a rarity in his lifespan. He monitored their surroundings, watching for danger, certain that the stillness wouldn’t last.
Their warship followed the merchant ship. The other vessel appeared to be operating as optimally as it could. It was old. Its circuits and systems had been a mess.
It had pleased his female when he repaired them. And that had pleased him. He kissed the top of her head. Her blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, a cascade of gold, touchable, his. Her scent clung to the strands, calming him.
She was safe. She was undamaged. He would protect her.
Ghost, Ace, the K Model cyborg, transmitted.
What? Ghost tensed. Was his female in danger?
The C Model talks, Thrasher, the other K Model, teased.
He must have repaired himself.
Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to you previously, ass.
I hacked into his processors, genius. He was too damaged to transmit.
Communicate, Ghost bellowed through the transmission lines, the discussion irritating him. There could be a threat to his female and the two K models were wasting time with their foolishness.
C Models have no patience. Thrasher clucked his tongue.
C Model with warship. He reminded them. Communicate.
We have a battle station, Ace countered. And our Commander worries about your female. It is causing her emotional damage. Tell your female to communicate with her.
And tell your female to breed with you more. Thrasher laughed. It might repair your emotional damage.
They ended the transmission.
Ghost looked down at his sleeping female. He wasn’t waking her for that trivial request.
Moments passed. All was quiet. He scanned the cyborg transmissions. The council had ordered that every free warrior immediately return to cyborg-controlled space.
Earth Minor was in cyborg-controlled space. Once his female determined the merchant ship was fully operational, they would travel to that tiny planet.
His brethren protected the planet, ensuring his female would never experience another invasion as she had on Mercury Minor. He’d protect his female from any dangers on the ground.
“No,” his female mumbled, the fear in her voice pulling at Ghost’s heart. “No.” She squirmed. “No.” She jerked awake, her eyes opening, her dagger swooping upward as though to attack an imaginary foe.
“Safe,” he murmured, holding her tightly, wishing he could take away her past damage.
“Safe.” She blinked, her eyes focusing. “I’m safe.”
“Always.” Ghost nuzzled against her neck. He’d ensure that.
“I’m naked.” Her body stiffened. “Where are my boots? I need them.”
He grabbed them, placed them in her lap.
“Thank the stars.” She put them on her feet.
Why did she need them? “Invasion? Boots?” Had her feet been bare when the Humanoid Alliance invaded. Had she been forced to steal boots off a corpse? Some humans were sensitive about the dead, about touching them.
“I had boots but they didn’t have these.” She draped her feet over the armrest, fiddled with the heel of one of her boots. It slid open, revealing a small compartment.
Ghost grunted. That was a clever addition.
She showed him the contents. They were flat packets. “These contain drinkable liquid. It isn’t a lot but it would give me a few more planet rotations of living.” She closed the compartment.
His female carried a larger container of liquid in her pack. There was another container placed semi-permanently on the console. One of the systems she checked often was beverage filtration.
Cyborgs didn’t require much beverage. They were a closed system, didn’t sweat, all fluids recycled. Humans needed to drink.
And his little human had known thirst. “Safe.”
“I believed I was safe on Mercury Minor also.” She shrugged. “I complained that nothing exciting ever happened. And that changed in a heartbeat.”
He would protect her. Ghost scanned open space, looking for ships, possible danger.
“It was like I called them.” Guilt edged his female’s voice. “I caused them to invade, caused the death of my family, my friends.”
“Not logical.” He kissed her neck. She had been a female offspring with fourteen solar cycles. Her words had nothing to do with the Humanoid Alliance’s attack.
“I know it’s not logical.” Her laugh was shaky. “But neither is me living while they all died.”
“Strong. Survivor.” He was honored that she belonged to him.
“I did terrible things to survive.”
He didn’t like the thought of other males touching his female but that had prolonged her lifespan, allowing him to meet her, to claim her. “Not terrible.”
“You don’t know everything I did.” Her tone was bitter. “That container of liquid I traded my body for? Children begged me for a drop, a mere drop, and I didn’t share it. That seat on the ship? It could have been given to a mother and her baby. I saw her looking at me, judging me.”
She trembled.
“Not terrible,” Ghost repeated. He had done worse.
To lessen his female’s emotional damage, he would show her. He placed one of his hands on the control panel.
The footage he chose was the encounter that caused him to disconnect his machine from his organic
s. He and his brethren faced a crowd of females and offspring. The beings were unarmed, non-violent, had surrendered to the Humanoid Alliance.
“Ours.” He circled one female’s face. “Ours.” A female offspring with less than one solar cycle was circled. “Ours.” He circled a crying female.
He and his brethren raised their guns.
“Fire,” the Humanoid Alliance Officer yelled.
Ghost ended the footage.
It had hurt him what the humans had done to their own kind but it had devastated him what they had done to the females belonging to his brethren. He had lost a piece of himself with each death.
His female didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him.
Because he was a bad being, unworthy of her caring. “Failed to protect.” The guilt weighed on him.
“Would the Humanoid Alliance have killed you if you refused to obey them?”
“Kill all cyborgs.” If it had been only his lifespan he risked, he would have tried to save the females.
“Oh, Ghost.” His female covered his hands with hers. “That was an awful choice you had to make.”
“Ours.” He didn’t understand how she could forgive his actions. “Failed to protect.”
She swiveled in his lap, straddled his waist, captured his face between her palms. “You protected your brethren. How many were there?”
“One thousand, thirty-eight.” Why was the number of cyborgs important to her?
“You sacrificed three humans belonging to you to protect one thousand and thirty-eight cyborgs.” She held his gaze.
“Females.” They were precious. He grasped her hips. She was precious.
“Three females versus one thousand and thirty-eight males.”
She didn’t understand. “Must protect.” He placed one of her hands over his heart. “Must.” That was one of his missions, one of his duties in the universe.
“And me?” She splayed her fingers over his skin.
“Refuse to shoot. Protect Mine.” She was his. He would do anything to safeguard her.
“You would have risked the lifespans of over a thousand cyborgs to save one female.” She stared at him, her brown eyes wide. “That’s not logical.”
“Not one female. Mine.” He covered her hand, the hand he’d placed over his heart. She was a critical part of him. He couldn’t live without her.
