by Cynthia Sax
If that was such a bad idea, why was her pussy wet? Why did she crave him, desire his touch?
His eyes glowed. “I’d be satisfied, for now, with a kiss.”
A kiss, she might be able to give him. She nibbled on her bottom lip. He wasn’t a complete stranger. They’d communicated remotely. And she had injured him.
“You’re certain kissing will help you heal?” The science to justify that wasn’t completely implausible. He’d produce nanocybotics to replace the ones he lost. An efficient orgasm would produce more to compensate for future losses.
“I’m not certain of anything at the moment, my Shelby.”
Because he was weak from blood loss, from the wound she’d inflicted upon him. “I’ll do this.” She placed her palms on his pecs and he shuddered, his muscles rippling. His skin was warm, human. She’d expected him to be cool, like metal. “But I’m kissing you to ease your pain, not for any other reason.”
“Noted.” Green’s smile was wobbly.
She had to help him. Shelby leaned forward, moving closer and closer to him until his mouth was a lick away from hers. He didn’t move, watching her, his eyelids partially lowered, a dreamy expression on his rugged face. His breath wafted over her cheeks, warming her.
She was in control. That gave her confidence. Shelby brushed her lips against his, her touch light. Green opened to her and she slipped her tongue between his teeth.
His nanocybotics enveloped her, fizzing and popping against her flesh. Her breath hitched and her pussy throbbed with need. She’d never experienced anything like it. It was as though a thousand mouths sucked and released her.
He was addictive and she needed more of him, more of his taste—a mixture of metal and man. She delved deeper. Their tongues entwined and his heart beat faster under her palm, his reaction exciting her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She slid her hands upward, following the vein pulsing in his neck, the strength of his jawline, and cupped his cheeks, holding him.
Dampness permeated her chest covering. “Your wound—”
“Requires more healing.” Green grasped her hips and pulled her forward. The motion hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare pussy. He pressed that intimate flesh against his hard cock, and they both shuddered.
No longer content to be a passive partner, he fastened his lips over hers, cupped the back of her head, and invaded her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside her. Stars. He was fierce, forcing her to take him, to accommodate his erotic assault. His nanocybotics surged down her throat and the tingles spread across her chest, to her womb, her fingers, her toes. She trembled, her form flooded with sensation, with arousal.
Their kiss was changing her, she realized. Her body was adapting to his, recognizing him as being hers. His musky scent filled her nostrils. His flavor coated her mouth. His fingers splayed over her hips. They were aligning, becoming one.
When he left, she would hurt, but, in this moment, Shelby didn’t care. She rocked against him, savoring his rigid length, the pressure against her clit, and he groaned, the sound muffled by their lips. His chest rose and fell, rubbing against her breasts. Her taut nipples begged for his hands, his mouth.
Green didn’t touch her curves, didn’t break their liplock. She huffed with frustration, wiggled in his lap, arching her back, offering herself to him.
His eyes glowed. “You’re beautiful.” He skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. “And mine. Forever.”
Forever. With that word, she plummeted back to reality.
“I’m not yours.” Shelby pulled away from him. For several delicious moments, she’d forgotten the dangers, the futility of building connections, a future that could be taken from her. “We were kissing to heal you. That’s the only reason.”
“My Shelby--”
“Doctor Shelby Cooper,” she corrected, examining his stomach. The bleeding had stopped. She reached for a cleaning cloth, dabbed it around his wound.
She was unable to find the edge of the wound. Skin, a shade paler than the rest of him, completely sealed the hole in his stomach. Shelby drifted her fingers over the spot, feeling only smoothness.
“You’re the same as you were before I shot you,” she mused. “You won’t ever change.” He was as stuck in the past as she was.
“My body won’t change.” Green covered her hands with his. “Yours won’t either, as long as I share my nanocybotics with you. But I’ve changed. I’ll always remember that you shot me, that you were willing to kill to defend the plants and planet you love.” His lips twitched. “I won’t sneak up on you in the future.”
“There will be no future for us.” Dreaming of more planet rotations with him was destined to cause her pain. “Once I cure your plant, you’re leaving.” She stood, her body protesting the increased distance between them.
“We’re leaving.” He got to his feet and closed the gap, unabashedly naked and erect.
“I can’t leave. This is my home, and caring for the plants on this planet is my duty.” That was why a relationship between them wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t live in the past as she did. He’d leave, return to his cyborg brethren.
“My Shelby—”
“You wanted me to cure Windy.” She examined the plant set on a wooden horizontal support, escaping into the comforting safety of her work. The metal container was beautifully etched with images of vegetation and fantastical flowers. “Did you craft this?”
“I did.” Green lifted his square chin. “It took me many solar cycles to scavenge for the materials but I finally found them, pieced them together, crafted the container.”
This rough tough warrior had lovingly made the container for his plant. “I see you added drainage holes and a tray.” The tray was just as ornately etched.
“That was your suggestion. I lined the container also, as you advised.”
He’d listened to her. Her spine straightened with pride. “Is that why Windy is looking so much better?” The leaves were no longer wilted and brown.
“One of the reasons.” Green moved closer to her. Heat radiated from his big body. “Changing the light source helped too.”
That had been another one of her suggestions.
“She’s not completely happy.” He tenderly stroked one of his plant’s bright red petals. “Her little flower head is drooping.”
“But she is flowering.” Her gaze tracked his fingers. She remembered how wonderful his hands felt against her skin. “That’s a good sign. Plants don’t flower when they’re on the verge of death.”
“The flower faced the sky when I first met her.”
“It isn’t the same flower.”
“It is,” he insisted, his expression sincere.
“It can’t be.” She glanced up at him. “Poppies flower for fourteen planet rotations. How long have you had her?”
“Over two hundred planet rotations.”
“I’ve never heard of a poppy flower lasting for almost a solar cycle.” What did that mean? Had she misidentified Windy?
Shelby had taken one quick glance at the plant and assumed she was a common poppy. As she’d taken one look at Green and shamefully assumed he was killing machine.
She’d been wrong about Green. Had she been wrong about Windy also?
Shelby studied the plant more closely. The leaves were slightly more rounded than expected. The coarse hairs on the stem were softer, shorter, almost like fur. These differences, in isolation, wouldn’t be noteworthy, but when combined, they raised questions in her mind.
Could Windy be a new species of poppy? Excitement mixed with foreboding. A new species belonged to the uncertain future, didn’t belong on Earth Minor, wasn’t in her area of expertise.
“You can repair her.” Green wrapped one of his arms around her waist. “I know you can.”
She glanced at him. He gazed back at her, no doubt reflecting in his countenance. He believed in her, in her abilities. She couldn’t say no, couldn’t tell him to take his plant to a more qualified expert
.
She didn’t know if that being existed. She could be their best option.
She couldn’t abandon them.
“I’ll do my best to cure her.” Shelby instinctively folded her body into Green. Lost in the challenges of determining the needs of new species, she barely registered his nude state, the skin-on-skin contact feeling natural, right. “Where did you find her?”
“Nebula Seventeen.”
She wasn’t familiar with that planet. “I can leave Earth Minor for a couple of planet rotations. We could travel to Nebula Seventeen and—”
“You’re not going anywhere near Nebula Seventeen.” Green’s face grew hard. “When we escaped Humanoid Alliance control, Mantidae swarmed the surface of the planet.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t face the beings that had killed her parents.
“What do you require from there?”
She required everything. “Soil, sunlight, air readings. If we replicate the environment, Windy should flourish as she did there.”
“We can tell you everything you need to know.” His confidence was adorable.
Shelby didn’t have the same faith in his abilities. “The average being’s observation skills are unreliable. You’re not a scientist. You’re a warrior and you were battling the enemy.” He wouldn’t have noted much.
“I’m not the average being. I’m a cyborg.” Green straightened. “Terrain intelligence is necessary to successfully fight an enemy. The readings from my mechanics would be accurate. And there are six hundred and fourteen other cyborgs to corroborate my observations. We’ll provide everything you need, my Shelby.”
He had six hundred and fourteen brethren. She was alone. He’d never stay on Earth Minor, never choose her and her ancient world over his cyborg warriors and their modern surroundings.
And why did she care that he wouldn’t? Choosing her implied a future together and she never looked past the next planet rotation. “I’m not your Shelby.”
“You are.” He caught her fluttering hands, his grip on her fingers gentle yet secure. “That’s a fact. Cyborgs don’t lie.”
Her gaze shot to his. “I read that.” They were manufactured to always tell the truth. “But the future is uncertain. To count on it--”
“Don’t count on it.” Green placed her hands on his chest. “Count on me.”
“How can I do that? You could die,” she whispered.
“You shot me and I survived.” He solemnly addressed her fears. “I battled multiple Mantidae at once and emerged victorious. The Human Alliance sought to decommission me and I escaped. I’m not easy to kill.”
Shelby slid her hands lower and touched his healed wound. He was right. He wasn’t easy to kill. “Every being I’ve ever cared for has died, Green.”
“Those beings weren’t cyborgs.”
He sounded so certain and she wanted to believe him. Her solitude was eating away at her soul. “Even if you survived our relationship, you’d want to leave the planet permanently and I can’t. I’m tied to Earth Minor, responsible for maintaining its ecosystem.”
“I’ll assist you with those responsibilities. You can relay your knowledge.” Green had an answer for that concern also. “And I won’t ever leave you. You’re my female.”
Cyborgs don’t lie. “Thinking of the future scares me. There are so many variables, so many possibilities for pain.”
“Then don’t think of the future.” Green pulled her closer to him, his body warm, solid. “Think of now, of me, of how I want burrow my face between your wondrous breasts and never again surface.”
Her lips twitched. He was hard, his cock pressed against her stomach. “Shouldn’t I be thinking of a cure for your plant?”
“You said Windy’s condition wasn’t life threatening.” Her cyborg brushed his cheek against hers.
With his gentle touch and reassuring words, he tempted her to forget caution, to forget her past. She wouldn’t be able to resist his charms for long. She had to cure his plant and send him on his way. “I’ll draft a list of the information I require concerning Nebula Seventeen.”
Chapter Three
Once he received his little female’s list, Green uploaded the information she required from his processors and transmitted those answers to Zip. His friend would compile the responses from the other cyborgs, construct the most detailed and accurate view of the ecosystem possible.
With that duty delegated, Green donned the flight suit he’d stored in the shuttlecraft. The battle armor Zip and Barrel had convinced him to wear during their first meeting now required repairs, due to the quick response of his female.
Green then devoted his energy pulses to helping Shelby with her daily tasks. He broke up soil with primitive tools, carried containers of water from a nearby stream, gathered fallen branches for the fire now blazing before him. His sexy botanist taught him about the various plants, the planet they currently inhabited, and the original Earth they came from.
She also showed him parts of herself, her passions, her dreams, her fears. This sharing enthralled him, made him want her more and more.
Green inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of female, burning wood and her mother’s roses. He craved her and the homeland she’d built. Judging by the footage his brethren had relayed to him, the cyborg homeland was more crowded and more noisy than Earth Minor. Structures reached into the sky.
On this planet, trees softened the horizon, swaying in the wind. This was the place he’d envisioned when he was enslaved by the Humanoid Alliance. Peaceful and quiet.
His female was more than he’d ever dared to dream of. He sat beside her on a great rock and watched, bemused, as she mumbled to herself, expressing her concerns about how much of the ash they should add to Windy’s soil, if the quality of ash was the same, what would happen if it wasn’t. She’d worry as much about their offspring.
Green hooked one of his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He wanted to make those offspring immediately. Shelby’s beautiful face was lit by the flames. Her brown curls caressed her cheeks. The stars shining above them were reflected in her green eyes.
His gaze dropped to her lips. Their first kiss had almost shorted his circuits. Would their second kiss do the same?
“Is that your ship?” She pointed to a bright light in the sky. Her fingers were calloused, rough, fingers a male could trust to hold his family safe.
Green looked upward. “Yes.”
“They must expect you to return soon.” The sadness in her voice warmed his chest. She wanted him. He smelled her arousal. And she wished for him to stay with her.
“They know why I’m here.” Green rubbed her arm, savoring her softness, her proximity. “Barrel and Zip envy me. You’re beautiful and intelligent and strong.”
“They haven’t seen me.”
“My friends saw you during our first transmission.” She didn’t know that. Barrel and Zip had remained silent while they spoke.
“That transmission was scrambled.”
Frag. She’d scrambled it intentionally. Knowing her intelligence level, he should have realized that. “We thought it was a malfunction and fixed it.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink. She stared into the fire.
Silence stretched. He continued to touch her, exploring the dimple near her elbow, the curve of her forearm, her delicate wrists.
“I thought scrambling the transmission would keep me safe,” she whispered.
“I will keep you safe,” he vowed.
His little female had taken some precautions, but not enough. Her only defenses against attackers were a scrambled signal and the gun she’d used on him.
Green understood why. She feared the future, refused to plan for it. His Shelby lived in the past, maintaining the ecosystem her predecessor had built, following his planting schedules, working the same fields. The elderly human male hadn’t considered the possibility of invasion.
That responsibility was now Green’s.
He’d spent most of his
lifespan in battle, had once wondered if that would be all he’d experience. He’d considered ending his life.
Now, he knew why he had fought, why he had endured the killing and the pain. The battles had prepared him to safeguard his female, her plants, her planet. His past suffering would ensure their future happiness.
“I’d die before I allowed you to be harmed.”
She turned her head and stared at him. “You’d risk death for the possibility of breeding with me?”
“I’d battle the world for you and I want more than to breed with you.” Green traced each of her fingers from her pinkie to her thumb. “I want to fall asleep inside you, wake with you in my arms. I long to watch your seedlings grow into mature plants, harvest their bounty, enjoy another meal like the one you created this planet rotation.” The experience of eating food gathered straight from the source, ripened by the sun, had been wondrous, the flavors distinct. “I seek to be the male you choose to stand by your side, to assist you, to love you.”
“Love?” She blinked, her eyelashes long and dark. “We met, in person, for the first time this planet rotation.”
“I knew the moment I saw you.” He placed one of her palms over his heart. “Don’t you feel the connection between us?”
She splayed her fingers over the fabric and nibbled on her bottom lip.
He waited, allowing her to think.
“I can’t trust this. It’s too much.” She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. “You’re speaking of love, talking of future planet rotations, hinting at a life span spent together. I can’t leave Earth Minor.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.” He’d realized as soon as he opened the shuttlecraft’s doors that she’d never leave the paradise she’d found.
His Shelby’s forehead wrinkled. Her eyebrows knitted together. His past-loving botanist struggled to understand the changes he’d brought with him.
It was too much, too soon for her. He cupped her cheeks. “Don’t think about it.” He was patient. He’d wait for her to catch up to him emotionally, to trust in a future together. “Feel.”
He slanted his lips across her. She opened to him with a relieved sigh and he pushed into her, tasting the mint leaf she’d been chewing on and the flavor of frustrated female.
