Captured by the Cyborg Page 9

  Bewilderment cleared from his expression, but he held back. “What about your…injury?”

  “It will be fine.” The pressure against scarred nubby bone felt like jagged rocks, but she wanted him on top, craved his possession in this way.

  “Try this.” He grabbed a couple of the pillows they’d kicked to the floor. He flattened them out with a punch. “Lie on these.”

  She raised up so he could position one under each shoulder blade lifting her spine from the bed, and she relaxed. Better. Not totally pain free, but better.

  “Okay?” He leaned over her.

  She wound her arms around his neck. “Perfect,” she lied.

  With a little jockeying, he found his place between her thighs. She locked her heels against his buttocks, and his erection nudged her. With a push, he breached her entrance and rocked inside. Despite the twinges in her back, satisfaction filled her as deeply as his cock, and she released her breath with a hiss. If she’d had wings, she would have wrapped them around them both. She moaned and clung to him, her body moving, encouraging his thrusts.

  He kept his weight off her torso, bracing himself on his elbows. Veins pulsed in his temples, his throat, and face as their bodies slid together. He twisted fistfuls of her hair, sending tendrils of piercing rapture careening through her body, driving her to desperate heights. She clasped his neck, digging her fingers into taut muscle.

  Mind and body separated, her psyche soaring on wings of ecstasy. She flew, unfettered and free, as waves lifted her up, up, up. Her pussy contracted around him, igniting more jet streams of pleasure.

  Dale groaned. Need her. Want her. Love…oh fuck…His thoughts flowed into her consciousness. She jerked, and he did, too, going wide-eyed before he grimaced, plunging deep, his cock convulsing and releasing. His spasmodic tugs on her hair sent her spiraling again.

  Passion spent, she lay beneath him. I did it again. Glided right into his head. Maybe the violation hadn’t registered. He’d been preoccupied, on the verge of orgasm. He hadn’t said anything about it but panted against her neck, his breath steamy.

  He pressed a kiss to her throat then lifted up and rolled off. “Are you okay? I didn’t crush you did I? How’s your back?” He eyed her, his expression concerned.

  Whew. She surreptitiously pressed her thumb and pinky finger together in a Farian gesture of thankfulness. “I’m fine,” she said.

  His scrutiny turned calculating. “You really are a computer sensate, aren’t you?”

  Fuck, she swore silently. Profanity didn’t exist in the Farian language, so she stole a curse from his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

  “It happened the last time, too, didn’t it?”

  Miserable, she nodded. “I hoped I could control it. I assumed because I wasn’t mentally prepared before… I’m sorry.” She rolled over to get out of bed.

  He grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to my quarters. You have a right to be angry because I invaded your privacy.”

  “I’m not mad.” He hadn’t released her, leaving her no choice but to lie beside him. After hooking the thermal cover with his toe and pulling it over them, he faced her, his hand beneath his head. “I’m not mad, but I am going to have to watch my thoughts. What if I’d been thinking, gee, she looks like she put on a few kilos?”

  She gasped. “You-you—”

  He laughed. “I’m kidding. Trying to lighten the mood.” He tugged on a lock of her hair, and sensation coiled between her legs. It would be wise to never tell him how strongly playing with her hair affected her.

  He squinted like he had a headache. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re not getting any thoughts or images of purple cats?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “How does it work?”

  “I’m a computer sensate. I can’t read your human mind, but I can tap into computer software, and since you’re a cyborg…”

  “You have access to what my microprocessor records.”

  “I don’t do it deliberately. I try to avoid it, actually. But, during strong emotion, when my barriers crash, it sort of happens. I have to be touching you, though.” She had to physically connect with a computer system to integrate into it. That was the way her gift had always worked.

  “Has it happened with anyone else?”

  “No. You’re the only cyborg I’ve been with.” And the second man ever.

  “So it didn’t happen with…?”

  “Not in that way.”

  He frowned. “Not in that way? What does that mean?”

  “Alonio and I had been matched as lifemates, and when we joined in marriage, we formed a psychic bond that forged an awareness of the other even when we’re apart.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “I severed the bonds,” she added. “The lifemate connection enabled him to hunt me down when I first left him. It also allowed me to sense when he was around so I was able to escape. Every time he found me, I identified and broke the psychic threads. I think they’re all gone now.”

  “You think?” He pulled back.

  “He found me within a matter of days the other times. I’ve been here about a month. That he hasn’t shown up and I haven’t sensed him at all, are good signs.” She sought to reassure him.

  “How long were you on run before you came here?”

  “About two months. The first time, he found me two days later. I had to flee the hospital.” Still in critical condition, nowhere near healed, leaving the infirmary had jeopardized her life, but staying would have ended it for sure. Alonio would have killed her in her bed. “Gradually, it has taken longer and longer for him to find me.”

  “How long was the previous longest stretch?”

  “A week.”

  He relaxed with a sigh. “So a month is a good sign. Probably you have cut the ties, but with this new information, I’m glad I called for reinforcements.” He pulled her against his chest, and she tucked her head on his shoulder. His heart thumped comfortingly and she snuggled close.

  He caressed her arm. “Now, back to us…when did you realize you could get in my head?”

  “When we were intimate in the observatory.” She bit her lip. “I got a hint at the interview. When we shook hands, I sensed I might be able to connect to your processor.”

  “Huh.”

  He seemed to be taking the news well. She scanned his face. “Why aren’t you angry?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sending a zing zipping along her nerves. “I’m used to communicating via wireless with other cyborgs. It’s almost like telepathy. So having you listen in when we’re having sex isn’t that unsettling.” He grinned. “Besides, I doubt that you’ll pick up anything more interesting than, Fuck, I’m going to come, but now that I know you have this ability, I’ll erect a firewall to keep you from gleaning any deep, dark secrets.” He glanced at her. “No offense.”

  None taken. Instead, a load of guilt lifted off her shoulders. “Do you have deep, dark secrets?” she teased.

  “Two or three. You already know one of them.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “How much I like you.”

  Yeah, she’d caught the drift. “I-I like you, too.”

  “Care to test it?”

  “Test it?” she asked then felt his cock twitch against her leg. “Ah, you mean the firewall. Maybe we should. Just to be sure.” She smiled and traced the arrow of hair down his abdomen.

  He was right. When she spiraled to the height of rapture and her consciousness connected with his microprocessor, the only thought she picked up from him was, Oh fuck, I’m going to come.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Terran’s shoulders twitched, and then he scratched his nose, signaling the computer had dealt him a good hand. The other players folded. Dismay and anger flitted across his face like a vid reel. If anyone should have avoided gam
bling, it was the Terran. He had so many tells, everyone in the gaming hall knew what kind of hand he had. Alonio almost felt sorry for the pathetic loser.

  A gag-inducing stench reminiscent of rocket exhaust wafted into the room several long seconds before the Barbadian henchman-for-hire sauntered in. Drool dribbled down two tusks protruding from his mouth. His bulk blocked the entrance as he scanned the crowd. When his gaze alighted on the Terran, he grunted.

  “Perfect,” Alonio murmured. He couldn’t have asked for better luck.

  The Barbadian loomed over his quarry. “Mr. Jennetta would like to speak to you,” he growled.

  “I’m in the middle of something right now.” The Terran shifted on the stool and looked to the other gamblers with a beseeching expression, but they had eyes only for their gambling screens. The android game monitor turned his back. See no evil. No one wanted to tangle with a Barbadian.

  With a chortle of satisfaction, Alonio crossed his arms. If he had planned this, things couldn’t have gone better.

  “Now.” The Barbadian grabbed the Terran’s arm and yanked him off the stool.

  “Well, all right. All you had to do was ask.”

  “This way.” The henchman jerked his head toward the exit, flinging a string of mucous spittle onto his captive’s shirt.

  Disgusting. Alonio glanced at his pristine white suit and shuddered. He’d have to be sure to stay out of range. When the right time came. For now, his best strategy was to let the situation ride.

  The Terran nodded, and the two started to weave through the gaming cubbies. They’d taken a half dozen steps when the Terran broke away and ran. The alien bounty hunter caught him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him kicking and blubbering out of the hall.

  Alonio smoothed the sleeves of his suit and slipped into the vacated chair. “May I join you gentlemen and lady?” He guessed the noseless, earless creature with facial horns was female.

  “You got the credits, you can play,” the monitor bot said.

  He tapped into his screen and sent five hundred thousand credits to the android. Linking his consciousness to the computer, he altered the gaming code. After three rounds, which he won, he decided the Barbadian had had enough time. He cashed out his winnings, wished his companions luck, and departed.

  The henchman’s body odor and his quarry’s screaming led him to a back corridor of the casino, deserted except for a few android service workers who weren’t programmed to care that a man writhed on the ground, clutching a dislocated shoulder.

  “I have the credits, I swear!” the Terran cried. “Let me go to Exchange, and I’ll transfer them to Mr. Jennetta’s account. I was on my way—”

  “You have one million credits?” the Barbadian scoffed.

  “One million? I only owe Mr. Jennetta half a million.”

  “That was last week.”

  “Please…”

  “Enough!” The alien henchman hauled him up and swung him by his bad arm. The Terran screamed.

  This was too easy. Alonio allowed the Terran to dangle in agony and terror while he adjusted the lapels of his jacket then he lifted into the air and glided down the corridor to land beside the two men. He folded his wings to his body. When pulled tight, they resembled two swords mounted against his back.

  The Barbadian dropped the Terran into a heap. “What do you want?” he snarled. His breath smelled as bad as his body odor.

  “Gentlemen,” Alonio said, though neither was, “I confess I overheard part of your conversation and believe I may be of assistance.”

  “This isn’t your concern.” The henchman spit, and the noxious glob landed on the toe of Alonio’s white boot.

  His arm tingled from elbow to fingertip, but he smiled through the rage. The Barbadian deserved to die, but killing him wouldn’t make his case with the Terran, and, unfortunately, he needed the sniveling coward’s assistance.

  “He’s going to kill me!” the Terran blubbered. “He wants money that I don’t—that he won’t give me time to get—”

  The Barbadian kicked him. “Silence, you useless sack of excrement!”

  “Now, nobody’s going to kill anybody. Not when we can settle this like gentlemen.” He unclipped his Personal Communication Device from his belt and tapped into his account. “Allow me to cover his debts. One million, payable to Mr. Christopher Jennetta, correct?” Alonio already knew the particulars, having researched the situation prior to selecting the Terran.

  “Thank you, thank you,” the Terran sobbed.

  The Barbadian scowled. “As I said, this isn’t your business. I don’t have authorization to deal, and Mr. Jennetta insists on seeing him.” He yanked the Terran to his feet. The man emitted a piercing girly scream.

  The Terran shrieked again when Alonio marshaled his energy and, in a burst of flame and light, transformed his right forearm into a sword.

  “Perhaps I could convince you that it is in your best interests to accept the credits on Mr. Jennetta’s behalf,” he said in a soft voice.

  The Barbadian didn’t flinch but he eyed the saber. “I might be able to talk to Mr. Jennetta—if you care to make it worth my while.”

  There was no requirement to offer the Barbadian anything. One swipe of the sword would end this discussion, but he admired a man who stood his ground, a man who stood for something, not like the cowering Earth alien who’d wet his pants. A million credits. Five hundred million. A billion. Credits meant nothing when you were born into one of the wealthiest families on Faria.

  “One mil to Mr. Jennetta and another mil to you, perhaps?”

  “Deal.” The Barbadian grinned, his yellowed, dirty teeth revealing the source of his halitosis.

  Sword became flesh again. “Your name, sir?”

  “Harber.”

  Using his PerComm, he transferred one million credits to Jennetta and another million to Harber. “Done.”

  The Barbadian eyed Alonio’s sword arm before saluting with a small wave. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He sauntered away.

  The Terran shuddered. “Thank you. I owe you my life. You saved me. I promise I’ll repay every centicredit—”

  “I don’t want your money. I have no use for it.” Alonio waved away the offer.

  The man gazed at him with something akin to hero worship. And more than a little lust. This wasn’t the first time he’d attracted a male’s interest. Among the peoples of the galaxy, the Faria were considered the most attractive, and Alonio bore no modesty, false or otherwise, about his exceptional looks.

  “Are you all right?” He gazed into the Terran’s eyes and flashed him a calm, concerned smile. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “M-my arm,” the Terran said. It hung crookedly from the shoulder.

  “May I examine you?”

  “All right.”

  He probed the Terran’s dislocated shoulder. “I think we can fix—” He snapped the joint back into place.

  The Terran yelped and grabbed his arm, but then his expression relaxed. “It’s better!”

  “Glad I could help.” He focused on radiating reassurance to camouflage his disgust. He preferred the malodorous Barbadian over this creature. The henchman had been right. The Terran was a sack of excrement. But a useful sack of excrement.

  “Look, Mr.—”

  “Alonio.”

  “Mr. Alonio. I owe you my life. I want to repay—”

  His body humming with energy, he stepped back and released his sword again, holding it high and turning it so that the blade caught the light with a beautiful and deadly gleam. An awesome force of nature. The Terran fell back, his gaze riveted on the sword with equal parts fear and fascination. Alonio itched to do the galaxy a favor by ridding it of this pathetic wretch, but that wasn’t why he’d come. The sorry excuse for a life-form could provide him with something he needed.

  He transformed the saber back into flesh and bone. “If you would be so kind, there is a small matter you could help me with.”

  * * * *
<
br />   “Dale—Sonny Masters. Sonny, this is Dale Homme.” Carter Aymes, Cyber Operations director conducted the introductions.

  “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming.” Dale sized up Sonny. The dude could be mistaken for a thug. Injuries pre-dating his transformation to cyborg marked his face. A scar zigzagged from his left eye to chin, and his nose appeared to have been broken more than once. Nanocytes, if injected promptly, could repair or reverse many injuries, but not those sustained years prior.

  “Happy to help out a fellow cyborg.” Sonny’s perma-glower vanished under a warm, lopsided smile.

  “Quite an impressive installation and operation you have here.” Carter nodded approvingly as the three men descended the dock. The director whistled through his teeth as he spotted Baby sitting pretty, ready for delivery later that afternoon. “Wow.”

  “That’s why I called for backup.” Dale ran a hand across his head and looked at Carter. “If I was dealing with a civilian customer, any of my pilots could deliver Ba-the ZX7M. However, this is Xenia’s emperor, and I have to personally present it to him. We’ve been working toward this for months, but the timing could be better.”

  “From what I can see, your security is rock solid—literally,” Carter said.

  “I’d like to think so, but more is at stake than proprietary technology. I won’t take any chances with her life.”

  “She’ll be safe,” Sonny said. “I’ll guard her with my life.”

  “I know you will.” He slapped the other cyborg’s back. No one wanted to die, and avoiding it was generally the plan, but each and every Cyber Operative would defend his or her protectee with his or her life. They would throw themselves on a microexplosive device if they had to.

  “Holy crap, is that what I think it is?” Carter gaped at a Lamis-Odg military ship.

  He grinned. “Yep.”

  “How the hell did you get that—no, don’t tell me. It’s better if I don’t know.”

  “Don’t ask. Don’t tell,” Dale quipped.

  Chattering in their native language, two Arcanian techs in coveralls rushed by them. One of them bumped Carter as he passed. “Excuse, excuse,” he muttered, darting away with his companion.