Steampunk Cyborg (Mecha Origin Book 1)

by Eve Langlais

“And you’re telling me this because?” he asked with an arched brow.

  “By my count, it’s three weeks away. Now mind you, could be I’m off a bit. No real way to tell time around here. Which means you’re in charge of the celebration.”

  “No.”

  “Are you saying no because I’ll be back home and my friends can spoil me, or no because you’re a cheap cyborg who can’t even spring for a small party for his poor kidnapped victim?” She batted her lashes.

  “It is I being victimized here. Travelling with a fool human. Having to share my space.”

  “Boo hoo. You didn’t have to abduct me.”

  “If I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

  Good point. “Are all cyborgs grouchy like you?”

  “I am practical, and no. While we might swap around gears, our personalities are individual. With some of us being more perfect than others.”

  “Really? I’d love to meet a perfect cyborg.” She gave him the cutest, smirkiest smile she could.

  It got her an epic scowl. “You are—”

  “Wonderful. I know.”

  “If you’re done complimenting yourself and bothering me with inanities, I have work to do.”

  “You want peace and quiet, then you’ll get it. After we eat,” she bargained, not willing to eat alone again.

  “You just want me to fabricate that strange pie for you again.”

  “Maybe.” Whenever she made pizza it was hard as a Frisbee and rancid.

  “If it will quiet you. Go.” He waved a hand at the ladder, and she wished she’d worn a skirt. When they got to the top, he strode stiffly to the food replicator counter and swiped his hand over the display.

  So very human-like and manly in his impatience, yet the gleam of his limbs screamed machine.

  Which begged the question she’d been biting her tongue over. “How did you lose your arm and leg?”

  “What makes you think I didn’t choose these enhancements?” He turned from the counter, two plates with round steaming pies, the cheese on them not cheese but salty and stringy the way she liked it.

  “Did you cut off your own limbs?” The very idea had never even occurred.

  “No. Those amputations were courtesy of a cog hunter.” He grimaced. “I was young and stupid. Inebriated, too.”

  “You can get drunk?” She couldn’t help the surprised lilt. “I thought cyborgs were impervious to things like disease and drugs and alcohol.”

  “Depends on your gears. Even then, you can turn it off if you want to enjoy a buzz. Or find stuff strong enough even the most intricate cog can’t handle it. In my case, though, I was just a stupid Siyborgh. Feeling powerful after getting my first gear. I got jumped in an alley leaving the bar.”

  “Oh no.”

  “I deserved the beating for being dumb. I lost my gear not even one day after acquiring it.”

  “Along with your arm and leg.” She couldn’t help a wince of sympathy.

  “No, I lost those later. After that incident, I worked very hard to get another cog and then, another. I also practiced.”

  “Practiced what?”

  “Fighting. The use of weapons. Stealth. I trained myself to become the best mercenary.”

  “So you’d never get beaten up again.”

  He snorted. “More because I wanted revenge. I found those cog hunters who stole from me and beat them to a pulp. During that battle my arm and leg got damaged. Stupid bounty hunter had a syringe filled with necrodust.”

  “What is that?”

  “Necrodust does as its name suggests. Takes living tissue and turns it to dust. It makes the retrieval of gears much easier. The hunter managed to jab me twice before I killed him. By then it was too late. The tissue around the inject site began to die. A friend of mine had to sever the limbs in order to save my life.”

  She stared at him. “That’s—”

  “Life. I couldn’t be content to learn my lesson. I thought I needed payback. Instead, I got payback and learned that sometimes when you lose it’s best to move on.”

  A stark and sad tale that also spoke of strength. “How much of you is machine?” Aggie asked.

  “Not enough,” was his reply. He refused to say anything after that, eating his dinner quickly.

  He disposed of his dishes and said, “You may want to leave the room. Since you saw fit to drag me from my post, I am going to take a moment and bathe.”

  Ever since that first time when he watched her dress, he’d enacted this odd rule whereupon if she had to put on clothes or wash, he left. She had been doing the same.

  The politeness of it all was annoying. Which was why she leaned back in her seat and keep eating her pizza even if she was full. “Go ahead. I’m just going to finish my dinner.”

  “What happened to it being inappropriate?” Spoken in a high-pitched tone meant to mock.

  “Maybe I changed my mind.”

  The reply caused his jaw to turn even more granite hard if possible. “Suit yourself.” He turned his back to her and pulled loose the shirt, revealing a broad back. A strong back. Muscled to perfection, the upper width tapering to his waist and hips.

  There was something strange about the ridge of his spine. Leaving her chair, Aggie couldn’t help but approach and run a finger down the skin.

  He stilled.

  “More metal?” she inquired.

  Jules turning to face Aggie, which meant she got a face full of skin. She stared at it, the smooth surface, completely hairless. The flesh over his heart tattooed. Did he have a heart? Or was it a hunk of metal, too?”

  She glanced up at him, remembering how he’d kissed her in that terrifying moment when everything became nothing. She’d been close to panic. Shouting without being able to hear herself. Terrified.

  Until he kissed her. He became her anchor in that moment, the entire focus of her existence, which probably explained some of the strange things that went through her mind. Imagining herself with his kid.

  Ha.

  Although the vision of them screwing intrigued. Perhaps it was that vivid recollection of him sinking into her that made her bold. Or had her desire for him finally just gotten too strong?

  Didn’t matter. She ran a finger down his chest, noticing the faint thump under the surface, the skin more heated than expected. Her gaze followed her finger, down, down…

  Oh. My.

  The front of him proved impressive.

  Two hands thick she’d wager.

  If she were that kind of girl, she’d be tempted to grab him and check.

  She whirled away from him, cheeks heating. There was bold, and then there was throwing herself at him.

  She wasn’t even sure he wanted her.

  Right now, it didn’t matter. Something about him drew her like no other guy before. The arousal within had her acting strangely. With less inhibition. Or as Rebecca would say, “about time you loosened your panties and morals.”

  Rebecca. Damn. Funny how she’d not thought of her friends and old life much. She stalked out of temptation’s reach, chagrined. She’d barely given them a thought since embarking on her strange adventure. They must be frantic. “I need to contact Earth.” Not the first time she’d asked.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I need to speak to my family. My friends. They must be wondering what happened after you kidnapped me. They’re probably imagining I was killed by you.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “What do you mean doubtful?” She whirled and got treated to the sight of him standing underneath the ship’s version of a shower. The metal pipe extended from the cupboard and then arched over to dump drops all over his very naked body.

  Gulp.

  She couldn’t help but stare. One thing to see him clothed and grasp the breadth and width of his strength, quite another to see him in all his nude glory. The way his waist indented. His one flesh thigh was thickly corded with muscle. His metal leg fit into his hip and somehow blended with skin. His arm similarly attached at the shoulde
r.

  So much flesh on display. Some of it hard like metal and yet covered in skin.

  Her eyes couldn’t seem to ignore the rising erection. The groin hairless. The underneath of his shaft…sans sac.

  That did more to remind her this man wasn’t human than anything else. She brought her gaze to meet his, finding him smirking, amused.

  “Maybe you don’t care about people, but I do. And those I care about will be worried,” she snapped. “You are going to let me send a message to let them know I’m okay.”

  “No.” He turned, showing off his remarkable ass.

  He totally deserved the shoe she whipped at him.

  She missed. But that wasn’t the point.

  She stomped over when he continued to ignore her. “I want to send a message. I don’t want anyone thinking something bad happened to me.”

  “But something bad did happen. You met me.” He glanced down at her and smirked. “I’m done. Your turn.”

  He yanked her under the spray, the liquid warm and wet.

  Very wet.

  She yelped. “Asshole. Now my clothes are soaked.”

  “You should remove them.”

  “And wear what? You told me I couldn’t make any more unless I wrecked this set.”

  “Then wear nothing.”

  Her mouth rounded. Had he seriously said that? She cast him a suspicious stare.

  He met her gaze steadily. Challenged her. Which was why she grabbed the waistband of her pants and shoved them down.

  “Happy?”

  “Not yet. Do you require aid removing the items completely?”

  She lifted her arms, curious to see how far he’d take it. He peeled the shirt from her, his gaze locked to hers as he bared her upper body.

  “I don’t think you’re done yet.” Was that her voice, low and thick? Desire curled through her, a hot licking flame that had her trembling when he hit his knees in front of her. He tugged the damp fabric from her feet.

  She would have been fine with him sticking around down there.

  He stood. Which meant they were both naked under the water. Almost touching. Gazes still locked.

  The moment intense. Her body remembering how it felt to kiss him. She ran a finger down his chest. To his waist.

  He stepped away before it went any further. “I need to check on something.”

  The man practically ran from the room, hitting the ladder before looking down at himself. Grumbling something she didn’t grasp, he stalked past to grab a shirt and pants, along with his boots, then back down the ladder.

  Her turn to smile.

  Someone was playing hard to get.

  Which was fine. She could play that game, too, especially since he’d left her alone in a room with hot water and fingers that were more than ready to do some walking.

  She stood under that hot shower and let her hands skim over her body. Slipping her fingers slid through her damp curls. Seeking her clitoris. Finding it. A stroke over it catching her breath.

  She rubbed at her sensitive nub, eyes closed in pleasure. So easily picturing Jules.

  The width of him. The strength. How would it feel to have him pressed against her?

  A sigh left her as her finger rubbed more quickly, excitement making her slick. Not the first time she’d masturbated to thoughts of him.

  But it was the first time she opened her eyes and found him watching her.

  She didn’t think he did it on purpose. He must have come up the ladder and spotted her. And then didn’t leave.

  He stood still, eyes locked to her body, which increased the heat level tenfold. She could have said something.

  She didn’t. Instead she slid her fingers between her slick lips. His gaze caught hers and locked.

  They stared as she fingered herself. She bit her lower lip, entranced by his rapt attention. Her excitement ramping. Her fingers moving quicker and quicker, rubbing over her clit and penetrating. Her breath shortened to quick pants.

  The space between them seemed to contract. Neither moved, yet she could have sworn she felt his lips brushing hers. The heat of him scorching. The touch of him…

  With a cry of pleasure, Aggie came, her orgasm squeezing her fingers, sinking her to her knees, her body limp.

  Still feeling the soft brush of his ghostly lips. She opened her eyes and…He was gone.

  Hiding in his control room once again. But he couldn’t avoid her forever.

  10

  Avoiding Aggie became harder and harder. His ship wasn’t large enough for him to escape. And it was almost as if she did it on purpose. Sticking around and watching when he bathed or dressed. Climbing into bed with him and snuggling, which immediately woke him and sent him running. Slipping into or stripping out of clothes just as he came up the ladder, giving him a flash of her curvy frame. Her unmarked frame.

  No metal parts. No ridges of gears under her skin. Not even a tattoo to brand her.

  The gear in her cheek had sunk in, only the surface of it visible. He tried not to think about what that deepness in her flesh might mean.

  Tried not to think about her at all. Failed miserably at it.

  Concentrating on the vessel he detected trailing him failed to distract. Hard to get excited when the newest blip didn’t do anything menacing.

  Only an idiot would do anything provocative in the Amannpasiv Galaxy. The peace-loving Amanns had strict rules of conduct. When it came to non-natives, there wasn’t a trial or a chance to appeal. The immediate sentence for infractions was death. Carried out at once.

  Only a few mistook their desire for peace with weakness. Those who made that mistake learned the Amanns earned respect by their shows of might. No one made a disintegrating ray like the Amanns. Good thing the power source for it was rare and ridiculously expensive. It made the weapon scarce.

  Zipping through the Amannpasiv Galaxy, Jwls passed a few charted courses to black holes that would have jumped him to other galaxies, even another universe. However, the place he wanted was quickest reached by going through this galaxy and skipping over to the galaxy after it.

  Which meant a few more sleep cycles before he’d rid himself of the human.

  Much too long for him to resist, given Aggie had just climbed down the ladder wearing his shirt. Long enough to act as a dress, yet the way the soft fabric hugged her upper body and flared to a spot above her knees reminded him of her femininity. Made him wonder what was under that skirt.

  “I made dinner,” she announced.

  “And?” he grumped, mostly annoyed because his first impulse was to sit her on a high spot and feast between her thighs.

  “I made enough for two.”

  “Trying to poison me?”

  She laughed. “If I did, then I have to fly the giant egg, which means I’ll probably end up scrambled.” She shook her head. “I need you alive. I promise I finally made something quite edible.”

  Edible. His gaze dropped to a spot below her waist.

  “Coming?”

  He wished. “I’m not hungry.” Such a lie.

  “Please, Jules.” She still pronounced his name in such a human way. But softly.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. So why did he find himself under the ladder peeking up?

  He had to know what she wore under her skirt.

  The answer? Nothing.

  He might have swallowed hard. He definitely followed.

  To notice the food lay spread out on the bed of all places.

  He frowned. “Did you forget how to engage the retractable table?”

  “Nope. I thought it would be nice to have a picnic.” She crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged, the hem of his shirt barely covering. It rode high on her thighs and just draped over the vee between them. She’d prepared him a spot across from her, the food acting as a buffer between.

  He could do this. Carefully, he perched on the bed, warier of her than the wobbling dishes.

  “Get comfy.”

  “I am comfortable.” He
sat with his legs dangling off the bed. Ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

  “Dig in.” She pointed to a strange array: lopsided spheres of red with seed like dots topped with hardened darkness on one end and fluffy whiteness on the other. More of the white fluff sat beside other unrecognizable bits. Some of them mauve balls reminiscent of Friblu eyeballs—a salty and narcotic delicacy for those with stomachs that could handle hard acid.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “My attempt at dessert.”

  “Your dessert has meat.” Obviously, a barbaric human custom.

  “What? No.” She laughed and brushed aside his pointing finger to grab a round ball. “It’s a blueberry. Try it.”

  “I thought you weren’t trying to poison me?”

  “I’m not… Oh for God’s sake. Look.” She grabbed several and popped them into her mouth. Chewed. Opened wide to show she’d swallowed. “See? Perfectly delicious. Try one.” She leaned forward and shoved food at him, forcing him to part his lips.

  He hoped his gears could handle it. He bit down, expecting a sudden burn. Maybe even numbing, but instead something tart and sweet filled his mouth.

  He frowned.

  “Good, hunh? Try this. Chocolate-covered strawberries with whipped cream.”

  Again, she aimed at his mouth, only to suddenly veer at the last minute and take a bite of the side with the dark coating.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Not quite Earth standard, but damned good anyways.”

  Curious, he leaned forward over the display of food that he might steal the other half, some of the fluffy white stuff sticking to his lips.

  The sweetness proved intense. Yet pleasant.

  “You’ve got some on your face.” She flicked the tip of her finger, brushing his upper lip, then brought it to her mouth for a suck.

  He got instantly hard. A glance at the white creamy stuff, sweet and cloudy soft, gave him an idea. He swiped some and shoved it at her mouth.

  She took his finger and sucked it. Slowly. Getting all the cream off it.

  He got harder.

  “Your turn.” Her husky murmur before something dark brown hit his lips. Sweet, bitter. A flavor explosion.

  He found something round and burgundy in color with a long stem. He dangled it in front of her mouth. She pursed her lips and grabbed it, sucked it in.