by Meg LaTorre
“But my, were you resistant in becoming my apprentice again. I needed a way to get you away from the others and test my new coding. I suppose I should be thanking the little tinkerer for being so predictable. Though, she has been quite the nuisance.”
She patted his cheek. “Rise, darling. Go back to your rooms, speak to no one, and prepare yourself for tomorrow. We won’t meet again until the show.”
Rising from where he kneeled in the stall, he brushed his knees off and left without a word. Even from here, Gwen could see the vacant look in his eyes.
Rage coursed through her, as powerful and engulfing as a black hole in deep space.
Turning, she slid down on her ass, moving clumsily from one crate to the next, ignoring the screaming pain in her leg. When her feet touched the ground, she scooped up her crutch, already moving toward the front of the stable. She was going to kill Celeste.
Before she cleared the end of the alley, a wrist caught her. She slowed to a stop, trying to pull her arm free.
“Gwen! Don’t!” Rora hissed.
“Let go! Didn’t you see what happened? Celeste messed with his chip. She’s going to force Bastian to kill the emperor!”
And for what?
Gwen’s mind raced, her heart along with it. “We have to help him.”
“We will!” Rora hauled Gwen back into the shadows of the alley. “But not like this. Didn’t you see all the watchmen in there? We’ll become mindless zombies just like Bastian if we go charging in there.”
Stopping, she turned toward Rora. Her face was flushed, and anger still coursed through her, but she knew Rora was right.
“We’ll help him, but not like this,” Rora said. “We have to be smart.”
Damn you. Why do you have to be so levelheaded right now?
Gwen wanted to shoot something—or someone.
“Fine,” she bit out. “Let me go.”
As Rora released her wrist, she heard footsteps outside and watched as Bastian walked up the street, back toward the castle.
You are anything but forgettable.
Tears filled her eyes.
“What has she done to you?”
Rora grabbed Gwen’s hands and turned her to face her. “I’ll bet you my new hand that Celeste has Bastian’s chip with his memories. That’s what she slipped into her dress.”
Gwen nodded, remembering. “We have to get it back from her tomorrow somehow. During the performance, maybe. And stop Bastian from…”
Killing the emperor.
Exhaling heavily, Rora looped her arm through Gwen’s and pulled her back toward the palace. “What I want to know is, why does she want to kill the emperor in the first place? He’s trying to help change the law. He’s on our side!”
Gwen’s fists clenched as the palace came into view. “And why not do it herself?”
“Should we tell him?”
For a moment, Gwen considered whether or not they should reveal Celeste’s plans to the emperor, but she eventually shook her head. “He won’t believe us. At best, he would turn us over to Celeste. At worst, we would be tossed into the dungeon. Either way, we wouldn’t be able to help anyone.”
As they passed back through the palace’s main gates and into the castle, Rora said, “Time to make one of your master plans.”
Indeed, it was. But how the hell was she supposed to get close enough to Celeste tomorrow to swipe Bastian’s chip while still keeping an eye on the man programmed to assassinate the emperor?
Somehow, she’d have to manage it. Otherwise, none of them would make it off the planet alive. With the emperor and all order gone, the humans would slaughter the cyborgs. Celeste didn’t know it yet, but she was about to spark civil unrest—and with the cyborgs at the center. She was about to make them into the very monsters people believed them to be.
Monsters that everyone wanted dead.
Chapter 33
Heart heavier than a large woman’s tits, Gwen limped back into the emperor’s palace.
“Go. Hang with the others.” She turned toward their rooms. “I’m going to turn in for the night.”
Rather than going to the ballroom, Rora followed Gwen, offering her an arm. “I’m not much in the mood for a party, so I’ll walk you upstairs.”
Slowly, Gwen took her arm, and the two of them made their way back to Rora’s room.
Eager to return to her tinkerer’s leathers once in Rora’s room, Gwen gestured to the back of her black gown. “Would you mind helping me with this? I wasn’t good with dresses without a broken leg. And my ability right now is downright atrocious.”
A faint smile touched Rora’s lips. “Sure.”
Immediately, Gwen regretted her decision.
When hands lightly grazed her hips, she became all too aware of Rora’s touch. Fire skirted down her chest, and she swallowed instinctively. Slowly, Rora unlaced the back of Gwen’s gown. The sudden lack of pressure against her chest had nothing to do with the gasping breaths escaping her.
Get a hold of yourself. This is the woman who betrayed you, who used you.
But Gwen’s body paid no mind to such things.
As Rora reached for each button, undoing them individually, her fingers traced the skin on Gwen’s back, sending gooseflesh down her arms.
Eventually, the dress hung loose, and Gwen had no option but to turn to Rora.
Rora’s dark eyes flickered back and forth between Gwen’s. The deep neckline of Rora’s dress did nothing to hide the rapid rising and falling of her chest as she breathed.
It took every ounce of control not to reach out and run her fingers along where Rora’s breasts stopped and her dress began.
Slowly, Rora turned her back to Gwen. “Undo mine?”
This is a very bad idea.
Even as the need for Bastian coursed through her veins, a very different need for Rora settled between Gwen’s thighs.
Nodding, she reached up, fumbling with the intricate laces at the back of Rora’s gown as she balanced with a crutch under her arm. Pain shot down her leg at the lack of support, but she ignored it. Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire. As one lace loosened, then another, Rora’s gown slowly slipped off her shoulders… and then onto the ground.
Quite suddenly, Gwen forgot to breathe.
Beneath her black gown, Rora was completely naked.
How had that detail escaped her when they were getting ready?
Gwen took in the sight of Rora.
Her light brown skin shone warmly in the faint artificial light of the room. She was lean and strong, her arms and legs corded with fine muscles. Legs sculpted of granite turned slowly as Rora spun to face Gwen. Her ass and breasts were round and full, carrying the weight of Gwen’s gaze and desire.
Rora looked at Gwen, her eyes holding a question.
She only wants you now that she got what she wants—a new hand and a chance to perform for the emperor. She used you, for fuck’s sake.
With the scraps of her remaining self-control, Gwen clutched her gown to her chest and cleared her throat. “We should get dressed. Then I’ll see to that hand of yours, as promised.”
Slowly, Rora nodded before grabbing clothes and heading to the washroom. When she closed the door behind her, Gwen breathed a sigh of relief before changing into her leathers. But as she did so, all she wanted was some time alone in her bedroom with some lubricants and candlelight to work off some… tension. Alas, she’d have no such relief anytime soon.
When Rora emerged from the washroom, she wore a nighttime dress that did nothing to hide her figure—or her nakedness underneath.
In silence, Gwen saw to Rora’s hand. Some things needed tinkering, but for the most part, it had held up well since its installation.
As she finished, Rora said, “Did you see anyone in the hallway when we were walking back?”
Slowly, Gwen shook her head. “They must still be at the party.”
“Maybe.”
When Gwen rose to leave, Rora caught her hand.
On the outside, such a request might make sense.
If the Mistress intended to attempt to assassinate the emperor tomorrow, having your sort-of-not-really allies close to you in case of an emergency was logical. Hell, it could even be considered an extra level of precaution should the Mistress and her watchmen come in search of Gwen to finish what they started with her legs. They wouldn’t know where to find her.
But this was Rora.
A woman who had betrayed Gwen. A woman who could evoke an immediate reaction from Gwen’s body even now. A woman who was helping her rescue Bastian, the man she loved.
“I shouldn’t,” Gwen said. “Stars, I want to, but I don’t trust myself around you. And, well, I don’t trust you.”
Rora nodded. “I earned that. Still, if you stay, you could take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa, and it will be perfectly respectable. Besides, shouldn’t we stay close in case we need to move quickly tomorrow to find Bastian?”
For Bastian, Gwen would do anything.
Exhaling heavily, she said, “Fine. But I snore.”
Gwen awoke the next morning with sunshine in her eyes and a clit in desperate need of attention. Blinking, she pulled herself to a seated position. Just as she had said, Rora slept on the small sofa near the door, giving Gwen the bed. What an interesting turn of events from the night Rora had slept in her bed after Gwen had installed her new hand.
Despite dreams that would have had a priest doing penance for months, Gwen hadn’t slept better in weeks.
As she got ready, Rora stirred before waking fully. She cleaned herself and dressed before helping Gwen don clean pants with her damned cast.
Once they were ready, they left their room in search of breakfast. Only, when they were in the hallway, it was deathly quiet.
“Where is everyone?” Rora asked.
Gwen didn’t move for several long moments as she listened. Nothing. Not a single servant scurried in the hallway, and the chatter of excitable performers behind doors was notably absent.
Limping toward the door across the hall, Gwen grabbed the handle. It was unlocked, and she pushed it inward. Empty. She did the same with several more rooms. There wasn’t a single cyborg in sight.
Fear gripped her chest.
Had the Mistress proceeded with her plan during the night? Had Bastian killed the emperor? Was she too late yet again?
As quickly as she could, she shuffled down the hallway on her crutch.
Rora’s footsteps sounded softly behind her. “Where do you think they are?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
They made their way downstairs and back toward the ballroom from the night before. As they neared the closed doors leading to the ballroom, raised voices rumbled down the hallway. She couldn’t distinguish the words.
Gwen tried the handle.
Locked.
“Let’s try the back entrance through the gardens.”
It took longer than she’d like for them to make their way into the gardens and find the box hedges from the night before. Slowly, they retraced their steps up to the doors leading into the ballroom. The entire time, there was no guard or servant to be seen.
Although the door into the ballroom from the gardens was closed and appeared to be locked, Gwen could see clearly through the massive windows at the back of the room.
She pulled Rora to crouch beside her behind a section of stone wall near the massive window. Heart drumming in her ears, she leaned over and peered through.
The cyborgs were dressed in their finery from the night before. But that wasn’t all of it. They were bound at the hands and sat in rows against the walls. Most were gagged. The emperor’s soldiers stood before them with guns pointing.
Rora gasped.
“What the hell is going on?” Gwen whispered. “Where are the watchmen? Where’s the Mistress?”
Both were noticeably absent.
But she couldn’t miss the dark figure tied at the center of the room, isolated from the others and hands tied before him.
Bastian.
Her heart sank as she realized the emperor never intended to have them perform. This entire thing—the performance, meeting with the Union Council to change the law—had been a lie to get them here. But why?
“Where is your Mistress?”
It took Gwen several moments to locate the emperor. He emerged from behind a pillar near the dance floor, his voice sounding as if it had been through the furnace and then doused in water. Quite unlike the composed man they had met the previous day.
The performers shifted, pressing their backs farther into the wall. None spoke up.
“She was supposed to attend the ball last night.” Titus continued, prowling the room. “And where is your cyborg tinkerer?”
“We don’t have one.”
It was Marzanna. She sat toward the back of the ballroom beside Akio.
“Do you expect me to believe that a cyborg establishment of this size operates without a tinkerer?” Titus nodded to one of his soldiers, who cocked his gun and aimed it at Marzanna. “I’ll ask one last time. Where is your tinkerer?”
“Hide,” Gwen whispered to Rora.
In an instant, she was on her feet. She wouldn’t let her friends get hurt. Not if there was something she could do about it. She moved toward the nearby door and banged her fist on the frame. Through the glass, she could see the guards turning in surprise. One ran toward her, unlocking the door.
“Someone called for a tinkerer?” Rather than her usual saunter, Gwen leaned heavily on her crutch as she walked into the room. “I’m not big on parties. And you’ll imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning… and no one was around.”
She leveled her gaze on the emperor. The man who’d made her life—and the life of every cyborg in the Crescent Star System—fucking miserable.
Eyebrows raised, she gestured to the performers tied up around the room. “Tell me this isn’t a bondage party. Because if it is… I’m going to be really bummed I missed it.”
The emperor frowned. As he strode toward her, the sun from the windows behind her caught the gray at his temples. He stopped in front of her, taking in her leather boots, pants, and jacket and toolbelt at her hips, his gaze lingering on her crutch and cast. His nostrils flared in revulsion as he studied her cyborg eye.
“A broken tinkerer is better than none, I suppose.” He sniffed. “What’s your name?”
“Offended.” Gwen bowed. “At your service.”
“Your name, cyborg.”
As the emperor spoke, there was a flash of movement behind him. On the floor at the center of the room where he sat, Bastian worked at his bonds with a small blade concealed between his hands.
Gwen’s heart plodded a merry tune in her chest. Was this the moment? Was he about to attempt to kill the emperor?
Seeing her gaze, the emperor started to turn, but she blurted, “Gwendolyn Grimm.” The emperor turned fully back to her. “My name is Gwendolyn Grimm.”
Realization crashed into her, and her heart sank into her gut.
She’d just revealed her real name. If the emperor put everything together—and the fact that she hadn’t been a cyborg before the Cyborg Prohibition Law—he now had the legal right to execute her.
She was as good as dead.
His next words confirmed the fear icing her chest.
“The ship tinkerer?” His eyes settled on her cyborg implant. “I’d thought to recruit you for my navy. But I hadn’t heard you were… one of them.”
Ignoring the disgust in his voice, she said, “It’s a part of my reputation I like to keep quiet. Easier to get jobs that way.”
Behind the emperor, Bastian stared glassy-eyed at the window, his hands working steadily at his bonds.
<
br /> Nearby, one of the soldiers shook his head, and Titus nodded in return.
“You lie, Ms. Grimm,” the emperor of the Star Crescent System hissed.
“All good women do.”
“Do you know what happens to humans who break the law?” Titus took a step closer until their noses were practically touching. “New cyborgs—and their accomplices—are either executed or put in jail for life. At the discretion of the judge, of course.”
Swallowing, she was unable to find words to defend herself. Her life was forfeit, and perhaps everyone in the circus as well. Would the emperor go after her family?
Stars, why couldn’t I have made up a name?
“Unless you’re under the emperor’s protection.”
Before she could fully register his words, there was a flash of movement from farther back in the ballroom.
Bastian’s bonds fell to the ground, and he scooped up the cane beside him.
Her eyes never left Bastian as she unsheathed the daggers hidden up her sleeves.
The emperor might have the ability—and legal right—to kill Gwen. But she wouldn’t let Bastian be sentenced to death beside her.
Perhaps everything she’d gone through to become a cyborg had led to this very moment. She’d been on borrowed time just so she could live long enough to save a man who had so much yet to do in this world.
With impossible slowness, Bastian raised his cane. It was only then she realized what it actually was—or what it hid. The ringleader clicked a button on the cane’s handle, which released a cover at the end. At the base of the cane was the barrel of a long gun, which Bastian pointed at the emperor.
Gwen pushed His Imperial Highness aside and raised her knives into the air as she yelled. “Titus, DUCK!”
Then she threw both knives at the man she loved.
Chapter 34
Gwen held her breath as her knives soared through the air.
She’d thrown knives in deep space at pirates boarding her vessel and with gravity far more finicky than Covenant’s natural gravity. Hell, she’d trained under countless sailors since she began working as a tinkerer.