Naomi Lucas - [Cyborg Shifters 04] - Mutt

by Lucas

  She scrambled out of her seat to follow him as he left the room. His hackles raised, annoyed, frustrated, and his nostrils filled with the smell of fruit. Her footsteps sounded behind him.

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Standard procedure.”

  “I don’t need it. I’ve thought this through. I’m a hundred percent certain I want to join the program.”

  His teeth ground together. Reid had made a mistake, because her question shook him. ‘Am I supposed to have to have sex with you?’

  No, Clara, but now that you mention it... He wanted to shake her words out of his head and dig his claws into the cement outside. Reid clenched his hands, making sure his nails remained retracted. It had been decades since he had last been with a woman.

  “It doesn’t matter. Protocol,” he gritted out as they entered the reception area. He walked past the desk and moved toward the door. “Go back to your hotel or hostel and think about it. Come back this time tomorrow if you’re certain.” He opened the door for her. A wave of arid, stifling, hellish heat blasted him and with it came the desert powder. Reid turned to face her. “Good day, Ms. Warren.”

  “I don’t...”

  She stopped just out of his reach and eyed the exit with wariness. He couldn’t read her.

  “You don’t what?”

  “I don’t have a place to go.”

  Reid pulled his gaze from hers and looked at her vehicle on the far side of the parking lot.

  “There’s a place not five miles past the gates. Take a left, you can’t miss it.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Don’t. Don’t play the hero. Her words set off a war inside of him.

  “Please let me sign today...”

  He let go of the door and dropped his arms. The outside vanished at his back.

  “Do you need money, Clara?”

  She took a slight step away from him and he couldn’t blame her. Reid had his walls up for a reason. But there was something about the way she smelled—fresh and alluring—and when she turned her big violet eyes toward his, he found himself drowning in their depths. He wanted to close the short distance between them and nuzzle up against her.

  “I... err, what?”

  Reid flicked on his wristcon and brought up his personal finances—not the facility’s, but his. “How much?”

  “I’m not taking money from you.”

  “You need the time to think.” I have plenty to spare. He kept his eyes off of hers.

  “I don’t. I really don’t. If you need to give me time, give me twenty minutes, an hour, I’ll stay here in reception and think about it. I’ll make a pro-con chart.”

  “Would you still say that if I told you that you did have to have sex with a Cyborg?”

  He told himself it was to send her away, to scare her off, and that it wasn’t because he yearned to know the answer.

  She scrunched her features and checked him out. “Would it have to be you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  Reid sighed and walked toward the desk, bringing up the screen without questioning further. It was better that he didn’t know the answer.

  “Sign here.” He stepped aside and indicated the projected document.

  He watched as Clara visibly shook herself and approached it. She read over the clauses and signed the file, her lithe finger dancing across the air. His jaw ticked. Sign both of our time away, Clara dear. The next three months might be hard for her, but it would be hell for him.

  Reid was already growing accustomed to her presence. The sound of her steps. The sway of her curves hidden behind loose clothing. Before long, if he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t want to let her out of his sight.

  He powered down the document. “Do you have a personal IP address?”

  “Yeah.” She pulled out her network card and handed it to him. He noticed that she didn’t pull out a personal wristcon or tablet. It was almost unheard of to not have a device on hand.

  Reid took her card, careful not to touch her fingers, and memorized it instantly. Her version of the contract was sent immediately to her... wherever or whatever device that carried her data.

  “Everything’s been sent to you. Follow me.” He moved back toward the exit.

  “You could be less demanding. A please can go a long way.”

  Once again he held the door for her. “No.”

  “It would make you less of a jerk.” She stepped past him. “Where are we going?”

  “To get your things. I’m not a jerk.”

  “Hah!”

  “I’m a realist. It’s not my problem you don’t like hearing the truth.”

  Clara shot him a killing glare at his back, one he couldn’t see, but could feel.

  Her vehicle was an age old, maybe even older than him. As he neared, he seeded into its mechanics and found parts that had, indeed, been around longer than he had. It was like the technology of Earth, where waste was no longer waste but only a set of materials that could be utilized in another fashion. Everything was recycled.

  Still, the outside rust of the vehicle made him feel grimy. No Cyborg liked being near old technology for long; it was the encroaching decay that every machine would one day go through. That one day he’d go through. It was too much like climbing into a cadaver.

  Reid knew it was still operating, or else she wouldn’t be here, but he also knew it probably shouldn’t be.

  He grabbed her bags with a small protest from her and led Clara back into the facility, through reception, and in the direction opposite his office. They passed several locked doors where he had her scan her fingerprints for future access and entered the currently unused residency section of the building.

  “This is your room.” He unlocked her door and held it open. She walked by him again and her nearness made him stiffen.

  Reid followed her in, leaving the door open behind him, and placed her bags on the bed. Clara did a three-sixty and looked at the space. He tried seeing it through her eyes.

  There was one large white bed, an alcove with a food replicator and some adjoining appliances, one round corner table with three chairs, empty wall panels, an open door to the bathroom, and one large mounted television wall screen. Everything was in shades of cold and colder greys. It was industrial, clean, and as far from comfortable as possible.

  She faced him with another unreadable expression. He wanted to know what was in her head.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Settle in, get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow you’ll have reconstructive surgery. Don’t eat anything tonight.”

  Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her belly.

  His need to pry amplified with each passing second. I have to leave. He didn’t want to leave. The part of him that was a shepherd wanted to stay and guard, protect, and bond. His fists clenched at his sides despite his need to close the distance and continue to sniff her.

  “So soon?”

  “Yes. Do you have any questions before I go? I assume you know how to work the amenities in here?” I need to get out of here. I need to leave. Now. It wasn’t his place.

  She briefly looked around the room again. “Can I leave the room?”

  “You can go anywhere you want that allows you access. If you have it, the doors will open as you near,” he said, with strained patience. “Some rooms are locked, other living spaces, the laboratories, my office... but you can go outside as far as the first security checkpoint. If you choose to go beyond that point, an alarm will sound, and your contract will be forfeit and you’ll be fined for your time here.”

  Clara licked her lips and he watched, wanting to lick them himself. What’s wrong with me?

  The need to bond with another being had never been so demanding before. She was dangerous because of it, dangerous to him. Berries continued to spin through his systems; images of strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries were in his head.

  “All right...”

  Reid
turned to leave but before he closed the door behind him, she stopped him again.

  “Wait! Where is everyone else?”

  “There isn’t anyone else.”

  “Why? What happened? I thought there would be so many... I expected a wait list, selection... I thought this entire process was going to be so different than what it has been.”

  “Nothing happened.” His hand tightened on the door handle. “We don’t get many applicants here. We don’t need them. CBF stopped advertising years ago and the main facility is now on Gliese.”

  “So... I’m alone?” her question came out warily. He couldn’t blame her. He would be concerned if he were alone as well... alone and with a strange man, a Cyborg she disliked, no less.

  “We get temporaries here occasionally.” He felt the need to reassure her. “Applicants from Gliese that are transferred here for further testing. It’s the nature of the beast—of science—the equipment installed here, well, can’t be moved without an extreme amount of effort. This facility has become more of a laboratory than anything since the war. Can you imagine trying to transfer the hadron collider into space? Some machines—labs—aren’t meant to move.”

  “Oh...”

  “Goodnight, Clara.” Reid closed the door and made his escape, filtering out everything about her from his systems: her smell, her mannerisms, even the few interactions they had that had softened him, and buried it all under a mountain of code.

  By the time he reached the parking lot he had stripped out of his suit and was surging forward into the vast grounds and setting sun.

  What better way to tire out a dog but with a long run in the fading desert heat?

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Clara opened her bedroom door to find the mechanical dog sitting in the hallway. Its eyes were black, intelligent, and oddly comforting.

  “Hi?” she greeted it and cocked her head, leaning out to look down both ends of the hallway. “Did you chime the door?”

  She stepped aside and allowed the animal to enter her space. The clicks of its metal paws and curved, pointed nails tapped on the cement floor and into her room.

  “If you’re to lead me to medical, I’m almost ready.” She watched the dog sit down beyond her door. “You must be one of the androids that Dr. Canis mentioned,” she murmured more to herself.

  Although she’d found no cameras the night before, she knew she was being watched. Based on the conversation she had with the Cyborg yesterday, there was some A.I. technology somewhere keeping tabs on her. The lack of privacy was vaguely unsettling but it didn’t bother her as much as she expected.

  Maybe because she chose it. Whatever gets me closer to my dreams.

  Clara eyed the dog. It followed her with its eyes as she walked a semi-circle around it.

  It was large—larger than any dog she had ever seen before—but then again, it was a mechanical one. The sky was the limit when it came to fabricating new creatures.

  It acted like a dog, it looked like a dog, but it seemed far more than what it appeared. Never underestimate an android: you never know what they're programmed for.

  Still, she liked having the companion with her; it made it less lonely and it made her feel safe. She took a step toward the canine and reached her hand out. It nuzzled her fingers and Clara smiled, moving her hand over its head and down its back.

  Her phone rang, breaking the moment.

  The dog shifted its gaze toward her purse where her phone buzzed. Its mouth opened to reveal sharp, metallic teeth.

  Clara swallowed, left her new scary friend, and sourced out her phone. Pecos PD. She answered it.

  “Hello, this is Clara.”

  “Clara, it's Marsha, we spoke yesterday. Can you verify your information please?” The woman had a strange sense of urgency to her voice. She sat down on the edge of her bed knowing she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. Clara stated her information.

  “What's wrong?” She couldn't keep the breathy anxiety out of her question.

  “We lost track of Santino.”

  “Already? How? You said only yesterday you were tracking him in Spring Grove.” Her foot tapped the floor as a rush of fear pulsed through her. She tried to shake it, but it didn't go way.

  “Yes, he was there until his personal IP network information went offline.”

  “Couldn't that mean... that he could be dead?” Please let him be dead.

  “Yes, but even so there are still traces... We’re worried about your safety. We'd like you to come down to the station.”

  No one's worried about my safety.

  Clara had to remind herself that Marsha was only trying to do her job. But something felt off. The years hadn’t gone by without her learning a thing or two to protect yourself. She took a moment before she answered, calculating her response.

  “Okay,” she agreed. Her mouth ran dry but she still swallowed despite her parched throat.

  “We’ll be able to keep you safe here and set up a protective patrol. I'll come and get you. Where are you?”

  Clara licked her lips. “I'm out, but I'll head there right away. Are you sure Santino couldn't be dead?” Clara's stared at the dog, which stood right beside her. It had moved closer without her realizing it. How did I not notice?

  Marsha spoke up, “We can’t take chances with your safety, Clara. Are you sure you don't need an escort? Just tell me where you are.”

  Nowhere I'm telling you. “On the road. I'll be there soon.” Clara hung up and squeezed the small, archaic phone in her hand. An inexpensive model, a throwback to a more primitive era of technological evolution. Vintage was cheap and always in style.

  Santino knows. Marsha and the Pecos PD could no longer help her. It's only a matter of time before he finds me. A black light flashed, catching her eyes and driving them back to the giant metal canine beside her.

  I'm safe here, she told herself as she stared at the beast. For the next three months, he can't get to me. For the next three months, she'd have a frightening giant metal dog to protect her. It did come with a warning sign.

  Clara dropped her phone on the bed and walked into the bathroom, intent on washing away her fear, worry, and the ill-timed conversation with Marsha.

  She wouldn't let it affect her chances.

  THE DOG WAS GONE WHEN she left the bathroom but the moment she stepped back into her room, another chime sounded for access.

  This is it. I'm about to be fixed.

  Clara ran her fingers through her blow-dried hair, feeling alone now that her companion had once again vanished, and opened the door.

  To him. Her heart skipped a beat.

  A very angry, very cocky looking Cyborg doctor stood on the other side.

  Previous worries drained away as Dr. Canis, once again, took up all the space and all her thoughts. He fit the door frame, shoulder to panel, his pushed back hair touching the top.

  His eyes narrowed on hers and she narrowed hers right back. He eventually looked away and swept his gaze across her room.

  She had neither unpacked nor made a mess. She preferred order and cleanliness since everything else around her seemed to be a chaos that she couldn't control.

  And that chaos extended to the extremely attractive man in front of her. His appearance alone was enough to intimidate her. I shouldn’t be allowed in his presence...

  “Is it time?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yes, follow me.” His voice was clipped and strained and she didn't know why. In fact, she didn't know why he was here at all. Clara thought, hoped, that she would no longer be dealing with him.

  “You're taking me? I thought there'd be another human... an android at least?”

  “No. Only me. Who would want a human doctor anyways? That would be like asking a toddler to finger-paint your house and the androids are dealing with more important things.”

  Wooow. Clara rolled her eyes.

  Only him? It dawned on her. Only him. Only him... A shiver ran through her. Wher
e’s the dog when I need protection?

  She looked at the man walking in front of her, the meticulously arranged dark suit he wore and the obvious musculature that was barely restrained beneath it. Her stomach grew queasy with butterflies as she openly gawked, not even hiding it. The only thing that stopped her from running back to her room was the cold indifference that wafted from him in frigid waves; she was thankful for it because if he were a charmer, she might’ve been lured in.

  Somehow, her skin warmed up despite the rapidly chilling temperature that only fell lower as they walked further into the building.

  They stopped at a door. Only him? The flutter in her belly vanished as reality sank in.

  She was in a daze as he typed in a code and a laser flashed over his face. The door opened shortly after. The medical lab revealed itself in all its pomp and sterile circumstantial glory.

  He was her doctor. The handsome asshole was her fucking doctor.

  Reid led her from the hallway and into a small private space, no different than a number of surgical labs she’d been in before except for the streamlined technology that assembled into one jumble: an expensive room with an extensive history of pain. But all she could really focus on was the cushy cryo-pod that took up a third of the room.

  The pod she was soon to be lying on with him hovering over her.

  Reality was such a nasty bitch.

  Somehow, Clara knew that this moment was going to stay with her for a very, very long time. Even if it weren't a pivotal point where she took control of her life, it would remain erect as a precariously wrong situation. She glanced between the dangerously attractive man and the prominent oval medical bed.

  Her mind wandered to all the wrong places. I’ve always had problems wanting the wrong men.

  She already knew the answer to her question but she asked it anyway. “You're my doctor?”

  He didn't turn to face her. Instead, he pulled off his jacket in such a mechanically indifferent way that she wanted to watch him shed all of his clothes just to see if his control and authority went to all aspects of his life.

  She pressed her legs together and hated herself for it.

  “Yes, Ms. Warren, I am. Does that bother you?”