Defying Death

by Cynthia Sax

  Thud. Flesh hit the wall by her head. An arm slid down the surface, leaving a trail of blood. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The mystery male flung five of the Palavian’s arms against the wall.

  Tifara collected the limbs. “I’m missing one.”

  The sixth arm hit the wall.

  “Thank you.” She struggled with the arms, not knowing what to do with them. The Palavian was clearly dead. She set his limbs in front of his corpse. “No. Forget I said that. I’m not grateful to you in any way. You killed my patient.”

  The newcomer was a dangerous being, violent and scarily strong, but she was too tired to care. “This is a medical bay, not the battlefield.” Exhaustion made her reckless. “We heal patients here. We don’t cut their throats and pull their arms off.”

  “The Palavian touched you.” His voice, a low baritone, curled her toes.

  Her response to him increased her irritation.

  “He didn’t know what he was doing.” She defended her dead patient. “You did.” She attempted to stand. Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. Tifara slumped on the floor, feeling vulnerable and small, and she wrapped her white coat closer to her, drawing strength from the garment. She was a medic. She couldn’t forget that. “You could have subdued my patient without causing him any harm.”

  “I could have,” the male admitted. “I didn’t.”

  She leaned against the bloodstained wall. Why would he kill a being if that weren’t necessary? His thinking wasn’t rational.

  Because he was ill, she realized. She must be ill also. That was the only explanation for her attraction to him. “You’re contagious. What are your symptoms?”

  “My kind doesn’t become ill.”

  Every species was susceptible to some sort of illness. “You know you’re ill. This is a medical bay. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I’m here for you.” Light reflected off sharp metal blades.

  He was here for her. She was a medic. That was the only expertise she had. He must desire treatment, though he clearly couldn’t grasp that.

  “You’re irrational.” Tifara listed his symptoms. “Violent, highly contagious, yet you’re continuing to exude pheromones.” She pushed herself upward, standing. “Come here.” She beckoned toward the sleeping support. “I have to examine you.”

  “You believe I’m violent, irrational and contagious and you wish to examine me?” Incredulity colored his voice. “Did you learn nothing from the Palavian?”

  “I learned the virus you have makes you violent.” Tifara smiled reassuringly and patted the surface of the sleeping support. “Sit here.”

  “I don’t have a virus.” The male stepped forward.

  Her jaw dropped. She’d expected a feverish, wild-eyed, flush-skinned being suffering from welts and boils, visibly ill, on the precipice of dying.

  This male was the image of a warrior in his prime, devastatingly handsome, overwhelmingly virile, and extremely grim.

  He was taller than any human she’d ever met; broad-shouldered, slender-hipped, encased in black body armor. His hair was dark brown, his eyes an even darker shade, his skin golden, his lips firm and flat. There were numbers inked high on his right cheek—J052154.

  She stared at him with awe. “You’re a cyborg.”

  “I’m a cyborg.” He dipped his head, his expression deadly serious.

  “I can’t believe it.” Tifara hurried toward him. “I’ve always wanted to examine one of your kind.” She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. “You look so human.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “You’re huge.” She placed her palm on his chest, wishing it were bare. He shuddered, his reaction captivating her. “Responsive.” She knocked on his body armor. There was no give in his physique. “Solid.”

  “Lethal.” His tone was dry. “Cyborgs are manufactured to kill.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Tifara waved her right hand. If he had planned to kill her, she’d already be dead. “You have a metal frame.” She squeezed one of his armor-clad biceps. “Covered by muscles and skin.” She reached upward and touched his square chin.

  His face was warm. She’d expected it to be cool.

  “You have circuits, as well as veins.” She walked around him. The cyborg’s back was straight, his ass cheeks clenched, his booted feet braced apart. “Processors and a human-like brain.” She pressed on his nape. A compartment opened, revealing an interface. She closed it again, more interested in his organics. “An unrivalled immune system.”

  He stood still, allowing her to examine him. His fingers folded into fists, his knuckles whitening.

  “Your kind doesn’t become ill.” She repeated his earlier words.

  Cyborgs, although half human, didn’t require medics. They were a wonder of genetic engineering. The manufactured warriors self-healed, their nanocybotics repairing any damage they endured, no matter how severe.

  “Yet you’ve infected me.” She faced him once more. “How?”

  “I didn’t infect you.” He scowled.

  He had infected her. Her body ached, yearning for his touch, seeking to be closer to him. “You’re a carrier,” she concluded. “That makes sense. You’re designed to kill.” Tifara drifted her fingers over the daggers strapped to his hips, the sheaths built into his body armor. “If you don’t kill the enemy outright, the virus you exude will complete the task for you.”

  “I’m not a carrier.” His voice deepened even more.

  “I—”

  His arms strapped around her waist. He pulled her toward him, his chest flattening her breasts. The ridge in his body armor pressed against her flight suit-covered mons.

  Her cyborg was long and thick and very, very aroused.

  Which was impossible. He was a machine.

  Tifara gazed upward and her breath hitched.

  All of her knowledge of cyborgs had been obtained from others, from databases of information, mostly text, supplemented by the rare image. She’d heard that the warriors were cold, logical, more robot than human.

  This male, at a distance, appeared to be the same way. He was unaffected, somber, blank, a machine waiting for a command.

  It was only when their gazes met that she saw his true feelings. His eyes blazed with fierce emotion, a seething passion barely contained by his stoic façade.

  The medic in her wondered what would happen when that façade cracked. The female in her wanted to be the one to accomplish that feat.

  She shook her head. It was the virus talking. She had to focus.

  Focus.

  Sweet science, he was hard, like a bar of metal against her.

  “Ahhh…” She licked her bottom lip, wetting that suddenly dry flesh with her tongue. His gaze followed the action, intensifying, showing he was aware of her.

  Tifara’s pussy dripped. J052154’s nostrils flared, his intake of air as silent as he was.

  Cyborgs had enhanced senses. Did he smell her arousal?

  “You’re a machine.” She needed to hear those words, to reassure herself. “You don’t feel desire. I shouldn’t—”

  He slanted his lips over hers, branding her flesh, severing her sentence, and their two worlds collided, truth decimating rumor, cyborg claiming human, male dominating female. The cyborg didn’t merely feel desire. He was desire and she breathed him in, inhaling his unique flavor, the tinge of minerals, of the unknown.

  Their tongues twined and tumbled. Bubbles popped in her mouth. Energy flowed into her, his kiss more powerful than a full rest cycle.

  J052154 cupped the back of her head, not allowing her to escape as he ravished her, stroking between her teeth with a thrilling ferocity, an all-consuming focus.

  She clung to his shoulders, shamelessly rubbing against him, her always-active brain quiet for once, her entire being swept into the kiss. The cyborg sank his fingers into her hair, loosening the curls from the ties holding them back.

  Tifara explored his mouth. It was familiar yet different, human yet not. The tingling spread throu
ghout her body.

  “You’re infecting me.” She pulled away from him.

  “I’m not infecting you.” The kiss hadn’t softened his lips. They remained hard, flat, disapproving.

  “I feel you changing me.” Tifara touched the tip of her tongue with her right index finger.

  “Those are my nanocybotics.”

  He didn’t deny that he was changing her.

  “There was nothing in the databases that indicate a cyborg’s nanocybotics could be transferred to another being.”

  “You’re not another being. You’re my female.”

  She didn’t know what that meant. And he likely didn’t either. He was a warrior, not a medic. “It has to be an airborne virus,” she concluded. “I’ve never reacted to any male this way.”

  An aerosol-based contagion was the only explanation she could think of.

  “The humans controlling you must have been injected with antigens.” The Humanoid Alliance wouldn’t unleash a virus they couldn’t control. “Which means a cure does exist. If I discover what it is, I can stop this, save myself, others.”

  Hundreds, perhaps thousands of beings on the battle station had been exposed to him, had shared the same air as her cyborg.

  “I would never harm you.” He dipped his head and laved her neck with the flat of his tongue, leaving a trail of sensation across her body, sending the sensation he ascribed to his nanocybotics fizzing over her skin.

  “You wouldn’t harm me intentionally.” She pushed him away, unable to think while he was touching her. “The Humanoid Alliance has infected you and you don’t even realize it. Those bastards. And they sent you to find me because, being a medic, I come into contact with rebel warriors located all over the sector.”

  He grasped her wrists, lifted one to his mouth, licked, lifted the other and did the same. “The Humanoid Alliance didn’t send me to find you.”

  Cyborgs didn’t have the ability to lie but they also didn’t operate on their own. They followed commands, all of their orders deadly. They were designed to kill, built to be one of the Humanoid Alliance’s greatest weapons.

  She stepped back, removing her body from his reach. “It doesn’t matter who sent you. Not right now.” The battle station’s Commander would want that information. Tifara didn’t. “Finding a cure is our priority.”

  She grabbed her handheld and scanned him.

  J052154 moved toward her, his gaze fixed on her lips, his gait smooth, soundless.

  Dangerous.

  Did he plan to kiss her again? Tifara backed up slowly, her stomach fluttering with anticipation. “What are you doing?” Her ass smacked against the wall. “I have to find a cure.” Her excuse sound mortifyingly weak.

  “You don’t have to find a cure. There’s no virus.” He loomed over her. An enticing warmth engulfed her.

  She leaned backward, maintaining eye contact with him. “I—”

  He pressed his finger against her lips, his touch immediately stealing her breath and numbing her brain. “Silence.” He cocked his head to the side. “Someone is approaching.” The cyborg gripped the two daggers fastened to his hips, extracted them from their sheaths.

  He looked like he planned to use them.

  Again.

  He also planned to leave.

  Alarm skittered down her spine. “You can’t exit the chamber, not until we determine how the contagion is spread.” She touched his hands and his attention returned to her, his gaze darkening. “I’ll ensure the someone approaching doesn’t enter.”

  His grip on his daggers didn’t loosen.

  Crimson specks decorated the blade. That was the Palavian’s blood, blood he’d spilled. Her panic escalated. “If you stay here, I’ll…” She didn’t know what she’d do.

  “You’ll… what?” His gaze lowered to her lips.

  “I’ll allow you to kiss me again.” The words burst out of her and she stifled a groan. He was a cyborg, one of the best warriors in the universe, and extremely attractive. He likely had females lining up to kiss him. Why would he—

  “Agreed.” He nodded.

  “What?” She stared at him.

  “I’ll stay here and then you’ll allow me to kiss you. But if he enters the chamber, he’s dead,” the cyborg warned.

  “I know that.” She specialized in viruses. The air in the chamber was filled with his aerosols. By entering the space, the male would become infected and, if she didn’t find a cure, he’d die. “Let me handle this.”

  J052154 hesitated for one more heart-pounding moment then nodded, stepping back, back, back until he merged with the shadows, disappearing from view. He continued to exude pheromones at a phenomenal rate, arousing her to the point of distraction.

  Tifara locked the doors and waited.

  The control panel buzzed.

  She ignored it.

  “Open the doors, Medic Tifara,” Kend, one of the medics, demanded.

  Tifara stifled a groan. Since she’d been promoted to head of the team, Kend had devoted himself to making her life miserable, questioning every decision she made, disrespecting her in front of the others.

  She placed her hand on the control panel. “There’s a possible virus in this chamber. Until I clear the space, the doors remain closed.”

  “You believe everything is a virus.” Kend’s tone was condescending. “I watched the Palavian as his fellow warriors strapped him down to the sleeping support. He had a simple torso wound. That was it.”

  He had more than a simple torso wound now. She glanced at puddle of blood surrounding the corpse. “As your superior.” She pulled rank, “I order you to return to your station.”

  Metal clicked and the doors opened. Kend, the ass, walked into the chamber, a smirk on his face. He’d used the override code.

  “That act of disobedience has killed you, Medic Kend.” Tifara shook her head.

  “You see viruses where there are none.” The male rolled his eyes. “You’re irrational and prone to hysterics. The Commander will realize that soon enough.”

  “You don’t feel it?”

  “Feel what?” Kend laughed. “The certainty that you’ll be reporting to me before the solar cycle ends?”

  He didn’t detect the cyborg’s presence. “What does this mean?” She mused out loud. “Is it because you’re male? Are the aerosols bound to his pheromones? Can only a female detect them?”

  The darkness altered around Kend and Tifara’s eyes widened. Oh, no. “You don’t have to hurt him.” She addressed the cyborg in the shadows. “He doesn’t know you’re here and I can heal him, stop the contagion.”

  “Are you talking to yourself now?” Kend grabbed her wrists. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Hands reached out of the shadows, clasped Kend’s skull and twisted, the movement so quick—fingers and features blurred. The snap echoed in the small chamber and the human male fell to the floor.

  “No, no, no.” Tifara rushed forward and pressed her fingers to Kend’s neck. “There’s a pulse, faint, but I might be able to save him.” She turned to grasp a prolonger.

  Warmth splattered over her flight suit. She looked back at her patient. Blood gushed from his neck.

  “What did you do?” She glared into the blackness. “There was no need to slit his throat. Kend hadn’t seen you.”

  The cyborg emerged from the shadows, his expression blank. “It was necessary.”

  “Death is never necessary.” Tifara waved her fists in the air. She had become a medic to stop death, to ensure no being’s life ended as abruptly and as unnecessarily as her mother’s, as her brothers’ had. She was doing a shitty job. “Stop killing beings. I had this handled.”

  Chapter Three

  His little female was unhappy with him. Death caught her waving fists, folding his fingers protectively over hers. He wasn’t certain why.

  The Kend male had touched her. Her. His female. The insolent human had to die.

  The Palavian had dared to do the same, damaging her fragile skin.
Death had lost his temper, something he rarely did, and he had killed him too quickly. The male should have suffered more.

  Death lifted Tifara’s hands and examined her wrists. The red marks had vanished, his nanocybotics healing her.

  “Kend had been exposed to your virus. True.” She continued to talk, her soft voice flowing over him like a splash of freshly spilled blood, fluid and warm. “But I could have saved him and, even if I couldn’t, I would have learned from him.”

  Other beings feared him. Not this female. Even when his actions horrified her, as his killing seemed to do, she didn’t hesitate to tell him what she thought.

  “I would have confirmed how the virus is transmitted.” She held up one finger. “Learned how quickly his symptoms appeared.” She added another. “Though he claimed he couldn’t detect your presence. Why is that?”

  “He’s not my female. That’s why.” Death pulled her closer to him, folding her lush curves into his hard frame. She was covered with fabric, wore a white jacket over a light blue fabric, yet he felt her softness, her sheer femininity. “You’re the only being who can detect my presence.”

  She blinked, his medic appearing adorably flustered. “You don’t know that.”

  “I know that.” He breathed deeply. “I smell your arousal.”

  Pink pigment swept over her beautiful face. “And you didn’t smell anyone else’s arousal. Kend is…” She winced. “Was male. Your aerosols might only be detectable by females. He could have been affected and wasn’t even aware of it.”

  “He wasn’t affected.” Death lowered his head until their lips were a breath apart. Their kiss had been the best moment of his lengthy lifespan. She’d been so sweet, so wet and hot and responsive, embracing him with all the passion in her soft heart.

  And she had promised him another kiss. He hadn’t left the chamber.

  “You don’t…ummm…ahhh…” She shook her head as though to clear it. Her red-tinged curls bounced against her full cheeks. “Aargh.” Tifara pushed on his shoulders. “I can’t think when you’re this near to me and I have to think or beings will die and—”

  Death captured her lips, stopping the flow of words. She mumbled, resisting. He pressed harder and she opened to him, granting him the sanctuary of her mouth. Their tongues touched. She retreated. He pursued. She surrendered once more, flesh sliding along flesh.