by Cynthia Sax
It wasn’t enough. Even now, as he pieced together a spare private viewscreen, modifying it to act as a handheld, his cock was as hard as the metal case in his left palm.
He discarded his body armor during waking shifts. There was no barrier between his shaft and her mouth.
Not that she noticed his readiness.
Seated in the chair beside him, near enough to smell, his female peered down at her screen, lines etched between her finely arched eyebrows, her expression adorably intense. An opened nutrition bar was set on the console before her. He’d carefully cut it into squares, allowing her to eat while working.
“If I had the scans I performed on myself before I met you.” She popped a square into her mouth and chewed. “I could determine how your nanocybotics have changed my genetic material.”
Death grunted. He wasn’t accessing the battle station’s systems.
Menace had already broken the blocks he’d put on their communication lines once. Opening them might allow the warrior to break them again, giving him their location.
“I’m mutating, Death.” Tifara sighed. “I’m no longer human.”
She wasn’t a cyborg either. Her emotion system was too active.
Death’s processors advised him to keep that observation to himself.
“All I’d require is a couple of moments in the battle station’s systems. I could retrieve my files and have all of the information I needed.”
It would take him even less time. He was a cyborg. He could enter and exit the systems before the humans even knew he was there.
“You want to scan the battle station for heat signatures also.” His processors weren’t malfunctioning. He knew she desired more than her files.
“That could be done while I retrieve the files. I could then be assured every being there is healthy.” She widened her eyes. “I worry about them.”
Fraggin’ hole. She did worry, mumbling in her sleep about outbreaks and death, her lush body trembling with fear. Her emotional damage tortured him.
The battle station continued to exist. Death had verified that at sunrise.
It had been many planet rotations since he’d taken her from her home. The cyborgs wouldn’t expect him to access the battle station’s systems.
He set aside the partially assembled private viewscreen. “You require a heat signature scan of the battle station, your medical files and that’s it?”
“Yes.” She bounced out of her seat, her white coat flowing around her, her long brown hair tinged with fire. “And maybe the files of a few other females. For reference. And if there are any updates on my patients.” She stood by his side, her eyes glittering with excitement. “And find out who has taken my position. And—”
“Enough.” His tone was stern, his heart light. His human expected him to give her the universe.
He’d gather as much information for her as he could. Death placed his hands on the ship’s panel and accessed the human’s communication channels. He couldn’t stay in the system for very long.
It took several moments to hide his communications trail. He wasn’t taking any chances. They would land on Carinae E in less than two planet rotations and he didn’t want any being to track them to their present location.
Satisfied that he’d concealed their position, Death slipped into the battle station’s system and started the heat signature scan of the battle station. He then located the medic database and transferred all of it.
“Do you need help?” Tifara’s right foot tapped on the floor tiles, his female dancing with impatience. “I have the authorization codes.” Her lips twisted. “If they haven’t changed them.”
The battle station scan ended. He captured that information also.
“They should change them.” His little medic worried about the authorization codes no cyborg would ever require. “That’s protocol when a key staff member is abducted. Not that they know I’ve been abducted but I am missing and—”
“The information has been relayed.” He exited the system. “You can suck my cock now.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. Her face turned red. “No. I didn’t agree to that.”
But she wasn’t adverse to it. Death breathed deeply. Her musk had intensified. He pushed his chair back from the console, spread his legs, and gazed at her expectantly.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He waited. His female fussed, putting up the pretense of outrage and refusal, but she liked sucking his cock. He certainly liked having his cock sucked.
“You assume too much, warrior.” She kneeled before him, resting her plump ass on her boot-clad heels. “I’m not your sex slave.”
“I agree.” He burrowed his hands into her hair, twisting her curls around his fingers, and pulled her forward. “You’re my medic and I’m your most important patient. You should taste me, ensure I’m not damaged.”
“You’re a cyborg.” She nuzzled against his tip and he sucked in his breath, her softness delighting him. “You self-heal. You don’t require a medic.”
“Am I a cyborg?” He gazed at her, his eyelids partially lowered. “You’re no longer human. Could you have affected me as I affected you?”
She had affected him. He was stronger, faster, and he craved her constantly, more than energy inputs, more than anything.
But he was still a cyborg.
“Hmmm…” His Tifara tilted her head, considering his words, as she nibbled on his rim, each exciting nip followed by a soothing lick of her tongue. His female’s fascination with organic forms, his in particular, had helped hone her breeding skills. She experimented on his cock, laving here and pinching there, logging the results in that clever brain of hers.
Death gritted his teeth and endured, hiding his emotions under a stoic mask.
“Has my taste varied, my little medic?” He tugged on her hair, forcing her mouth over him, preventing her from answering his question.
She’d record the results of her testing in her private viewscreen, tracking his flavor as she tracked everything else. He liked that she observed him that closely.
She slid her lips down, down, down his shaft. Her wet heat engulfed him, wrapping his flesh in a sensual embrace.
A rumble of happiness rolled up his chest. If his brethren knew how good a female’s mouth felt, neither the cyborg council nor the Humanoid Alliance could restrain them. Every humanoid-habitable planet would be scoured by warriors seeking their mates.
As his tip tapped the back of her throat, her rounded chin brushed his balls in the most delicate of caresses. Death shuddered, unable to conceal the effect she had on him.
She didn’t appear to notice, her gaze fixed on his cock. He was too large for her to take completely. Some of his shaft was left bare. His resourceful female covered this length with her pale fingers.
His circuits buzzed, energy and arousal flowing over him. “You’ll see a spike in my heart rate,” he droned. His heart beat hard against his frame.
She gazed up at him, her brown eyes glittering. His little female liked it when he discussed medical terms with her.
A sensitive human male might wonder if her fascination with him was purely scientific, if she truly was pleasuring him for the betterment of the universe.
Death didn’t care why her tongue cradled his cock. She’d claimed him. In time, perhaps planet rotations, perhaps solar cycles, she’d grow to care for him, to love him.
For now, their physical connection was enough.
His Tifara pulled her head back, then sank back down on him, pulled her head back, sank back down on him. He guided her up and down his cock, controlling the pace with his grip on her hair.
It was a surreal experience, like fighting the fiercest battle of his existence, using a cloud as a weapon. His need was great. Her curls were wondrously soft. She was so delicate, fragile. To clasp her harder would cause her damage.
But fraggin’ hole, he wanted more. Death gritted his teeth and rocked into her mouth. Her musk filled his nostrils, his throat, his lu
ngs, his soul. The scent had changed, his ownership stamped on even this part of her.
He liked that. Death plunged his shaft between her pink lips again and again, his desire savage, wild, primitive. She took everything he gave her and more, sucking, licking, her cheeks indented around him, her face flushing. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Her damp curls clung to his fingers.
She was a being of passion and emotion, the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, more glorious than a sunset over a battlefield.
And she belonged to him.
Pride meshed with arousal. Her teeth skimmed his shaft and he lost control, bellowing his release, all of the tension flowing through his cock into her mouth. She swallowed, her throat convulsing and she screamed around him, her lush curves shaking.
Death filled her mouth one, two, three, four times, and his greedy little female drank him down, finding her own release with every gulp. Colors tinted his vision system, pinks and yellows brightening his world. Joy blossomed within his chest.
As Tifara laved his cock clean, she looked up at him, speculation in her intelligent eyes. His female wanted to ask him something. Her beautiful face was easy to read.
He waited, stroking her hair, savoring the moment, the feeling of bliss
She released his cock with a juicy pop and rested her chin on his right thigh. “You usually come quietly when I suck you off.” His observant medic had noticed his lapse of control. “This time, you roared.”
He had put her in peril with that roar. Death glanced at the main viewscreen, ensuring the communication channels were closed. He’d been careless.
“Why did you roar, Death?”
Fraggin’ hole. He recognized that stubborn set of her jaw. His Tifara wouldn’t let the topic go. She’d push and pry until he told her.
“I was weak.” His gaze slid from hers.
“Showing emotion isn’t weakness.”
She didn’t understand. “The enemy, if they know you care for something, someone, will use that information. They’ll damage that being to damage you.” And he couldn’t allow that.
“You care for me?” His Tifara sounded surprised.
She shouldn’t be. He lived, breathed, would die for her. Death grasped her face, gazed into her eyes, showing her everything he couldn’t say. She was his sunrise and his sunset, the sheath to his dagger, the heart within his metal frame. He’d left everything and everyone for her and he’d do that again, simply if she asked him.
She swallowed hard. “Yes, well, you shouldn’t be scared to express how you feel. I don’t know what happened in the past but—”
“You’re correct. You don’t know.” In many ways, his female was an innocent, trusting an uncaring universe, believing that beings deserved to be saved.
She placed her hands over his. “I’ll never know if you don’t tell me.”
Words weren’t his strength. Death had the images in his processors. He could replay them for her. His gaze lingered on the upward curve of her lips. But the harshness of the footage might damage her, might steal her smile forever. He couldn’t live with himself if that happened.
“A female offspring died because I showed emotion.” There. He had said it.
“She died because you frowned?” His female wasn’t satisfied with his curt answer.
“I smiled.” He gave her more.
“You smiled?” She stared at him. “You? Constantly frowning you?”
“Yes.” It was a malfunction in his control system.
“Why?”
She wanted to know and he wanted to tell her, to tell some being. The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“I was manufactured and trained in a Humanoid Alliance compound on Erinome V.”
“I’m familiar with the planet.” Tifara nodded.
“Every sunrise, when we arrived at the far fighting ring for training, a small Erinomean female offspring would be waiting for us. She’d stick one of her arms through a gap in the exterior wall, holding out a piece of a nutrition bar.”
Death pictured the small, shy smile on the offspring’s red-scaled face, how she had glowed with caring as he approached her. He remembered the joy that had given him. He’d felt strong, powerful, special.
“The child offered you nutrition?”
“It was her species’ method of greeting unknown beings.” She hadn’t realized cyborgs weren’t considered beings. The offspring hadn’t seen him as an unfeeling weapon of war. She’d viewed him as a male. “We couldn’t accept the pieces of nutrition bar or acknowledge her. To do so would have meant our deaths.”
“Because you had to follow orders. You couldn’t act on your own.”
“Yes.”
“Those Humanoid Alliance bastards.”
His female’s outrage on his behalf warmed his chest. “The offspring appeared every sunrise, offering us new pieces of nutrition bars.” It was the highlight of his planet rotation. “She became more and more frustrated that we didn’t acknowledge her.”
Tifara climbed onto his lap and curled up close to him. “That must have been tough—seeing her lose hope and not being able to do anything to stop it.”
“It…saddened me.” It took Death effort to admit that. He’d spent a lifespan concealing his emotions, ensuring no one else would ever be damaged by them.
But they were alone, the ship was a secure location, and she was his female. He’d attempted to hide his emotions during their breeding sessions and had failed.
Death would trust her with this.
“I was selfish, unable to give up the joy her acts of kindness gave me.” Shame shrouded his soul. “When I thought I was unobserved, I smiled at her.”
“The trainers saw that smile.”
“No. If they had seen my smile, I would have been decommissioned.” They would have salvaged his body for parts while he remained alive, killing him slowly, slice by slice. “But they saw the offspring’s reaction.” She had laughed, the happiness in her yellow slit eyes lighting her round face.
“They killed her?” Tifara placed her hands on his. Her skin was warm and soft and comforting, allowing him to manage his emotions.
“They reprimanded me. I was whipped. They stripped all of the flesh off my back, until my frame was exposed.” That had hurt much less than the rest of the reprimand.
“They punished you for that smile and the next sunrise, you didn’t acknowledge the little girl.”
“The next sunrise, we arrived at the fighting ring. There was a square of nutrition bar in her hand.” A fierce happiness had filled him. The whipping was worth it, he thought, if he could continue to see those chubby fingers, her sweet face. “But—”
The words stuck in his throat.
“But?” His female tensed.
“The arm wasn’t attached to a body.” His voice broke, the horror of that realization washing over him yet again. It hadn’t been a clean cut. The wound had been ragged, ligaments torn, as though they had pulled her arms out of her small form.
“No.” Tifara whimpered. “They couldn’t have hurt her. She was a child.”
“I hurt her.” He wouldn’t relay the blame. “I killed her because I couldn’t control my emotions, because I put my wants above her safety, because I gave my enemies the means with which to damage me.”
“You smiled.” She clutched his shoulders, her eyes shining with sympathy. “You—”
“I showed them how much I cared.” He wouldn’t allow her to make excuses for him. “They knew she was my weakness and killed her to get to me.”
His enemies could strike at Tifara the same way. Death’s stomach twisted, the guilt of the past fusing with his fear for the future.
No being could ever know how he felt about her.
He strapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
She rested her cheek on his chest. Moments passed. She didn’t speak. That was unusual for his normally talkative female.
Death listened to her breathe, gazed at her curls, the red remi
nding him of the Erinomean offspring’s scaled skin. He wouldn’t allow anyone to damage his female.
“You did nothing wrong,” she mumbled, breaking the silence. “Those trainers killed her. You didn’t.”
“I knew the rules. I knew there would be repercussions.”
“For you. Not her.”
Death said nothing. She was right. He didn’t know they would kill the little female.
“They killed her because you smiled.” She sighed. “It’s no wonder you’re so serious.”
“I’m grim as fuck.” As soon as he said those words, Death knew he’d made a mistake, which was unlike him. He rarely made mistakes.
“You are grim as fuck.” Tifara’s laughter was tinged with sadness. “As fuck—that is one of my friend’s favorite expressions. Or rather, it was one of her favorite expressions,” she amended. “Safyre died on Tau Ceti.”
Safyre, Crash’s female, hadn’t died on Tau Ceti. She was alive. That was where Death had picked up that uniquely human expression.
But Tifara could never communicate with her friend, could never meet with her.
Crash was now Death’s enemy. Any interaction would result in his capture and death.
Which was kinder—allowing his female to believe her friend was dead or relaying that Safyre was alive but she could never speak to her again?
“I’ve lost so many beings.” Sadness edged his female’s words.
He’d caused her to lose Safyre’s friendship, had inflicted damage on another being he cared for. Guilt knotted his stomach.
“You have, too.” Tifara linked her fingers with his. “But we both remain here. We have a destiny, Death. There’s a reason why we’re alive.”
They had a destiny, one shared fate.
“You have to believe that,” she insisted.
Death kissed her forehead. He wanted to believe.
He truly did.
Chapter Eight
Tifara was a medic. She was searching for the cure for a brand new strain of virus. It wasn’t as contagious as she first thought. Only one being on the battle station had an elevated temperature—the Commander, and Death insisted he hadn’t shared the same space with her. The virus must be transferred only by direct contact, though that was merely a theory. Her cyborg had killed every human or humanoid he’d touched.