Defying Death

by Cynthia Sax

  “She’s our target, ass.” The other cyborg didn’t appear concerned. “It doesn’t matter if she knows.”

  “She’s not any warrior’s target.” Death braced his booted feet apart. “She’s my female and you will treat her with respect.”

  Fuck, he was dominant. Tifara gazed at him, thrillingly aroused.

  “We meant no disrespect, warrior.” The brown-eyed cyborg shook his head. “And we don’t want to battle you. Allow us to complete our mission. Give up the female temporarily and then petition the council to get her back.”

  “I’m not a possession,” she yelled, waving her daggers. “You can’t pass me around like an inanimate object.”

  “We realize you’re not a possession.” The blue-eyed cyborg’s voice was strained. “Why do females keep telling us that?” He glanced at his brethren.

  The male shrugged. “I can’t process why.”

  “Tifara, get behind me.” Death shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze fixed on his opponents. “Allow me to take care of this.”

  “Are you going to take care of us, J-model?” The blue-eyed cyborg raised his eyebrows. “Is your vision system faulty? There are two of us and one of you.”

  “There are two of us.” Tifara gripped her daggers tighter. “I’m fighting the dumb one.”

  The two cyborgs looked at each other.

  “She means you, ass,” the blue-eyed male declared.

  “I meant you,” she clarified.

  The brown-eyed male smiled.

  “There will be no fighting for you, female.” Death sheathed his daggers, wrapped his big arms around her waist, took three long strides away from the fighting zone, and set her down on the sand. “You’re a fragile human. They’re cyborgs. They’ll kill you before you realize they’re attacking.”

  “We would never intentionally damage a precious human female, J-Model.” The brown-eyed male appeared insulted by that implication.

  Cyborgs couldn’t lie. A plan formed in Tifara’s mind. “You might not.” Her gaze slid to the blue-eyed male. “But he would.”

  “What?” The warrior jerked his head back. “I would die before I damaged a female.”

  Tifara met Death’s gaze. A small smile curled her lips.

  “I know what you’re processing, my clever female.” His eyes gleamed with respect. “I won’t allow it. This is my battle.”

  “It’s his battle to lose.” The brown-eyed cyborg calmly spun his daggers. “Stand back, little human. We won’t humiliate your male too much.”

  “Not too much.” The blue-eyed cyborg laughed, bumping shoulders with his brethren. “The battle will end when he begs for mercy.”

  Tifara’s stomach twisted. It would be a battle to the death. Her proud warrior would never beg any being for anything.

  “Will you still respect him when he’s on his knees, female?”

  “Do not talk to her,” Death bellowed, rushing forward at full cyborg speed. Tifara struggled to track his movements. Her male was armed and very angry.

  It was fight time. She followed as quickly as she could.

  The blue-eyed male flipped Death over. Death’s daggers raked along his opponent’s arms, shredding the armor and flaking the metal off the blades. He tossed them to the side and grasped a fresh pair.

  The brown-eyed male lunged at him. Death rolled, taking the warrior with him. Deep gashes appeared in her male’s chest armor.

  She finally arrived at the original location, only to find them battling across the flat expanse of sand. Tifara turned and raced toward them, her muscles screaming a protest, her lungs aching.

  Death kicked the brown-eyed cyborg in the stomach, driving him backward. The cyborg skidded along the sand. The blue-eyed cyborg raced forward. Daggers slashed through the air. Death blocked the attacks. Each blow on his arms chipped away at his armor. One landed on his hand, slicing through the skin to his metal frame. Blood squirted.

  Tifara was a medic. She thought herself immune to queasiness but the sight of her male’s blood made her stomach heave and her breath quicken.

  The brown-eyed cyborg joined the assault. Arms blurred. They moved farther and farther from her.

  She suspected that was intentional. Her cyborg was protecting her, even as he fought for his life. The armor fell off his right arm. He continued to block with it. Daggers sliced away chunks of skin and flesh, exposing more of his frame.

  The pain must have been excruciating yet he didn’t make a sound, his lips pressed in a grim white line. He lowered and spun, his right leg extended. The blue-eyed cyborg fell. The other cyborg jumped and kicked.

  Death flew through the air, landed with an oomph against a wall of rock, his body slamming against it with a force that would have broken a human. Her male shook it off and leapt to his feet.

  The two cyborgs raced toward him, their dagger blades crimson, their attack synchronized. Death faced four daggers with only two hands to defend himself. He ducked and dodged. They nicked his face, neck, shredded his chest armor.

  Her cyborg was trapped between his opponents and the rock. He couldn’t escape them but he also couldn’t escape her.

  Tifara howled with outrage and pelted toward the blue-eyed cyborg. She propelled herself into the air as high as her lush body allowed, and landed on his back. “Leave him alone.” She clung to his shoulders.

  The cyborg grunted. He shrugged, trying to dislodge her.

  “Tifara, get off him,” Death roared.

  Tifara ignored his order. Blood streamed down Death’s beautiful face. She couldn’t allow him to be hurt, to be killed.

  The dagger in her right hand shook. She’d spent her lifespan healing beings, had never intentionally hurt someone.

  Death’s chest armor fell off, exposing his skin, his stomach, his heart.

  She couldn’t watch him die. She wouldn’t survive that. Tifara lifted the dagger and plunged it into the blue-eyed cyborg’s neck.

  “Fraggin’ hole,” the warrior yelled.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, extracting the blade from his flesh. Blood arced in the air, spraying both of them. “You made me do this.”

  He didn’t back away from Death.

  She stabbed him again.

  The cyborg howled with pain.

  “Sorry,” Tifara whispered.

  “Tifara, get away from him.” Death’s voice was edged with panic. “Please. You’ve done enough.”

  She hadn’t done enough. Her male’s chest was crisscrossed with deep wounds. Blood soaked the sand around him. He’d die and she couldn’t live without him.

  “I won’t get away from him, not until you’re safe.” She drove the dagger into the blue-eyed cyborg’s neck a third time. “I love you, Death. I won’t stand by and watch them kill you.”

  “I’ll surrender, my female.” His eyes were wild as he defended himself. “I’ll allow them to take you, to—”

  “Frag no,” a familiar voice boomed behind them. “You’re not surrendering.”

  She looked over her shoulder. Menace rushed forward, his daggers drawn. The brown-eyed cyborg turned.

  It was two J model cyborgs against two K model cyborgs but her cyborg was injured. Tifara continued to stab the blue-eyed warrior, apologizing after every blow.

  A high pitched battle cry filled the air. Ada-971 jumped onto the other cyborg’s back. The clone female didn’t hesitate, plunging both of her daggers into his neck.

  The brown-eyed cyborg howled.

  “Ada-971.” It was Menace’s turn to bellow.

  “Can’t hurt her.” Tifara panted. “Made a vow.”

  The blue-eyed cyborg cursed.

  Bound by his vow, the warrior was at a severe disadvantage. He couldn’t turn to avoid strikes or he risked exposing her to harm. He couldn’t roll or duck. He was as trapped as Death was.

  Her male sliced the cyborg’s thighs, inflicting wounds deep enough to pierce his armor. The cyborg staggered. Death slashed both of his cheeks.

 
The bastard wouldn’t go down.

  Tifara jabbed his neck. His armor was slick with blood. The scent hung in the air.

  “I have this, female.” Death’s voice was gruff. “Move away from him.”

  “We have this,” she corrected. “And I won’t move away until he surrenders. You love me. I love you. We’re doing this together.”

  “This isn’t a fair battle,” the blue-eyed cyborg grumbled.

  “And two against one is a fair battle?” She stabbed him again for that idiocy.

  “Ass,” the cyborg bellowed.

  “We’ve been outmaneuvered, Thrasher,” the brown-eyed cyborg responded. “If we continue, someone will die.”

  “That someone won’t be my female.” Death dragged his blades across Thrasher’s chest, peeling the blue-eyed cyborg’s armor away to emphasize his point.

  “It won’t be my female either,” Menace declared.

  Tifara couldn’t see what Menace did but his actions must have caused pain. The brown-eyed cyborg howled.

  “Surrender, ass, before they damage you further,” Thrasher advised, falling to his knees on the sand, the impact jolting Tifara against his back.

  “My name is Ace.” The brown-eyed cyborg sounded weary. “I surrender but only to spare your females possible damage.”

  “It will spare you possible damage. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Tifara dismounted. Her legs wobbled.

  Death hastened to her side, hooking his arm around her. He was crimson from his hair to his big boots. Too much of his frame shone through his tattered skin, the sun reflecting off the metal.

  “I’m staying with my cyborg.” She gazed up at what was left of his handsome face. “The cyborg I love.” She’d said the words once. Saying them again wouldn’t make a difference.

  Yet they did. A hint of a smile ghosted across Death’s lips.

  “I’m staying with my cyborg also,” Ada-971 announced. “My sister ascended during the darkness. We returned her empty shell to the ground this sunrise. Lifespans are too short to worry about what is or isn’t forbidden.”

  “I don’t know who the frag you are,” Thrasher, the blue-eyed cyborg, mumbled. “Our mission was to retrieve the medic. That’s it.”

  “You won’t be retrieving this medic.” Tifara examined Death’s wounds. They had started to heal. “Do you have pain inhibitors aboard your ship?”

  “Not enough.” Thrasher rubbed his bloody neck.

  She’d caused his pain and she felt guilt, but only a tinge of the emotion. Death was alive because of the wounds she’d inflicted. They remained together because of her violent actions.

  She was more than a medic. She was a warrior female and she’d protected her male this planet rotation.

  “I’m retrieving them,” she announced.

  “No, you’re not.” Death scooped her into his arms. “You smell like him.” He dipped his head toward Thrasher. “It’s messing with my processors. I have to clean you.”

  She patted his chest armor. “You can clean me after I inject you with pain inhibitors.”

  Her cyborg met her gaze. “Either I clean you or I kill him. It’s your choice, female.”

  He was a stubborn male and, judging by his expression, he was deadly serious. Tifara sighed. “Clean me quickly.”

  Healing others would have to wait.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tifara was covered with blood, her flight suit was torn and her hair defied gravity, yet she was the most beautiful being Death had ever seen. He sat on a boulder, setting her on his lap, while Ace and Thrasher ran to retrieve the cleaning cloths.

  The two warriors bumped against each other. Their touches weren’t accidental. Death didn’t understand their need for physical connection, they were two males, but he also didn’t understand what had occurred this planet rotation.

  His female, a being dedicated to repairing the damaged, had attacked a warrior. She’d inflicted pain upon another with her tiny hands. He threaded his fingers between hers. She’d taken that extreme action, an action she found repugnant, to save his life.

  Because she loved him.

  When he’d bred with her, he’d thought he’d known the pinnacle of happiness, a bliss that could never be rivaled. But then, in battle, she’d said those three words to him and she’d proven him wrong yet again. His heart had pounded against his metal frame. His circuits had surged with energy. His processes had nearly shut down.

  This wonderful, clever, caring human female loved him. Him. A grim-as-fuck cyborg. A male created to kill. She’d risked her precious lifespan, put her fragile human body in peril, to protect him.

  “You’ll never do that again.” His voice was gruff with emotion. “When I tell you a battle is mine, you’ll allow me to fight it. Alone.”

  He couldn’t lose her. It would destroy him.

  “No.” She lifted her chin.

  “No?”

  “You’re no longer alone, Death.” She lifted their linked hands and kissed the torn skin around his knuckles. “Your battles aren’t yours. They’re ours.”

  “And by ours, she means yours, hers, mine, my female’s,” Menace called from the boulder he’d claimed. Ada-971 was on his lap. “Mayhem’s also, if he ever frees himself.” His lips quirked upward. “He’ll be unhappy he missed this battle.”

  “There will be another one.”

  Ace and Thrasher wouldn’t be the last warriors the cyborg council sent after them. And the next warriors might not vow to safeguard the females.

  Death drew Tifara closer to him.

  The K models returned. “Cleaning cloths.” Thrasher tossed him one. “And pain inhibitors.” He held up the injector guns.

  “Inject yourselves first.” Death snapped the cloth, refreshing it.

  “Death—”

  “They’re K models.” He told his female, brushing her hair back.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Thrasher drew himself up to his full height. “Our pain tolerance is higher than yours, J model.”

  Death shrugged and dabbed the cloth around Tifara’s sparkling brown eyes.

  “He’s deliberately provoking you, genius.” Ace pushed his friend. “He knows there aren’t enough pain inhibitors for all four of us.”

  “There are because I don’t need any.”

  The two warriors argued. Death carefully cleaned his female’s face, removing his rival’s blood, the repellent scent of another male. She was his. She should only smell like him. He licked all of the skin he cleaned, marking her, covering her with his nanocybotics, ensuring she was whole and healthy.

  “I should be cleaning you also.” She examined him, prodding one of the deeper wounds on his chest, and he gritted his teeth, agony shooting across his torso. “You’re already healing. Once we determine the long term impact of nanocybotic use on humans, we could modify them, use them to heal others.”

  Once we uncover… Death snapped the cleaning cloth, renewing it. His little medic thought of them as a team. He wrapped the cleaning cloth around strands of her hair, removing the drying blood.

  She chattered about theories and the experiments she wanted to perform. Death listened, silently caring for her, contentment shrouding his soul.

  The sun was high in the sky, beating down on his head and shoulders. His female was in his lap. He was free and alive.

  And loved.

  He hugged that revelation close to his heart. There was no more fortunate warrior in the universe than he was right now.

  The happiness wouldn’t last. He’d stolen his joy, had taken these moments without gaining permission first, defying the cyborg council, and he would pay for that crime but he didn’t regret his actions.

  She loved him.

  Tifara’s hands danced in the air as she listed the anomalies in her genes. A small smile curved her lips. Her gaze was faraway, lost in the medical research she treasured.

  His little medic wasn’t designed for the harsh reality of a lifespan spent evading warriors, movin
g from planet to planet, always being wary, forever being cognizant of their surroundings.

  She trusted too easily, cared too much.

  And he would never want her to change.

  Having cleaned all of her exposed skin, Death unfastened her flight suit and slid his hands under the fabric.

  Tifara trembled. “Death.” Her nipples tightened and her musky scent intensified. “Not here.” Her face turned pink.

  “You can suck my cock later, female,” he drawled. “I’m cleaning you now.”

  “I don’t want to suck your cock.” The glimmer in her eyes belied her words. “And even if I did, you’re injured.”

  “I’m not that injured.” All of his wounds had closed. The pain had faded. And he was as hard as the rock they sat on.

  Death teased her with his fingers and with the cleaning cloth, savoring her softness, her curves. He’d been a selfish cyborg when he’d taken her from the battle station but she’d changed him. Now, he acted only for her, processed only her.

  He was putting her at risk, separating her from other beings, from her friend, from warriors who could protect her. When the next battle occurred, and it would occur, she wouldn’t listen to him. She’d fight by his side.

  And she’d die.

  Death couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He knew what he had to do.

  But first, he’d enjoy a couple more stolen moments with her. Death cleaned Tifara as much as he could without undressing her, then he swung her over his shoulder, biting back the pain.

  “Put me down.” She smacked his back. “Where are we going?”

  “To our ship. I have to breed with you.”

  “What happened to later?”

  “Later is now.” He couldn’t wait.

  “But-but the pain inhibitors.” Tifara waved at the K model cyborgs.

  “I don’t want them.” They suppressed both pain and pleasure. He wanted to feel everything. “You’re my female. Repair me with the nanocybotics inside you.”

  “They are bubbling on my tongue.” Intrigue edged his little medic’s voice. “But you have nanocybotics also. Why would giving you more speed the process?”