The Cyborg Bounty Hunter: In the Stars Romance

by Miranda Martin

  “No.” Cole’s tongue clicks in his mouth. “But we’ll be fine. Though I think it would be a good idea for you to...” He gives me a once-over, seeking something in my appearance. Or trying to figure out how to express what he means.

  I look down and suddenly know what he means. These ratty old clothes won’t do for a place like the Blue Borealis. “Oh. Yeah. I have to change.”

  My eyes meet his again, and my cheeks burn. Warmth, subdued and syrupy like molasses spilling, builds in my chest and travels down my body. Cole inspecting me, taking in the shape of my body under my form-fitting clothes and assessing me with that discerning gaze of his, sends another tingle through me.

  “Let me go and do that so we can get the passes.”

  “Actually...” Cole trails off, deep in thought. “Maybe it’s better for me to run that errand myself while you get changed. Do you need anything or is that bag of yours carrying a look for every occasion?”

  Demure all of a sudden, I make my eyes heavy-lidded on purpose. My eyelashes flutter, batting at him slowly and deliberately. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Yeah, yeah, I’m going there. It might seem cheap, but flirting with Cole makes me come alive again. I like that I can’t pick up on his exact response to me—it keeps me guessing. It’s a distraction, addictive, and deliriously fun. I mean, I couldn’t possibly be developing any actual feelings for a guy who only a couple of days ago snatched me off the platform and secluded me, right?

  But I can enjoy some lighthearted banter with him. It won’t kill me or him, and it might keep our senses and instincts sharper.

  I file into the room before Cole can reply with words and not just the sort of half-smirk, half-swallow routine that he repeated over and over while the silence thickened the air around us. Let him chew on that.

  And isn’t it curious how I don’t have to use neuratelepathy to stick to his circuits?

  After rummaging through my bag for several minutes, searching for the outfit I have in mind, I fish out the wig, silver and sly, as well as my pigmatint and my slinky dress. Cole’s absence means I have some time to devote to my appearance, after all. I chuck the wig I have on now in with the rest of my belongings from the hidden compartment at the rental. In a flash, I peel off my clothes.

  The figure-hugging dress I chose slides over my skin smooth as a kiss. I complete the look with my pixie-cut wig, a perfect selection to go with my attire: long tresses won’t do for such a show-stopping gown. Expertly, I apply the pigmatint to my skin, highlighting my eyes with neon and lining my lids until they pop. The ice blue gradient stretches to a bold raspberry tint that has my eyes glittering.

  The sound of the vessel’s door grinding open yanks me back to the here and now. One last look confirms what I already know: Cole is going to love this. I shimmy down the hall, ready for his evaluation.

  He stops dead when he catches sight of me. “How long was I gone?”

  I only stare at him, not willing to dignify that with a response that would only dilute the effect I was going for. I wait for his gaze to travel down my body, a surveyor charting unknown, virgin land. These thoughts swirl in my mind, not idly but sharp in focus, floating to the center, holding me captive.

  Cole doesn’t look away from my face, his eyes boring into mine with the weight of that intensity that dwells between us, tugs, pulls, enchants. I wait, certain that his next words are slow to come because they’ll pass through his lips like a sin, intense and tantalizing.

  “You look...” He shoots me a brief, genuine, soul-touching smile, and as quickly as it came, it’s gone, giving way to his signature semi-smirk, which errs to the side of not-so-smug this time. “You look great.”

  “Thank you,” I say with an air of caution.

  The perfect gentleman.

  I wish I had the nerve to tell him that I’m starting to wish that he doesn’t act like that as often.

  15 Cole

  Violet, magenta, orange, and vermillion illuminate the dim lounge. It reminds me of a white dwarf star at dusk. The colors blend and paint the patrons’ faces in a rainbow of shades. Most of the clientele twirl around the dance floor with partners in hand as remixed mainstream galactic music fills the large room. Above us, dancers hang in unbreakable glass boxes, like tasteful ceiling lamps. The colored lights hit their crystal cases and refract onto their nimble bodies.

  With my hand resting on Lily’s back, we push through the crowds. Almost all of them wear a counter-imperial style. Minimalist embellishments with ornate cuts and an overall fitted appearance. It was the hot style as well as the most expensive since designers opted for NuTech fibers in order to stay modern.

  I nervously smooth my outdated blazer. “Do you think I look all right?” I whisper in Lily’s ear. Her gorgeous neon eyes shatter me. She had brought me to my knees with her beauty back in the ship, and it had taken everything in me to keep myself at bay. If I had been a lesser man, I wouldn’t have allowed her to leave my chamber for the rest of the night.

  “You look great.” She laughs at me—teasing almost.

  A tingle creeps up my spine, sending a chill throughout my being. “Thank you.” I barely manage to get the words out as I push a bit of hair that flopped on my face, obscuring my vision. I smooth my hair, making sure every inky black strand stays in place.

  “Let’s keep moving,” she instructs, and I nod my agreement. She grabs the hand I have on her lower back and interlocks our fingers. I know she’s just doing it to ensure we don’t get separated, but the gesture stops my breath. My lungs fill with nervous attraction that inflates until the pressure is pushing against every bone in my ribcage.

  The warmth of her palm. The smooth curve of her back. The innocent glimmer in her eye. I can’t shake any of it from my head. Lily is a sight to behold. A nightlife masterpiece that has me short-circuiting. The readings on my own vitals are jumping around the graphs.

  I drag a hand down my face. I need to get control of myself. This isn’t the time or the place to be drooling over Lily—my new partner. We’re here to find Donner, and that’s it.

  “Excuse me,” says a droid as it hovers around us. Despite its mechanical appearance, a formal cocktail dress adorns its figure. I can’t help but stare as it whirrs past us with a tray of Verna pearl-lined Champagne flutes.

  “Even the droid servers clean up well,” I say.

  Lily rolls her eyes at me. “Eye on the target.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You just need to loosen up.” She gives my hand a shake. “Let’s move to the dance floor for a bit. It won’t throw anything off, and we’ll be able to survey the lounge better from a central point.”

  This is torture. Given how many beats per minute my heart is clocking, I should say no. But I can’t resist her. I don’t have it in me to deny her something as innocent as a dance. And the only reason I have to refuse is due to my own actions and thoughts. I’ve been acting like an adolescent animal, admiring and appraising her like she’s prey.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She winks at me moments before she takes a step toward the dance floor.

  My cock stiffens, straining against my pants. “All right.” I give in as her wink replays over and over in my mind. There’s a noticeable twitch between my legs. It would have taken a man made completely of Syntax-Metal to deny the chance of taking her, and even then, I’m not so sure he would be able to resist her.

  We squeeze into a spot, and the crushing proximity of the others forces our bodies to touch in rather intimate angles. Her scent gives rise to more than just the obvious. She smells of Jupiter Rose and stardust mixed with her own, natural smell. She’s so close that when I breathe in, flecks of her perfume line my tongue. I can almost taste her.

  Then there’s the feeling of her pressing against me. The seamless fit of our bodies. Raw. Hot. It’s almost too perfect. I can even feel her heart’s light thump through the thin layers of clothing. It’s as though it’s trying to talk to mine, because when I look down
into her eyes, its pace speeds to speak.

  “I’ve heard bionics are better dancers than their wholly-organic counterparts, because they don’t feel the beat but time their precise movements perfectly to match it,” she says with the same teasing tone she had used before. “It’s also why they’re not known to be the best in bed.”

  I smirk despite myself, fixing my eyes on hers. “Good thing I’m not bionic where that’s a factor, then.” I graze her cheek with my metal hand, watching as her pupils dilate. “As for my hands… Dexterity isn’t a problem.”

  She hesitates for a second, freezing with an unexpected shy expression on her face. Quickly, though, she recovers and laughs as she begins to dance in my arms. Her hips sway, guiding mine. We move as two individuals, but our rhythm and styles complement the other’s perfectly. She has a more bouncy, fiery step to her swing that twirls well with my more sultry, relaxed movement.

  Without thinking, my hands wrap around her hips. They’re not bony and pointed like most tend to be on this side of the galaxy. They’re rounded, soft, and womanlike, allowing my hands a comfortable grip.

  “Not so bad for a tinman,” she whispers in my ear. Her warm breath tickles my ears, and the tingle it sparks wraps around my neck. The hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. “You feel good against my body.”

  Another twitch. Fuck. If we were alone, it wouldn’t be a problem. Out here in the open, though, there’s no hook to use as a segue for this. It’s just me, rock hard, and her plus a murderous tyrant and a thick crowd.

  Much as it pains me, I need to put the hint, the whiff, the possibility of this—our bodies pressed together at a later moment, preferably when we’re alone—out of my mind. I also need to be careful not read too deeply into her words. She has a mercurial nature. I fear going in for the taste of honey one moment and pulling back with fire spewed all over me.

  Her fingers grip the front of my shirt and toy with the fabric. “Why are you so quiet?” she asks as our steps steer us away from the center of the dance floor.

  “I don’t know,” I mouth because somewhere along the way, I lost my voice.

  “Tell me a secret,” she purrs.

  And that’s when it hits me like a wave. That primal desire for her. She wants me to tell her a secret? At one moment, I’m high on sexual appeal and confidence, and the next, I’m smacked with wet desire and longing. I try not to dwell on the erotic cocktail, but it consumes me.

  I pull her closer to me. “I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I want you right now.”

  Her jaw loosens as she stares at me, surprised. But the expression soon fades. Her hands weave into mine, and she takes a few steps backwards, pulling me with her. As I sink myself into her haunting neon gaze, the music fades from my ears. The lights dim. The movement halts, and time seems to slow. Lily has me, and she’s the only one I can see.

  When she finally stops moving, her arms wrap around my neck, drawing me near. My lungs fill with her scent, and my breath stills. Silence and darkness gather around us. Again our chests press together, and our hearts beat out rapidly together, in sync.

  “I want you too,” she whispers. Her plump pout is shiny and inviting.

  My hands cup her face. Warms cheeks rest in my palms. I lean in, and our lips brush each other.

  Ahem.

  I pause.

  AHEM.

  The sound shatters our moment. All at once the music, lights, and movement rush upon me. For a split second, it’s like a blinding bang.

  When my senses return to me, I glance to the side to see a server patiently standing there with a full tray in hand. It hits me that Lily and I are standing right in the middle of a walkway that divides the gambling tables and the dance floor.

  “Sorry,” I growl as I take a step back.

  “Thank you.” She smiles as she passes between us.

  Lily runs a hand through her hair. Her gaze drops to her feet when my attention returns to her, and just like that, the moment’s gone.

  “So,” Lily begins with a sigh. “It’s been almost an hour since we arrived, and well past the time in the AI schedule. We should start looking.”

  Straight to business. Is she embarrassed about what just happened between us? I try to force that pull between us to glean some information about her emotional state. Whatever is running through her mind is being kept under lock and key. I clear my throat. “I agree.”

  “I think it smart that we start with the private rooms. I know Donner. Those are the types of places he prefers,” she shouts in order to be heard over the music.

  I shake my head. “It’s too risky.” There’s no way she’s going back there. Who knows what kind of low life scum lurked behind those walls?

  Her eyes narrow into a glare. “Too risky? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this whole escapade is risky.”

  I had. That’s why I’m damn determined to protect her. Keeping her away from the private rooms minimizes her exposure to potential threats and danger that might be hiding back there. But I can’t leave her out here, unattended in the lounge, either. My weight shifts from one foot to the other.

  “Well?” Her toe taps against the floor as her arms fold across her chest.

  What’s the best option here? Out in the lounge was safer, but she’d be alone. The private rooms presented the biggest threat, but I would be there to put an end to whatever might happen.

  My metal hand grabs her wrist as I turn. “Come on.”

  16 Lily

  It’s not that running around the private rooms of this lounge is my idea of a grand old time. All things considered, though, peeling away from the crowd while we’re on a dangerous undertaking such as this is—fuck, why dance around it? The situation at hand is sexy as hell. I’ve heard that people who live in constant, relentless fear of their lives can succumb to a type of madness. Never, ever would I peg myself as the sort that’s susceptible to that kind of thing but then...

  Here I am, feeling a rush of adrenaline and practically skipping with glee while I scour the place with Cole. Our hands are clasped—well, my hands and his organic one, anyway—and we’re prancing down the hallway as stealthily as we can while also keeping our speed up.

  Passersby inspect us, heightening the tension of the entire operation. With each brush of my bare skin against his, I flirt with the idea of what actually being his lover might feel like. To have his hands roam my body, exploring every inch of me as I quiver, tremble, erupt with —

  Stop it.

  I have to focus, and this isn’t the way to do that. If only thinking that to myself and being aware of that were enough to make me forget all those delicious thoughts.

  It occurs to me that in the span of only a few days, I had a complete change of heart about him. Once I looked into Cole’s eyes and could only feel a surge of anger, not least because of how he took it upon himself to engage my help and completely fuck up my plans in the process. So violent a development can only mean one thing: I’m falling for him.

  Thinking the words and accepting the full impact of what they mean isn’t half as hard as I imagined. It’s the strangest thing. Almost like we were destined—some way, somehow—to meet.

  Long after we’ve stopped coming across anyone, I finally locate an empty room. A private room. It’s still unclear to me exactly what the nature of this establishment is, but one thing I’m pretty comfortable wagering on is that these hidden quarters aren’t meant for innocent exchanges or trysts. They’re downright lecherous even in ambiance, with the dim lighting and the faint whiff of impropriety. It makes being here with Cole all the better.

  I tap into the mainframe circuit that connects all the locks and other electronics in this little shindig. Smoothly, the lock clicks open, giving us access to the room. I sigh long and deep. Truthfully, I’m a little out of breath from it all. My dress, my hair, my makeup—they all come together to build this image of someone I undoubtedly am, yes, but whose skin I have to slip into at certain key, opportune moments. Fraz
zled as I am, it’s no wonder I can’t concentrate long enough to pull it off.

  Thankfully, there’s no audience save for Cole. But we’re on a mission, which is a small comfort. It buys me time to sort through how I really do feel and—maybe, with any luck—come up with a plan.

  “Now what?” Cole asks, eyeing me with that lingering gaze that tells me that despite the “all business” front, his mind is on me.

  “I, uh...” I clear my throat, even though I don’t really need to. “I need to trace the AI. See if I can make some progress in tracking it and—”

  “Donner,” Cole finishes for me.

  “Yeah.”

  And all it takes is saying that asshole’s name to snap me out of the hazy, bubbly warmth radiating through me. I shrug off the present and slip into the mainframe, following the interconnected circuits throughout the lounge and beyond. I have to beat back my curiosity not to continue down that trail and pick up some more interesting—not to mention lurid—specks of knowledge about Temis itself. Finally, their presence tingles my senses. Like a cascade of evaporating phantoms, the files and binary information bits disappear before I have something tangible within reach.

  They missed the temp-file folders. “Three six two.” The numbers scramble and then delete as if someone wiped an eraser over them.

  “What’s that?” Cole furrows his brow.

  “The room they’re in,” I say and make a beeline toward the door. “Come on, let’s go!”

  Cole is on my heels, but his cold, metallic hand chills me to a halt in mid-step. “Lily.”

  I spin around. “What is it?”

  The long look he gives me is both patronizing and almost sweet, in a way. I struggle to find the words to convey what I feel, but he beats me to the punch.

  “We’re in a pretty rough spot if somehow they get their hands on both of us,” he says, low and smooth.

  “And what do you propose?” It comes out more defiantly than I intended.