Dark Hysteria: Cyborg Shifters #8

by Lucas, Naomi

  Hysterian palmed his face.

  He couldn’t deny the evidence, and he couldn’t deny the conversation that happened between her and Pigeon before they tried to leave his ship. No matter how hard he manipulated his coding, it remained the same. Better Cyborgs than him had tried and they couldn’t do it.

  How could he be so easily duped?

  He thought about Alexa’s hair dye, her sweet-smelling blood, and how she was always cold. The sweat, the dampness of the bedding after they’d had sex. Perhaps even why she tried to fight him every step of the way…

  He missed every sign. His hands clenched.

  Alexa was a half-breed.

  She held the enemies’ blood in her veins. And he’d fucked her? Took her virginity?

  He may have not killed countless Trentians like other Cyborgs had, but he’d still killed many. Even now, the codes—the first ones, the ones that were nearly impossible to remove from his systems—urged him to swat her life out like a bug. Or to hand her over to the authorities.

  They demanded he remove her from the equation, because the only good equation didn’t have aliens in it.

  She could be a spy.

  Why else would she infiltrate his crew knowing the risk?

  Hysterian turned to the porthole and stared at the stars as the Questor flew farther and farther away from Libra. He’d kept them docked for nearly a week while Alexa recovered, but now that she was on the mend, he wanted to be as far from the port as possible. Far from the shit that happened there, farther still from his own stupidity.

  He could outrun it if he tried.

  Was it insanity, flying out into space with your enemy? Each time Hysterian tried to leave, or thought about dropping Alexa’s sick body off for someone else to deal with, he couldn’t do it. Because each time he tried, he knew he’d want to kill anyone who got close enough to try and take her away from him.

  She lied to me. He scowled.

  And I wanted to protect her, was willing to hunt down her enemies and tear their spines from their bodies… He turned from the porthole and stormed out of the bridge, heading straight for the gym’s bathroom. He stripped, turned on the cleaning unit, and stepped under the hot water. His nerves thrummed.

  How was it that he started with a crew of five, and now he was down to one, and in less than two months’ time?

  How was it that he had an alien sleeping in his fucking bed?

  Because that’s where Alexa was now, locked in his room, away from all the medical equipment she could use to create a weapon or hurt herself with. He made sure there was nothing in his room she could use—if that’s what she planned now that she’d been found out.

  He needed to keep her close until he figured out what he was going to do with her.

  Hysterian rested his palms on the wall as the water washed over him. What the fuck am I going to do with her?

  The heat comforted him, took some of the pressure away, and he wanted to laugh because it was heat that could kill Alexa. The same fucking heat I crave.

  How was it that he’d spent his life fantasizing about a hot-blooded woman, only to fall for the first cold-blooded one he came upon?

  He pushed off the wall, denting the metal.

  She won’t fucking talk to me. Part of him wanted to wring her pretty little neck for that alone.

  After he had Horace drag Pigeon to the brig—because the guy wouldn’t leave—Hysterian sat by Alexa’s side until she woke and was well enough to move on her own. Even if he was the most dangerous being to be around her, the part of him that was human needed her to get better.

  He needed it more than his next breath. Hysterian clawed at his skin, scrubbing his secretion off with his nails. He hated it. She nearly died because of him, because he’d let his guard down.

  It hadn’t even been his skin that poisoned her; it had been her underwear.

  He’d left the pair in his bathroom after he had changed. He left them there after they’d been wrapped around his cock all day. They would’ve been dry by the time she’d showered and found them.

  She’d put them on, and whatever poison that had absorbed into them had been enough to penetrate her flesh and fill her with the destructive nanobots within it.

  If he hadn’t discovered the poisoned underwear and removed them sooner, she’d be dead right now.

  Hysterian slammed his fist into the wall. The metal echoed through the shower unit, paining his head.

  He shut off the water and stepped out of the unit. He dried, dressed quickly, and was outside his quarters moments later.

  Alexa was lying asleep on the sofa when he walked in.

  He was about to grab a blanket before he stopped himself. She’s a fucking Trentian. She won’t want a blanket. Blankets would just heat her up. The room was frigid for a human, but for her, she looked more comfortable than she had been the entire time she’d been on his ship.

  His hands fisted.

  She looked so innocent sleeping. She hadn’t looked like a Trentian at first after he’d found out. But then again, she was only a third. Whether it was her father or her mother who was a half-breed, he wasn’t sure yet.

  Raphael hadn’t gotten back to him, and Hysterian was sure as hell not going to be asking another Cyborg for help now.

  They’d tell him to eject her from the ship, at worst. At best, they’d want him to hand her over to the government. She did lie to them.

  She’d been on Earth.

  Trentians—half-breed or pure—weren’t allowed to step foot on the home planet, regardless of how much they had. A crime punishable by life in prison.

  And if Nightheart found out Hysterian had a Trentian spy on one of his ships? Working for him? Privy to classified information? Hysterian tensed.

  Hysterian hadn’t decided whether he was going to tell his boss about this problem they both faced, but he now thought it would be better if Nightheart didn’t know.

  She doesn’t look like a spy…

  Hysterian crept to the sofa and kneeled.

  He’d verified Alexa’s educational credentials; she hadn’t lied about that. She was at least qualified for the work she was doing. He also knew she had access to information, and to him, more than she should have. And if she was out to steal secrets, or to kill him, why the hell would she sleep with him?

  She’d let him strip her naked, leaving her at her most vulnerable, had given him her virginity, and if she’d pretended she hadn’t known about her heritage, he might have believed her.

  He’d had her screaming in his bed as he sank deep inside her.

  Me. Trentians hated Cyborgs more than Cyborgs hated them. Being programmed to hate was different than full-on, natural hatred. She had to have known before she even applied for the job on his ship that she was a half-breed. She had to have known who she’d be working for.

  Did she want to die?

  It made no sense to him why she was here on his ship. He didn’t deal in governmental secrets or technology development. His weapons were mostly standard-issue, and those that weren’t were locked up in places she’d never be able to access without him.

  So why the fuck is she here?

  Her dark hair fell softly upon her cheek where it had escaped from her hairband. Her hands were cupped under her face, and soft breaths slipped past slightly parted pale lips.

  He imagined her with translucent white locks.

  Hysterian licked his lips.

  Was it sick that he wanted her still? After knowing what she was, what she’d done. It was absurd.

  Why did she sleep with me?

  Was she trying to get close to me? If so, she’d done a fine job at it. Maybe she was waiting for the right moment…

  I probably killed some of her ancestors.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. Once her eyes focused on him, she tensed and shot upright. His audio picked up an adrenaline surge from her—her heartbeat skyrocketed. Her cheeks flushed pink.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Alexa slunk away fro
m him.

  “Why?” he asked again, lower this time.

  He sat back when she refused to answer. “You will tell me. You’ll never leave this room otherwise.” When she remained silent, he scowled. “You had to have a good reason, half-breed. How could you not? It must’ve been hard, no doubt. I wonder if this was your plan all along, getting on my ship, getting close to me? Or was it just the luck of the draw? You saw an opportunity and took it?

  “Maybe you have a good reason? Someone found you out during training and is now blackmailing you? Is that it? Threatening to reveal your identity? Or is there someone you love in danger?”

  He hoped she was being blackmailed. He prayed—fucking prayed—it was something so easy to forgive.

  “Tell me!” Hysterian shouted when Alexa still refused to speak.

  She didn’t even flinch. It was like she’d shut down.

  “Why the fuck are you here, Alexa? Are you here to hurt me, kill me? Why!?”

  He surged to his feet before he did something he’d regret. This was all too close to home for him.

  The pads of his fingers slickened with poison. He could make her speak and tell him all her dirty secrets. He could make her delirious with a single touch. He could make her addicted to him, giving her little doses of heroin, or worse, until she was mindless and broken. And all she thought about was pleasing him.

  He could have all his answers and so much more.

  Anyone would spill their secrets rather than go through excruciatingly painful withdrawal.

  But this was Alexa, not a war criminal. She wasn’t some desperate, addicted club whore easily used and discarded.

  “I will get my answers from you,” he said. “Whether you want to share them willingly or not. I will get my answers.”

  He strode from the room and locked the door behind him.

  Twenty-One

  Days passed, and each time Hysterian visited Alexa, it was more of the same. He would watch her, she would watch him back, and he would threaten her. He never touched her, never allowed himself to get close enough that she might try and touch him back.

  And each day, she drifted farther and farther away.

  He brought food, made sure she ate.

  He set it on the table beside the sofa, where she spent most of her days.

  On the third day, he was half-crazed. He yelled, railed, tore up the bedding, destroyed the room all while she stood in the center quietly watching.

  Once, he could get any living being to talk, to spill all their secrets, but not with Alexa. Every time he came close to using his skills on her, disgust filled him and he stormed to the gym’s shower and boiled.

  He wasn’t getting through to her, and he needed to make a choice with what needed to be done. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, not until he knew all the information. His threats weren’t working.

  Fear wasn’t working.

  Three days and he was fucking exhausted by it all.

  When he went to fix her food next, he took his time—like he always did—but researched the general fare aliens enjoyed eating. He had his replicator create some for her.

  He placed it on the table by the sofa when he returned to his quarters.

  She came out of the bathroom when she heard him.

  His eyes took her in.

  She was wearing the same clothes as days before and was just as beautiful. He was beginning to think, the longer this went on, she only got more beautiful to plague him.

  “Are you ready to talk?” he asked.

  No answer.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be back later to pick this up.” He stood and indicated the food, turning for the door. Better to leave now before he made things worse.

  The next morning, he found her back on the sofa staring at her hands. The food from the night before had been picked at. He replaced it with the new tray he brought with him.

  “You need to eat,” he said. “You need to regain your strength.”

  She stared at her hands.

  He hated this. He hated being shut out.

  He missed her.

  She hadn’t tried to escape since that time with Pigeon, and he wasn’t sure if he hated that the most. It was like she’d given up and was just waiting for him to finish her off.

  “We’ll be arriving at Atrexia in a few days,” he said just to fill the silence, to get a reaction, anything from her. “After that, we’re due back on Earth.”

  She didn’t look up.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. Hysterian was in front of her within the next second. She jerked back with a gasp.

  It was something. It was fucking something.

  “Tell me, Alexa. I’m begging. If someone is blackmailing you—”

  “No one’s blackmailing me!” She snapped to her feet and fled to the upper half of the room.

  He stilled. It was the first time he’d heard her voice in days.

  “Then why?” he asked cautiously.

  “You might as well kill me and get it over with.”

  “I don’t want to fucking kill you. Let me help you.”

  Her laugh sounded hollow with defeat. “Help me? You don’t want to help me. You want to shout and threaten, and get your way.”

  He stormed after her and grabbed her arm. She tugged but he wasn’t going to allow her to get away.

  “Why did you sleep with me?” he asked.

  Her face fell.

  “Tell me!”

  She looked at the ground.

  He had half a mind to crawl under her so she’d be looking at him instead. He cursed, dropped her arm, and left.

  The next time he came back, she stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, pulling at her hair with tears in her eyes.

  He grabbed her hand before she yanked her hair again. “What are you doing?”

  “I want them to stop,” she cried. “I want them to stop!”

  “You want what to stop?”

  She sobbed. “The thoughts.”

  Hysterian pulled her into his arms. She hit him with her fists as she cried. He stayed still, keeping her trapped in his embrace.

  “I can’t make the thoughts stop, but I can help you. Let me help you,” he urged. “Let me help you.”

  “Pigeon,” she gasped. “I want to talk to Pigeon. Only Pigeon.”

  His voice hardened, “Pigeon tried to take you away from me.”

  Alexa wiped at her face with her hands. It broke his damned metal-encased heart. She was deteriorating, and he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t equipped for this. He watched her dry her tears and slip back into stasis.

  Later that night, he stared at his own hands, sitting on the sofa. Alexa was curled up on his bed, just within his sight. She was watching him.

  Sometimes it seemed like she was about to speak, but then she’d turn away and shut him out all over again.

  He’d lied to her. He could help take away her thoughts. At least for a time.

  He could make her happy, delirious. He could reconfigure his poison into something else for her, something that would shut off her mind completely. Hysterian tugged off his glove and unfurled his fingers. With a single touch, he could make her smile…

  Had he ever made her smile? He couldn’t recall. There were no occurrences of it in his memory.

  Had he ever made anyone smile that wasn’t with the use of drugs? He rubbed the moisture between his fingers.

  Tomorrow, they would arrive on Atrexia and deliver the locusts. He had Horace managing the lab, and Hysterian needed to check in on his second soon. Time was running out. He couldn’t keep Pigeon locked away forever, and eventually, the lack of contact from his crew with the EPED was going to be questioned.

  Yet he’d gotten no closer to why Alexa was on his ship.

  If he handed her over to the government, he’d never see her again. It was either keep her captive forever, or…let her go.

  She hadn’t actually hurt him, not physically. She hadn’t done anything wrong as far as Hysterian knew.
r />   Except lie. Except be something she’s not.

  Killing her was out of the question. Despite his codes urging for such a fate, he wasn’t like other Cyborgs; he’d been made to be used against humans. The codes were still there, but he was managing them, and even so, half-breeds were a jumble in his mind.

  He’d been around many over the last decade, having only ever killing a few. Domestic aliens and half-breeds were viewed as lesser threats than Knights and their religious zealot warriors.

  A sad laugh flitted through his head. It never reached his lips.

  He could ignore the urges because he’d spent the last ninety or so years doing the same with the codes forcing him to secrete. Sadly, those codes were far harder to keep under wraps than the ones urging to get rid of Alexa.

  The fact that they were there at all disgusted him. He didn’t want to hurt her.

  But convincing her of that was going to be hard. Perhaps the hardest thing he’d do in his miserable life. And I started by threatening her… Recent history proved that there couldn’t be anything between them. Her kind was born to hate his kind, and vice versa.

  “My skin is dangerous,” he said, unsure if she was even listening. “Few people know that about me, though it’s no secret. It’s easier not to talk about it.” Why he was telling her this, he wasn’t sure. As far as he knew, she might already know this about him. She hadn’t questioned it so far which had been odd.

  “The reason you ended up like this was because you put the underwear on in my bathroom that night. There were traces of opium and batrachotoxin left on them that hadn’t fully dismantled. It takes hours for the nanocells in my poison to dismantle, and longer still if I’m nearby.

  “I can’t get close to people—I can’t touch them—without worrying that I’ll kill them, or have them become addicted…to me. It’s why I cover my mouth. When people touch me, their body heat triggers my glands to open, releasing whatever toxin I so choose, and if I don’t, whatever my systems choose for me. I’m trying to control it.”

  Hysterian sighed, kneading his brow.

  “Alexa, I’m the captain of this ship because Nightheart offered to find me a cure—a way to remove the codes, to replace them, or perhaps destroy that part of me. To burn it out like cancer. I wouldn’t be here at all if there was another option left. The last hope I had died, and it took parts of me with it.” He forced the words out. “Parts of me I gave away that I never meant to…”