Inanimate (Cyborg Book 3)

by Charity Parkerson

  With a dip of his chin, Zephyr disappeared through the open door. He didn’t close it behind him. Zephyr’s action screamed that Kyle wasn’t a prisoner, but it wasn’t as if Kyle was in any shape to make a run for it. Zephyr reappeared as quickly as he disappeared. He had a glass of ice water with a straw in it in one hand and a hard-back chair in the other. After setting the chair close to the edge of the bed, Zephyr helped Kyle take a drink. Once the water hit his parched throat, Kyle had to stop himself from chugging it down. He’d never been thirstier in his life, and water had never tasted as good. When he nearly choked, Zephyr moved the glass out of Kyle’s reach.

  “Take a breath. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

  Kyle nodded. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew Zephyr was right. Plus, he had questions. “How long have I been here?”

  “Long enough,” Zephyr said, setting the water aside and claiming the chair.

  Against his will, Kyle rolled his eyes. “That’s pretty fucking vague. Long enough for what? The world to end? Baseball to make a comeback? The legalization of inter-species marriage?”

  Zephyr smiled. Kyle couldn’t look away. For a moment, he forgot Zephyr wasn’t real. He felt real. “Long enough for me to heal your body and ensure you had a safe place to stay from the lethal toxins in the air.”

  With that reminder out there, a hint of Kyle’s anger resurfaced. “I wouldn’t have needed healing if you hadn’t punctured my lung.”

  “You pulled me into your white panel van. We’re even,” Zephyr said without missing a beat.

  “White panel van? What the hell does that even mean?”

  A long weary-sounding sigh escaped Zephyr. “I am so old. Never mind.”

  Kyle’s curiosity was officially piqued. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough to know better than to answer that question.”

  A growl escaped Kyle before he could call it back. “Do you intend to answer any of my questions?”

  “If you ask something I can answer, yes,” Zephyr said with a luminous smile as if enjoying himself.

  “Fine,” Kyle huffed out, sounding childish even to his ears. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

  Zephyr shrugged. “You are not a prisoner. As soon as you are well, you are free to make your way back home. Until then, you’re stuck here. You’re welcome to move about the house as you feel up to it. I wouldn’t recommend opening any of the doors or windows, seeing as how the poisonous outdoor air will kill you instantly.”

  “Yet I’m not a prisoner,” Kyle muttered to himself, feeling like a fucking hostage.

  The droid’s golden gaze moved over Kyle’s face, making his skin heat. He dismissed the sensation as a side effect of the drugs. “You’re not a prisoner,” Zephyr repeated. “Those two choices might not seem like much to you, but they are choices. However, the instant you are well enough to travel, I’ll make sure you get home. For now, I cannot—in good conscience—let you leave until you’re better. There are no good doctors anywhere near your town. Not to mention, even fewer medicines to manage the pain. What will it hurt for you to get better before you leave?”

  “Once again, I feel the need to point out I wouldn’t need to get better if you hadn’t hurt me,” Kyle said through clenched teeth.

  Zephyr stood. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before kidnapping someone.”

  “Something not someone.”

  A hint of pain crossed over Zephyr’s features before his jaw hardened. Kyle almost took his words back. Another side effect of the drugs, no doubt. “I sense your mood has declined. I’ll leave you to rest.”

  Panic slammed into Kyle. Thanks to his temper, he was losing his chance to get the information he craved. “No. You don’t have to go.”

  Zephyr didn’t look back. “I certainly don’t have to stick around for your insults. Sleep well.” He was gone before Kyle could argue further. Fuck, and goddamn the droid for knowing Kyle was barely staying awake. He’d leave just to spite the A.I., if he wasn’t so dead-set on getting justice for humankind. Not to mention, he kind of felt bad for insulting Zephyr. How fucked up was that?

  The sound of Zephyr carrying in a tray of rattling dishes pulled Kyle from the deepest sleep he could ever remember having. He scrubbed his hand over his face. This entire situation was ridiculous. He was in Cryo-Zone, no telling how many miles from home, injured, and incapable of leaving under the threat of instant death and here Kyle was—sleeping each day away without a care.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Kyle tried sitting up without luck, but he didn’t throw up from the immense pain as he had the last time he’d tried. “Not great but not horrible either.”

  “There’s that. Do you need the chamber pot?”

  Kyle snorted. This wasn’t the first time they’d been through this, but he still couldn’t get past the ancient way Zephyr sometimes spoke. He was certain, even though he didn’t have an exact age on the droid, chamber pot was a term that had gone way out of date long before Zephyr’s invention. The way Zephyr smiled made Kyle wonder if he said ridiculous things on purpose—like he knew Kyle found them humorous. He shook his head at the idea.

  “Why do you act like you’re five thousand years old?”

  “Maybe I feel that old,” Zephyr said as he set the tray aside and helped Kyle sit up. “I brought soup and sandwiches, since I didn’t know which one you’d prefer and didn’t want to wake you to ask.”

  Kyle wasn’t as ready to let the subject drop. “Why do you feel like that? Is your software out of date?”

  Zephyr snorted. “Hardly. With a miniscule number of humans to maintain, we’ve taken to making ourselves as badass as possible.”

  The more information Zephyr gave, the more Kyle craved. “There are humans here?”

  “At least one,” Zephyr answered with a snort.

  Kyle huffed. He was bursting with the need to know everything while Zephyr was determined to tell him nothing. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you.”

  With Kyle settled, Zephyr sat. “Because there’s no one else,” Zephyr said, as if the answer should be obvious. “Unlike me, you haven’t lived your life in solitude. You’re unaccustomed to having no one to talk to.”

  Kyle peeked between the slices of bread and inspected the center. There was some form of meat with veggies. It could’ve been turkey, but it might’ve been chicken. Either way, Kyle didn’t care. He hadn’t eaten so well since coming to Cryo. “Would you care to tell me how you’re so well stocked with food while the humans are fighting for every scrap?”

  Zephyr shrugged. “Simple. We planned our survival without humans for years while your kind sat on your ass and let us spoil you.”

  Since that was probably true, Kyle let it drop and chose a different argument. “For the record, I have lived my life alone,” Kyle said before taking a huge bite. It was chicken.

  “No, you haven’t,” Zephyr argued. “You have no idea what alone means. It’s going so long without the sound of another’s voice that you wonder if you’ll go insane or if your voice will still work if you speak again. It’s going so long without another’s touch, you worry you’ll bruise if anyone touches you again. You know nothing of neglect or loneliness.”

  Kyle didn’t want to be moved by Zephyr’s words. Instead, he chose to cling to his hate. “You chose this life.”

  “I did,” Zephyr agreed. “Because all the silence in the world could never match the torture of being a helper bot.”

  Kyle snorted around another bite. “You’re very dramatic for a machine.”

  Zephyr stood. It seemed Kyle had insulted him again. He made it to the door before turning and focusing on Kyle. “Perhaps, instead of taking you home as promised, I’ll sell you to the highest bidder. You can cook, clean, and do whatever sexual thing is demanded of you by whatever member of the household decides they want you that day—no matter how disgusted you are or how wrong the scenario is. Do you think I should?”

  Kyle
’s stomach churned at the thought. “It’s illegal to sell humans.”

  For a moment, Zephyr looked thoughtful. “Is it? How fortunate for you.”

  Even after Zephyr left him alone, Kyle couldn’t stop staring at the spot where Zephyr had been nor could he swallow the food in his mouth. For the first time, he considered something he never had before. If droids were programmed to sympathize, was it a stretch to think being owned would hurt them? He didn’t have answers, but he wanted them.

  The next appearance Zephyr made, Kyle was ready. He’d been awake for a while and his mind was clear. For once, he wouldn’t insult Zephyr. Kyle was determined. Zephyr hip-checked the door, shoving his way inside. The smell of food hit him, making his stomach growl. At least, that was what Kyle told himself. That didn’t explain why his gaze refused to budge from the droid’s shirtless state.

  Zephyr leaned in, setting the tray across Kyle’s lap. Kyle pressed closer to the headboard. Obviously misunderstanding the reason behind Kyle’s reaction, Zephyr took a step back. “Sorry. I was only trying to help.”

  Kyle cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Zephyr’s chest. “You’re wearing pajama pants.” Even Kyle couldn’t understand why he’d pointed out such an asinine thing.

  Zephyr glanced down as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “It’s late. My apologies. I lost track of time. You should’ve eaten hours ago.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I’m used to only eating once a day.”

  Zephyr claimed the chair beside Kyle as if he intended to stay… sans shirt. “That’s an unhealthy way to live.”

  Tearing his traitorous gaze away from Zephyr’s chest again, Kyle focused on the tray of food. It really did smell delicious. “What’s this?”

  “Pot roast. Why don’t you eat on a regular schedule as a human should?”

  Kyle dug in. He bit back a moan. It practically melted on his tongue. He’d never tasted anything as delicious. Zephyr made a sound before clearing his throat. Kyle’s gaze slid his way. Zephyr was completely expressionless. For a moment… With a mental shake of his head, Kyle dismissed his thoughts before they took root. Instead, he focused on Zephyr’s question. “Probably because someone—not naming names here—pulled the plug on the world, leaving humans with nothing.”

  Zephyr cocked his head to one side as if Kyle was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. “Were you perhaps part of an anti-droid family before our revolution?”

  Kyle’s gaze slid back to the plate. The instant shame that hit him at Zephyr’s question came out of nowhere. He cleared his throat. “My father was a bit of a religious zealot. He believed droids would bring about the end of the world. To be fair, he was kind of right.” Kyle took another bite to keep from confessing anything more.

  A hum came from the back of Zephyr’s throat. Kyle went hard. No one was more surprised than him. He nearly choked. He took a drink, washing down his food before he humiliated himself. Zephyr eyed him closely as if assessing his need to intervene. Kyle motioned for him to stay seated.

  Zephyr nodded. His calm was like a soothing balm on Kyle’s pride. He also stuck to the conversation, sparing Kyle from thinking too hard about his body’s odd reaction. “I feel I need to point out that what you call the end of the world was our beginning. However, if you’d bothered to look beyond your prejudice, you would’ve found that we’ve been importing food and medical supplies to Dead-Zone since two days after the relocation of your people. We’re not monsters. In fact, we tried for years to do things the diplomatic way, going through court battles and holding protests. In the end, we had no other choice left to us.”

  Kyle set his fork aside. He hadn’t known about the food or medical supplies. Kyle spent half his time in Zephyr’s company, swallowing his pride. Droids didn’t lie. They weren’t programmed to be deceptive. Being angry and wrong all the time was wearying. “Could we not do this tonight?” Kyle begged. “I’m exhausted with this whole damn thing. Aren’t you tired?”

  A bright smile lit Zephyr’s face. “Yes.”

  Kyle couldn’t figure out why Zephyr was so happy, but whatever. He was just damn glad for a mental break. “Will you help me out of this bed? I think I need to move around some and get out of my own head space.”

  “Would you like something for the pain first?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I just need to move.”

  “Okay,” Zephyr said as he moved to take Kyle’s tray before helping him from the bed. “Lean on me,” Zephyr urged.

  A string of curse words flew from Kyle’s lips before he made it to his feet. “I never would’ve dreamed a broken rib and a punctured lung would hurt this much.”

  “I imagine having a sharp tube stabbed between your ribs and inflating your lung under field circumstances would leave a person with some sore points.”

  Only the sure knowledge that it would only hurt his fist kept Kyle from punching Zephyr in the crotch after that idiotic observation. Thoughts of Zephyr’s rock-hard crotch and the sensation of the man’s cut body underneath his arm, holding Kyle up, distracted him from the pain. With each step, his body loosened up a hair, making it easier for him to breathe. They made their way down the hall.

  Zephyr stopped outside an open bathroom doorway. “If you think you could make it on your own, now is your chance to make your first unassisted trip to the facilities.”

  Since that sounded like heaven, Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.” It took work, but Kyle finally made it inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. After splashing some water on his face, Kyle stared at his reflection. There was more than a hint of a five o’clock shadow covering his jaw. His hair was a mess, standing in every direction and shaggier than he remembered. There were shadows under his eyes, making the blue stand out even brighter than usual. In short, there was no hope of fixing the mess he’d become. Giving up, he opened the door and gratefully accepted Zephyr’s help once more. Even though he’d enjoyed a moment of moving around by himself, Kyle was beginning to feel the effects.

  “Your energy is fading,” Zephyr said, pointing out the obvious.

  “I guess so,” Kyle agreed. He let Zephyr help him back to bed.

  “The level of serotonin and norepinephrine in your brain suggests your mood has slipped to levels of depression. Do you care to talk about it?”

  Kyle blinked. Since meeting Zephyr, he didn’t think the droid had ever sounded more like a robot. He didn’t like it. “Maybe you should tell me a joke. One of those terrible puns of yours might cheer me right up.” It probably wouldn’t, but anything was better than spending time with the machine version of Zephyr. He wanted to stay here and get the answers he needed. The idea of spending that much time in Zephyr’s company was easier when the droid wasn’t acting like a droid.

  Zephyr repositioned the tray across Kyle’s lap. Even though he wasn’t hungry, Kyle took a bite. Zephyr gave him a short nod, as if happy to see Kyle would comply, before reclaiming his seat next to the bed. “Three guys go out hunting in the middle of Dead-Zone. It starts getting dark, and they get turned around. Finally, they come across this one-room cabin, and they decide to stay the night and start out fresh in the morning. To keep from freezing to death, they agree to huddle together to sleep for warmth. In the middle of the night, the guy on the right wakes up, yelling, ‘Oh my god! I just dreamed I was getting the best hand job.’ The guy on the left sits up and says, ‘Holy shit! Me too.’ The man in the middle says, ‘Really? Y’all get all the good dreams. I dreamed I was trapped plunging two over-flowing toilets, and they were both splashing me right and left.’”

  The burst of laughter that hit Kyle made him thank every deity he’d swallowed his food before Zephyr finished his joke. He covered his mouth and swiped at his eyes with no luck. His laughter didn’t abate. “Jesus,” Kyle choked out while holding his side and praying his ribs didn’t burst apart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No,” Zephyr said with a smile that stole Kyle’s breath. “I wante
d to hear you laugh. Your life doesn’t strike me as a happy one.”

  Between Kyle’s wayward thoughts about Zephyr’s mouth and Zephyr’s spot-on comment, Kyle’s temper snapped. “At least my life is real and not an imitation of someone else’s.”

  Zephyr’s smile fell. Kyle hated himself in a way he hadn’t in years. “I begin to understand why you are alone,” Zephyr said as he stood. “I’ll get your tray in the morning.” Once again, Zephyr left Kyle to his well-earned solitude.

  Zephyr didn’t bother getting Kyle’s tray. He didn’t have the mental energy to fight with the human today. If the man only wanted one meal a day, that was fine. Zephyr wouldn’t force his company on Kyle. He soldered two wires together. Working on bettering his society through new inventions was all Zephyr had. He threw himself into it. At least working with his hands wasn’t an act of futility—like trying to prove he was more than he seemed to Kyle. He should just take the man home. Kyle was healed enough he would survive without Zephyr’s help. His plan to prove himself was failing spectacularly. Kyle’s hatred ran too deep. Nothing ever changed. Meeting Kyle only reaffirmed his belief that he’d done the right thing twenty years ago. People like Kyle would continue breeding more of the same until the end of time.

  The blue of Kyle’s eyes flared to life in Zephyr’s mind. There was intelligence in the human’s gaze. Zephyr wished he would use it. He also wished Kyle would use those sexy lips as well, but that would never happen. Kyle would never give in to the bursts of hormones Zephyr had caught flashes of.

  “What are you working on?”

  Zephyr startled at Kyle’s sudden appearance. He wasn’t used to having anyone around, much less having anyone get the drop on him. “You’re up. Without help,” he added.

  Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “Yeah. It wasn’t a pretty sight—kind of like watching a fat dog try to roll off its back, but I managed it.”

  Zephyr stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Are you hungry?”