Lyon’s Price Mina Carter
Captured and en route to a medical facility for dissection and study, cyborg Lyon expects nothing but pain and degradation from his captors. But Samara isn’t like the others, treating his wounds with care and igniting a fire deep within. When she neglects to ensure his cuffs are locked tight, all hell breaks loose. A hot, sensual hell against the cell wall. When his team arrives, Lyon knows he should walk away…but he can’t. His little human has gotten under his skin. He’ll take her as payment for his suffering, keep her in his bed and pleasure them both for as long as it takes for him to lose interest. What he doesn’t expect is to lose his heart in the process.
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Lyon’s Price ISBN 9781419934544 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Lyon’s Price Copyright © 2011 Mina Carter Edited by Briana St. James Cover art by Dar Albert Electronic book publication July 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
LYON’S PRICE Mina Carter
Lyon’s Price
Chapter One They’d caught him. Lock, stock and fucking barrel. Lyon seethed in silence as the security officers buzzed around his maximumsecurity cell like flies around a honeypot. He was furious, more with himself than anyone else. He should have known General Ryland, über-marine legend, wasn’t going to be that easy to catch. For heaven’s sake, he’d read the goddamn file on the woman. The one clearly marked “Do not fuck with”. He might as well have just looked at the pictures. He’d been too arrogant and assured of his own abilities. As soon as he’d seen her among the Arcadia marines, he’d recognized her. She was dangerous, inventive and unpredictable. He’d known that. What he hadn’t known, and was now kicking himself for, was that she’d have an Empath virtually joined at the hip. “To the back of the cell,” the guard ordered. The hard look in his eyes warned Lyon not to try anything. His team had killed some of this man’s crewmates and, from the looks of it, the guy was itching for payback. Lyon would prefer to avoid being the mechanism for that payback. Cyborg he might be, but even he could feel pain. Rolling to his feet, he stood, and smothered a smile as the female guard at the back gasped. Yeah, he was big. Over six foot and broad across the shoulders, just the same as any other Leo class out there. It wasn’t fate. It wasn’t hours spent in the gym honing his physique. He’d been designed to be big. He was the biological equivalent of a tank. A right lot of good that had done him when he’d tracked Ryland. He’d been so focused on getting the general in his clutches and finally getting a shot at persuading someone high up in the Fleet that he and his kind weren’t the monsters they were made out to be that he’d all but ignored the guy with her. Big mistake. 5
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All it had taken was for Ryland to distract him by flitting almost close enough to catch. While his attention was on her, the Empath had sneaked up behind him. Lyon couldn’t figure out how he’d done it. Anyone else he’d have detected. Something would have tipped him off. The slight scuffle of a boot in the undergrowth or a caught breath would have caught his hypersensitive senses. Not this time. He replayed that chronology of his capture over and over in his memory to try to figure it out. There was nothing. It was as though the guy hadn’t even been there until he’d placed his hand on the back of Lyon’s neck and tumbled him into darkness. Note to self, avoid Empaths in future. That, or break their fucking necks before they get close. He moved to the back of the cell. He’d been through the drill before, so he moved before they gave the order, standing facing the wall with his hands behind his back. “Being a good little machine today, are we?” the guard behind him sneered as he clipped the heavy manacles over Lyon’s wrist. He activated the magnetic locks. Instantly, Lyon felt the energy drain. The Fleet had created him and his kind. They knew how to contain them. At least, they thought they did. What they didn’t know was how extensively Lyon’s base systems had been hacked and modified. Something he intended to stop them discovering at all costs, even if he had to set the tri-sappherium crystals that powered his cybernetics and combat chassis to overload. The resulting blast would take out not only him, but also the ship and possibly most of the system as well. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain as they hauled him backward out of the cell. “That won’t do you any good. Once they get you on the Valkyrie, they’ll slice and dice you. See what makes you tick.” “The Valkyrie?” He couldn’t help the query. It slipped from between his lips before he could stop himself. Even as he spoke, he ran a query through his onboard computer. What portion
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of his memory banks he could access at the moment. As soon as he’d realized there was an Empath near, he’d locked his memory banks down. There it was, the CFS Valkyrie. A Delean-class vessel assigned to exploration and general backup for the colonies and planets in this sector. Lyon swore under his breath. He’d assumed that they would transport him back to the Terran sector on the Arcadia. That was the eventuality his team had been briefed for in case the snatch and grab went wrong and they had to recover any of the team. Great, just bloody great. Unless he did something, his team would tail the Arcadia across the sector. Only to find their prize was on a ship heading the other way. The guard behind him checked the mag-cuffs and he was ushered out of the cell. Despite the fact he was restrained, the guards kept a healthy distance from him. Lyon didn’t blame them. The hardware he was packing under his skin meant he could hospitalize someone just by falling on them. He sighed as the little group started down the corridor toward the airlock and the ship he was being transferred to. They stayed far enough out of range that he couldn’t even try a grab and strangle maneuver. Someone would have a rifle in his guts before he could blink. But he didn’t need to disable anyone to get a message to his team that he was being transferred. All he needed was an open comms port and a half second to get a data burst through it. Then he was home free…
“Late, late. I’m going to be late. Damn it.” Samara bustled down the hall. She was late for her shift. Again. The third time this week, on a day they were transferring a new prisoner in. Commander Jenkins, the senior nurse, was going to be pissed with her. Again. She researched her speech in her head as she hurried. Her slender fingers fought with the frog fastening on her collar, trying to get the damn thing done up. It had always hated her, but today it was being more awkward than normal. Just like her
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alarm clock, which had decided to wake her up an hour later than normal. Why, she had no earthly clue. It seemed everything aboard this damn ship had it in for her. She hissed with relief as the fastener snapped closed. Which only prompted the single bar of her rank, second-class crewman, to jump from her collar in a lemming leap for the floor. “Oh no. You bastard thing!” She made a dive for it, grabbing the thin bar of metal and starting to straighten just as she reached a corner. Preoccupied, she didn’t look where she was going and completely missed the armed retinue coming the other way. She ran straight into them. Squeaking, she grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on. A male chest. A broad, extremely well-muscled male chest. She grabbed at his gray ship-suit and fought for balance. She wasn’t going to fall. There were few things more embarrassing than landing on her ass in front of a group of people. She was not going there under any circumstances, even if that meant touching up a complete, and incidentally very nicely put-together, stranger. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Flames licked her cheeks as she looked up. Right into gorgeous green eyes. Oh my, green eyes. Why did it have to be green eyes? Everything happened at once. The group around her snapped into life, and within a heartbeat, Samara had rifles pointed at her from all directions. Rifles attached to some very mean-looking marines. Instinctively she shrank closer to her green-eyed “rescuer”. “Miss, I need you to step away. Just step away from him. Come on, miss…now. Please.” The nearest marine lowered his rifle and held out his hand. The tone of his voice and the expression on his face were both near pleading. Like he was trying to talk a jumper down from the edge of a rooftop.
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“They think I’m going to rape and kill you. Or kill and rape you,” a dry voice commented. “Of course, how they think I’m going to do that with my hands behind my back eludes me.” Startled, Samara looked back up at Green-eyes. At the same time she started to notice more. Like the fact his hands were manacled behind his back and that his shipsuit was gray with the orange line of a prisoner down the sides of his arms and legs. Her lips pursed into a small “O” of surprise as she studied him further. His dark hair was cropped close to his skull, casting the strong lines of his face into sharp relief. He turned his head to glare at the marines and she caught her breath. There, on one cheekbone, was a small tattoo. It was a distinctive tattoo. One that every free person in the sector—hell, the galaxy and beyond—would recognize. A combination of six letters and digits… The alphanumeric code of a cyborg. “Shit.” Samara couldn’t help the epithet that crossed her lips as she backpedaled. She’d heard the horror stories. Everyone had. Cyborgs were merciless killers, apt to kidnap innocent women for their breeding experiments. Oh and they ate babies. “Lyon, actually.” His lips quirked wryly, but she caught the flash of something in his eyes as she backed up. Anger, or hurt? Embarrassment flared hot across her cheeks and she stopped, standing her ground. Her grandmother’s voice filled her head. Don’t judge a book by its cover, young lady. You never know what treasures lie beneath the cover. “That was ill-bred of me. I apologize. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for work.”
***** She’d apologized. A human had actually apologized to him. Lyon’s surprise lasted all the way down to the medical bays and right into the detention cell that awaited him. Of course, he was a soldier first, so that surprise didn’t stop him from scanning the local area for an open connection to the communications array. 9
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Bingo. As the guards shoved him through the door to the cell, he found an unsecured port. It took him less than a second to hijack a medical report and piggyback his message. Once off the ship, the message would detach and ping out the ether until it found a route to the Chameleon, cloaked and waiting to strike from the shadows. Three days after sending his message, Lyon was shoved back into his cell, bloody and bruised from the latest round of “tests”. He was beginning to wonder if his message had managed to make it off the ship. Stumbling from a vicious shove, he caught himself against the opposite wall and pushed upright. He glared back over his shoulder, a look of dire retribution and hatred. Just five minutes out of the mag-cuffs, that’s all he needed. Then he’d show these researchers and their pet guards what a cyborg was truly capable of. The guard paled at the look and disappeared. Alone, as much as he’d ever be with cameras watching his every movement, he sank down onto the narrow bunk. It was barely wide enough for a child, but he managed to wedge his shoulders between its hard surface and the wall at night to get some sleep. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back. Without moving a muscle, he activated several circuits and subroutines in the bio-cybernetic systems that laced his body. His lips quirked as the guard down the hall swore. “Crap, the cameras are playing up again.” “Does that mean I’ll have to wait? I do have other things to do, you know.” Lyon stilled at the new voice. A female voice. The voice he’d been waiting for. It was her. The nurse who’d apologized to him in the corridor. Despite himself, he sat up a little straighter. His male pride wouldn’t allow him to show anything that might indicate defeat. Not that it made any difference. She was human and he was a cyborg. She was a nurse here and he was a prisoner. No matter what his male instincts and drives were hinting at, nothing was going to happen. “No. Go ahead. He’s still got the mag-cuffs on. Just shout if you need anything, okay?” 10
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Lyon released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Her footsteps rang out against the deck plating as she made her way to his cell. Lyon found himself listening to them. Light, delicate and precise, they were much like the woman herself. She stopped at the front to his cell. Lyon kept his eyes closed. He knew she was studying him. He opened them as she released a hiss of frustration, her breath whistling over her teeth. “Christ. They’ve really given you a good going-over this time, haven’t they?” She snapped off the force field sealing the front of the cell and stepped in. “Now, you have to be a good boy for me. The cams are off again and Hawkins out there is as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. I’d rather treat you without half the marine detachment breathing down my neck.” She paused in front of him and looked down with a firm expression he found as cute as hell. Lyon surged to his feet. Her gray eyes widened in surprise, but to her credit, she didn’t scream or run. Reaching out with his manacled hands, he tucked a stray curl of her hair back over her ear. “You’re perfectly safe with me,” he promised. Just not safe from me. “After all, why would I want to hurt someone who’s helping me?” His onboard sensors registered the hitch in her breathing and the sudden increase in her heart rate. She was standing there looking so calm and collected, but he could tell the effort was costing her. Taking pity, he sat down. “There. See? Good boy. Happy now? Or do I need to roll over and play dead?” He had no clue where all these words were coming from. Normally he wasn’t the most garrulous of men. Not by a long shot. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for his squad to go days without getting a full sentence out of him. She smiled. It was just a hint of a smile, the merest quirk of her lips, but Lyon’s chest filled with triumph. He’d made her smile. It was the highlight of his day. “No, you’ll do as you are. Let me get a look at those bruises.”
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He sat back as she worked, ignoring the sudden cold of the antiseptic spray and the heat of the regenerator as she ran it over the large purple and black bruises covering his torso. The worst damage was on his back, particularly over his kidneys, although why they were bothering to concentrate their blows there he had no idea. He didn’t have the usual human weaknesses. His bones were laced with duerineium alloy, his joints replaced with cybernetic constructs. His organs, arterial pathways and nerve clusters were all protected by heavy-duty sub-dermal synthmesh that would absorb any blow an unaided human could dish out. He’d been designed to play chicken with a shuttle and still walk away. They literally couldn’t damage him outside the operating theatre, so the only reason for the beatings was to inflict pain. Some of his people mourned the humanity they’d lost in the in vitro tanks when their cybernetics had been implanted. He didn’t. The more he learned about the race which had created his, the less he liked them. Apart from the pretty little nurse standing in front of him. He liked her way too much for comfort. She hit a particularly sore section and he flinched. Swearing under her breath, she flicked a glance to his face. “Sorry, I’ll try to be gentle. I can’t believe they did this, what’s the bloody point?” The pressure from the regenerator eased up. He breathed a little deeper as the band of pain around his midriff disappeared. “Making a point. The sheer human joy in causing pain and suffering.” He shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m not human.” Easing farther down on the bunk, he spread his thighs to get comfortable. Without a break in her movements, she moved between his legs to get at the remaining discoloration on his stomach. “Bloody stupid. I’d like to get hold of them and give them a taste of their own medicine,” she grumbled, dropping to her knees to look critically at her handiwork.
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Heat surged through his body. The touch of her hands was maddeningly soft, heat surging through him before she knelt in such a provocative position. If she leaned forward just a little further… He bit back a groan of lust. Her gaze shot to his face, worry written all over her delicate features. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, drive a hand into her dark hair as he claimed her lips. He’d hold her still and plunder her mouth. Thrust into the welcoming heat, again and again, fucking her mouth with his tongue. Shuddering, he snapped out of his daze and looked at her. What was it about this woman? He’d had offers from women of his kind. Strong, capable, cyborg women. Women who could withstand his rough passion. So why did he want one who was so easily breakable? Closing his eyes, he tried to conceal the effect she had on him. He was lucky he was cyborg, with ultimate control over his body and its reactions. Or she’d be up close and personal with how she was making him feel. A face full of thick cock was hard to miss. “Sorry, I’ll be gentler.” Her voice was soft and calm; the consummate nurse. They needed medics back at base. All raiding parties were ordered to snatch and grab medically trained staff wherever they could and take them back to Redemption Bay, the cyborg resistance home base. Lyon shook his head and put the thought from his mind. That way led to madness and a whole heap of trouble. He had a mission here. The sooner he remembered that, and stuck to it, the better off everyone would be. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.” She winced a little. He hardened his heart. No doubt she was wondering how many people he’d killed. That was what humans always assumed of his people. They were killers, born and bred. “Okay, move your arms for me, please.”
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He moved to allow her to reach the bruising on his stomach. Not the easiest thing to treat when his hands were manacled in front of him. “Who’d you lose to?” She moved his hands again and frowned. “What do you mean?” “To end up treating me. I can’t imagine it would be high on the list of dream assignments in the nurses’ bay.” “Oh.” Understanding filled her eyes. A blush raced across her cheeks. “No one. I asked for the assignment. Look, this is no good.” She sat back on her heels and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, but I have to put you in the restraints…” She nodded toward the heavy-duty hooks on the wall above the bed. Used for restraining the most violent cases when the cell had to be cleaned, even he wouldn’t be able to break them. “It’s that or call a full guard detail in so I can get to the last bit of this. Which would you prefer?” I’d prefer you on your knees sucking my cock. The thought slipped through before he could censor it. Swallowing, he concentrated on something mundane. Like rewiring maintenance panels for the Chameleon or field-stripping a KL-700 heavy machine gun. He locked the wayward thought away. Not only had she apologized to him before, she was now giving him a choice. Admittedly it wasn’t much of a choice. Cuffed to the bed or get treated under armed guard, but still, it was a choice. “The restraints. Please,” he added as an afterthought and ventured a small smile. She smiled back and stood to draw the restraints together. He lifted his hands. A moment later the mag-cuffs clicked into place and, slowly, his hands were drawn apart. His hands safely out the way, it only took her a couple of minutes to clear up the remainder of his injuries. Finally she straightened and treated him to a bright smile. “There you go, all fixed up.”
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“Thank you. Are you going to divulge your name or is that classified information?” He couldn’t stop himself quizzing her as she packed her equipment away. Everything was handheld and he knew there wasn’t anything with a sharp edge in there. Just in case he managed to escape the three-inch-wide cuffs, which would be a miracle of epic proportions. No, the only way he was getting out of these babies was if his sexy little nurse made a big mistake or if he could charm her into letting him go. He was rusty, but he could manage a little light flirtation. The full-on Casanova act, though, that was well beyond him. She flashed him another smile from under lashes so full they had to be illegal. Lyon sucked in a breath at the direct look. How did she manage to look so hot in that utilitarian ship-suit? While it wasn’t fitted, it also wasn’t a sack, but there was no way it could be described as sexy. “No, not classified information. It’s Samara. Samara Williams,” she said and started to hold out her hand. Halfway through the gesture, she recalled he was chained up and stopped. A deep flush spread over her cheeks. Lyon inclined his head, ignoring her faux pas, and simply smiled. She blushed so prettily, her mouth a bee-stung pout. He looked away quickly, a wash of heat running rampant over his shoulders and chest all the way down to get all friendly with his cock. “Pleased to meet you, Samara. Now we’re all introduced, would you mind letting my arms down a little? My fingers are going numb.” “Oh! Yes, of course. There you go.” Stepping to the side, she reached up and activated the restraints. This time the mechanism drew Lyon’s wrists together over his head. Hearing the click, she pressed the button to release him and turned around to zip up her kit bag. Perhaps through sloppiness or inexperience with the equipment, she didn’t check to make sure the sound she’d heard was his mag-cuffs locking together instead of Lyon clicking the cuff against the metal of the wall. He froze for a second when she turned away, hardly daring to believe his ruse had worked. 15
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Testing the theory, he pulled at his wrist. It came away from the wall with a small snick. He blinked, all his attention focused on the woman in the room with him. She’d made a mistake. He was free. What did he do now? His logical side said he put her out of commission and fight his way off the ship. Or, nastier, use her as a human shield. She’d been nice to him though. She’d apologized and given him a choice. Treated him like a human being and not the animal the rest of her race branded him. Was he really going to repay her by proving the rumors right?
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Chapter Two He was hot. No, hot didn’t even cover it. Totally fuckable… Sex on freaking legs. Samara packed her small med-kit away, trying hard to keep her eyes away from the impressive bulge at her patient’s crotch and not drool at the same time. It wasn’t right to ogle her patient. In fact, she was breaking several clauses in the intergalactic nurses’ code of conduct even thinking about it. If that were the case, then her dreams last night—all supercharged and highly erotic—would smash them to smithereens. So intent was she on not staring at his crotch that she missed the sounds of movement behind her. She didn’t realize he’d moved until hard hands closed around her. One over her mouth and the other wrapping around her waist to yank her up against his hard body. “Scream and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Understood?” Gone was the light, teasing note his voice had held a moment before. Now it was hard and uncompromising as he held her tight, his breath fanning over her neck. Fear and a sick sense of excitement rolled through her in equal amounts. Fear because she was in the clutches of a well-built, extremely strong cyborg. One who could easily carry out his threat and snap her neck like a twig. Excitement because that cyborg was possibly the hottest man she’d ever seen. “Understood?” A note of impatience threaded through his voice. Samara hastily nodded. Her heart pounded in her ears, a fine trembling rolling through her as her womb clenched tight and heat dampened her panties. Sheesh, what was wrong with her? Here she was, in mortal danger, and all she could think about was jumping his bones.
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Silence reigned for several seconds. Finally he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t going to do anything to draw attention to their situation in the cell. She stayed motionless, looking at the metal wall in front of her. What was he going to do? There was no way he could get off the ship, even if he could get out of the detention bay. Almost on cue, the ship rocked and the red alert klaxons started their raucous wailing. She started in surprise. “The ship’s under attack…I have to go.” “You’re not going anywhere.” His hold tightened almost to the point of pain, but she pressed her lips tight together. She was determined not to show any weakness. Not to him. From the reports she’d read, cyborgs hated weakness of any sort. Particularly human weakness. They hated anything that reminded them that a physically inferior race had created them and even now sought to control them. Despite her best efforts, the merest hint of sound escaped. It was more a mouse’s fart than a whimper, but he heard it. She froze, expecting dire retribution to fall on her head any second. Instead, his hold relaxed a fraction. Seeing her opportunity, Samara stomped on his foot, aiming for the arch, and twisted out of his hold. Launching herself across the small space, she reached out to punch the code into the pad by the door. Adrenaline raced through her veins, galvanizing every cell in her body. Her heart thundered. All the time, in the back of her mind, was the knowledge that she couldn’t outrun a cyborg. Not without a good head start and a minor miracle. But the universe was out of minor miracles. Sensing movement behind her, she squealed in fear and surged forward. Her escape was short lived. The next moment a hard body slammed into her from behind. She was stopped, spun around and pinned up against the wall of the cell. Not even breathing heavily, he glared down at her. “Never run from me.”
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His eyes glittered with anger and something else. Heat, fury, hunger. Whatever it was, it made her heart hop, skip and jump. Never one to be weak-willed, and perhaps suicidal to boot, her courage and backbone decided at that moment to reemerge. What was the point in holding her tongue if he was going to kill her anyway? “Oh, come on, Einstein. What do you expect? You’re a dangerous prisoner and the ship is under attack. What do you think I’m going to do? Hang around for a cup of tea and a cozy chat?” She arched one delicate brow and gave him a haughty expression. The combination had always worked on men who’d overstepped their bounds before. He was a man. Sure, he was also a cyborg, but without all the implants and things designed to turn him into a highly skilled, extremely fast killer he was still a man. His eyes darkened for a moment, then his lips crashed down on hers. He claimed them with a hard kiss that didn’t ask, it demanded. He swept his tongue along the seam between her lips, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Unable to stop it, she opened up for him. Crowding closer, Lyon’s body heat beat against her, surrounding her until her world was reduced to the two of them and the place their lips joined. She whimpered, pressing against him as the fire in her veins went supernova. He rumbled approval at her surrender, the sound from deep in his chest. His kiss softened, no longer hard and demanding, but gentle. A whisper of temptation as he slid past her lips to entangle his tongue with hers. Far from the testosterone-laden sweat she’d expected, his scent was fresh and clean with an underlying note that was uniquely his. His hand drove into her hair, scattering pins to hold her in place as he ravaged her mouth with the finesse of a master conductor leading his orchestra. He played her body with ease. She trembled as he lifted his head and looked down into her flushed face. The heat in his expression scorched her. Hot enough to make her blood boil and flay the flesh from her bones. A dark, erotic heat that she wanted to bask in, wrap around herself, and stretch out and absorb like a cat in the sun. 19
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Her back arched, and she pressed against him. Biting back a whimper, she pressed her aching breasts against the hard planes of his chest in a movement that was invitation and demand all rolled into one. His eyes darkened another notch. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he growled as he bent his head again. His hands cupped her ass. The rounded globes in his large hands, he pulled her up flush against his arousal. A thick ridge, like an iron bar, pressed into her soft belly. Heat shifted and swirled through her body like a flock of birds that had been resting, but were now on the wing again. Her womb clenched hard and her pussy followed suit, clenching around its own emptiness. She needed that thick cock inside her, thrusting in and out of her aching cunt. She needed him to fill her again and again until she screamed his name and came in torrents around him. Needed him buried so deep inside her it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began. “No point in anything else, is there? Otherwise, how do you feel alive?” She rose on her toes to kiss him again. He was addictive, like a drug. She wanted more. She wanted more than more. She never wanted the kiss to end. This time she didn’t let him take the lead. Instead she evaded and teased, letting him see what she was offering, but never quite letting him claim the prize. He growled in warning as he pressed her back against the wall. Grinding his cock against her soft belly, he ripped open the front of her ship-suit. The zipper gave. She gasped. Cool air washed over her breasts as they all but spilled out of the black satin bra she wore under her ship-suit. Her nipples beaded into tight pebbles as he claimed one breast in a large, rough hand. “Oh God. Yes.” His clever fingers slid under the satin, freeing the turgid nipple for his attention. Heat slipped from her cunt, her panties not damp anymore, but soaked. She whimpered, knowing she was slick and wet. All the better to take the thick length she could feel pressed against her. 20
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“That feel good, sweetling? You feel good. So good I want to fuck you all night.” He abandoned her lips, trailing quick, hot kisses down her neck as he headed for her breasts. His lips latched on to her nipple and Samara was in heaven. His mouth was a heated cavern of pleasure and sensuous torture. He suckled, nipped and licked until she was almost out of her mind. Her hands free, she drove them into what little hair he had, delighting in the feeling of his shorn locks, like coarse velvet, against her hands. She held him to her breasts, moaning as he freed the other from its satin cage and alternated his attention between the two. She didn’t care that they were in an open-fronted cell with guards just down the corridor. In fact, being so close to other people, knowing that they could walk by at any moment, just made the moment all the hotter. All she cared about was the man in front of her with his lips on her breasts and large hands smoothing over her generous curves. He pushed the suit from her shoulders with rough gestures, as though he was impatient to get his hands on the rest of her. She didn’t care. She just needed him to keep touching her. He slid to his knees to kiss along her stomach. His hands busied themselves sliding around her hips to push her suit farther down. He licked her navel, his tongue playing in the small indentation. Hot and cold shivers chased over her skin. “Shoes off for me, sweetling.” His voice was muffled against her skin, but the order was unmistakable. Not wanting him to stop, she toed one shoe off, then the other. Thank God nurses wore surgical clogs rather than full boots like the rest of the crew. High-leg lace-ups were so not made for quickie sex against the wall. “Good girl.” She couldn’t answer. All her attention was diverted to the feel of fabric sliding over her hips as he pushed her ship-suit down. It slid down her thighs and farther until she could kick it away. 21
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“Gorgeous,” he breathed. His hands smoothed up the length of her legs, reveling in her satiny skin. Samara thanked any deity who was listening that she’d been vain enough to shave her legs in the shower that morning. “Thong. Kinky. That right, sweetling? You like a little kink? How about being cuffed to the bed and fucked until you scream?” The words, whispered over her skin as he kissed along the edge of her underwear, weakened her knees. Whimpering, she clutched at his shoulders. Her pussy clenched in time with his words, her clit an aching ball of sheer fuck-me-now need. Parting her legs, he lifted one over a broad shoulder. She suppressed a moan as he kissed her satincovered mound. “You’re wet. This getting you going, sweetheart? Do I make you hot?” Leaning back against the wall and doing her best not to pant, she nodded. She couldn’t speak as his hands moved higher and closer to where she wanted him to touch the most. His fingers flirted with the edge of her thong, bypassing her hypersensitive clit by a fraction of an inch. She bit her lip in frustration, about to complain, then his fingers slid under the satin and right along her slickened cunt lips beneath. “Ohhhh! Oh God…yes.” Unerringly he stroked along her labia, parting them and finding her clit in one sweep. Using the broad, rough pad of his fingertip, he stroked and circled, alternating the softest pressure with hard sweeps until she canted her hips against his hand, riding his clever fingers and desperate to come. “Oh, you like that, huh? I know what you’ll like better.” She was close, so close his words didn’t register at first. Not until he leaned forward, scooping the satin of her thong out of the way and uncovering her pussy. As his lips latched on to her clit, suckling it hard, he thrust two thick fingers deep into her pussy.
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She screamed in pleasure, the sound buried under the sound of the red alert klaxon. Her cunt clenched hard, and then fluttered around his fingers. A sure sign she was near to orgasm. He didn’t give her any letup, didn’t let her savor the buildup as her previous lovers had. Instead he drove her higher with relentless licks and sucks on her clit as he pumped in and out of her pussy in a hard and fast rhythm. Her hands were on his head again as she held him against her cunt, desperate for every sensation he was offering. “God, you taste wonderful. That’s it, babe, give me everything,” he whispered against her. “I want to taste your cream on my tongue.” That did it. Throwing her head back, she abandoned herself to the maelstrom of pleasure within. Her body shook as she shattered, coming harder than she’d ever come before. He growled in approval, burying his face between her thighs and lapping up her juices with eagerness. She shuddered. Each brush and thrust of his tongue against her pleasure-racked flesh was almost unbearable. She moaned as he fucked her with his agile tongue, desperate for something larger and thicker between her thighs. Despite her release, her arousal built again. Insistent and relentless, it was a tide of pleasure she couldn’t do anything to stop. When he pulled away, wiping his mouth, she was flushed and panting in need again. “You taste fantastic. I could tongue-fuck you for eternity.” He moved up her body in a surge of explosive movement. On the way, he ripped open the front of his ship-suit and gathered her leg up over his hip. “I bet you’ll feel fantastic wriggling on my cock as well.” She gasped as he moved. The wide head of his cock nudged at her slit. A fresh wave of heat rolled through her, coating his cock. She wanted this. Heaven help her, she wanted this. She wanted to be pinned against a wall and fucked insensible by a sexy stranger with enigmatic green eyes.
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Embarrassment tried to join the heat surging through her. Nice girls shouldn’t yearn to be thrust up against a wall and have their brains screwed out. It didn’t last long though. As he pulled her leg higher over his hip and began to push into her, all of her higher brain functions went into meltdown. He pushed and her body parted around his thick diameter. She caught her breath. He was big. Far bigger than she’d thought, even with the warning of his cock pressed up against her belly earlier. So wide, she tensed, feeling the slight burning in her pussy. Feeling her hesitation, he reared back and speared her with a glittering gaze. “Don’t you dare back out on me now.” The expression on his face was thunderous, his voice little more than a growl of warning. Rolling his hips, he leaned in and his breath whispered over her neck. “It’s not nice to tease a man. Cock teases get fucked anyway. Used hard and nasty. You want that?” She didn’t. Everything intellectual about her recoiled from the idea, but her body clenched tightly at his crude words. Her cunt fluttered on the thick cock she was stretched around. Something inside told her that he wouldn’t make good on the threat. That if she said no, he’d let her walk away unharmed. How she knew that she had no idea. Perhaps it was the gentleness of his hands despite their great strength. Or the fact he’d made sure of her pleasure before he’d gotten his cock out of his pants. She knew a lot of men would have whipped their pricks out at the merest hint of a willing pussy. Then it would be two minutes, if she was lucky, of thrusting and groaning for nothing more than sticky thighs and finishing herself off in the shower. The rush of liquid tipped him off. Grunting in surprise, he slipped in another half inch. The dark realization in his eyes and slow, erotic smile almost had her coming over his cock, right there and then. “You like that, don’t you?”
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Samara bit her lip and didn’t answer. How could she answer that without sounding like a complete slut? Yes, I love it. Fuck me now, big boy? Nope, she just couldn’t force the words past her lips. The blush seemed to be enough though. He grinned and rolled his hips, making them both gasp. “I’m going to fuck you so hard…you’ll come screaming my name.” She shivered. Heat crawled over her body. Every cell was energized, burning with anticipation. Just one heavy thrust, that’s all it would take. Then she’d be filled to the hilt and in sheer, erotic heaven. “What are you waiting for then?” She leaned her head back against the wall and treated him to a sensual look from under her lashes. The sort of look she’d seen the other, skinnier nurses try on the marines, but certainly nothing she’d ever have thought of trying herself. She was too plump, too plain for anything like that. Until now. Until he’d made her feel sexy. He didn’t answer her. Not with words anyway. Slowly, with an almost mechanical precision, he pushed against her. Pushed home. Biting her lip, she held back a moan as her body parted to accommodate him. It was a burning, slippery slide of pure sensation. Not once did he break eye contact as he filled her inch by delicious inch with his cock. “Oh God,” she managed as his hips met hers. Buried to the hilt, his cock throbbed inside her. She’d never felt so full in all her life. “Lyon, actually. You can call me God if you like.” His lips found her temple and planted soft kisses there. “Breathe. Just breathe and it’ll feel good soon.” The almost painful, full feeling wore off, leaving the uncontrollable need to move in its wake. She rocked her hips. Her eyes rolled back in her head as pleasure cascaded through her body. The small movement opened the floodgates.
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Crowding her against the wall, he grunted and pulled his hips back. He wasn’t gone long. Within a heartbeat, he was back, slamming his thick length into her in one heavy thrust. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders for support. Wrapping her legs around his lean hips, she wriggled on his cock, sliding onto it another impossible half inch. “More,” she demanded, using the strong muscles of her thighs to lift herself up the length of his erection. Whimpering in pleasure, she released them and slid back down the heavily veined shaft. She’d heard cyborgs were well endowed, but this was something else. She liked big cocks, some of the vibrators she kept in her bottom drawer were almost eye-watering in girth, but none of them were like this. No amount of synthplastic, no matter how realistic or how stimulating its pump action, could replace the real thing. And nothing, she was quickly finding out, compared to Lyon. She could feel everything. “Tease,” he threw back between gritted teeth. “But if it’s more you want, then more you’ll get. Sure you can handle it?” The last was a rhetorical question. As soon as the words left his lips, he started to move. Not the exploratory movements of earlier, as he’d allowed her to get used to the sheer size and width of him. Instead he spread his thighs for balance, pulled back, then surged back into her in a powerful thrust that literally stole the breath from her lungs. He pinned her between the wall and his battle-honed and -hardened frame. Fucking her with heavy thrusts and dominant surges, he fed the entire length of his cock into her needy cunt until his balls pressed against her ass. He pulled back out again, until the wide purple head almost slipped from her soaked slit. His eyes glittered under half-closed lids. His expression was caught somewhere between male triumph and feral possessiveness. As though she belonged to him and this claiming would bind them for life.
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All such fanciful thoughts scattered as he rolled his hips in an unexpected move to touch a spot inside her slick, arousal-drenched channel that made the ship, any number of worlds…hell, even the entire universe roll. “Ohhhh…” He grinned at her vocalization of pleasure. There was little amusement in the brief slash of white teeth and a whole lot of erotic determination. He did it again, making her eyes roll into the back of her head. Then again and again, until every thrust pressed against that glorious spot of sensation inside her. She bit her lower lip, trying to keep her moans and whimpers inside. She’d never been a quiet lover; even now with a chance they would get caught. Perhaps even more so with the added thrill of being taken in a nearly public place by a man like this, conspiring to tip her over the edge. Her pussy clenched around his cock, gripping the hard shaft as pleasure built inside her. She needed more, urging him on with small rolls of her hips and the rake of her nails down his back. He shuddered as she scored him, his eyes rolling back in his head. Inside her, his cock jerked in reaction to her sensual torture. Growling in the back of his throat, he looped her leg over his arm, just one, and drove into her with renewed ferocity. Off balance, she grabbed his shoulders, mashing her breasts against the solid planes of his chest. Her hands and his cock impaling her were the only things that helped her keep her balance. His eyes closing, he slammed into her, hips pounding against hers. The rhythm wasn’t as smooth or as slick. Like a runaway train, just slightly out of control, as though he’d lost control. He opened his eyes to look down at her, surprise in their depths. His gaze latched on to her lips and he swooped in to claim them again. Without preamble, he drove his tongue into her mouth in the same hard rhythm he was using to fuck her, swallowing her moan as the tension in her frame neared breaking point again.
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What was it about this guy? She’d already come once, hard. Yet now she was on the verge of another explosive orgasm, as though she hadn’t come in weeks. Her whimpers were lost in his mouth as her cunt clenched around his cock. He thrust into her again and she was lost. The pressure broke, overflowing like champagne over the top of a glass. Pleasure fizzled and bubbled through her veins as she clamped down on his cock. Her body milked his, and she rode his thick shaft for all she was worth. He pushed into her one last time, and then stiffened. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he groaned. Deep inside her body, his cock jerked and pulsed and he spilled white-hot seed in her depths.
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Chapter Three “Are you sure this is the right ship?” Cael looked over her shoulder from the copilot’s seat at the demand. Her slender fingers moved over the controls in front of her in an elaborate dance as she brought the cloaked shuttle into the best alignment for a concealed boarding of the vessel above them. A cancer-class cyborg, she didn’t have to look at the screen in front of her to know the docking clamps were almost in place. Her dual onboard comps were linked to the shuttle’s computer system, so what the sensors saw, she saw too. The docking tube clamped into place, the sound echoing both in cyberspace and through the deck beneath her feet as she rose from her seat and made her way back toward Archon. One of the Geminis onboard, he was more arrogant than his quieter brother, Eoin. “Am I or am I not…” She walked her fingers up his broad slab of a chest. “This section’s Cancer class?” “Yeah, we know that. Your point?” Archon didn’t bother to stop her touching him. He’d hinted more than once he’d have her in the sack in a hot second. Cael knew he’d be good. He was a Gemini, there was no way he wouldn’t be good. Designed as infiltration units, G-classes had seduction coded into their genes before they reached the maturation tanks. She didn’t look at the silent brother cleaning his rifle just feet away, but she knew he was there. Sure, she wanted Archon, but not without his brother. Considering it was a cyborg woman who’d broken Eoin’s heart and given him the three vicious scars across his face and the heavy limp, it would be a cold day in hell before she’d manage to become the meat in this Gemini sandwich. 29
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“She means you’re dumb and she knows what she’s doing, dickweed. Now shut the fuck up so we can get this done, get Lyon off this tin can and get home.” Eoin’s voice was a growl as he surged into movement, giving Cael a wide berth as he headed for the boarding hatch. “And if you two wanna fuck, then get a room already.” The two looked after him in shock as Eoin boosted himself up into the tube, putting himself perilously close to the cutting arc of the boarder. Sparks flew and dropped down around his legs and booted feet. Cael tried not to stare at the brace on his left leg. No one in the section looked at it directly. They were all uncomfortable that one of their number might be less than physically perfect. Archon looked back at her, his sinfully full lips quirking. “So what about it, gorgeous? Want to grab a room after this and do the horizontal tango for a night?” Cael punched his arm in answer. Even female and a Cancer, a class known more for its computing power than brute strength, she was heavily enhanced. Archon rocked back on his heels as he absorbed the power of her blow. He gasped and held his hands over his heart. “Lady, you wound me.” “Get a derma-bandage.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she followed Eoin into the boarding tube.
***** The boarding was fast and furious. As soon as the cutter was done, the three cyborgs dropped into the corridor below, rifles at the ready. The Valkyrie was an exploration and fast-response vessel. Cael’s interrogation of the Fleet databases had revealed that there was a marine detachment stationed on board, so there was going to be a certain amount of resistance. Sure enough, within seconds of them breaching the ship’s hull, the marines were on them. Ignoring the laser bolts whizzing past her head, Cael slid behind Eoin’s bulk, dropped her rifle to the deck and yanked an access panel off the wall. She didn’t have time to search for an unsecured access point, so it would have to be brute force.
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Peering into the mass of cables under the panel, she picked out the data cable. Knife in hand, she stripped the protective casing back, ignoring the electrical shock that tingled over her skin. All cyborgs were protected against electrical shock and EM pulse, but none more than Cancers, who were designed to deal with power and data systems. “Gotcha.” The knife cut the plastic sheath easily. Below it, the tritanium-copper alloy of the data cable winked back at her. Without hesitation, Cael reached in and grabbed it. The metallic access points buried in the palm of her hand like a spider’s web sparked into life and then she was into the system. “Bypassing firewalls. Shit, they’ve got the TM-twenty-seven,” she announced to the two men providing covering fire. To all intents and purposes, the battle for the ship was taking place in the corridor as the two forces, cyborg and Fleet, exchanged fire. The reality was far different. The battle was in cyberspace, between Cael and the ship’s defense computer. Eoin flicked a glance over his shoulder. The first time he’d looked at her fully in a long time, since before his accident. “You can do it, babe. I know you can.” Surprised by the support as well as the warmth and interest in his eyes as he flicked his gaze over her still form, Cael just lay there for a moment. Snapping herself out of it, she rerouted all available processing power to cracking the Valkyrie’s defense net. For long moments her body grew heavy and she even allowed her breathing to stop as she disappeared into cyberspace. With a crack, the net broke. Whooping in triumph, Cael surged into the computer to take command. Straight away she shut down all the alarms, locked out command access with a mutating algorithm and created an all-access wireless link so she could maintain control even when she let go of the cable. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. “Marine weapons shutdown in three…two…now!”
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“That was…amazing.” Even to Samara, her voice sounded shaky. It should do, she’d just had the most amazing sex in her life. She wrapped her arms around Lyon with tenderness. He was still breathing heavily, his body buried deeply in hers. It was more than the sex, she admitted, stroking his back as she waited for him to calm down. He was a cyborg, the supposed scourge of the galaxy, yet he was trembling in her arms. He grunted in answer and pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck. Leaning her cheek against him, she allowed her eyes to close and let it all fall away. It didn’t matter that she was naked in a cell with a guy she’d only met a couple of days ago. It didn’t matter he was a prisoner. All that mattered was he was holding her, his big body wrapped around her protectively. An orphan of the Heral system war, she was used to being on her own. The feeling of being held and protected was an almost forgotten, and very seductive, one. “Awww. Isn’t this nice?” She jumped at the sound of a voice from the corridor. They’d been discovered. Expecting marines to pour into the cell at any moment and tear him away, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. She didn’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be over. Not yet. Lyon shifted position slightly, keeping the bulk of his body between her and the open front of the cell, his face still buried in the curve of her neck. “Archon. Do me a favor and fuck off.” A wholly masculine chuckle was the reply. “Seems like you’re doing enough of that for the both of us. Want me to leave you two lovebirds to it? I mean, it’s only your own goddamn rescue. Nothing important.” “I swear to God, I’m going to wring that fucking Gemini’s neck.”
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“You know him?” The instant the words slipped from her mouth, Samara wanted to kick herself. Of course Lyon knew him. How else would he know his name? “Aye. Rescue party. And they’re late. Archon, turn your back.” Lyon’s voice was hard as he looked back over his shoulder. “Awww, Lyon, man. You’ve gotta be kidding me…” “Now.” She jumped at the snapped command. Beyond the broad shoulders which were cutting off her view of the rest of the cell came the sound of boots on the deck and Archon grumbling. Something about never getting to see any action. Samara couldn’t help it, he sounded so much like a sulky teenager that she giggled. Granted it had a note of hysteria, but it was still mostly a sound of amusement. Lyon slipped out of her, then let her down gently, holding her as her feet touched the floor. She scrambled for her discarded clothing as he pulled his ship-suit into place again. Heat flared over her cheeks as she shoved her arms and legs into the suit, then yanked the zipper up with a sharp movement. He’d taken her while still mostly clothed. Sliding her feet into her slip-ons, she finally met his eyes. Like a patient cat, he simply watched, green eyes impassive over the small tattoo on his cheek. Rescue party. He was leaving. Disappointment crashed over her like the waves on a beach. Was she just a quick tumble, a bit of fun while he had a spare five minutes? The other man stepped into the cell. Like Lyon, he had a tattoo on his cheek, but unlike Lyon, he had a more slender build, with shoulder-length blond hair and looks that would raise the pulse of any red-blooded woman. Apart from Samara…she didn’t feel a thing when she looked at him. “Boss man, you done with the chick? Because we have a bit of time and if she’s hot—”
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Lyon was snarling as he turned. Violence in every line of his body, he grabbed the other cyborg by the throat and propelled him into the wall behind. “No one touches her but me. Understand?” Archon gasped for breath as Lyon’s hand clamped around his throat. His heels thudded against the metal bulkhead of the cell. Samara gasped and stepped forward without thinking to lay her hand on Lyon’s arm.
“Understand?” Lyon snarled into Archon’s face. His whole body was rigid with tension and fury as he tightened his grip. Archon’s face started to go blue. “He can’t speak. Let him go. Lyon, please?” The soft request broke through the red haze of fury. Abruptly Lyon released his hold, letting Archon drop to his knees, coughing and spluttering. All cyborgs were hardy, but none of them could stand up to a Leo for long. The best they could do was hope to outrun the heavier class and stay out of range. Even that was an achievement. Big as they were, Leos were fast. “Nanites’ balls, man. I got it. You only needed to say it once, not break my neck to prove it,” Archon gasped as soon as he was able to speak. Rubbing at his neck ruefully, he looked up and smiled as he looked Samara over, an instinctive male reaction to a beautiful woman. Lyon snarled again. He knew what Archon saw. Samara’s dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her curvy frame filled the ship-suit in a way that would whet any man’s appetite. Particularly a randy Gemini’s. He stepped between Archon and Samara, pushing her behind him. “Whoa. She’s pretty. That’s all. Not touching, I swear!” Archon protested at Lyon’s challenging look. Why he was reacting this way over a quick shag, he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure…there was no way Archon or any cyborg was laying a hand on her. Not while he had breath in his body.
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Archon glanced around, looking at anything other than the woman who was peeking around Lyon’s shoulder. His gaze landed on the cuffs abandoned on the narrow bunk and he grinned. “Pretty and persuadable, it seems.” “No. Just not familiar with mag-cuffs.” Lyon turned to Samara, swept a quick eye over her appearance and then sighed. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved. With brisk efficient movements, he zipped her suit up as far as he could to conceal her cleavage. He didn’t want Eoin or Archon drooling over her or he’d have to break some bones. “Put your hair back up,” he ordered her in a soft tone. Her eyes were wide and dark with apprehension and the tension that hummed through her body was wary now. Not a problem, he’d soon sort that out in his quarters tonight. As quickly as that, Lyon made his decision. She was coming with them. Human or not, he wasn’t letting her go. His reaction to Archon’s suggestion had proven that. Just the thought of another man touching her, caressing those voluptuous curves, was enough to tip him into fury. “Do we have control of the ship?” he asked, watching as she picked up the pins he’d scattered over the floor of the cell and started to put her hair up. Latent arousal flared into life as she shook her hair back, then lifted her arms above her head to twist the heavy mass into a plait above her head. The action tightened the fabric over her breasts. Lyon gritted his teeth as blood pooled in his groin, his cock hard in a flash. What was it about her that affected him so much? “Yeah, locked down tighter than a Novariam’s horde.” Good. Where are Eoin and Cael? Confident now that their internal communication net wouldn’t be interrupted, Lyon switched to silent comms. If Cael was aboard, then she had the ship’s computer locked up so tight it would take a team of human experts a month to wrestle control back. Back aboard the Chameleon. We’re going to need to hurry, boss man. These lanes are heavily patrolled. With this thing dead in the water, we could get pinged any moment… 35
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Archon didn’t need to complete the thought. Taking control of an enemy craft was child’s play for three experienced cyborgs. Even the youngest of their number, Cael, had a list of battle honors longer than Lyon’s arm. But taking on an enemy battleship in their own territory was nothing short of suicide. He’d rather avoid that if he could. Where’s the entry point? Knowledge flooded into his onboard as Archon transmitted a schematic of the ship. Drilling down through the layers, Lyon easily found where they’d breached the Valkyrie’s hull. Watching like a hawk, he waited until Samara, blissfully unaware of the telepathic exchange, shoved the last pin into her hair. Grabbing her hand, he marched them both from the cell and down the corridor toward their escape. “Hey! What are you doing? Where are we going?” She dug her heels in and pulled at his grip on her wrist. It was like a fly buzzing around him. She had no chance of breaking his grip. The only reason she’d managed to do so in the cell had been because he hadn’t been expecting her to try anything. Irritation swirling through his veins he turned, a scathing comment already poised on the tip of his tongue. If she couldn’t figure out what was happening after he’d already informed her that Archon was part of the rescue team, then perhaps she wasn’t as intelligent as he’d taken her to be. At his side, Archon got that “blank” look his section used when someone had asked a dumb question, and moved swiftly ahead to avoid being caught in the fallout. The comment fell silent on his tongue as he registered the fear in her eyes. It was well hidden, but to someone who could read her heart rate and measure the dilation of her pupils, she might as well put a banner over her head to announce she was scared out of her wits. His anger vanished. She wasn’t a member of his crew, used to life-anddeath situations every day of her life. She was human and he had to make allowances for that.
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Pulling her into his embrace, he wrapped an arm around her waist. The hold pressed her petite, curvy little body flush against his. Tucking his finger under her chin, he made her look up to meet his eyes and did nothing to conceal the arousal that was turning him inside and out. “We’re going home.” Before she could answer, he ducked his head and kissed her. Not hard, not demanding. This time he explored and took his time as he savored the embrace. Immediately she opened up for him with a little shudder and a moan that drove him crazy. It…she…was soft and gentle as she accepted him without a fight. All his life Lyon had struggled and fought for everything. So to have this one thing, to have her, without fighting was a balm to his jaded soul. He groaned and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. She didn’t complain, settling her curves against the solid planes of his body. She fit perfectly, as though she’d been made for him. Jilan-ma. Perfect match. The cyborgs as a race were too young to have many myths and legends, but there were a few. Most were centered about their creators, and that one of the techs involved in their development was more than human. That the human scientists were guided by something, or someone, divine during their creation. That they weren’t the creation of the humans they despised. He thought most of the stories were total crap. Wishful thinking. But there was another myth, one he’d already half believed in. That for every cyborg there was a perfect match, a soul mate, out in the galaxy somewhere, waiting for them. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her delicate hand cupped the back of his head. His body, already hard again, pulsed with need and her delicate touches inflamed him like none before. All he could think about was getting her back to his ship, holing up in his quarters and taking at least a month getting to know every inch of her luscious body. 37
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“Er, boss man. I hate to interrupt what is obviously an intimate moment. But we really do need to get out of here.” Lyon sighed as he tore his lips from hers. The soft sound of frustration and her pout pleased him immensely as he set her back on her feet from where she’d been all but plastered over him. “We do. Come on,” he said, Samara’s hand clasped firmly in his as he started down the corridor again.
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Chapter Four It took them a few minutes to approach the entry point. They strode past dumbfounded crewmembers, but Lyon ignored the gawking and towed Samara behind him. They didn’t encounter any resistance along the way. He hadn’t expected any. Cael had control of the ship’s computer systems and for any non-enhanced human to go up against even one cyborg, never mind a group of them, would be suicide. Suicidal or not, when the trio rounded the corner nearest to the entry point, they came face to combat visor with a group of heavily armed marines. Archon snapped his rifle into his shoulder almost as quickly as Lyon’s eyebrow rose toward his hairline. Either the Valkyrie’s marines really had been brainwashed into thinking they were the “best of the best” or they were insane. His money was on the latter. “Stop right there. We’ve got you covered.” I see they’re going for original, Lyon shot over the team’s commlink. He shifted position slightly, mostly to shelter Samara’s delicate form behind his heavier build, but also to provide him with better balance if this came to close quarters combat. He hoped it would. Really hoped it would. After scratching one itch with the gorgeous woman behind him, he was just itching to scratch another—namely the need for bloody, brutal violence. “So I see.” Lyon folded his arms over his broad chest as he faced the squad in front of him. Cael, tell me what I’m looking at. “Did you actually want something? Or are you just here to give us a nice little sendoff?” His eyebrow had no sooner settled down to its normal position than he was lifting it again.
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Eight-man squad. Projectile weaponry…can’t be energy, I’ve got all the ship weapons locked down nice and tight. Cael’s voice was brisk and businesslike as it filled, not his ear as the link was built directly into his cybernetic implants, but his mind instead. “You’re not getting off this ship, you cyborg bastards,” the marine at the front spat, his face and voice filled with hatred. It was a reaction Lyon and all his kind were familiar with. A good old human reaction. If they didn’t understand it, they had to destroy it. “Now, now…” Lyon paused and checked his rank. Corporal. Christ, he even outranked the guy. Not that he’d retained his rank after escaping from the facility they’d been holding him in. That probably had more to do with the fact he’d nuked the place flat than the actual escape though. “There’s no need for such language with ladies present, now is there, Corporal?” “Fuck you. Get your hands in the air!” “Are you always this eloquent? Or do you work at it?” He didn’t bother to move, just watched the small group of marines with an implacable gaze. He’d been told once he had a gaze on him that would give a rattlesnake a headache. He wouldn’t know. He’d never understood why someone would want to give a snake a headache. Despite the corporal’s bravado, the rest of the group didn’t seem quite so confident. Sure, on paper the odds were stacked in their favor. Eight against two. When those two were combat-experienced military-grade cyborgs, though, the odds weren’t just twisted; they were screwed six ways to Sunday. A fact that appeared to have bypassed the corporal without so much as a wave and was no doubt the reason the seven marines around him looked like they’d like to disappear up their own asses. “Corp…” one of his buddies spoke up, his face plainly saying that he’d clocked the lack of reaction from the two cyborgs. Hidden behind Lyon, none of them would be able to get a bead on Samara’s reaction. At least they’d better not anyway. If they could see her, then they had line of sight, which meant she was in danger. 40
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As he faced down the armed squad, he wondered why he wasn’t using her as a human shield. With one of their own in the fray, particularly a female, there was no way the testosterone-driven group in front of him would open fire. “What?” the corporal snapped, his voice high with tension. Lyon watched a bead of sweat detach itself from his skin to roll down it. Great, a twitchy one. Just what they needed. Cael, get eyes on the action in this corridor and bring the internal defenses to bear. Initiate the ship’s self-destruct sequence, but keep it on silent countdown until my mark. “You know what the boss man said. We gotta wait until he gets here unless they start something.” Both cyborgs looked from the tense squad commander to his slightly more intelligent subordinate and back again, like some sort of bizarre tennis match. Aye, Colonel. Just try to avoid getting shot, would ya? We’ve only got what’s aboard until we get back to Redemption Bay and patching up bullet holes with a portable kit is a bitch. He allowed amusement to fill his mind, smothering the grin that wanted to spread. His lips quirked slightly, which the twitchy marine’s gaze immediately latched on to. He lifted his rifle half into the air, the muzzle wavering in the air for a moment as he glared at Lyon and Archon. Adrenaline flooded Lyon’s body, filling his muscles and getting his body ready for the fight he knew was coming. Beside him, Archon tensed, the slight movement almost imperceptible, but he’d been part of Lyon’s section for years. Like the rest of his team, Lyon knew the Gemini’s reactions inside out. “Who’s to say they didn’t start something?” the corporal said silkily, the threat implicit. “They’re cyborgs, remember? Bloodthirsty killers.” Shit. Fear joined the adrenaline in his veins as he saw that thought working its way around the group at light speed. Not for himself or Archon. Cyborgs were the ultimate disposable warrior. Built in a lab and matured in a tank, every part of their hardware was designed to be replaceable. A useful feature they’d stuck with even after their
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freedom. Short of a starship weapons battery, there wasn’t much that would take them down permanently. But the woman sheltering behind Lyon wasn’t built the same. Pathetic, lack of redundancy, dependent on her original design, his mind tried to argue, but he squashed the thought. She was unique, a one of a kind. Something fragile that needed to be protected. Obviously she didn’t think along quite the same lines, because the next second she was stepping around him to fix the corporal with a steely glare. “Who’s to say they didn’t start something? How about me, Hawkins? I’ll say they didn’t start anything. What you going to do…shoot me as well?” Son. Of. A. Bitch. Lyon’s heart stopped. She was trying to get herself killed. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her back behind the protective bulk of his body and added a glare for good measure. The one she gave him back was blistering. If it had been a weapon, she’d have gutted and flayed him alive. Holding his gaze in warning, she deliberately stepped around him again. “Well, Hawkins? You planning on getting rid of the witnesses as well? Me and your whole troop?” She walked toward the corporal as she spoke. Lyon wasn’t sure which of them was the nuttier; the twitchy corporal or the frankly insane woman he’d been trying to protect. The muzzle of Hawkins’ rifle swung around, aiming straight at the center of her chest. Helpfully, Lyon’s onboard comp fed him details of what would happen to Samara if the marine fired. It didn’t make for a pretty picture. He’d already started to lean forward, hand outstretched to wrap around her upper arm when another voice broke into the conversation. Cold and hard as space, it cut through the tension in the corridor like a whip. “That’s a question I’d very much like answering as well, Corporal Hawkins.”
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The marine squad tensed en masse. Their eyes were all dead center, watching the two cyborgs, but Lyon could tell their attention wasn’t actually on them. Instead it was riveted to the slender man in a Fleet Captain’s uniform walking down the corridor behind them. Captain Marisol–Lees. The guy in charge of the ship. He looked younger than Lyon had expected. His face was unlined and his longer than regulation dark hair didn’t show any hint of gray. The captain reached the back of the squad, which parted like water to let him pass. Lyon took advantage of the distraction, grabbed Samara and shoved her behind him, holding her in place with a hard hand on her wrist. “I’m sure you’re not trying to inflame the situation here solely over your…dislike of cyborgs. Are you, Corporal?” Hawkins’ gaze shifted sideways to his superior officer. The agony of indecision was written on his face as his eyes flicked between the cyborgs and the captain. “Because in case you hadn’t noticed, they do have a hostage…” Samara, who’d been busy trying to prize Lyon’s grip from her wrist, looked up and waved helpfully. Lyon resisted the urge to close his eyes and shake his head. Game face on, he smiled tightly at the captain. “That’s not all. Cael, drop the mute.” A dry, measured tone filled the air in the corridor; the sound of the ship’s computer. “Self-destruct sequence initiated… Three minutes, twenty-four seconds to selfdestruct.” The announcement dropped into a silence so complete Lyon was surprised tumbleweeds didn’t roll past. It was a desolate wasteland of soundlessness as Captain Marisol–Lees fixed Lyon with a steely gaze.
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“Well played, Colonel.” A wry grin twisting his lips, the captain inclined his head. A lock of dark hair fell over one eye. “Now what do I have to give you in exchange for the release of my ship?” Lyon didn’t let any hint of his surprise show on his face at being referred to by his rank. His files would be sealed; Combined Fleet Command didn’t like people having access to the complete FUBAR they’d made of the cyborg project, so Marisol–Lees wouldn’t have seen that. Which left the only other option… He could read the code on Lyon’s cheek. He let the silence stretch out. Next to the captain, Hawkins was going redder and redder. Wonder if his head will actually explode? Archon mused over the commlink. Can I shoot him? Lyon almost squawked, but managed to hold it in. They were both trying to drive him nuts. No, you cannot shoot him. We’re in a corridor with eight heavily armed marines, and one rifle between us. “For a Fleetie, you’re very well informed, Captain.” Despite his dislike of most humans, he had to give credit where credit was due. Besides, there was something about the man. He had a no-bullshit, cut-right-to-thechase attitude that appealed to Lyon. Had circumstances been different, he was the sort of guy Lyon would have tried to build a friendship with. I’ve got a rubber band and a paperclip in my pocket, if that helps? Archon? Yeah? Shut up. The human smiled. “Thank you. However, you haven’t answered my question. I do apologize for pushing you…but time’s a-ticking.”
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Lyon opened his mouth. The usual demands for weapons and supplies hovered on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t ask for any of them, even though Redemption Bay was like a black hole for such supplies. Instead the words that came out his mouth surprised him as much as it did everyone else. “Her,” he said, pulling Samara around into view. “I want her.” Lyon ignored her outraged gasp, his attention on the captain. “Two minutes, thirty-five seconds to self-destruct,” the computer reminded them. Marisol–Lees’ dark-eyed gaze flicked from him to the petite woman next to him and back again. Cold calculation showed in his eyes. “Just her? Nothing else? You’ll relinquish control of the ship. No…hidden surprises?” Lyon shook his head. “Nothing. We’ll leave you in peace.” “Done. Hawkins, stand down. Let these people leave.” “Excellent, pleasure doing business with you, Captain. Have a nice day,” he added, starting to walk toward the hatch as the marines backed up. “You can’t do this!” Samara blurted out, seeming to regain her voice as he tugged her toward the boarding access and, beyond it, his ship. He couldn’t wait to get her aboard. The first thing he planned to do was hole up in his quarters for…oh, a month? Yeah, a month should be long enough. Maybe. He stopped so suddenly she ran straight into his back. Looking over his shoulder, he ignored the quick smirk that ghosted over Marisol–Lees’ face. “Okay, what’s the problem?” “This is kidnapping!” His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Your point?” Hawkins chose that moment to pipe up. “With all due respect, Sir. Are you just going to let these filthy creatures take her? She’s human, for crying out loud, she doesn’t deserve this.” 45
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Can I shoot him now? Archon begged. Plllllllease?! Before the captain could say anything Samara rounded on the corporal. “Filthy creatures? How dare you? At least they don’t sleep around…yeah, I know all about you and Jessica. And Annette…or was Amanda before Annette?” She smiled sweetly. “Just tell the girls you sleep with you’ve got an STD, would you, sweetheart? Makes it so much easier to treat.” Oh. Crash and burn, baby. She’s good. Can we keep her? Hawkins went red and started to make a strange spluttering sound as the captain choked. Lyon didn’t know whether it was a sound of outrage or suppressed amusement, but he didn’t hang around to find out. In one swift move, he leaned down and threw her over his shoulder. Ignoring her shriek of outrage, he headed for the boarding hatch before either she or Archon could say anything else and screw the situation up any more than it was already. “Cael, get us ready to move and cancel the self-destruct.” He clambered through the boarding tube with an ease that belied the fact he was carrying a wriggling, shrieking wildcat. “Archon!” he bellowed, suddenly becoming aware that the Gemini hadn’t followed him. “Stop antagonizing the humans and get your butt in here!” Aye, Colonel, just…dealing with something. Be there in a moment. Archon’s voice was full of the sort of amusement that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Usually that meant Archon was up to no good. A fact that was borne out as he dropped into the main section of the shuttle to find both Cael and Eoin suddenly very busy and avoiding his gaze. Dumping Samara into one of the passenger seats, he fixed her with a steely look. “Stay, or I’ll cuff you to it.”
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He straightened and looked at the other two cyborgs. The sound of the human ship’s internal defenses firing echoed through the boarding tube at the same moment Archon dropped through it, a smirk on his face. “Right. Out with it,” he demanded over the sound of the boarding mechanism closing up and retracting. Within a heartbeat, the small shuttle lurched as Cael gunned the engines. With the Valkyrie back under her crew’s control, they needed to be gone. Fast. “What? I didn’t do a thing. Honest.” Archon tried an innocent look, which didn’t wash with Lyon. He’d known the Gemini virtually since he’d been pulled from his tank. There wasn’t an innocent bone in his body. He sighed. He’d heard the ship’s internal defenses. Defenses Archon had no control over. That was Archon through and through. Why do something yourself when you could get someone else to do the dirty work? “Cael? What did this POS promise you?” “A box of Helarian chocolates and a foot massage,” she replied promptly. “And what did you do?” “Shot that corporal in the ass.”
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Chapter Five Samara couldn’t help herself. She giggled. Although, to be fair, it was more of a snort than a giggle. Her mother always said she sounded like a cross between a horse and a donkey when she laughed. She couldn’t help it though. Despite the fact that, for all intents and purposes, she’d just been kidnapped by a group of cyborgs, hearing that that Corporal Hawkins had been shot in the ass just did it for her. The giggle looped and became unstoppable. Hilarity filled her until tears streamed down her cheeks and she was holding her sides to stop them from aching. Two sets of eyes—one green and one brown—looked at her in concern. Samara couldn’t do anything but laugh back at them, amused afresh that they were so concerned about her after they’d kidnapped her. “Is she all right?” Archon frowned, the big man looking to his bigger commander in concern. “Won’t she bust a blood vessel or something like that?” Lyon shrugged, a look of bewilderment on his face she found intensely amusing. “How the hell should I know? I’m not an expert on human physiology.” “She shouldn’t be that shade of red, surely?” Samara flopped sideways onto the seat next to her, until she was lying on her side, and howled. She’d never found anything so hilarious in her life. In the back of her mind she knew it was a stress reaction. She’d been kidnapped and rather than freak out, her twisted mind had decided to find it funny instead. “She’s hysterical. We should slap her out of it,” Archon announced. “Should I slap her?”
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“No!” Samara and Lyon announced at the same time, the latter with a glare that would have frozen the blood in the smaller cyborg’s veins. Had he actually been looking, that was. Instead he pouted and flounced off to the other side of the cabin to fling himself onto the opposite row of bench seats like a sulky teenager. “I never get any fun!” “Oh, how old are you? Bloody grow up.” She shook her head and sat up, straightening her clothes and rubbing at her aching cheeks. She hadn’t laughed like that for years. But then, she hadn’t been kidnapped or encountered a more stressful situation than running out of pre-packed dressings in the five years she’d been in the service. Lyon huffed and nodded. “Yeah, what she said.” She rounded on him next, her freaking-out-fueled amusement replaced by fury. The look in her eyes hard, she swooped in like a Valkyrie of legend to stab a finger into the center of his broad chest. “And you can be quiet, Mr. I kidnap people without so much as a by-your-leave. How dare you just yank me off my ship without even asking?” “Hmmm. I did ask.” “Not. Me!” He lifted an eyebrow, which only increased Samara’s ire. Did he only have like…three facial expressions or something? “Yeah, boss. You need to brush up on your seduction technique. The ladies do like to be asked…” Archon, busy studying under his fingernails, drawled. “Yeah. Exactly.” She nodded vehemently, trying to get through to the knuckleheaded cute-as-hell cyborg in front of her. “Even if they don’t have a choice.”
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“Wait. What? No! Not no choice. There should always be a choice!” She drew in a strangled breath, fighting her anger and marshaling her vocal cords and lungs for another volley. Lyon shot Archon a look and shoved his hand over her mouth to stem the tirade that was coming. “Archon! Really not helping here.” She’d never really understood the term “her vision went red” when people spoke about anger. She’d always thought it was one of those sayings people used to explain something that didn’t have a direct description. Until the moment Lyon silenced her in such an arrogant, overbearing manner and red did indeed filter down from the top of her eyes to the bottom, painting everything in shades of scarlet. A snarl in the back of her throat, she opened her mouth against his palm and bit down. Hard. Lyon snatched his hand back, forced into a half-second fight with her teeth for possession of the fleshy bit near his thumb, and looked at her in disbelief. “How dare you?” she demanded, not caring now that he could bend her in half and break her like a twig if he wanted to. She didn’t care she was stuck on his ship, with four beings who had more than enough reason to hate her species. Anger ran through her veins, embedded so deeply that she shook with the force of it. “Uh-oh. Lover’s tiff. Little woman doesn’t look too happy, boss.” Eyes locked on hers, Lyon flicked Archon an offensive gesture and moved forward, backing her up against the side of the cabin. Her fury shifted, turning into something equally as hot at the dark, dangerous look in his eyes. Unwilling to back down, she met him look for look. She knew that if she showed fear now, then he’d walk all over her. He’d kidnapped her, yes. But he’d asked for her, named her as his price for leaving the Valkyrie in one piece. Which meant she had value to him, surely? That she wasn’t some passing fancy to be used and tossed aside. She had to hope so or this whole situation became something far darker and more frightening. Became a situation she really didn’t want to think about. 50
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Her back bumped against the cold metal of the cabin wall, but still he kept coming. Kept coming until she could feel the heat of his skin beating against hers, even through their clothing. His face was hard as he looked down into hers. His breath whispered over her skin, stirring the strands of hair that lay against her neck. “I am in charge here, Ms. Williams. Do not forget that. Or make the mistake of challenging my authority. You won’t like how that ends.”
***** They were a family. For the next few hours as the combat shuttle left the system, taking her farther away from the Valkyrie, Samara watched the four cyborgs as they interacted with each other. Comfortably curled up in the seats at the back of the cabin, she listened as Archon and the female cyborg, Cael, teased each other good-naturedly. Each comment sparked another and another as they tried to best each other in what she could see was an affectionate game of wits. One she had no doubt had started years ago and would continue for years to come. Lyon sat in the copilot’s chair, but rather than the usual navigation systems, the console was filled with strange code and other symbols she didn’t recognize. Whatever it was though, the heavily built man seemed engrossed in it, only looking up to fire back a comment when his name was dropped in the argument between Archon and Cael. The other guy—Eoin, she’d figured from the conversation—had grunted and disappeared out the back door of the cabin without so much as a word. Samara had tried not to stare as he passed. A carbon copy of Archon, he had the same muscled build, coloring and face. But a scowl and scars twisted his features rather than a smile and a heavy medical brace encased one of his lower legs. She turned back to the others. Cael was beautiful. Envy filled her as she studied the cyborg woman. Tall with dark hair plaited close to her scalp, she had the sort of elegant,
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slender figure Samara could only dream of. Even the alphanumeric tattoo on her cheek and the metal encasing her left hand couldn’t detract from her looks. She’d relinquished the pilot’s seat to Archon, but perched on the edge of the row of seats opposite Samara to continue the round of bickering they’d started ten minutes ago after both had rounded on Lyon for trying to interrupt. Thoughts of the tall, handsome cyborg leader chased each other like eager puppies around her head. Why had he kidnapped her? Heat flushed her cheeks as he looked over his shoulder and directly at her. It was like he could pluck the thoughts right out of her head. They weren’t telepathic, were they? Panic hit her anew, but then she calmed herself. She couldn’t remember anyone mentioning telepathy as a cyborg ability. She’d bitten him. She still couldn’t believe she’d done that. Deliberately she shifted the focus of her thoughts. Were all cyborg women like Cael? Were they all that skinny and tall? If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn the woman was a supermodel or something, more used to the glitz and glamour of the intergalactic catwalks than brutal and bloody warfare. She bit her lip and listened as her self-confidence tumbled down around her ears. If they were all like Cael, then what chance did she have with Lyon? Why had he even bothered to give her a passing glance, never mind seduce her in his cell…? Her heart stuttered, then stalled in her chest. The ship had been abuzz when they’d rendezvoused to pick him up, but no one had said how long the Fleet had held him prisoner. Perhaps he’d just been away from his people too long and he’d just needed a woman, any woman. Biting back tears at the thought, she rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Tiredness swept up in a tidal wave and crashed over her, sapping what energy she’d had left. Within seconds, she was asleep.
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Cael was the first to look over her shoulder when Samara fell asleep. All with razorsharp hearing and the ability to monitor heart rate and respiration even at distance, they’d easily been able to tell when she was watching them and when she’d finally given in and gone to sleep. “She is,” Lyon agreed, finally giving in to temptation and looking over at his little prize himself. She was curled into an uncomfortable-looking little ball in one of the passenger seats. They were designed for hulking brutes of marines, so she looked like a child cuddled up for an impromptu nap. Well, she would if it wasn’t for the curves that filled the ship-suit out in a very un-childlike way. Cael sighed. “I’d die for a figure like that. You see the bust on her?” “Oh yeah…” Archon muttered, a comment which was quickly followed by two slaps to the back of his head; one from Cael and one from Lyon. “You keep your eyes to yourself,” Lyon growled and looked at Cael curiously. She shrugged. “I felt left out. Do I need a reason?” “With him, no.” “She’ll get uncomfortable like that.” Lyon pushed away from the console and stood. A couple of strides took him across the cabin until he was stood over her. She was sound asleep, dark eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. Peaceful, like an angel at rest. Careful not to disturb her, he gathered her into his arms as though she weighed nothing. To him, she didn’t. Mumbling something unintelligible, she nestled against him, her face in the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Her lips brushed gently against the skin there, the softest of touches, but one that speared right through his body to his cock. He closed his eyes for a second to control his bodily reactions. He’d never had such strong reactions to any woman before. Ever. So why this one? He entertained the thought that she was some kind of human witch, designed to drive cyborg men mad, then shook his head, amused at his own ridiculousness. 53
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He tightened his arms around her and rested his lips and nose against the top of her head. She’d used some kind of floral shampoo. Probably last night. He savored the fresh smell and the feeling of her in his arms. A rush of protectiveness surged through him. He’d take her through to his cabin. The bed was small but she would be comfortable there and wouldn’t wake up with the kinks in her back and neck that she’d get sleeping in the chair. “Lyon?” Cael’s voice stopped him as he turned to head out of the main cabin. He looked over his shoulder. Her face was curious, her head tilted to one side. “You could have asked for anything on that ship. Why her?” He didn’t need to think about the answer. “She makes me feel human.”
She was comfortable and safe. Murmuring contentment in the back of her throat, Samara snuggled closer into the warmth that surrounded her. Warmth that finally resolved itself in her sleepy brain as a hard male body in the bed with her. She shifted, her hand wandering over her pillow to test the solid muscle there. Yes, she thought so. It was definitely a male chest. A hard male chest covered in satiny skin—her fingers paused on a ridge to explore its length—and one covered in scars that told of a life of violence. Lyon. She kept her eyes closed and floated in that delicious state between asleep and awake. If she stayed here, she didn’t have to think about yesterday or deal with it. She could just lie here and enjoy the novelty of waking up in someone’s arms and feeling cherished. Five more minutes. A deep chuckle reverberated through the wide chest she had her head rested against. “I know you’re awake.”
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“Am not,” she protested, but opened her eyes as he shifted. A warm green gaze locked onto hers. She couldn’t help it, she smiled back sleepily. They were crammed into a small bed… Well, it would have been a large bed had she been the sole occupant, but with his large frame wrapped around her, even an imperial prince’s bed would have seemed on the small side. The color of his eyes shifted. Moss green darkened to the color of pine forests during a storm. Heat flared in the darkness as he dropped his head to claim her lips. Thoughts crowded into her head, fighting for her attention like hyperactive children in a classroom. She ignored them and opened up for him, kissing him back with a hunger that surprised even her. Just five more minutes, then she’d deal with them. He moaned, more of a growl from the bottom of his broad chest, and rolled her onto her back. His battle-hardened body stretched out over hers, all hard planes against her soft curves. A hair-roughened thigh slid between hers. Her eyes shot open as she realized he was naked. The press of his cock, hard and heavy, against the bare skin of her stomach informed her that so was she. She’d remembered falling asleep in the main cabin and she’d certainly been fully dressed. Her heart melted at the same time her body flooded with heat. He must have undressed her before putting her to bed. What kind of kidnapper did that? One who intended to have sex with her, that’s who, the cynical voice in the back of her head sniped. She ignored it. Again, even though she knew, could feel, the restrained strength in his body, she knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. If she said no, he wouldn’t push her. He wouldn’t force her. She didn’t want him to stop. Even though he’d “kidnapped” her and carted her off to God knew where, she didn’t want him to stop. Actually, come to think of it, she wasn’t even that scared, as long as he was with her. It was hard to kidnap the willing. One of his arms pillowed her head. Looking down into her face, he brushed the fingers of his free hand down her cheek with an almost reverent expression. They 55
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reached her mouth and traced along the fullness of her lower lip. She was caught in the spell, watching the changes in his expression. From reverent to possessive and right into a blazing heat that scorched the air between them. She sucked a ragged breath in as he looked back into her eyes, his look direct and searing. How could he do that…make her feel hot and jittery, like she’d run a marathon, yet unfulfilled at the same time? “You’re beautiful.” “Sure you weren’t dropped on your head as a baby?” She snorted at the ridiculous idea that someone would think her beautiful after being in the same room as Cael. Then she remembered cyborgs were grown in tanks and matured to adulthood before they were “born”. Lyon had never been a child in the real sense of the word. Heat crawled over her cheeks. Great move, Samara. Open mouth, insert foot. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” she said quickly, hoping to cover her slip, and smoothed a hand down his bare chest. He was all tanned, scarred skin and sexiness. Rugged and ruthless. Just the way she liked them… Okay, just the way she’d always fantasized about. She still wasn’t sure that this wasn’t a fantasy. Perhaps she’d hit her head and this was all just a highly charged erotic dream. If so, she hoped she stayed in a coma. She reached his stomach and slid lower to run a finger along his rigid cock. It jumped as she touched it, his nostrils flaring as the heat in his eyes reached an inferno. “Now, are you going to follow up on this promise,” she smiled wickedly, unable to resist temptation. “Or do I have to call in one of those handsome boys from out there… Archon is cute.” She’d been baiting him for a reaction, but she wasn’t prepared for the one she received. Fury flared in his eyes as he reared back to glare down at her. “He’s scrap. You’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed her hand from his cock. As she squeaked in surprise, he captured the other and stretched both above her head. He’d
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always been gentle with her before, but now his control slipped, his hold just this side of painful. “Mine, not Archon’s…not any other guy’s. Not. Ever.” A thrill shot through her at his declaration and the hard look on his face. He looked ready to take on the universe and destroy it all, just because she’d mentioned another man. Playing with fire, she shrugged. “All I’m hearing is a lot of talk here…” He narrowed his eyes, the green glittering beneath the slits of his eyelids. “You want action, sweetling? I’ll give you some action.” She hid her triumphant smile and gave him her best wide-eyed and innocent look. His possessive tone and edge in his voice warned her that he was just on the edge of his control. She liked that, liked that she threatened that iron grip he seemed to have on himself. The urge to push him further, to push him over that edge and see what happened, gripped her. He shifted on the bed, his knee pushing her knees farther apart in a rough move. She sucked a shuddering breath in as he shoved his hips against hers and the thick head of his cock pressed at the entrance to her pussy. “I’ll give you all the action you’ll ever need,” he promised. With a powerful roll of his hips, he thrust all the way inside her until his balls pressed against the cheeks of her ass. Her breathing stopped as he filled her, pressing against the walls of her pussy. The friction and fullness were addictive. She tried to breathe through her nose as she waited for the stretched feeling to abate, but he didn’t give her time. “Mine,” he growled again as he pulled back and slammed into her again, as though the word was pulled unwillingly from the depths of his soul. His body covered hers protectively as he fucked her in long, powerful thrusts. Like a feral beast holding on to its prey, he pulled her close and buried his face against her neck. His lips whispered against her neck, but he didn’t kiss her, instead he nuzzled at the spot under her ear that sent shivers through her body. Her pussy 57
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clenched hard around him, loosing a rush of liquid heat over the cock buried deep inside her. He groaned approval and rolled onto his back with her still impaled on his rigid erection. Hands hard on her hips, he held her still as he drove up into her silken depths. “Lady, you’re fucking addictive. What have you done to me?”
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Chapter Six What had she done to him? Hours later, Lyon all but stumbled from the master cabin with just that question rolling through his mind. Sex shouldn’t be like this. It was an itch to be scratched. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Sorted. End of. It shouldn’t be this endless torment of not being able to get enough. Of finishing and within seconds being hard and aching for her all over again. He leaned against the wall of the short corridor, his head back against the cool metal, and tried to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. He could have had any number of supplies from the Valkyrie, the captain there really hadn’t had a leg to stand on, he’d have had to comply with Lyon’s request or lose his ship. He should have picked the supplies. They were low on just about everything back at base. A cause was all well and good, but it didn’t put food into the many mouths he had to feed. Although they were part machine, cyborgs were also bio-organic. And they ate a lot. Mealtime in the communal mess hall was like watching a plague of locusts descend and pick everything clean. He’d picked Samara instead and, despite knowing he was going to get hauled over the coals for it when they got back, he wasn’t sorry. His flippant comment to Cael earlier had been dead on the mark. He and the rest of his kind were disposable, the perfect cannon fodder. He’d been designed, pulled from a tank and taught to kill. His body was filled with implants designed to make him the perfect soldier, but he wanted to be more than that. Deep within him he wanted it all to have a meaning, for his life to have a purpose. He’d despaired of finding it until he’d kissed Samara. Now he knew. His life wasn’t meaningless or void of purpose. The way she touched him, the way she kissed him…the way she made him feel when she did. That he’d go to war for. He’d fight and kill for the way she looked at him. As though he was 59
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worth something more than the sum of his parts or his ability to kill. As though he was a normal man. He sighed, the sound drawn from the bottom of his enhanced lungs, and pushed off the wall to walk into the main cabin. “Oh looky here, lover boy’s emerged.” Archon quipped, turning in his seat to grin at his commanding officer. “Didn’t think you were ever going to come up for air. She must be a damn good fuc—” He stopped as Cael, sitting behind him, clouted him soundly around the back of the head. “Hey! What was that for?” Lyon grinned as he replaced Archon in the copilot’s seat next to Cael. “Looks like a lover’s tiff to me.” “Fuck off! You think I’d let that male tart anywhere near me?” Cael scoffed and turned her attention to the console in front of her. Not quick enough to hide the blush over her cheeks though. Lyon smiled to himself as he realized the lay of the land there. He’d thought there was something simmering between those two. “She loves me, really. She’s just in denial.” “Yeah, yeah. Now fuck off and do something useful, like man the guns so your brother can get some sleep.” Lyon shooed the loud-mouthed Gemini off and accessed the flight plans. They weren’t far off the system they were holed up in at the moment. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they had to move again. Somehow the Fleet always managed to find their location. They’d even resorted to tagging grain supplies with location beacons. He wrinkled his nose, what a waste of good food. “Okay, we need to do a sweep before we get too close. Last thing we need is to bring the Fleet right onto our doorstep.” Cael flicked him a look out of the corner of her eye and smiled. “Already on it, boss man. Scan thirty percent complete.”
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Lyon settled into his seat and allowed himself to relax. Their mission was nearly over and even if he hadn’t managed to get to talk to his initial target, they were all free and clear with no causalities or loss of equipment. And to boot, he’d picked up something far more valuable than supplies. Samara. Not only was she something he’d protect to his dying breath, but she was a certified medic. Something they needed with a few of their women pregnant and nearing term. There were few things in this life that scared Lyon. Having to deliver a baby was one of them. Best leave that to the professionals, and from the records Cael had pulled from the Valkyrie’s mainframe, one of Samara’s specialties was midwifery. A smile curved his lips again. He’d left her curled up in his bed sleeping. A soft feeling spread out from the center of his chest as he recalled the way a lock of her hair had fallen over her face. Alarmed, he initiated a diagnostic scan of his systems and then canceled it immediately. It was her, the soft feeling was all centered about Samara. “Fuck.” Short and succinct. That was what he liked about Cael, she didn’t mince her words. “What is it?” “We got a live bug on board.” That got his attention. Somehow Fleet had managed to get something on the shuttle. “How the fuck did they manage that? We didn’t take anything on board…” He paused at the same moment Cael looked at him, sorrow in her eyes. “Boss, the signal is coming from your cabin.”
***** The door crashing open startled Samara from her light doze instantly. The small room was suddenly filled with large bodies. Only this time there were no smiles. Anger swirled around the small space and stole all the air from her lungs. Cael and Lyon stood
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by the ruin of the door. Cael’s face was perfect and blank, the expression in her eyes hard enough to send a shiver of fear down Samara’s spine. If she thought Cael was bad, seeing that same expression on Lyon’s face nearly paralyzed her. Icy chills stomped up and down her spine in heavy boots, extending frozen fingers down her limbs to make them shiver. “W-what’s happening?” she forced out through fear-numbed vocal cords. Clutching the sheets tight to cover her naked body, she scrambled up the bed until her back hit the wall. The two cyborgs advanced and the threat of danger and violence intensified. Samara’s heart slammed against her rib cage so hard she was sure it would burst. She sought Lyon’s gaze, desperately looking for that expression in his green eyes that had told her she was safe with him. The empty expression she found was devoid of softness, filled with anger and a darkness she didn’t want to put a name to instead. “Why don’t you tell us?” His voice was sharp, a hairsbreadth from a snarl, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He swept a contemptuous look over her, from the tousled hair atop her head to the bare feet peeking out from under the sheet and everything in between. “I can’t believe I let a human fool me,” he sneered. “What did they give you? An Altarian pheromone shot to ensure I’d bring you along for the ride? I’ll bet you didn’t argue much, did you? A chance to get it on with a cyborg, I heard that was the number one fantasy among women in your pathetic species.” Samara’s heart froze in her chest, the organ stilled by the malevolence in his voice and skewered clean through as his words hammered home. “What? No! No one gave me anything.” Terrified as she was, her voice was high-pitched and panicked. She was in a room with two pissed-off cyborgs, creatures designed to kill. She’d be nuts not to be terrified. “Lyon, you brought me along. The captain asked what you wanted. You said me,” she tried to remind him, but his expression was shuttered. He wasn’t even looking at 62
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her. Instead, his green-eyed gaze was wandering over her body darkly. She drew her knees up, pulling the covers tighter as she shivered. That wasn’t a good look. Unlike when he’d looked at her earlier, this wasn’t the look of a lover. No, he was assessing her like she was a side of beef. Cyborgs weren’t cannibals, were they? A frown hit her. They didn’t think of themselves as human. Was it cannibalism if they counted themselves a different species? “So where is it?” She squealed in fright as he reached out and latched a hard hand around her ankle. Kicking and screaming, she tried to get free, but her pitiful strength was no match for him. Had he been human, she might have had a chance with a few solid kicks from her free foot, but he wasn’t and shrugged the blows off like they were no more substantial than an insect buzzing around him. He dragged her down the bed toward him, ignoring all her struggling and cries. She managed to keep the sheet wrapped around her, just, and flinched from him as he reached out to touch her. This wasn’t the man who had held her in his arms and made love to her all night. The difference scared her more than she was prepared to admit. What an idiot. You should have listened to all the stories. He’s done with you now and he’ll kill you without a thought. “It will go easier on you if you tell us where it is.” His demand was little more than a growl as he pulled at the sheet. Gasping she tried to cover up again, but he pulled at another section to reveal more of her pale skin. Heat flooded her at being treated like an object as he ran hard hands up her legs. She risked a pleading glance up at Cael only to find Archon in the doorway as well, his expression as hard as his companions’. “Where what is? I don’t know what you’re going on about. Please, you have to believe me!”
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She twisted, trying to push his hands away, but he just grabbed her wrist in a grip hard enough to make her whimper in pain. Shoving the sheet up to mid-thigh, he carried on searching. She pressed her lips together, ignoring the burning in her wrist. If she twisted a little, the pressure eased up, but left her vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do to her. Bitter amusement filled her as cruel fingers traced over her thighs. Who was she kidding? He could do whatever he wanted to her anyway, no matter if she had her hands free or not. “What’s this?” His fingers stopped on her upper thigh, pressing against something buried under the skin. She resisted the urge to squirm at the discomfort. “It’s a contraceptive implant.” His lip curled back, but she carried on. “I-I’ve had it for years. It’s nothing.” His eyes glittered as he reached down and pulled a knife from the sheath on his calf. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her lightheaded. She couldn’t even whimper, she was too scared. This was it, he was going to kill her, right here and now.
“When was it last changed?” Lyon demanded, trying to keep his voice level despite the distaste surging through his veins at the thought she’d been using contraception. She was a lying little human bitch, but still, procreation was procreation. It was the one perfect thing any being was capable of and something he and his kind had had to fight their own design to regain. The thought that she’d callously denied any chance of conception added to the flames of anger swirling through him. “I-I…h-h-had it done last w-week,” she stammered, lying pliant under him. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the knife he held in his hand. “Please, it’s j-just an implant.” Boss, back off with the blade. She’s terrified.
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Cael’s soft warning filtered through his anger. He snapped his gaze up to Samara’s face. Cael was right. Samara’s face was pale and bloodless and her pupils dilated. Her heart pounded as tremors shook her delicate frame. He moved his hand, putting the knife out of sight. Her gaze followed it, and then stayed fixed at the area where it had disappeared from view. She was in shock. Deep inside something twisted as he realized he was scaring her. He let his anger sweep the feeling away. How pathetic was that? If she wanted to play games with the big boys, then she had to be prepared to get hurt. He let go of her wrist, expecting her to start fighting him again. Instead she let her arm drop to the bed and just lay there. Frowning, he hooked a finger under her chin and pulled it around so she had to look at him. She didn’t offer any resistance, her eyes blank and unfocused, like she didn’t see him. It’s just shock. She’ll be fine. Pushing the sheet out of the way, he focused on her thigh where the implant was embedded. How had he missed it? He knew every inch of her body, had been over it with hands and lips, but he hadn’t spotted this. Contra-implants should be sub-dermal, just under the upper layers of the skin, not this deep. For it to be this deep meant that someone didn’t want it found. Cael, what’s the medical procedure for contraceptive implants? Her reply was a stream of information on how to insert and remove implants. He looked at Samara’s thigh again, but didn’t see the satin skin nor the enticing curve as it flowed into her hip. Instead he used his onboard comp to display an anatomical diagram over the limb. He needed to cut into her flesh to remove the thing. The longer it remained active, the longer they were all in danger. He moved to rest the tip of his knife against her skin. The soft whimper from her lips twisted his heartstrings. What if she didn’t know? Her leg would have been numbed when they replaced her implant. She may not have noticed the difference
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between the placement of the old and the new. He hadn’t noticed and there was no way his exploration of her body had been casual. He started to press down, but stopped. His hand was shaking. A frown creased his brow as he stared at it. A quick check of his subroutines and hardware confirmed the limb was within operational standards. He pressed down again. The blade parted the skin and a bead of blood rolled down her skin. His hand still shook. Boss, let me. Go take a breather, okay? Cael was at his elbow, holding her hand out for the blade. A sigh rumbled through his chest and escaped over his lips. He couldn’t do it. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t achieve the mission objective. He looked at Samara spread out over the bed. As furious as he was with her, he still couldn’t hurt her. She was the enemy and all he wanted to do was pull her close and protect her. How pathetic was that? He handed the blade over and stood to let Cael take his place. Grabbing a med-kit from the wall, she knelt by the bed and rifled through it. Withdrawing an anesthetic, she administered it with quick, efficient movements and picked the knife up again. Lyon hovered, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He couldn’t watch, but he couldn’t walk away either. In the end, Cael made the decision for him. She looked over her shoulder and fixed him with a cool, gray stare. “Boss, breathing down my neck isn’t going to help. You wouldn’t want me to slip with this—” She wagged the knife, which suddenly resembled a butcher’s meat cleaver, at him. “Now would you? If you want to be helpful, go and get Eoin for me. And make sure Archon isn’t doing something stupid. Like rerouting us to the Kilian pleasure resorts or something.” An unwilling smile tried to crawl across Lyon’s lips. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
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He headed for the door, but paused as he reached it and looked over his shoulder. His gaze settled on the sheet-wrapped form on the bed. She was facing the other way, so he couldn’t see her face, but she hadn’t moved, her arm still outstretched where he’d left it. She’d betrayed them. Betrayed him. A fresh wave of…something…gripped his chest. He turned, leaving the cabin before he could weaken any further over a damn human.
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Chapter Seven Lyon and his anger leaving the room lifted the crushing pressure weighing down on Samara and allowed her to breathe again. The gray on the edges of her vision receded and the world came back into focus. Blinking, she felt her heart rate drop down a notch. Apprehension still swirled through her veins as Cael dropped the used anesthetic shot into a biohazard bag, but didn’t seal it. Wetting her lips, Samara plucked up the courage to speak. “What are you going to do?” Far from the smiling, joking woman of earlier, Cael’s expression was blank and shuttered. As forbidding as the grim reaper himself. She shivered as the woman picked up Lyon’s discarded blade and fixed her with a steely look. “I’m going to assume you’re intelligent enough to realize that this implant isn’t the contraceptive one you claim it is,” she said as she settled the tip of the blade against Samara’s thigh, as calm as though carving up someone’s leg was an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was, those horror stories about cyborgs had to have come from somewhere. “I’m also going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you’re telling the truth when you say that’s what you thought it was.” Cael’s voice was hard. As though she really didn’t want to give Samara even that much. “It’s not. It’s a sub-dermal tracking device. I would guess your ship has been trailing us since we took you aboard.” Samara closed her eyes, her head dropping back against the bedclothes. “They called all the nurses in. Said the brand of implant we all had was under recall. I thought it was odd at the time…I mean, what are the chances we all had the same brand of implant? No medication suits everyone like that…” 68
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She pressed her lips in to a thin line as she made the connections. She’d been played like a freaking concert violin. What an idiot! They’d called them all in and fitted the entire nursing staff with tracking devices. “But why?” She turned a questioning look on Cael, as though the other woman had all the answers. She certainly knew more about what was going on than Samara did. Why would her own people put a tracker in her? Unless…she paled, feeling sick. “They wanted one of us to…” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit she’d fallen for the trap, hook, line and sinker. Couldn’t admit that she’d allowed herself to become the trap for Lyon and his people. “Cut it out. Now. In fact, give me that knife. I’ll do it,” she ordered, struggling to sit up. Her leg felt weird, the muscles at the front of her thigh refusing to cooperate. Cael shook her head, holding the blade out of reach. “Not a chance, sweetheart. You’d be cutting the wrong way to reach it, and if I let you bleed out, Lyon will have my head on a platter. Now lie down and don’t move. I’d like to do this quickly. I hate cleaning up blood.” Samara held her breath as Cael put the wicked-looking blade against the pale skin of her thigh again and pressed. The skin parted, a bead of blood welling up into a bright red ball. Christmas decorations, she thought absently. It looked like a Christmas bauble or a holly berry. All red, shiny perfection. It grew too large and rolled down the side of her thigh. Cael paused and looked at her. If Samara had thought the female cyborg looked scary before, then the look in her eyes right then was downright terrifying. “Lyon isn’t just my boss, he’s family. My father, my brother…call him what you want. He was there when they pulled me out my tank and he’s been there ever since.” Her voice was like ice, the words a chill warning in the small room. “You hurt him and I’ll not only make you wish to God you’d never been born, you’ll wish your parents had never even met. Do I make myself clear?” 69
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Samara swallowed, and then winced at the loudness of the sound in the silent room. “I don’t mean to…I don’t want to hurt him. Or any of you. I-I can’t believe they did this. I’d like to throttle the captain. I thought he was an okay guy, but this? Uh-uh.” She shook her head, deliberately not looking as Cael pressed the knife into her leg and trying not to think about what would happen if she pushed too much. She was a cyborg, right? Had all those computers and whatnot in her brain. So she’d know just how deep to go, wouldn’t she? “Let’s just say he’s off my Christmas card list. And he can forget being invited to my birthday party.” “The worst you can do is striking someone off your card list?” Cael’s lips quirked as she worked. Just a little, but Samara caught it. “Well, no, but drugging your CO insensible and duct-taping him naked to the helm tends to be frowned upon in the Fleet.” Cael snorted in laughter, her lips curving as she ferreted under the skin of Samara’s leg for the tracker. She was glad she couldn’t feel it at the moment, but she was sure as soon as that shot wore off, it was going to hurt like a bitch. “Yeah. I’m sure it is.” She looked up, mischief in her eyes. “But it’s an idea for certain smart-mouthed men around here. Ah, here we are. Meet our little friend, the standard Combined Fleet personnel tracking implant.” She held up a small, plastic cylinder similar in size and shape to the contraceptive devices Samara was used to dealing with. The only difference was a small indentation at one end, where a tiny green light flashed intermittently. Cael crushed that end in her strong fingers and let it drop to the bedclothes, leaving a bloody smear. “Transmission interrupted, that’ll bring them running. Let’s get you patched up before the shit hits the fan.”
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Cael slipped back into the main cabin with a near silent tread. Didn’t help when they could all register her heartbeat, but Lyon knew she wasn’t trying to be stealthy. She had a natural grace that was unusual in a Cancer class and one their group often took for granted. “All done?” His query was short and brusque, as normal. Only the lying little witch in his bed seemed to be able to bring out the conversationalist in him. “Yeah, it was a new one. Not seen it before. They’re getting clever.” She slid into the empty copilot’s seat and buckled herself into the harness. Lyon’s eyebrow winged up. “Since when were you bothered about flight safety?” She rolled him a look as she brought the ship’s sensor controls online. Since she could direct link with the shuttle any time she chose, the fact that she wanted eyes on as well was telling. The shit was about to hit the fan. Archon. Eoin. Get your asses in here now! he bellowed as he vacated the pilot’s seat. Archon was the better pilot. With him and Cael on the flight team, there wasn’t much they couldn’t outrun, outmaneuver or full-on outfly. “What we looking at?” Cael’s lips compressed into a tight line for a second as she studied the display in front of her. “We got company out here. That tracker was short range.” He started to buckle himself into the second row just as the two Geminis barreled through the door, alerted by his shout. Although they could use mental communication, all of them could block themselves off if needed. They often did, otherwise the voices in their head could drive them mad. Hearing, though, couldn’t be blocked, so when Lyon shouted, they came running. “Archon, helm. Eoin, guns. NOW!”
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The twins split without a word. Eoin dived back through the door, heading up to the gun turret, as Archon headed for the front of the cabin. He didn’t make it. Something hit the side of the shuttle hard. Like the Gods had had taken a large hammer and decided to beat the hell out of it. The metal of the sub-frame screamed in protest as the shuttle skittered sideways and started to spin. Archon stumbled, grabbing at the back of Lyon’s chair as he fought against the violent movement to reach the pilot’s chair. “Fuck it,” Cael swore. “Eoin, we got multiple targets—what the fuck is that?” Lyon didn’t need to be looking at the sensor readouts to know something was seriously wrong. A fight with Fleet forces was nothing new, even if they were massively outgunned, but the sound reverberating through the cabin made them all pause. It built within nanoseconds to overtake the screaming of metal. A distinctive whine designed to send a chill down the spine of any cyborg. Electromagnetic pulse. The only thing that could take down a cyborg at long-range was an EMP and the Fleet knew it. Which meant every one of his kind was shielded. It was a hack job, though, as they tried to stay ahead of Fleet technology. The bastards had money and resources to throw at the problem, whereas Lyon and his people had to rely on field data. Field data that was hard to come by. Any cyborg unlucky enough to get caught in an EMP was either dead, their cybernetic systems stifling their bio-organic ones, or en route to a Fleet medical facility for a slice and dice as the scientists tried to figure out what modifications had been made to their systems. Archon hauled himself upright, got a hand on the pilot’s chair, but he was too late. The whine became a scream. Lyon closed his eyes. This was it. Whhhhummmp.
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The pulse hit, racing through the small vessel like a tidal wave. Lyon cursed as his cybernetic systems froze, locking him into the cage of his own body. At his side, Archon suffered the same fate and hit the deck in an untidy sprawl of limbs, the pilot’s chair empty and mocking. It wouldn’t have mattered if the Gemini had reached it. As soon as the pulse hit they were done for. Silence fell over the small cabin, the sound of his own breathing loud in Lyon’s ears. His eyes closed and unable to speak or contact his team through other means, he was reduced to listening to make sure the other two were okay. Filtering out the sound of his own breathing, he concentrated. There…and there. He could hear both Cael’s and Archon’s steady breathing. Good. Although he knew better, he always worried that if something froze their cybernetic halves, it would kill all biological function as well, like it had with the early prototypes. They’d all heard the horror stories, traded in the darkness of the barracks when their human masters thought they were asleep. Rage and frustration surged through him as he threw everything he had at his “bonds”. Lyon was a mark-three Leo class. Running through his body like a spider’s webs, his cybernetics were the most advanced out there. Every system was controlled, enhanced or monitored by the central implant in his brain. The only problem was, it had shut down at the first wave of the EMP. A defense mechanism, it prevented his onboard computer from being wiped clean, an event that would render him a useless hunk of metal with a heart, lungs and other organs piggybacked onto it. Hell, without his machine half, he wasn’t even a full human. The defense was almost as bad as the result and left him vulnerable, wide open to attack. The irony hit him. He’d pitied Samara earlier for her limited natural design and her reliance on the bio-organic systems she’d been born with. Yet now he was a prisoner of his own advanced design. Locked into place until the human forces boarded the shuttle much like his team had boarded the Valkyrie.
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Damn it, why hadn’t he realized the escape was all too easy… That they were being set up? Twenty minutes. That’s how long it took for even the quickest of them to do a full shutdown and reboot. Some auxiliary systems like comms came online faster, but full operational status took twenty minutes from shutdown. They didn’t have twenty minutes. He would guess they had ten, tops, before the cavalry came storming through a laser-cut hole in the hull. “Hello?”
Everything was too quiet. Slipping from the bed, Samara kept an ear out for movement from the main area of the shuttle as she pulled her clothes on. She winced as she pulled the leg of the coverall over her bandaged thigh. Cael had done a good job, clean and concise. The numbness was wearing off though, leaving her sore. Shoving her feet into her shoes, she padded across the room. She paused at the door, her hand on the cool metal of the frame and listened. Silence met her ears and a sense of foreboding filled her. Unless they were having a slumber party and it was the quietest slumber party she’d ever heard, then something was wrong. Very wrong. Trying to be quiet, she walked down the short corridor that connected the back room to the main cabin. Heart hammering in her chest, she pushed the door open and peeked around the edge, expecting Lyon to see her at any moment and growl. Worry and apprehension filled her. He thought she’d betrayed him and, in a way, she had. Not willingly, she would never do that. Even though he was a cyborg and half the people she knew would condone it—hell, most of them would even congratulate her for trapping a whole cyborg squad—she just wasn’t built that way. She judged people on her own impressions, not on what the Fleet or other people told her. She just needed to get him to believe that now. At least she had Cael on her side, kind of, the other woman appearing to think she was more of a threat to Lyon’s heart than anything else.
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A thrill ran through her. Was she a threat? Could Lyon feel the same way about her that she did about him? Did he feel that weird sense of rightness and excitement when he looked at her? Or the inferno that spread through her veins as soon as he touched her. The main cabin was silent, not even the soft banter she’d heard between Cael and Archon filling the air. Perhaps they were communicating through other means? She knew they could talk to each other without speaking. She wasn’t stupid, she’d caught the looks between them and the way Lyon’s expression focused inward, as though he was concentrating on something she couldn’t see or hear. “Hello?” She pushed the door open farther and stepped through it. Her gaze swept the cabin. It was empty… She paused, catching sight of a pair of legs sprawled between the two rows of seats at the front of the cockpit. Male, no leg brace and not as big as Lyon. “Archon?” She took a couple of steps forward. What was he doing lying on the floor? There were at least two other cabins at the back if he needed to take a nap, or the bench seats lining the rear section of the cabin. He didn’t need to lie in the way. He couldn’t be comfortable like that. She padded forward until she could see down between the seats, the sense that something was wrong increasing. A feeling confirmed when she saw Lyon’s arm motionless on the arm of the chair, and beyond him, Cael sitting in the copilot’s seat, also as still as a statue. “What the hell?” She darted forward and dropped to her knees next to the fallen man. Her medical training rushed to the fore. Looking for signs of breathing, she pressed two fingers into his throat to locate a pulse. Relief flooded her at the strong beat under her fingers. Not thready or weak, just normal.
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She flicked a glance over him. No unnatural pose or set to any of his limbs, no signs of bleeding and his skin was a normal hue. Apart from the fact he was sprawled out over the floor, he seemed in perfect health. “What the hell is going on?” She turned her attention to Lyon sitting next to them. If she hadn’t seen him walking and talking less than an hour ago, she would have sworn he was a living, breathing statue. His chest rose and fell mechanically, the breaths perfectly regulated. Humans didn’t breathe like that, their respiration was more erratic. A cough here or other contraction of the diaphragm, even thinking about breathing, was enough to alter each breath enough from its predecessor that perfect rhythm was never attained. His eyes were closed, no flicker of movement behind the lids. Were they all asleep? How did cyborgs sleep anyway? She couldn’t believe that they just shut down like little automatons, motionless when the power was cut. No, they were all too human for that. She dredged up everything buried in her brain about cyborgs. If they weren’t asleep… “Crap, crap, crap. Electromagnetic pulse.” Adrenaline surged through her veins as she turned. If they’d been hit with an EMP, then that meant the Valkyrie or another Fleet ship wasn’t far away. She cast a nervous look at the ceiling above her. Perhaps they were already here, ready to cut through the hull. Then there would be marines piling in here…and with Lyon and the others out of it. She paled, heart lurching. They were defenseless. Clambering over Archon, she slid into the pilot’s seat and looked at the console spread out in front of her. Half the symbols and squiggles didn’t make sense, but the fact they were there told her one thing. The EMP had been targeted at the crew rather than the ship. Fleet wanted them alive.
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Which meant one thing—Lyon’s team was destined for research and development. To be dissected and prodded over until their bodies yielded exactly how the cyborgs had escaped the hold their human masters had over them. She gritted her teeth at the anger which surged through her. “Over my dead body. Computer, enable audio.” “Audio control activated.” She was twisting out of the seat as the computer replied. Somehow she had to fly the shuttle and get them out of there before the Fleet arrived. She didn’t dare think about what she was doing. If she did, she’d panic and freeze. “Status report.” She stopped next to Cael and checked her harness. The shoulder loops were already on. Good. Reaching forward, she pulled the straps to make sure they were tight. She wasn’t a pilot, so she was going to have to rely on the shuttle’s flight computer. Even so, this was likely to get hairy and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to get hurt while they were helpless. “All systems online and functioning within normal parameters.” A sigh of relief escaped her lungs. They had a chance. She clambered back over Archon to get Lyon strapped in. She hissed in frustration as she tried to struggle him into a harness. “Isn’t that just like a man, eh?” she griped as she lifted arms the weight of small elephants to loop straps over them. “Just lie there and expect a woman to do all the work.” She managed it and pulled the webbing tight with a hard tug, then addressed the computer again. “Maintain heading, bring secondary shields online and give me a sensor sweep of the local area.” The computer cheeped at her as it ran the sweep. Checking Lyon’s harness one last time, she broke away and looked down at Archon.
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“Come on, big boy; let’s get you in a seat.” She stepped over him again and crouched to slide her hands under his arms. She’d been a nurse for years, both civilian and in the Fleet, so she was trained in the best techniques for lifting the human body, arguably the most difficult thing to pick up in the known universe after an annoyed feline. So she did everything by the book; back straight, legs bent to provide power and… “Gnnnnnhhh!” She pulled until her muscles felt like they were going to pop from their moorings, and her vision started to gray. Archon stayed right where he was, sprawled out on the deck plate. “Hell’s teeth, what did they put in you? Structural steel?” Gritting her teeth and readjusting her grip, she tried again. This time her hands slipped and she ended up on her ass between the seats next to Cael. Wincing, she got to her feet. She couldn’t move him, but she couldn’t leave him on the floor like that. One barrel roll and he’d be like a pea in a shaker. “Sorry, handsome, we’re going to have to do a little bondage,” she muttered as she started to rifle through the overhead compartments. Born on a backwater planet that relied on shuttles for transportation, she knew there had to be some strapping in here someplace. Shuttles like this did dual duty shifting personnel and cargo, which was why the seats at the back lined the walls and there were fixed loops embedded in the floor. “Bingo.” She pulled three lengths of heavy-duty webbing straps from the last compartment and knelt down next to the unresponsive man. Within a minute she had him trussed up like an Altarian boar ready for transport. She sat back on her haunches and checked over her handiwork with a sense of satisfaction. Even if the Fleet threw Armageddon itself at them, Archon wasn’t going anywhere.
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“Scan complete. Confirm three vessels on an intercept course, bearing three seven seven four mark five eight nine,” the computer informed her in a dull monotone. Shit. They were being followed. Samara’s ass hit the pilot’s seat at light speed as she tried to recall the flight lessons her father had given her years ago. The crap was about to hit the fan, but at least she had the three guys in here secure. A pang of worry hit her about Eoin. She didn’t know where he was, though, and she’d run out of time to play “hunt the cyborg”. “Display intercept courses on console. What ID codes are they broadcasting?” She studied the panel in front of her as she waited for the computer’s reply. They were in trouble. Big trouble. The screen in front of her was lit up with red lines from the Fleet vessels, creating a cage she couldn’t see a way out of. “Vessels are confirmed as CFS Valkyrie, CFS Vengeance and CFS Jenias.” Her heart plummeted. “We are so screwed.”
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Chapter Eight “Computer, bring us about and head for this sector here.” The sound of a nail tapping against console glass filled the cabin. “Full speed.” Lyon could tell from the small catch in Samara’s voice as she gave the computer orders that she was scared. He didn’t blame her. In her shoes, he would be too. What was she doing? The EMP had done its job and they were all safely contained. All she had to do was sit pretty and wait for her people to pick her up… Why was she setting a new course at full speed? That sounded very much like an escape attempt. She tied me to the fucking floor! The sound of Archon’s furious voice in his head announced the fact his internal communications relay had rebooted. That’s because she couldn’t move your fat ass, airhead. Cael’s feminine tones joined Archon’s griping and eased some of Lyon’s worry. At least those two were okay, even if he was going to have to lock them in a confined space together for a couple of days sometime soon. They’d either kill each other or screw each other’s brains out. Either way, he’d get some peace. Eoin? How you doin’, bud? Frozen stiff as a freaking Popsicle. What’d they hit us with? the other Gemini grumbled. I got eyes on company headed our way and they’re packing serious hardware. Great. Just what they needed. When the computer had listed the vessels on an intercept course, Lyon had hoped it was coincidence and they just happened to be in the area. Eoin’s words shattered that illusion. Hell was coming for them. We changed course. Who’d the EMP skip? Eoin asked suddenly, breaking into his train of thought. There was eagerness in the question, which was understandable. Eoin was one of the team of engineers working on the EMP shielding. The four of them had 80
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slightly different shield configurations, so they all had different reactions to the EMP. At least Eoin’s config allowed him to actually see. No one, Lyon replied. Samara’s piloting. Silence met his announcement. The same human you accused of betraying us less than an hour ago? He winced at Eoin’s quiet comment. Despite his…physical issues, Eoin was still his second-in-command and as sharp as a boarding laser. Where his twin joked around and laughed, Eoin was serious and got right to the point. And he was the only person Lyon would allow to speak to him that way. Aye, that’s the one. He was going to be eating humble pie. If they got out of this alive. Even with the best will in the universe, Samara was a nurse, not a pilot. Crap, they’re right on our tails, Cael announced, which meant her uplinks to the shuttle were coming back online. He checked his internal clock, trying to estimate the time he had left until full reboot. Cael was a Cancer class, so her onboard was more complex and sensitive. In the event of something like this, Cancers always came back online first. All conversation ceased as the alarm klaxon filled the small cockpit. “Collision warning, impact imminent. Please change course to avoid collision,” the computer advised. “What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do? Give me manual control,” Samara snarled, which elicited a snort of amusement from Cael. She’s got guts. He had to agree as the shuttle lurched a fraction. It was almost imperceptible, but to a cyborg it was like dropping off a cliff. Immediately the shuttle rolled to the side and a heavy thud reverberated through the space frame. “Sorry, bud, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
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What’s going on? What’s she doing? Worry surged through him. That thud could have been any of a number of things. His chief concern among them would be a boarding tube locking on. Green flickered behind his eyelids, lighting the darkness as his implant reinitiated the heads-up display across his field of vision. He sighed in relief as it started to relay information again. He still couldn’t move, but it was a start. I don’t believe it… She’s bouncing us off their damn shields! Three more thuds followed in quick succession as the alarms filled the air in the cabin with collision warnings. Another thud and the scream of metal sounded as the shuttle went into a spin. He gritted his teeth as Samara swore. Come on, babe, you can do this. We’re clear. She’s gunning the engines and heading for the asteroid belt. He didn’t need Cael’s running commentary to feel the tension in the shuttle. The viselike grip on his body eased a fraction and allowed him to open his eyes. Instantly he rolled his gaze toward her. She was hunched over the pilot’s console, her face set in a determined grimace as she stabbed delicate fingers at the display.
“Come on, come on. Can’t this freaking thing go any faster? Cyborgs, meanest SOBs in the galaxy…but a shit ride. You guys seriously need to get this thing tricked out,” Samara informed the cabin in general. She didn’t know if they could hear her, but she needed to talk to someone. The console in front of her was alight with so many warnings it looked like a Christmas tree. Panic hovered in the back of her mind as she tried to clear as many as she could and escape the clutches of the Fleet ships closing in around them. Her eyes were trained on the panel in front of her like a hawk. There had to be a way out of this. All she needed was one little gap in the ships circling her… As soon as she thought it, she saw the opening. Holding her breath, she punched the coordinates in and sent the shuttle hurtling toward it. The two Fleet ships tried to 82
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maneuver to cover the small alley of opportunity. Gritting her teeth, she tried to coax a little more out of the engines. If she could just get past them, they’d be in the asteroid belt. The small shuttle slipped between the two bigger ships, the alarm klaxons nearly deafening her as their bulk blotted out the light of the stars around them. Praying fervently, she closed her eyes and squealed as they barreled down the narrow gap. Any moment now they were going to be crushed between the two larger ships. Fear and misery rose in her throat. She’d tried, she’d really tried, but it just wasn’t good enough. She was a nurse, not a trained commando like Lyon nor a kick-ass pilot like Archon or Cael. The klaxons fell silent. Hardly daring to believe it, she cracked an eyelid open. A field of stars was visible through the asteroid belt in front of her. “Woohoo!” Relief and elation hit her like both barrels from a shotgun as the small vessel roared into the asteroid field at top speed. There was no way the bigger ships could follow them through here, and by the time they went around it, they’d be long gone. “We did it!” she crowed, turning around to look at Lyon, only to find his eyes open and looking directly at her. He was awake. He’d seen her piloting the shuttle away from the Fleet ships. He had to believe her now. Then the Fleet ships opened fire.
Cannon fire slammed into the little shuttle, impacting the shields and sending it tumbling through the asteroid belt. They careened and crashed through the huge lumps of rock. One more volley from a cannon array would be it for them. The shuttle’s shields wouldn’t be able to take concerted fire. Samara swore as she tried to hold on to the main console, but it was no good. She’d made sure everyone else was secure, but hadn’t clipped her own harness into place. The
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contents of the overhead lockers fell around them, a large box landing on Archon. His cursing over the commlink was enough to blister paint. Another volley from the Fleet ships slammed into the back of the shuttle, catching the back end as Samara tried to get them behind the cover of an asteroid. They careened to the side and tipped, slamming into another smaller lump of rock. The shuttle rolled, almost lazily. Samara screamed, a sound abruptly cut off as the console in front of her exploded in a shower of sparks. No! Lyon roared as they rolled and she was thrown about like a rag doll. Fear for her safety rolled through his body in an unstoppable wave, a fear so complete it would have paralyzed him if he wasn’t already. She was unconscious, unable to protect herself as they tumbled, and she was only human. She wasn’t designed to take the sort of damage he was. The alarms started up again. This time they weren’t anything as benign as collision warnings. Imminent shield failure. Sliding, they came to a stop against another asteroid, the interior lights flickering as the computer gave multiple system warnings. Samara hit the far wall and slid down it into a small heap across the destroyed pilot’s console. He latched his gaze on her, and pushed against the lock on his body as though he could break through it by sheer willpower alone. He couldn’t see whether she was breathing or not and there was blood on the side of her face. His heart stuttered. If she was dead, he’d never forgive himself. She’d offered him nothing but tenderness and comfort…and some very hot sex…yet he’d kidnapped her and accused her of betraying them. Of betraying him. Despite that, she’d done her best to get them out of the clutches of the Fleet. At the risk of her own life. A large knot of something thickened his throat as he threw everything he had into making his systems boot up quicker. Aieee, I’m out! Cael announced triumphantly. The shuttle flared to life. The interior lights snapped on, the alarms cut out and the dull roar of the engines filled his ears. And we are…outta here. 84
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The view in the front screen changed. Cael whipped the small vessel around and drove them farther into the asteroid belt. Asteroids shattered around them as the Fleet vessels, unable to follow in the densely packed field, resorted to bombarding it with cannon fire. They didn’t have a hope in hell’s chance of hitting them, not with Cael at the helm. Not only was she a qualified combat pilot, but her mental net could sync directly with the shuttle, meaning woman and machine became one entity. Get us out the other side and jumped before they can get around, Lyon ordered, breathing deeply as the lock on his body eased and all his systems came back online. He didn’t bother with the normal diagnostic checks he should run after an EMP. Instead he launched himself out of his seat, over Archon as he struggled with the webbing straps pinning him to the floor and to Samara’s side. She was draped over the console like a broken doll, a trail of blood running down the side of her face to drip onto the shattered Plexiglas. He’d fought in wars, been at the forefront of a rebellion and faced his own death many times, but Lyon had never been as afraid as he was now, looking down at the woman he loved, afraid to touch her in case she was dead. Indecision held him prisoner for less than a second. The fact that he loved her spurred him on. No quibbles, no soul searching about this new feeling. Just acceptance. Steeling himself, he reached out and wrapped his large hand around her delicate wrist, using his fingertips to search for a pulse. Nothing. His heart stopped, the blood draining from his face. She couldn’t be dead, she just couldn’t. Not after all this. Stepping in, he turned her over. She went easily, like a rag doll. A growl of denial escaped his lips. Lyon pressed two fingers into her throat and willed her to live. If she didn’t, then he wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions. He’d find a way back to the Valkyrie and that bastard Marisol–Lees and teach him a lesson about using his own crew as bait.
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There. He shifted his fingers as he felt a tiny movement, trying to isolate it. Relief and euphoria hit him like a shuttle at jump speed as he found a weak pulse. It was weak, but she was still alive. “Archon, get me a med-kit, now!” he demanded, large hands moving over his little nurse, checking for injuries. She was alive and he intended to keep her that way.
“How’s she doing?” Archon poked his head around the door to the main cabin three hours later. His dark eyes were concerned and Lyon could sense the questions just waiting to pour from the Gemini’s lips. He reached out and smoothed Samara’s dark hair back from her face. Curled up on her side, she was sleeping. He’d dressed the wound on her scalp. It had looked worse than it was. His heart had been in his throat and his hands shaking as he’d cleaned it up, which was something he’d never encountered before. He’d patched himself and members of his team up more times than he could remember. Hell, he and Cael had even rebuilt Archon’s shoulder once. Mind you, they’d had to get him drunk to stop him turning around and trying to help. “She’s doing well. Still needs a proper check over, but the scans are clean.” Archon nodded, relief showing on his face. Other than yelling for a med-kit, Lyon hadn’t let anyone near the petite human. Archon had tried to help and received a growl for his troubles. As far as Lyon saw it, she was here because of him and she was his responsibility. Still hovering by the door, Archon shuffled his feet. His signal he wanted to say something else. Lyon looked up, narrowing his gaze on the other man. At least the randy Gemini wasn’t ogling Samara’s figure anymore. “What is it?” Archon flushed a little, a banner of color across his cheekbones.
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“We’ve been thinking…” Uh-oh. He knew that “we”. That “we” meant that the two Geminis and Cael had been talking behind his back and that he was about to get railroaded into something. He frowned a little, realizing that although he’d been thinking of Cael and Archon together earlier, it was more of the three of them that were a unit, not just the two. Interesting, perhaps he needed to lock all of them up in that room on their own and see what happened. “She did really well, boss. Don’t be too hard on her, ‘kay?” Archon disappeared back through the door before he could answer. Lyon sat back in the chair next to the bed and looked at his little prize. So much courage in such a delicate little frame. He’d wondered what it was about her that had drawn him in and now he knew. For all his ingrained superiority about the cyborg versus the human race, it had been her, an unenhanced human, who had put her life on the line in a way he hadn’t expected to save them. She was not just his equal, she was his superior. And if she’d have him after this, there was no way he was letting her go.
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Chapter Nine Samara woke slowly. She’d never been one for waking quickly, as many an abused alarm clock would attest to, but today she wallowed in the comfortable warmth and darkness before full consciousness started to intrude. She ached. It felt like she’d been worked over with a stick or she’d gone elitist in the gym with the hardcore program. Just a little longer and she’d get up, it was too warm and comfortable here. It was only when voices intruded on her doze that her brain started to clear the fuzz of sleep out. “So, she’ll be okay? The guys were worried about her when she didn’t wake up.” She frowned. The voice was familiar, but she was still too sleepy to put two and two together. It was a nice voice, though, and the feelings it invoked were a sense of security mixed with something else. Something a lot hotter. “Yes, physically she’s fine. A few bumps and scrapes, as to be expected with your mission report. If what you said is true, she really did get off lightly there. She isn’t built to take that kind of damage. Other than that, the results show she’s slightly anemic and lacking certain vitamins and minerals. In short, it looks like she’s been riding the edge of exhaustion for a while.” The reply came in a female voice with a cadence Samara recognized. Doctors across the galaxy all spoke very much the same way. Which meant the ache she was feeling wasn’t from anything as benign as a hard workout. “Okay. So I can take her home?” She struggled to full wakefulness as a door was pushed open fully and the voices grew louder. “Of course, as soon as she wakes up. But make sure she rests and gets plenty to eat. Ah, looks like she’s waking up. I’ll leave you two to it.” 88
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She opened her eyes and blinked about owlishly. She was in a small room, the door of which opened onto an unremarkable corridor. The smell of antiseptic and the generic bedding clued her into the fact she was in a medical center of some kind. It was the tall, broad-shouldered figure by the door that drew most of her attention. The doctor disappeared through the door as she looked at him. Lyon. The sight of him brought memories rushing to the fore in a wave so powerful and insistent that she gasped with the strength of it. Erotic memories…the two of them entwined, his lips on hers, his cock impaling her…brought a flush of heat to her cheeks even as those memories fought for space with others that weren’t so nice. The memory of his face as he’d accused her of betraying him. Even now, Lord knew how many hours or days removed, she could recall the blank expression on his face and the condemnation and hatred in his eyes. She’d done her best, tried to save them all when the Fleet ships came, but the careful, guarded expression on his face as he watched her now said it all. Nothing she’d done had changed things. She’d cut herself off from her people, her entire species, on the off chance of making things right and it hadn’t worked. Misery and bitterness overwhelmed her. Shuffling in the bed, she tried to sit up. There was no way she wanted to be lying down and helpless, not in front of him. Especially not in front of him. Her human weakness would be just another thing about her for him to despise. Just another reason for him to get rid of her. They’d made it to safety, so what now? Was he going to ship her out on the next shuttle, banished from his presence… Or was she going to be kept prisoner here, seeing the man she loved, but unable to touch him or even tell him how she felt. “Hey, hey. Not so fast.” Before she could manage to sit up, he was there. She gasped as her head started to spin and clung on, determined not to pass out. “Doc says you sustained a nasty concussion, so you might want to take it easy. No need to conquer worlds, kicking the Fleet’s butt is enough for one day.” 89
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She sighed in relief as strong hands supported her and eased her back against the pillows. Then the warm tone of his voice registered. She frowned as she looked at him, expecting to see the same hard expression as before. It wasn’t there. Instead his green eyes were open and warm, a slight quirky smile on his lips as he brushed her hair back from her face. “My hair isn’t that messy,” she pointed out when he did it again. He smiled, an off-center, lopsided expression that threatened the tight hold she had on her heart. Despite the scars on his body and face and the tattoo on his cheek that marked him as a cyborg, that smile oozed pure masculine charm. “I know, but I need an excuse to keep touching you. At least that way, I have a chance of getting out what I need to say before you call security and get me kicked out.” She blinked in confusion, but didn’t stop him as he teased a strand of dark hair free and gently began to wind it around a large finger. “I can get you kicked out?” He chuckled, a rich and intimate sound that filled the small room. “Of course you can, you’re not a prisoner. In fact, if you screamed, there are probably four medics in the immediate vicinity who’d happily kick my ass and show me the door. You have quite the little fan club after that rescue, you know.” She sat there, stunned. He didn’t seem mad. That was good. But the rest of what he was saying didn’t make sense. Sure, she remembered the shuttle and fleeing from the Fleet ships into the asteroid belt. But then there was brightness, pain and then nothing. She didn’t recall anything else. “I do?” He smiled, lounging against the arm of the chair as he played with her hair. It was distracting, but she managed to keep her attention on his face.
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“Oh yes, and the fact you strapped Archon to the deck plating seems to have elevated you to goddess-like status. Already I’ve had several requests to—” He wrinkled his nose and looked at her hair intently. She looked at it too, expecting there to be something wrong the way he was looking at it. Perhaps a piece of fluff or, God forbid, something grossly unpleasant. She’d been a nurse far too long not to be aware of the horrors lurking in a medical facility. There was nothing wrong with it. Just plain, dark hair. The same as it always had been. He was avoiding the rest of that sentence. She put her hand over his, making him look at her. “Forgive me if I’m a little slow picking things up here. But… What the hell are you going on about? You say I’m not a prisoner, good. Can I go home now? Are you still mad at me?” The instant that last comment slipped out, she kicked herself. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t reveal how she felt about him. Yet that one sentence, spoken with almost childlike innocence and yearning, gave the whole game away. Perhaps he hadn’t heard it? Just for one instant she thought she’d gotten away with it. That the universe had decided to give her a break for once. The look he leveled at her blew any chances of that away. Blunt and direct, it was as though he could see right into her soul. “No, sweetling, I’m not mad at you.” His voice was soft as he moved closer. At the same time he pulled on the strand of hair he had wrapped around his finger to draw her in. The touch was light, she could break free at any time. Physically. Mentally…emotionally? It would take a shuttle at jump speed to make her move away. “I’m not mad at you at all. I think you’re the most beautiful, bravest, sexiest, honest, genuine, cleverest…did I say sexiest already?”
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She nodded, still holding her breath, but with the hint of a smile beginning to threaten her lips. She wasn’t sure she was really hearing this. Concussion did strange things to people. She could be dreaming. “Good…sexiest, wisest, hmmm—” He paused with a rueful grin. “Can I cut this crap and just say I love you?” She had to be dreaming. Her mind had taken a walk on the crazy side and was giving her exactly what she wanted. Wide-eyed, disbelief running through her veins, she just looked up at him. She knew she must look like some cow-eyed teenager with the object of all her teen fantasizes right in front of her, but she didn’t care. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” His voice was husky as he dropped the curl and slid his hand into the heavy mass of her hair. Strong fingers caressed the back of her neck as he pulled her into his arms. His movements were gentle despite his size and the power she knew he was capable of. “Like what?” she managed, her voice barely a whisper in the silence of the room. “Vulnerable, innocent, delicate.” She winced a little. Here she was so determined not to show weakness and that was all he saw. Dipping her head, she tried to look away. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to.” “Hey.” His fingers tightened on her nape and a hard finger hooked around her chin. He pulled so she had no choice but to look at him. Instead of the condemnation she was expecting, his eyes were filled with heat. “Why do you say that? You don’t need to.” He leaned forward and whispered his lips over hers. It wasn’t a kiss, it was the hint of a kiss, and it whetted her appetite for more. Who was she kidding? Having him hold her again was indescribable and she’d happily lie here for eternity with her head pillowed against his strong shoulder. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, though, kissing the corner of her lips leisurely and making his way across to nuzzle at her neck.
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She shivered at the sensual torment. “Because you guys don’t like it, do you? Weakness that is. I-I figured you wouldn’t want to see that part of me.” He pulled back, surprise on his face. “What? The human side? You think you’re weak because you’re human?” She nodded miserably. She expected a lot of reactions, even braced herself for several possibilities. What she didn’t expect was the fond chuckle and for his lips to descend on hers. With ruthless determination, he swept aside all her defenses and deepened the kiss until she whimpered and clung to him. By the time he lifted his head, both their breathing was ragged. “That’s what I think about that. Sweetheart, being human doesn’t make you weak. Not at all. You managed to kick the Fleet’s ass when we couldn’t, does that sound weak to you? As for being less physically hardy than we are…” Leaning in, he nuzzled her neck again, going right for the spot that made her weak at the knees and her body clench hard in need. “I’m so fucking hard right now I could use my cock as a flagpole. I like that you’re delicate, I like that aura of innocence and vulnerability. It makes me hot. And I like that I can protect you. It does something, fills some need inside.” He pulled back to look into her eyes and tapped the middle of his broad chest lightly. Lyon drew in a ragged breath, the fire in his eyes banked. She could still see it, though, just ready to flare into life. He looked at her, a worried expression on his face. “Say something, please, sweetling,” he begged. “I’m going nuts here wondering whether you want me or whether I blew my chance with you back there on the shuttle.” She watched him through unreadable eyes, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. The protective little ball she’d rolled her heart up into relaxed a little, then a little more.
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Despite the studied nonchalance of his body, the pleading tone in his voice and the look in his eyes told the tale of how panicked he was. Wonder filled her. He wanted her, weaknesses and all. Warmth spread from her heart and outward, to fill every part of her body as a sense of relief and exhilaration surged through her. He loved her. That was all that mattered. It didn’t matter who he was or who she was. The only thing that mattered right now was the two of them and the soul-deep connection she could feel tightening between them. Binding them together. Pursing her lips, she gave him a coy look. “Well, I don’t know. Perhaps I should take a look at this fan club you say I have before I make a decision…” The scowl on Lyon’s face was matched in ferocity by the growl rumbling in the big chest. “Right. You’re better,” he declared and scooped her up into his arms, sheet and all. “Lyon! What are you doing?” She grabbed at his broad shoulders as he headed for the door. He wouldn’t drop her, but she liked the feel of the hard muscles under her hands. Remembered what they felt like bunching with power as he took her. He treated her to a look full of dark heat and intent as he walked down the corridor and emerged through a door into the sunshine. Samara barely noticed the buildings of the settlement, real outpost colony-type constructions, as he started walking again. “I’m taking you to my home. Our home,” he corrected. “And I’m going to show you why the only fan club you’ll ever need is right here. Forever.” As they walked through the small settlement, Samara could feel the interest. It beat on them from all sides as people, both male and female, stopped what they were doing to look at them. They were all cyborgs. Nestling closer to the hardness of Lyon’s chest, she looked back with wide eyes. This was going to be her home. As long as Lyon was here, then so was she, and she had to get to know these people, integrate into their society.
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The sun was hot, prickling across any exposed skin. In the hospital gown and just a sheet, she felt naked and a little uncomfortable. “Why are they all looking at me?” she whispered, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder and neck. He chuckled in reply. A deep male sound of triumph-tinged amusement. “They’re not looking at you, sweetling, or they’d better not be. They’re looking at me.” “Why?” “Because I’ve never taken a woman home.” She blinked at that and sat up to look at him directly. “What? Ever? But…you’ve… Uhm…” Her words faltered as she tried to put into words what she was thinking without offending him. Instead she just gave him a “look”. He read her mind easily. The look on his face was open and brutally honest as he replied. “Yes, I’ve had women. But I’ve never found one I wanted to spend the rest of my life, or even longer than a night, with. Now that I’ve found her…that’s you in case you missed that…I’m not letting you go.” The darkness in his eyes changed, heat swirling in the green depths that took her breath away. It made erotic promises of what was going to happen when he got her alone. She shivered, awed at the passion and feeling she could engender in him. By the time he shouldered open the door of a small, one-level dwelling, the hum of excitement in Samara’s veins had risen to fever pitch. Ducking his head, he stepped into the coolness beyond the door and into a small living area. It was neat and tidy. The usual for this type of colony building, the hardened plastifoam walls extended into low couches and other furniture. She knew the type. She’d grown up in one.
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He ignored the main room, sweeping right through it with the force of a tsunami, and into the sleeping area. Like all pod housing, the facilities were in a screened-off area in the same room. Still holding her easily, Lyon stepped into the sonic cleanser and hit the button. The machine hummed as it activated. She sighed in relief as the waves washed over them, disintegrating the dirt and grime of the shuttle journey. It wasn’t as good as a water shower, but she didn’t care. The cycle still running, he let go of her legs. Silence crowded into the little space with them, not that there was much with two of them in a cubicle designed for one and his massive shoulders taking up most of what was left. A shiver ran through her as, deliberately, he slid her down his lean, hard body. And it was hard all over. Biting her lip, she pressed closer to him, desperate for the feel of his skin on hers. Ignored, the sheet fell away into a heap at their feet. “Never letting you go,” he promised as he pressed her against the wall and kissed her. Like a flower opening to the sun, she parted her lips. He groaned in approval, the sound triumphant as he drove his tongue into her mouth and took what he wanted. Whimpering in need under the onslaught of his lips, she ran her hands over his broad shoulders. She needed to touch him. Needed proof that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming it. That he’d really said he loved her. “Don’t. I don’t want you to,” she murmured as he moved onto her neck, hot kisses leaving a trail of fire. One hand braced on the wall above them, he bracketed her body with his, as though he was protecting her from the world beyond. “This is just ugly as hell.” His other hand snaked around her neck and stripped the hospital gown from her in three quick and efficient movements. The fabric dropped unheeded to the floor to join the sheet. He sucked a ragged breath in, eyes dark as they swept over her revealed body. A muscle jumped at the corner of his jaw. “You get sexier every time I see you. How do you do that?” 96
Lyon’s Price
Unsure how to answer that, she just shrugged. The movement set her naked breasts jiggling. Instantly his attention snapped to them and the black of his eyes swallowed the green. Clenching his fists, he looked down at her, but didn’t touch. Unbidden, her nipples tightened into dark little buds. Inviting the touch of his fingers, his lips. An image of his head bent over her, dark against her pale skin as he suckled her, filled her mind. Heat arrowed through her body, her clit aching as she fought to contain her whimper. “I should have said this earlier. If you don’t want this, you can leave.” The words were low and tightly controlled, as though forced out of him grudgingly. “Cael will take you back to a Fleet colony or you can stay here. You’ll…” He paused, as though he didn’t want to say what he was going to. When he carried on, the words were little more than a growl of anger. “You’ll find plenty of men willing to offer you their protection.” The last small knot in Samara’s heart worked its way loose and disappeared. He was offering her freedom. She wasn’t a prisoner. She had a choice. “Do you know what they say about letting something go?” He looked puzzled, the scowl still in place. His body almost vibrated with the control it was taking to stay in place and not touch her. Samara smiled and slipped under his arm. “If it returns to you, it’s yours.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Lyon, if you don’t take me to bed right now, I’ll go look up that fan club.” The growl behind her was a warning one. She squealed and darted into the bedroom, almost making it to the bed before he caught her. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, taking her off her feet to be held against a broad chest. “You like a bit of danger, don’t you, sweetling?” His voice was a rumble in her ear. Taking the opportunity, she pressed her ass against the impressive erection straining his pants.
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Mina Carter
“Danger?” she teased, her voice light and her heart soaring. “You call this danger? I’ve seen more action on a ward of geriatrics.” He dropped her onto the bed. A breathless giggle escaped her as she tried to scramble away up the bed. A hard hand closed around her ankle and flipped her over onto her back. “So, it’s action you want, is it?” Looming over the bed, he stripped off his shirt. Caught like a butterfly impaled on a pin, she watched as the wide, heavily muscled expanse of his chest was revealed. She licked her lips, already anticipating exploring him with her lips and tongue. “Then it’s action you’ll get. If you think you can handle it…” She pretended to yawn as he kicked his boots off and started on his pants. His cock sprang free, purple-headed and heavily veined. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. Her body was hot and heavy, her pussy aching to be filled. Lazily she lifted her hands and cupped the heaviness of her breasts, flicking her thumbs over the beaded nipples. His gaze followed her every movement. “All talk, no action.” His eyes flashed fire. Closing his hand around her ankle, he dragged her over the bed toward him. She giggled and tried halfheartedly to escape. It didn’t work. It wouldn’t have worked even if she was actually trying to get away. Within seconds he had her ass on the edge of the bed, her legs spread. “All talk, huh?” He lifted an eyebrow. “How about no talk? I have better things to do with my tongue.” This time she didn’t get a chance to giggle, just moan as he spread her legs further and his hot mouth engulfed her clit. He didn’t bother with exploratory sweeps or teasing her. Instead he tongued the small bundle of nerves, sucking and licking until she saw stars, broken whimpers of pleasure falling from her lips.
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Lyon’s Price
With each sweep he drove her higher, until the fire in her veins became an inferno. It was a sensual attack with one very specific purpose—to take her to the edge at jump speed. Hands hard on her hips, he drove his tongue into her aching cunt and groaned loudly before going back to her clit. “Yes, yes! I’m…” She panted, holding him to her, the short stubble of his hair like velvet against her fingers. In response, he nibbled on her clit and sucked. Hard. A scream, his name, escaped her as she came, pleasure shattering through her body like a thousand shards of glass. An orgasm so complete and intense it verged on painful. “Oh God, yes! Fuck me now,” she moaned. He was moving as she spoke. Crawling up the bed, he caught the back of her knee over a well-muscled forearm. Lifting her leg, he opened her completely to him as her body pulsed and trembled with her climax. A groan of pleasure in the back of his throat he fit the thick head of his cock against her and drove himself home in one movement. “Hmmmm.” Her eyes rolled back in her head as her body stretched, feeling that combination of pleasure and pain that was utterly addictive. Before she could savor it, he moved. Bracing himself with an arm above her, he held her leg high and pulled back, then slammed into her again with a small grunt. Then again and again. Within a minute he’d set the pace hard and fast as he took her with an intensity Samara found breathtaking. She wrapped herself around him, her hands gentle and her lips softer as she kissed along his jaw. She thought she’d be able to hold out, see him to the end as her hips matched his in perfect sync. Not a chance. A familiar tightening started deep in her stomach as he fucked her…no, it was more than fucking. There was desperation and promise in the way he held her, the way he touched her…as if he was pledging himself to her and claiming her all at the same time. “Ugh, I’m…”
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Mina Carter
“Let it go, sweet, I want to feel you come all over my cock. I need to feel your heat over my cock,” he whispered against her ear, nipping the lobe. Unable to hold on any longer, she did on a gasp and a long shudder.
“Fuck me!” he groaned, increasing speed as his cock plunged into the slick, heated softness of her body. She was heat and desire and…just everything. She was his everything, his perfect match, and now he had her. As he slammed into her one last time, Lyon’s release hit him like a starship on attack and his cock pulsed and jerked deep within her, pouring out his passion and his love into her body. Wrapping himself around her, he dropped a kiss onto her perfect lips and sighed. The fight for freedom wasn’t over, but he had his Jilan-ma and, for the moment, Lyon was at peace.
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About the Author Multi-published author Mina Carter was born and raised in Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England). After a slew of careers ranging from logistics to land-surveying, she can now be found in the wilds of Leicestershire with her real-life hero and their young daughter…the true boss of the family. Suffering the curse of eternal curiosity, Mina never tires of learning new skills, which has led to aromatherapy, corsetry, chain-mail making, welding, canoeing, shooting, and pole-dancing, to name but a few. She juggles being a mum, working full time and writing, tossing another ball in the air for her cover artwork. For Mina, writing time is the wee hours of the morning before anyone wakes up and starts making demands or any spare minute that can be begged, bought or conned. Her first stories were penned at age 11, when she used a stationery set meant for Christmas thank you letters to write stories instead. More recently, she wrote for her own amusement and to save on outrageous monthly book bills. Now she’s totally addicted and needs her daily writing fix or heads roll! Mina welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Mina Carter Her Empath
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