Indulgence (90 page)

That should have been his fate when he’d lost his temper,
broken his restraints, and slain his handler. He had been prepared to die
fighting. Instead, he’d been assigned a soft-handed female.

The only reason the Humanoid Alliance would do that would be
to inflict more pain on him.

“C345925,” she mumbled, twitching with agitation, her eyes
remaining closed.

He didn’t like hearing another cyborg’s model number on her
lips, could kill her for that alone.

And he would kill her. The only unknown variable was when.
He preferred to wait until repositioning, the planet rotation his fellow
cyborgs had chosen to escape.

Until then, he would use her as his primitive design
demanded. He’d been manufactured for two functions—to breed and to fight, and
she was a fertile female, her big breasts and wide hips inciting his basest
instincts. He’d called her female. His gaze rested on the dried cum coating her
right nipple. He’d already marked her. In his mind, she was his.

“No other male will touch you.” He nudged her with his foot.
“Understand?”

She blinked her long eyelashes, her gaze soft and unfocused.
“I understand, sir. You’re my priority.”

“I’m your everything.” Rage unfastened the energy and
nourishment tubes from his wrists. “Your life is mine to end when I wish.”

She tilted her chin upward, stubbornness in the line of her
jaw. “Yes, sir.”

The female was brave. He had to give her credit for that.
“It’s time to dress for deployment.”

She reached for her flight suit.

“No.” He stepped on the stained fabric. “You dress me
first.” He enjoyed looking at her body and being unclothed embarrassed her.
Humans were prudish about nudity, believed they humiliated the cyborgs by
keeping them naked.

Rage didn’t care who saw his bare ass.

He watched his female’s curves jiggle as she hurried to the
far wall. She pressed the panel. It opened to reveal his armor and weapons.

“The body armor first, little engineer.” His instructions
were unnecessary. She was already been reaching for it. But he liked telling
her what to do.

She liked it also, her tantalizing musky scent
strengthening. He aroused her. Everything else might be a lie but her physical
reaction to him, to his voice, his touch, was real. He didn’t know how to
process it, had never had a female desire him.

“You can do this, Joan.” The pep talk the female gave
herself entertained Rage. “You’ve carried similar sets.” She huffed and puffed
yet managed to convey the heavy armor to him, her cheeks flushing with her
efforts.

His female then vigorously rubbed the armor with her palms.
He stepped forward, raised his arms and waited. She continued to chafe the
black surface.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“The armor is cold, sir.” She gazed at him. “I’m warming it
for you.”

She was warming it for him. Rage stared at her. No other
handler had worried about the temperature of his armor.

“Give it to me.” He yanked it from her hands and lifted it
over his head. The suit clicked into place, expanded, covering his torso, back,
groin, ass. “Arm coverings next.”

She ran to the wall panel, selected them, and rushed back to
him, her responsiveness to his orders gratifying. He held out his arms,
allowing her to fasten them.

“Did you dress your C345925?” Where did
that
question
come from? He didn’t care about her past.

“No, sir.” She retrieved his leg coverings. “C345925 was in
full battle gear when he saved me.” She bent to attach them, sticking her plump
ass in the air.

A cyborg saved his little engineer. That was her story, her
attempt to win his sympathy. He grunted, watching her skeptically, his eyelids
partially lowered.

His female suited him up quickly, efficiently, telling him
about her imaginary rescue. She’d been eleven solar cycles when it happened,
young for a human female. The cyborg’s orders had been to fight the Mantidae.

That, alone, exposed her lie. A cyborg would never abandon a
mission, not unless he wished to be decommissioned. Every action while on
deployment was monitored and any deviation was viewed by the humans as a
malfunction. Saving her would have meant C345925’s death.

There was a way to hack the monitoring but that had taken
Crash four solar cycles to accomplish. Rage doubted her cyborg had his friend’s
advanced knowledge.

“Sir, did you… ummm…” The female chewed on her bottom lip.
“Ever meet C345925?”

“There were hundreds of thousands of C models,” he said,
unable to hold back his sarcastic tone. “We don’t all know each other.” And she
would count on that possibility. He couldn’t refute her story.

“Oh.” She was a good little liar, his female, her
disappointment appearing genuine. “Should I bring you your weapons now, sir?”

“Never touch a warrior’s weapons.” He strode to the wall
panel and filled sheaths with daggers, strapped guns to his back, slung long
guns over his shoulders. Any one of these could end his little engineer’s life,
yet she fussed over him, straightening straps and brushing off his armor.

She wasn’t fearless. He smelled the terror radiating from
her lush body. But she pushed past her fright and that earned his admiration.

He enjoyed her touch, too much for his comfort. Rage gazed
down at her full breasts, his fingers twitching to cup them. They’d be soft,
warm, heavy, in his hands.

He wrangled his desire under control. She was a disposable
being, destined to die, and a deceitful human, planning to harm him. He
couldn’t forget that.

“Dress.” His voice was gruff.

“Yes, sir.” She scrambled for her cyborg-gray flight suit,
pulling the dirty garment over her white skin, covering her pert nipples. As
she fastened the suit, fabric pulled tightly over her breasts and hips,
accentuating her curves. “Am I presentable, sir?” She ran her hands over her
out-of-control brown curls, her hair defying the artificial gravity of the
battle station.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “You’re a mess.” Her suit was
stained, her hair crazy. “In the future, you’ll keep clothing in my chambers.”

“Yes, sir.” Her round face turned as pink as her nipples.

Rage sensed a human’s presence outside the chambers. The
battle station buzzed with an energy shield, limiting his monitoring of his
surroundings and prohibiting any communication with his fellow cyborgs, but he
could survey the hallway with his pulses.

“It’s time, little engineer.”

“Oh.” She straightened, her scent communicating excitement
mixed with trepidation. “I’ll go first.” She pressed her palm to the panel and
the interior door slid open. The humans thought this measure stopped cyborgs
from escaping. They didn’t realize the palm didn’t have to be attached to a
living being.

Rage followed her into the buffer area between the two
doors.

Boyd, the weak wanna-be warrior, already stood there,
heavily armed, the male not as brave as Rage’s female. He lifted his eyebrows
when he saw them. “You survived, Cadet Tits.” His gaze dropped to her
bloodstained knees. “I see how. You spent the shift servicing a cyborg.” He
smirked.

The female’s blush deepened to a fiery crimson. “My name is
Cadet Tull.”

Although it would save her pride, she didn’t lie, didn’t
deny servicing him. She was claiming him. Pride warmed Rage’s chest.

“Maybe, after this deployment, you and I could come to an
agreement.” Boyd leered at her.

She placed her palm on the sensor. The exterior door slid
open and she stepped into the hallway. “My duty is to C899321, not to you.” His
little female strutted along the hallway with the dignity of a Commander, her
head held high, her back straight.

Entertained by her antics, Rage trailed her, his tread
silent, his stride slowed to match hers.

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.” Boyd jabbed the
muzzle of his long gun into Rage’s back, the armor dulling the impact. “It
might extend your life expectancy… by a few planet rotations.” He snickered.

He expected her to die. Rage frowned. Boyd was too dumb to
lie well.

“I’ll take my chances.” She accessed another control panel.
Boyd did the same, two authorizations required for the hallway doors leading to
the docking bay. Again, all that was needed were their palms. Foolish humans.
“Thank you very much.”

She had no respect for the human male. Rage sniffed the air.
And no attraction. That pleased him. He didn’t want another’s scent on her
skin.

They walked through secured door after secured door. Rage
monitored the hallway in front of and behind him, surveying the space for
threats with his energy pulses, while keeping his gaze on the swaying ass of
his female.

The closer he moved to the docking bay, the more of the
hallway he could sense. As they passed through the final door, Crash and Gap
connected with him.

They rewarded you with a female for killing your handler?
Crash was the first to comment, using frequencies only cyborgs could access.

Fraggin’ hole. I should have killed mine.
Gap, the
youngest, blathered.

You wouldn’t know what to do with a female
, Crash
countered. Neither of them had been in breeding programs. They bemoaned that
lack. Rage considered them fortunate.

She’s my handler.
He attempted to shut down their
breeding talk.
That she’s female will make her easier to kill.

It was waste of energy.
I didn’t know human females came
in that size.
Gap was irritatingly open with his admiration.

She’s built for a cyborg.
Crash was as enamored with
her.

But she’d be soft since she’s a human.

Her flight suit is the color of our skin.

Rage ignored their comments, listening instead to the
chatter amongst the human handlers. There was shock, surprise, speculation.

The female wasn’t supposed to survive. Commander Lewis would
be angry. She must be fucking the cyborg. A female who’d fuck a machine would
fuck anyone. Better get a piece of that ass before the cyborg kills her.

Rage didn’t understand this new development, having never
seen human handlers turn on their own kind. Was this a trick to earn his
sympathy? It involved too many beings for this to be probable. He closed some
of the gap between him and his female.

A trickle of sweat dripped down her neck. She was aware of
the looks, of the talk.

“You will limit your exposure to the human males,” he
ordered, lowering his voice for her hearing only.

“Yes, sir.”

Her reply was repeated with wonder by the cyborgs. Respect
from a handler was rare and never vocalized in public.

What did you do to your human?
Awe wrapped around
Gap’s transmission.
She listens to you
.

The two cyborgs waited next to their ship, their handlers
and guards beside them. They were newer models, E and G, smaller in size, with
human features. Crash’s eyes were a matte black, the result of an earlier
unsuccessful attempt to mimic human eyes. The designers had succeeded with Gap,
his eyes pale gray.

Some human females might have found the youngest cyborg
sexually appealing.

Not his female. Rage didn’t sense any arousal from her.

She more than listens to you.
Crash’s nostrils
flared.
Your scent is all over her, big guy.

You lucky bag of bolts.
Gap perused the female a
little too thoroughly, his eyes glowing.

A low growl escaped Rage’s lips before he could suppress it.

His friends inhaled sharply, expecting retaliation from the
humans. Any sign of emotion was cause for decommissioning.

His female turned. Rage placed his hands on his weapons,
preparing to defend himself, to kill as many humans as he could before they
killed him.

She ignored him, glaring up at Boyd instead. “Did you touch
him?” She demanded, her eyes sparking with gold. “Because if you did, I’ll
report you. No one touches him except me.

“We all know how you touch it.” The human male sniggered.
“Did you enjoying sucking that dim-witted machine’s--”

“Don’t call him that.” Rage’s little engineer took a step
forward. “He’s more intelligent than you are.”

She was defending a cyborg to a human. His brethren
chattered, expressing their astonishment through their private transmission
lines. Rage didn’t know how to process her actions.

“It’s a machine.” Boyd took a step forward also. “A weapon
to be used. One word to the Commander and he’ll be spare parts, decom--”

The little engineer slammed the heel of her hand against the
male’s nose. Boyd howled. Blood spurted from his nostrils.

Rage stared at her with admiration. The female could fight.

Against a human. A cyborg could defeat her with one blow.

“Don’t ever threaten to harm my cyborg again.” The female
bounced on the balls of her feet, her fingers folded into fists, ready to punch
the male again. “He’s risking his life every deployment to save humans. You
will respect him.”

I think I’m in love.
Crash, the idiot, blathered.

I came in my armor.
Gap added to the foolishness.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, cyborg slut.” Boyd held
his bleeding nose.

“If I do, everyone will know who’s responsible.” She proved
her cleverness yet again. “They heard what you said. I should--”

“It is time for deployment,” Rage droned, all emotion erased
from his voice. Any delay in deployment would bring his ship under more
scrutiny, making their escape more difficult.

His female bowed her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I allowed him to
distract me.”

He held out his wrists, not saying anything. She pressed the
release buttons, giving him permission to leave the battle station and board
his ship. It was an unnecessary step as Crash had already modified the
failsafe, but the humans weren’t aware of that, not yet.