form, stared at him. “You’re letting me go?”
“If you don’t return, I will hunt you down and kill you.” Her cyborg’s voice was devoid of emotion. “You’ll hurt before you die, Medic. Badly.”
He was releasing her. She would see Medic Febris, her friend, one more time, have another opportunity to help others, to help her cyborg and his friend, before her lifespan ended.
“Liquefy my brain.” She donned the jacket, was grateful Picton, that creep, wouldn’t see her completely naked. “Don’t allow them to bring me back from the dead.”
That was her worst fear—that she would become a participant in that Humanoid Alliance experiment, spend countless moments in excruciating pain, be forced to do their bidding, killing and harming others.
Malice looked at her. His forehead furrowed with thought lines. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
The door opened. Bonin, the youngest guard, stood on the threshold and gawked at them.
A second guard, Nelson was positioned in the hallway, behind the male.
Picton must have believed having another being find what was left of her body would shield him from any reprimand from the Humanoid Alliance.
He would seek to kill her once he found out she survived the rest cycle.
“Medic Illona, I didn’t expect to see you here this early.” Bonin’s gaze lowered to her bare legs and his disbelieving gape turned into a lecherous leer.
She held back a shudder.
Malice rumbled. That sound was thrillingly ominous.
The guard’s gaze snapped to the cyborg. He placed one of his palms on his reprimand stick. He glanced at the monitoring device. It remained deactivated. His gaze returned to her.
Her possible contagious state stopped Picton from touching her. It didn’t appear to deter the young male.
Fuck. She had to get away from him before he acted on that bulge in his uniform.
And before Malice killed him. His growling grew louder.
She not-so-casually brushed against her cyborg as she hurried toward the exit.
He shuddered. His rumbling stopped.
She quashed the smile lifting her lips, hiding her smug satisfaction behind a serene facade. Her cyborg might hate her, might be planning to kill her, but he also wanted her.
As badly as she wanted him. They might have another fuck if she survived her next mission.
And if she could leave the chamber.
Bonin stood in her way, blocking the exit. “You—”
“I handled the situation.” She glared at the guard, feigning indignation. “You’re welcome. Now step aside. I have to log this shift’s developments with the Humanoid Alliance before they open an inquiry. We do not want that to happen.”
“No, we don’t want that to happen.” The male moved to the left. “But—”
She rushed along the hallways, not wanting to hear what he had to say. Bonin would likely take out his frustration with her on Malice. That guilt jabbed at her. But deactivating the transmission blocker was her first priority and the cyborgs’ best chance at escaping.
The Resurrected flung themselves against the portals as she passed their chamber. That shook her. Their pain was palpable, unnerving. She pushed away those unsettled feelings and walked faster.
Despite Malice’s hard usage of her, she felt good. The chill inside her had been banished. Her head was clear. Her thoughts weren’t muddled.
She’d need a functioning brain if she and Medic Febris were to successfully accomplish their mission. One mistake would kill them both and make their efforts meaningless.
Illona entered her private chambers, tidied her form and her medic jacket, then donned a new flight suit and her jacket. Remnants of the rest cycle remained with her. She tingled all over with Malice’s nanocybotics. They hadn’t faded.
That must have been a side effect of the formula she’d injected into him.
She gathered all the tools and devices she might need, stuffed those in her pockets. Then she grabbed a handheld and accessed the monitoring equipment in the chamber and hallways she had to enter. She used Picton’s authorization codes.
His beatings of test subjects weren’t publicly sanctioned by the Humanoid Alliance, but they were tolerated…as long as he disabled the monitoring equipment first. He did that so often they might not investigate the additional disruptions for a couple planet rotations.
They might not do that. The Humanoid Alliance could uncover her deeds immediately.
She could die during her self-appointed assignment. Illona touched her lips. They were plumped from Malice’s kisses. He was a male without equal, had endured too many solar cycles of torment. If there was any possibility she could free him, she had to take it.
The hallways were sparsely occupied as she navigated them. The few beings she saw