Containing Malice (Rebel Cyborgs #1) - Cynthia Sax Page 0,32

her. “I decide if you need to have it removed or not.” He didn’t lower his hand. “Give me the laser scalpel.”

It took everything she had to resist the dominance in his voice. “I won’t be leaving the lab.” She’d die in the structure.

“You won’t be leaving this chamber, ever, if you don’t give me the fraggin’ laser scalpel.” He growled that warning, his jaw jutting.

The male was determined to remove her explosive.

She studied him. Why would that be important to him?

Shit. There was one possible reason for his stubbornness.

“You don’t trust that there is an explosive inside you.” Her gaze met his. “You want to remove mine first to ensure I didn’t lie to you.”

He glared at her, his lack of answer giving her the verification she sought.

His distrust shouldn’t hurt her. Her cyborg had believed she’d been the hands of the Humanoid Alliance, of their shared enemy, for the past solar cycle and a half. Those suspicions didn’t evaporate after a few thrilling fucks and some half-assed helping.

But his lack of faith did wound her. Very much. “Do whatever you want.” She placed the laser scalpel in his palm. “Slice my throat if it makes you happy.”

She tilted her head back, exposing her neck and waited for the pain, for the possible end.

Malice pulled her to him until she was positioned between his legs. “Slicing your throat is too quick.” He curled his fingers around her neck. The laser scalpel was pressed against her nape. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d squeeze the life out of you.”

He brushed his thumbs under her chin, stroking her skin back and forth, back and forth.

Her cyborg could kill her. Easily.

The Humanoid Alliance must have broken her because that prospect turned her on. There wasn’t a drop of fear in her naked form, only need. The end would come for her…soon. She preferred he be the being to deliver that death.

“I won’t kill you.” Her cyborg activated the laser scalpel. “But this will damage you temporarily.”

It would hurt also. She braced herself for the pain. “If you cut too deep—”

“I studied the information you relayed.” He held her in place with one hand. “I process how deep to cut.”

The first slice caused so much agony she almost lost consciousness. She gritted her teeth, swallowing her scream. A tear dripped down her right cheek. Darkness edged her vision.

“Keep your gaze on me.” Her cyborg’s voice was gruff.

In the past, when she’d operated on him, inflicting greater hurt than a human like her could tolerate, he stared at her the entire time, his gaze angry, accusing.

Was that what he had been doing—fighting oblivion?

Malice deactivated the laser scalpel, placed it on the sleeping support. “You aren’t the only being with a knowledge of human anatomy.” He probed the wound with the grippers. Her world swirled around her. “Cyborgs study their enemies. Closely.” He removed the explosive, gazed at it for a moment. His face grew frighteningly hard. “There isn’t a large variance between learning how to damage and learning how to repair.”

She tried to focus on his handsome face, on the sound of his voice, but the pain was too much. “Malice.” She swayed forward, toward him, unable to say more, to find the words in her beleaguered brain. Warmth streamed down her neck.

“Stay strong, female.” He carefully set the explosive aside and returned his attention to her, securing her to him with one arm, lifting her chin with his other hand. “My nanocybotics will repair you.”

He licked the wound with the flat of his tongue. She hissed, tried to pull back, her agony becoming more acute. He didn’t allow her retreat, intensifying his clasp on her.

“Be still.” His voice was gruff with emotion. He laved her again and again.

Her hurt receded. Bubbling took its place.

Illona’s eyelids partially lowered. His method of healing was effective, tantalizing, stimulating. She grasped his shoulders, savoring the feel of him under her fingertips.

“Your damage has been repaired.” Her cyborg continued to lick her.

Her physical wound had closed. The injury to her heart remained.

“I didn’t lie about the explosive.” She pointed that fact out to him.

His distrust of her had been unjustified.

“I didn’t accuse you of lying, female.” Her warrior mouthed along her neck, between her breasts, tidying her bloodstained skin with his tongue, his lips. “That was your own incorrect projection.”

She replayed their conversation in her mind. Fuck. He was right. She’d reached that conclusion on her own. He’d said nothing…because she suspected that served his own purposes.

Her