in order of who he’d kill first upon escaping his confines.
Medic Illona’s name was at the very top of that list.
He glared at her from his position on the sleeping support. His loathing was so extreme it coated the top of his mouth, the taste bitter and thick.
That sensation was kept to himself. Everything else he saw, heard, or monitored was relayed to Valor. His friend and fellow cyborg was restrained in another chamber, alone. They had been separated for 3.1258 human lifespans. The male craved inputs.
Malice had no reason to withhold them.
The medic doesn’t look like herself this planet rotation. The E Model shared that observation through their private transmission line.
She is a hot fraggin’ mess. Malice had noticed her suboptimal state immediately and wanted to shake her. Only he had the right to damage her. She was his target, his foe.
But he wasn’t yet free and all he could do was note her condition.
A strand of the medic’s long black hair had slipped from its fastener, was caressing one of her cheeks. That was out of character. The female liked to have her hair pulled back from her face.
Her expression was exasperatingly serene, as it always was, yet her brown skin had a gray tint to it, and shadows hugged her eyes. Rest was a requirement for humans, and she wasn’t meeting her quota.
The light-blue flight suit she wore under her crisp white jacket was 0.0029 percent looser than it had been the last time he saw her. Her fingertips were 0.0058 percent cooler against his skin.
She still had the power to turn him on, to harden his cock. Blast her. But she wasn’t fully functional this planet rotation. That angered him.
“Other than the bruising, which has faded, you appear to be whole and healthy.” Her voice swept over him, as intimate, as enthralling as a caress.
The medic chattered constantly, filling the space with words.
That gave Valor the verbal stimulation his friend required.
The Humanoid Alliance had blocked all cyborg transmissions in and out of the lab, cutting them off from their many millions of brethren and their flow of chatter. Even Malice found the silence in his head eerie and he was a C Model. His Model wasn’t skilled at communications.
Valor, being a newer E Model, hungered for it. The quiet inflicted emotional damage on him.
Malice tried to supply him with words, but it was a struggle. For that and only for that reason, he was grateful for the reprieve the medic’s talking granted him.
“Your state shouldn’t interfere with this planet rotation’s experiment.” She patted his right arm. Her touch was felt down to his frame.
He was unable to stop that torment, couldn’t say or do anything. The Humanoid Alliance viewed cyborgs as machines. Machines didn’t speak or act unless they were issued a command.
Three beeps echoed in the chamber. The medic lifted her hands from him.
Malice gritted his teeth as he was stunned yet again. Pain coursed over his skin, jabbed into his flesh.
It was an unnecessary precaution. Until he devised a plan to free himself, to free Valor, he had to obey orders or risk both of them being decommissioned, being killed in the most painful way possible, sliced and dissected for parts.
And stunning him only impacted his organics. His processors functioned, as did his mechanical eyes and his auditory system.
All his blasted senses were online. He saw the medic’s beautiful face, processed the moment her soft fingers returned to his skin, smelled the musk of her arousal.
His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, inhaling that part of her. His cock was shamefully hard. He had tried to fight his response to her, had failed to resist his enemy’s allures yet again.
The medic assigned to him before her had also been a female. As had the medic before her and the medic before her. The Humanoid Alliance chose human females. Judging by the comments made by the male guards, all the medics had been fuckable, as they crudely put it.
Malice had only been attracted to her.
“I’ve crafted a new formula.” She skimmed her palms along his arm.
Corresponding energy surged through his circuits. His blasted balls ached. He wanted her and that irritated the fraggin’ hole out of him.
She was his nemesis, the source of his agony, of Valor’s agony.
He hated that he responded to her, hated her.
“I’m hopeful it will increase your nanocybotics count.” Her voice coursed down his form, wrapping around his rigid cock. “It might take multiple injections.”
All of those injections would be painful.