Containing Malice (Rebel Cyborgs #1) - Cynthia Sax Page 0,44

with concern.

“Fraggin’ hole, female.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Come back to me. I can’t lose you.”

That would accomplish something his enemies had never managed to do—it would kill him.

He licked the blood off her face, adding the nanocybotics in his saliva to the repairing process. The metallic taste of her damage coated his tongue. New skin sealed her wounds. Her nose was being rebuilt.

“There will be nothing left of Picton’s nose when I’m done with him.” He eased in and out of his female. “I will beat it flat with that reprimand stick of his.”

He found release again, rapture sweeping over him as he filled her with his repairing essence.

“I’ll break every bone in his body.” Malice rocked into her once, twice, three times and came, rocked into her once, twice, three times and came.

As he bred with his female, he relayed all the things he would do to her enemy, the pain, the vengeance he would deliver on her behalf. He murmured those dark promises against her lips, sealing them with his breath.

And he tidied her because his little medic didn’t like messes. He licked every drop of dried blood from her brown skin, removed every speck of grime from her form, swept her hair back from her beautiful face, coiled it on top of her head.

Her broken bones straightened, disappearing once again under her skin. She breathed easier, no longer made that heart-tugging whimpering sound when he filled her.

“Picton will scream before I kill him.” He mouthed over her slender neck. “He will cry and plead and beg before I silence him…forever.”

Malice came so hard his visual and auditory systems threatened to shut down. He maintained full functionality based on willpower alone.

His female was defenseless. The enemy was near. He would protect her.

And he was rewarded for achieving that goal. His female opened her eyes, met his gaze.

Frag. He had never seen a more gorgeous sight than those big brown eyes, soft with pleasure, with not a hint of pain in their gold-specked depths.

The yearning to claim her fully, with everything he had, was tremendous. He ruthlessly suppressed that urge. She had been damaged, deserved his tenderness, his care.

He glided his lips over hers, a whisper-light touch expressing his relief, his gratitude, his adoration. Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened.

Their tongues twined. His claiming of her was cautious. He was a C Model. Slow and gentle wasn’t in his core programming. But for her, for his female, he would forge new routines, do the impossible.

She was precious, was deserving of his control.

Despite his leisurely seduction, he must have damaged his little medic. Lines appeared between her fine eyebrows. Her body stiffened.

She pulled back from him, met his gaze. “Are…you…hurt?” She slid trembling hands over his shoulders, his arms, as though she was searching for the answer to her question.

His female had been beaten to the point of death, and she was concerned about another being.

She was concerned about him.

Malice shook his head, unable to speak. A massive ball of an unidentifiable substance had formed in his throat.

“Oh, fuck.” Her face had completely repaired. The grooves on it deepened. “You’re not growling at me like you usually do. A child could break your grip on me. You kissed me like…a human would kiss me.” She grimaced, her expression relaying that wasn’t a good thing.

“No other being will kiss you.” The prospect of anyone touching his female turned his vision system red. It was an effort not to yell his response.

“What have they done to you?” His little medic turned her head, looked around them. “Was it Picton?” Anger sharpened her voice. “Because I’ll—”

“You’ll watch and do nothing else.” Malice pressed his right index finger over her lush lips, silencing her. “Picton is mine to kill, my warrior medic.”

She frowned against his finger. “He hurt—”

“He hurt you.” Rage revived inside him as he replayed Picton’s assault on his female.

He glanced at the male, not hiding his loathing of him.

One of Picton’s eyebrows twitched.

Don’t stun him again. Malice told Valor. He wanted the male able to express his pain when he tortured him on his female’s behalf. His gaze returned to her. “Are you repaired sufficiently?”

His female bent and straightened her arm, the one Picton had broken. She nodded. “I feel surprisingly good.”

“That’s good, because I feel unsurprisingly vengeful.” Malice lifted her off him and set her with care on the tiled floor. “We will breed again later, female.” Multiple times. “I must tear your enemy apart now.”

“That’s my