Containing Malice (Rebel Cyborgs #1) - Cynthia Sax Page 0,6

wanted to free Valor, his brethren. That mission wouldn’t be accomplished. He would never join another battle.

But his biggest regret was he couldn’t take her with him. She would live…for a while. Human lifespans were short. And he would die. He—

Heat rushed over him. His spine bowed involuntarily. His nerve endings, his organics, all of him snapped with energy, banishing the agony.

His systems rebooted faster than they ever had in the past.

The medic’s face came into view. His enemy was appallingly stunning. His vision system was strained by the sight of her.

“You survived.” She whispered that truth. One glimmering trail of wetness streaked down her left cheek.

She didn’t care about him. He dismissed that reason for her tears. The medic had tortured him every opportunity she’d been given for five hundred and fifty-seven planet rotations. She must have been worried about one of her precious formulas failing yet again.

“Your nanocybotics will require a planet duration to recover.” That statement from the medic he most loved to hate held no logic.

He felt the nanocybotics flooding his form. They had already recovered and had increased in number.

“I’ll take your nanocybotics count then.” That action was also unlike the female he had studied over the past solar cycle and a half.

She ran diagnostics. Again and again. It annoyed him tremendously, but that was what she did.

Why was she altering her standard operating procedures now?

He narrowed his eyes at her. What was she planning?

The female didn’t look at him. She busily put away her things, placing some of the items in her pockets, locking the rest of them in the portable medic station. One of the guards would move that into the hallway before Malice was freed.

They were scared he’d utilize the objects as weapons, escape, kill them.

That fear was warranted.

She returned to his side and the tension building low in his form eased. Her scent was stronger, more nuanced, and the primitive side of him reveled in it, not caring that she was his foe.

“I should stay with you, ensure the formulation doesn’t have any immediate negative side effects.” She leaned over him. Her cloth-covered breasts brushed against his bare chest, and his cock twitched. “But my shift here is almost done and prolonging the stunning might harm you.”

That statement would have been more believable if there was a drip of concern in her voice. Her tone was flat and cold.

She pressed her fingertips against his neck.

All critical veins were situated under his frame. The one she had found merely serviced his skin and flesh.

“Your pulse is strong and steady.” It would relay that information, however.

But a scan would be more reliable and convey additional specs. He glanced down at her jacket pocket, the one containing her handheld, met her gaze once more.

She shook her head. That movement was barely detectable.

He noted it because he noted everything about all his enemies. His gaze remained locked with hers.

She didn’t look away. The medic stroked his neck. Her breathing was as ragged as his was.

“You’re warm.” Her voice reached down deep inside him. “Your coronary circulation system is fully functional.”

It was too functional. All excess blood was flowing to his cock.

She was a cruel, uncaring being and he was turned on by her.

He clenched his jaw, loathing himself for his weakness. If he could lift his hands, he’d curl his fingers around her neck and squeeze. He’d watch her as her eyes bulged, her beautiful face turned blue, and the last flickers of life left her gorgeous brown eyes.

The beeping of the blasted sleeping support severed that fantasy.

She sighed, straightened, stepped back.

Pain pummeled him as he was stunned yet again. He took that hurt without uttering a sound, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

Her countenance was devoid of expression.

Frag. She was a cold being.

“I have another patient to see.” She wrapped her jacket tighter around her slight form. “Rest for the remaining portion of the planet rotation. Don’t overexert yourself.”

How could he overexert himself?

He was imprisoned in a small chamber that held nothing except a sleeping support to facilitate her harsh experiments, a nourishment dispenser to feed his organics, and energy outlets to recharge his machine side.

She took one more look at him, turned, and walked toward the door.

He wanted to follow her. That was how much the blasted female had damaged his processors, his brain.

She rapped her knuckles against the door. There were no control panels in the chamber. The Humanoid Alliance processed if those were available, cyborgs like himself could circumvent any security