Testing Truth (Cyborg Space Exploration #6) - Cynthia Sax Page 0,21

was one of the many rules she had to follow.

Stars. She was tired of all the protocol.

The doors to the bridge opened to admit her and closed after she entered. Her nipples tightened and her pussy grew wet. Her reaction to the cyborg’s presence was dizzyingly intense. Her giddiness over a shift filled with seduction and wild abandon almost demolished her control.

Truth sat in the captain’s chair, her seat on the bridge. He faced the main viewscreen. His shoulders were broad. His black hair absorbed the light.

Her fingers twitched. She was tempted to stroke the stretch of gray skin above his body armor, verify if it was as soft as it looked.

As though sensing her presence, her cyborg looked behind him, his gaze meeting hers. “My princess.” His deep voice coiled around her. His brilliant blue eyes glowed with passion, with need.

She would have him this planet rotation. That was decided, was inevitable. Lust and wanting sang through the air between them. Their cavorting was as unstoppable as fate.

“Valentin.” Nancy addressed her private secretary. “Marthe and Claude are waiting for you in your private chambers.”

“Princess.” The male stood. He looked pointedly at Truth. “There should be two beings on the bridge.”

There had been moments when there weren’t two beings on the bridge during the voyage to Nereid Negative One. Her private secretary didn’t fully trust the cyborg.

He must have seen, as the others did, Truth’s desire for her.

She clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. “One will remain on the bridge with the cyborg.”

Valentin’s lips parted.

“One has spoken.” Nancy quashed the male’s protests.

“Yes, Princess.” Valentin cast a hard glance on the cyborg and rushed off the bridge.

Truth’s gaze followed the male and then shifted to her. “Do you always speak of yourself as though you’re another being?” Amusement lilted his voice.

“When one is in public, always.” She sighed. “It’s a verbal reminder that when one speaks, when one makes a decision, one is speaking, is making a decision, for all the beings one is responsible for protecting, for serving.” She drifted closer to him. “What one wants for oneself isn’t important.”

“What you want is important to me.” He hooked one of his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap, seating her sideways across his legs. “And we’re not in public now.” He brushed the tip of his nose over hers, that playfulness enthralling her. “When we’re alone, you can speak solely for you.”

Stars. That prospect appealed to her. “One…I.” She amended. That word felt—wrong—on her lips. “I’ve been considering others my entire lifespan. It will be challenging to change that.”

“This focus on individual wants is new to me also, Princess.” He leaned his forehead against hers. His warm breath wafted over her skin and she trembled. “When we were enslaved by the Humanoid Alliance, we, like you, placed the needs of the many above the desires of the few.”

Very few beings understood that thinking. She stared up at him with wonder. He did comprehend it.

“That was the primary way the Humanoid Alliance controlled us.” Her cyborg’s lips twisted. “If one of us malfunctioned, several of our brethren were decommissioned. They were killed in the most painful way possible. If too many warriors malfunctioned, the Humanoid Alliance threatened to decommission all of us.”

“The Humanoid Alliance threatened Royaumes similarly.” She leaned into him, resting her cloth-clad palms on his body armor-covered chest, regretting the barriers between them. “If we didn’t obey them, they said they’d use a World-Ender on our planet, destroying it, killing every being on the surface.”

“That was why you didn’t rebel.” Truth nodded. “It must have been difficult for you. It isn’t in your nature to submit quietly to the enemy.”

Her eyes widened. How had he known that?

And she realized. He knew because they were the same in that way. “It isn’t in your nature to meekly obey others either.”

“That’s true.” Her cyborg laughed. “It strained my processors.”

“It was a strain for me also.” It felt good to admit to that, to not have to pretend it wasn’t challenging for her. “Some of us rebelled…quietly.”

She plucked at her covered fingertips, pulling the fabric over her skin, removing her gloves slowly, one by one. They fell to the floor.

That act in itself was a form of rebellion. Royalty was never seen in public without gloves.

“It was dangerous. We realized if we were caught, the queen would denounce any knowledge of our activities. Her Majesty would have no choice about that.” The queen would always choose the