Testing Truth (Cyborg Space Exploration #6) - Cynthia Sax Page 0,26
couple heartbeats to process her words. “We’re rescuing your brother.”
His female was a formidable force. She had held her daggers and her guns with confidence. But she was also a princess, wouldn’t have the dedicated training a warrior might have.
Her queen must have had more skilled beings she could ask to rescue the prince.
“Why were you chosen for that mission?” He lifted his eyebrows.
Emotional damage flickered in his female’s eyes. “No one, other than the queen, the king, or us, is to know my younger brother was taken.” Her lips flattened. “And I’m the spare to the heir. I’m disposable.”
He clasped her tighter to him, sought to repair her. “The Humanoid Alliance utilized me as though I was disposable also.” He forced humor into his voice. “But, as you have processed, I’m not disposable. I’m a one-of-a-kind warrior, your warrior.”
He flexed his biceps, making his muscles dance. His female’s smile returned, his very own sun peeking out of the clouds, lighting his heart, his soul.
“You’re not disposable either, Princess.” He kissed her forehead, tasting the salt on her skin…and some sparkle. “You’re my female, and I’ve waited many human lifespans for you. There is not, and will never be, another being like you.”
She gazed at him for a moment.
He twitched his muscles. Her smile widened.
Then she laughed, the sound twinkling all around him. “You say all the right things, cyborg.”
“You’re the only being who believes that.” He grinned. “My brethren claim I frequently say the wrong things at the wrong times.”
He proceeded to tell her about some of those occasions. She rested against him, listened, relayed her own stories of mistakes and wrong words and the turmoil that created.
Her blunders were fewer because his princess was exceedingly careful. She was aware she risked her planet’s safety when she misspoke. That was mentioned by her numerous times.
They talked and cuddled, and they bred twice more. The ship’s course was set. The system was put in control of the flight. Nothing unexpected occurred.
Previous to meeting his female, Truth would have found that boring. He would have become restless, would have manufactured some excitement.
Finding his princess had vanquished his boredom. She supplied all the thrills he required. Merely touching her bare skin was exhilarating.
The shift approached its end. He heard the others preparing to exit their chambers.
Truth wanted them to process their princess belonged to him. In all ways. She was his. He was hers.
But his female would be emotionally damaged if she wasn’t made aware of that impending interruption. While he enjoyed chaos, he would never damage her in any way.
“Marthe, Claude, and Valentin are donning their garments.” He murmured that against her forehead.
“Stars.” His princess shot upward. “I must look a mess.” She reached upward to touch her head decoration, her tiara. It was crooked. “Do I look a mess? Be truthful.”
“I’m always truthful.” He delayed answering her question. “I’m a cyborg. We can’t lie.”
“Then always be truthful with one.” She had slipped back into her role, referring to herself as though she were a separate being. “Does one look a mess?” She tried to straighten her tiara. That caused more of her hair to unravel.
“You look a mess.” He caught her wrists, pulling her hands away from the strands. “I’ll repair the damage.” He accessed the files on human female hairstyles stored on the cyborg databases.
Then he applied himself to fixing his female’s appearance. He coiled her hair on top of her head, exposing her nape. Unable to resist that delicate section of skin, he kissed it and she trembled. He secured lock after lock, attempted to transfer some of the pigment clinging to his palms to the strands, righted her tiara.
His female stood and vigorously smoothed her garments with her palms. That flattened 12.5869 percent of the wrinkles in the fabric. She donned her hand coverings, her gloves. The air within the space circulated, removing some of the smells of breeding.
Her gaze met his. “How does one look?”
She looked thoroughly bred with. Any being with a fully functioning visual system would process what they had been doing.
“You look more regal.” That was the truth, as she couldn’t have looked less regal than she had appeared moments ago.
“Good.” She nodded, appearing pleased with his answer. “If they ask you, the shift was uneventful. The focus was on flying the ship.”
“I’m a cyborg.” He reminded her of that fact. “I can’t lie.”
“Yes. One forgot about that.” His princess floated around the space, gripping her fabric-covered hands. “Then say nothing. One--”