Cyborg (8 page)

Several emotions chased across his features before they hardened once more with anger. “I was designed to kill … but I can give pleasure, as well. Do you want me to pleasure you?”

Under the circumstances, no. She wasn’t about to ask for it! But she needed it, she realized, desperately.

To her relief, he didn’t wait for a yeah or nay. When she hesitated, he lifted her against the wall, pinned her there with his body and pressed open mouthed kisses along her throat and shoulder, licking the moisture from her skin and leaving fire in the wake of his touch. She gasped as he invaded her senses, shuddered as his mouth moved hungrily across her flesh and settled over one erect, throbbing nipple. Her mind and body melted as the fire of desire engulfed her. Weakly, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging as he moved against her, caressed her with his mouth and tongue, scorched her skin with the heat and touch of his hands as they moved restlessly along her body, exploring her, giving pleasure that left her dizzy and disoriented.

Her body quickened. Moisture gathered in her sex. The walls of that nether throat trembled with want, quaked in supplication of his possession.

Tightening her grip on him, she arched against him.

He seemed to know what she needed. Shifting, he aligned their bodies so that her cleft enveloped his shaft. The fabric that separated them chafed her as he pressed against her, frustrated her, but she moved eagerly against him as keen pleasure stabbed through her from the rough caress of his cock against her clit, along her cleft. It teased her as much as it pleased her, fed her desire, frustrated her body’s attempts to reach culmination.

When he lifted his head at last and gazed into her eyes, she saw her own tumultuous desire reflected there, saw that his need matched her own. She lifted her lips, brushed them along the hard ridge of his jaw.

He drew in a ragged breath, tipped his head to brush his lips along the sensitive surface of her own.

Fire poured into her, anticipation like acid in her veins. Her mouth watered to taste him, tingled with the need to feel the rough caress of his tongue.

When he pulled back suddenly, lifting his head in alertness, Amaryllis felt a stab of both surprise and disappointment. Then she heard the sound, as well.

Fear smothered the flames of desire so abruptly it made her dizzy, faintly nauseous.

Rigid now with the possibility of danger, Dante allowed her to slide slowly down until her feet touched the floor. There was warning in his eyes as he jerked his head in the direction of his cabin, but it wasn’t necessary. As shaky as she was, Amaryllis fled for the door on tiptoe the moment Dante released her. Shutting off the shower, he followed her out.

Neither of them said anything as they dried off quickly and quietly.

Dante’s uniform was dripping wet. It clung to every beautiful inch of his well honed body. As much as she would’ve liked to watch him undress, to see the body she’d only imagined thus far, Amaryllis was also embarrassed by her lack of control and the dangerously stupid error in judgment that had almost gotten them caught. She turned her back to him, pulling her own garments on jerkily as he peeled the wet suit from his body and tossed it aside.

Behind her, she heard the rustle of cloth as he quickly dried his body, heard him step to the locker and remove a change of clothing. She didn’t dare look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

Instead, shivering with reaction, she settled weakly on the floor across from him once she’d dressed, listening to the movements in the cabin adjoining Dante’s.

After a time, they heard the door to the corridor open and close again, and then footsteps that diminished into the distance.

Amaryllis licked her dried lips. “What would happen if we were caught?” she whispered.

Dante looked at her for a long moment. “Cyborg or not, that’s not something I’m particularly anxious to discover,” he said finally.

Amaryllis gaped at him, realizing for the first time that she was playing Russian roulette with his life, not just her own.

It made her feel ten times worse.

There was no point in trying to resurrect the wall she’d built over the years to enable her to do her job and still sleep at night. Dante might have been created in a lab, but he was no ‘mere’ machine.

The truth, as hard as it was to accept, was that he was probably no more machine than she was. She’d been born to parents, but so defective fully half her body was robotic. Defective internal organs had been replaced with healthy bio-engineered organs that had only become hers after they’d been transplanted into her body.

She was as self-righteous and bigoted as any other member of her kind.

She knew now why The Company was so hot to destroy the cyborgs. They were trying to cover their asses, not protect mankind from machines. They didn’t want it to be discovered that they’d so far forgotten themselves as to create life when the morality laws forbade such tampering.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally nerving herself to meet his gaze. “That was …

unforgivably stupid and careless of me.”

She knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that he’d misinterpreted them. “Already regretting it?” he asked coldly.

“Yes, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“I don’t think. I collate. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that. You make certain to point it out every time I come near you.”

“Stop it! I’m trying to apologize. I know, now, that I was wrong.”

His lips tightened. “I failed to perform as expected? You do realize your revulsion of cyborgs creates a problem. Next time, close your eyes. Maybe you’ll be able to pretend I’m human, not a machine.”

Amaryllis felt her temper spark to life. “I know you’re not just a machine,” she said tightly.

“You discovered something?”

“Damn it, Dante! You could at least give me a chance.”

He shook his head. “I already did. My life might mean nothing to you, but I’m fond of it.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there, damn it! How was I to know he’d show up?”

His eyes narrowed. “He wasn’t supposed to be in his own cabin?”

“Not at this time … he never has been before.”

“But you were expecting me?”

Amaryllis blushed. “Yes.”

“The shower was a nice touch. You could have disposed of me and it would’ve looked like an accident.”

Amaryllis gaped at him. “You can’t be serious!”

“That wasn’t the plan?”

“No!”

“What was the plan, then?”

The blush that had barely died, rose once more. “I didn’t really have one.”

“The human capacity for half truths, complete lies, and malicious subterfuge never fails to amaze me. You did not decide, when you saw that I wanted you, to wait until I was half crazed with need and dangle the promise in front of me? It was not your plan to use my weakness to dispose of me, to rid yourself of the only one aboard this ship that is aware that you are human?”

Horror washed through Amaryllis that he’d so completely understood her original plans. In point of fact, she’d forgotten them in the time since. Having him recite them back to her as if by rote brought them crashing back into her memory, however, and she could not prevent the guilt that showed on her face.

No wonder he hadn’t touched her since! No wonder he’d avoided her as assiduously as she’d avoided contact with him.

“I didn’t know you then,” she said a little weakly.

“You do not know me now,” he said tightly.

A shaft of fear stabbed through her. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, if you are so determined to reveal your presence, I see no reason to risk my freedom, and perhaps my life, to preserve yours. I could turn you in now and claim that I found you hiding in the ship.”

He was angry and, she thought with a touch of surprise, it was as much because he was hurt as from sheer sexual frustration. He’d said that he wanted her--that was why he’d taken the risk of protecting her--but all that she’d done from the moment they’d met was to throw his origins in his face.

She couldn’t reason with him, though. She’d done a hell of a good job convincing him that she held him in contempt, couldn’t see him as anything but a cyborg. He wasn’t going to listen to any attempt to explain that she really didn’t feel that way, probably never had.

She couldn’t resist the temptation to try, though.

“I wasn’t trying to get caught and I wasn’t trying to seduce you to hurt you. I …

wanted you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but vanished so quickly she might only have imagined it. “Unfortunately, as much as I would like to accommodate your needs, I do not trust you.”

Amaryllis was still staring at him in shocked dismay when he left the cabin, locking the door behind him.

When he’d gone, she moved to the bunk and sank down on it weakly, too distressed, at first, to think about much beyond her humiliating rejection.

He didn’t come back. Days passed with no sign of him at all.

She finally realized that Dante had taken a page from her book. He returned to the cabin when he knew she would be sleeping to get the things he needed.

She spent the first few days jumping at every sound, expecting a contingent of guards to arrive and seize her. She couldn’t maintain that sort of fear, however, and finally decided that the threat had been an idle one.

Maybe, if she did as she’d been told, he wouldn’t turn her in.

Or maybe it was some sort of punishment he’d devised? Maybe he just wanted her to agonize over when she’d be taken?

Amaryllis had combed every square inch of the cabin she shared with Dante and even ventured into the other cabins that adjoined his in search of a weapon or anything that could be used as a weapon. She’d come up empty handed. Either the cyborgs simply weren’t taking any chances of a weapon falling into the hands of the hunters, their leader didn’t altogether trust his men, or the ship had been a prisoner hauler when they’d taken it and had already been stripped of anything even resembling a weapon.

With no weapon, she wasn’t going to be able to put up much resistance when/if they came for her. In truth, just how much difference would it make?

She wanted to live, but what were the chances of it?

Would it be best to fight to the death and take as many with her as she could, comforting herself with the thought that her life had cost them? Or would that only insure her death when they might have no intention of taking her life otherwise?

She still hadn’t decided what she would do when she heard the sound she’d been dreading; footsteps in the corridor that halted outside Dante’s cabin door; the musical notes that signaled the code being keyed into the lock.

She never consciously decided what she would do. Her training simply kicked in and she acted.

She realized even as she launched herself at him that it was Dante. Doubt went through her like an electric current, distracting her, but he was on duty. He’d never come to the cabin during his watch and he should not be here now … unless, as he’d threatened, he meant to turn her in.

The moment of doubt, the slight hesitancy, cost her.

He blocked the flying kick aimed at his head, sending her spinning out of control.

Her momentum slammed her against the bulkhead. Before she could thrust herself away and launch another attack, he slammed against her, pinning her against the cold steel.

“’Ware! Else all will know you are here!” he growled next to her ear.

Gritting her teeth, Amaryllis struggled to push herself away from the wall. He caught her shoulders, turning her to face him and pinning her back to the wall.

“It is I, Dante!”

Amaryllis stared up at him warily. “Why are you here … now, if you didn’t come to turn me in?”

To her surprise a faint wash of color entered his cheeks. He loosened his hold on her slightly, swallowed convulsively. “Because….” He hesitated for so long that she thought he would say no more. “Because I could not stay away. This hunger gnaws at me until I think I will lose my mind. Or maybe I already have. I can think of no logical reason for the things I have done since I met you or the way that I feel.” He paused, swallowing audibly. “If you say you still want me … I do not care anymore if it is a lie.”

Warmth suffused Amaryllis, but only a part of it was the desire she’d been trying so hard to deny. His face was haggard, as if he’d found little rest, and his words bespoke of far more than physical need. He needed more than to possess her body. He needed to feel acceptance. Briefly, desire warred with wariness, but there was no contest really. She lifted her hand, caressing his hard cheek. “It wouldn’t be a lie.”

It seemed to take several moments for that comment to sink in. When it did, he surged toward her, crushing her body between his own and the unyielding wall behind her. Capturing her face in his hands, he tilted her head back, seeking her mouth with his own, his hunger evident in the fierceness of his possession. A wave of dizziness crashed over her the moment his lips covered hers, melding, clinging, pressuring her to part her lips and allow him intimate access to her body. Fire followed in its wake as she parted her lips for him and felt the faintly rough texture of his tongue as it plunged inside her mouth and raked across her own. His essence filled her, consumed her mind like a fiery intoxicant that allowed little room for thought.

Doubt flickered briefly through her mind--her own demons, the knowledge that he was cyborg and her enemy. Pleasure banished the doubts far from consciousness as every nerve ending in her body came alive, pelting her with the pleasurable sensations of his heat and the feel of his body, the strength and pliancy of his muscles, the texture of his skin against her own. His hands moved over her body as his tongue danced along hers, coaxing, caressing, consuming her life force until she felt weak, giddy, hungry.

He snapped the thin supports of her garments so that not even that thin barrier separated her from his touch. Liquid fire gushed through her as he cupped a breast in either hand, massaging them, plucking at her tender nipples. Her insides liquefied, became molten. Her breath froze in her lungs.