Cyborg Nation (8 page)

And she was suddenly absolutely convinced that he could.

He lifted a dark blond brow when she said nothing. “You do not want to test it?” he asked pensively.

Bronte shook her head. Looking mildly disappointed, he set her away from him and rose. “I felt honor bound to warn you,” he said as he paused at the door, “that I can not guarantee you will arrive at our destination untouched. In fact, I am as certain as I can be that you will not.”

She glared at the door after he’d left, trying to ignore the anticipation fluttering in her belly at his threat/promise.

She would’ve liked to have been able to convince herself that it was fear, not excitement, but she knew it wasn’t. She wished that she could dismiss everything he’d said as pure egotistical, male arrogance, but she knew better. She’d suspected right off, the moment she got a look at
everything
when she’d dressed Gabriel and Jerico’s wounds
,
that they were fully functional pleasure bots, even if they had ended up being sold to the military instead as soldiers.

And if only half of the things she’d heard about them was true he was neither lying nor exaggerating.

How bright was it that the men who’d created them had gathered together the combined wisdom and techniques of the best lovers, added data compiled from god only knew how many sexual research studies, and then designed the perfect body to deliver that sexual atom bomb, she thought indignantly? But then again, scientists had always been prone to view their work as an extension of themselves and suffered besides from a combination of egotism over their brains and a lack of common sense or imagination. And it still seemed utterly
stupid
to her that they’d marketed pleasure bots that were ten times better than any
human
lover could hope to be.

And she was trapped on a ship with
three
of them!

Shivering, she looked around and finally sat down on the bunk.

She was no prude—far from it, despite the fact that she had not really had a lot of opportunities for sexual experimentation. She might have had more if she hadn’t felt so driven to make her father proud of her, to live up to him and his reputation, that she’d not allowed herself to be distracted by her hormones. She’d been tempted a few times but the timing had never seemed right and nothing had ever come of it. She had actually gotten fairly deeply involved with a fellow medical student when she had been in college—been involved with Howard throughout most of their last two years of study, but then he had been as driven to succeed as she was … which meant that neither of them had had much time for an actual relationship. The truth was, she supposed, they hadn’t really been a lot more than a convenience to each other, a reliable fuck when they needed it, and they’d stopped being even that ‘close’ when the heat had gone out of the relationship—which was when they’d discovered they were interning at different hospitals.

She’d barely had a half dozen dates since and less than half of them had interested her enough to have sex.

She thought that probably explained, to a large extent, why she found her captors so attractive—aside from the fact that they
were
. No doubt it also explained why she was tempted even though she knew they hated her just because she human.

It was one thing to set out to have casual sex, though, and another matter entirely to set out to have sex with someone you knew held you in contempt, but was willing to fuck you anyway. She could have lived with indifferent. She
had
settled for indifferent. Except for Howard, who had at least seemed to like her when they’d begun their relationship, it had only been a matter of physical attraction with anyone else she’d been with—not extreme physical attraction, just interested enough that, given the right timing and circumstances, she’d had sex with them. And she thought that probably went both ways because afterward she hadn’t really cared whether she saw them again and they hadn’t seemed to be too put out when she wasn’t interested in round two.

Would it be any better when they finally got where ever it was they were going, she wondered? She doubted it. Except for the fact that she would not be trapped in a little space ship with three cyborgs that hadn’t had a piece of ass in a while and thought hers would do just fine, she couldn’t see that the future looked bright.

She would just have to keep to herself as much as possible, she decided. The clothing they’d given her to wear was pretty shapeless on her since it hardly touched her anywhere.
That
wasn’t going to tempt them.

It was going to be pretty damned hard to play least in sight, though, considering how small the ship was—to say nothing of the fact that there was only one bed and four people on board.

She had a bad feeling they hadn’t changed their sleep rotation on her account. She supposed she could ask them to, but that didn’t mean they would.

She just wouldn’t sleep on the bed, she decided. They couldn’t accuse her of trying to tempt them if she didn’t use the bed!

And she could claim the forward bathroom as hers, she decided. They all used the one off the sleeping quarters because this was where they kept their clothing.

It would probably be best, she decided, just to steer clear of the sleeping quarters altogether, though she hated giving it up because it was pretty much the only private area. If she spent all of her time in the cabin, though, they might begin to get the idea that she was just waiting for one of them, or all of them, to take her on. Of course, she ran much the same risk if she loitered within their view.

She wasn’t just going to lay down and take it, literally, though, not when every other word out of their mouths made it patently clear that they didn’t see her any differently than they viewed every other human, and that was with contempt and hate. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with a good bit of it. Unfortunately, they were right about being superior, damn them! Their creators, stupid things that they were regardless of how brilliant they were as scientists, had gone out of their way to make their ‘creation’ a masterpiece and superior in just about every way to humans. And if it was true that the cyborgs had evolved into awareness, and she had a hard time disputing that, then everything that had been done to them, up to and including putting a price on their heads because they had ‘gotten out of hand’, created a mountain of reasons for them to hate humans.

By rights, that should have been directed at their tormenters, not the entire human race, but she knew they were all being tarred with the same brush because, whether they’d actually had a hand in it or not, most of them would feel the same way and react the same way. The cyborgs had become a threat, and humans, by their nature, dealt with threats by trying to wipe it out.

* * * *

Gideon hadn't made it halfway across mid-ship where Gabriel and Jerico were working on putting the galley area back together when Gabriel happened to glance in his direction and stiffened. Distracted as he was by his exchange with Bronte, Gideon knew instantly what had caught his attention—the scratches across his chest. Anger surged through him. He was the senior officer on board. He did not answer to either Gabriel or Jerico and even if not for his rank, he would not.

He stopped, meeting Gabriel’s challenging glare with a challenge of his own.

“She scratched you,” Gabriel ground out.

“She did,” Gideon responded coldly.

Jerico came upright and turned to stare at him, as well. “Why?” he demanded, anger threading his voice.

Gideon slid an annoyed glance in Jerico’s direction. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned almost casually against the wall. “If it concerned you I might consider answering—despite the fact that I am senior officer here and do not consider it any part of my duty to answer to my subordinates.”

“This has nothing to do with rank, military matters—or orders—and you damned well know it.”

Gideon glanced at Gabriel. “It was not I who displayed a complete lack of self-discipline and sent her into hiding,” he said pointedly. He examined his fingernails with apparent interest. “If the point you were trying to get across to her was that you were warriors capable of protecting her, you failed lamentably. If, however, you thought it wise to make it abundantly clear that you are little better than undisciplined savages, then you should applaud yourselves. That display was very convincing.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. He slid a fulminating glare at Jerico. “It was not
I
, either,” he snarled.

Jerico reddened. “You frightened her and you made her cry. How you can figure that you did
not
start it is beyond me!”

An expression of discomfort crossed Gabriel’s features. “I am supposed to
know
these things will upset her before I open my mouth?” he growled. “I have not seen that telling her nothing at all reassures her. Nor, might I add, did your pretty speech seem to make her feel less threatened! And I would like to know how it is that you have come to see yourself as her champion! You claimed no interest in her yourself. You
claimed
that you were courting Rose!”

“I do not have a mate,” Jerico snarled. “It makes no difference if I
was
courting Rose before we left. She will have decided in this time to take another!”

“She is human—not cyborg.”

Effectively silenced, Jerico and Gabriel both turned to stare at Gideon at that.

“Even if you could get offspring on her, and you do not know that you can, then it would most likely be human, not cyborg.”

“You do not know that,” Gabriel said finally.

Gideon shrugged. “You will have to consider it, however.
We
are part human ourselves. A human and a half-human will likely produce a human … assuming, as I said, you were able to produce at all.”

Jerico frowned, but thoughtfully. “We do not know, either way, that we will have off-spring of our own. I want a woman … even if I can not have a family.”

“
A
woman?”

Jerico reddened at Gideon’s question. “Bronte.”

“You are more clumsy even than I at this courting business. You have already cut your throat with your tongue. You might as well slash your wrists, as well—You
and
Gabriel.”

Gabriel gave him an indignant look. “How do you figure that?”

Gideon favored him with a satisfied smile. “If you had not had your mind on your cock, you would have noticed the same as I that Bronte’s reaction was not because of what you said when we were dining together. She heard what you said earlier.”

Jerico stared at him a long moment and looked a little ill. “When we were talking before?”

Gideon nodded, pushing away from the wall.

“She told you that?” Gabriel demanded.

“She did not have to. I knew she was listening at the door.”

Gabriel glared him resentfully, but he was trying to recall exactly what it was that he had said.

“How?” Jerico demanded.

“Because I would have—we are her enemies the same as she is ours. She is probably listening now.”

Gabriel and Jerico both turned to stare at the closed door of the cabin as Gideon strode past them to the bridge. After a moment, they exchanged a speaking glance and followed him.

“That was a damned low down trick!” Gabriel snarled.

“I thought it was clever myself,” Gideon responded goadingly.

Gabriel’s hands balled into fists.

Gideon eyed them with raised brows. “You will have to learn to control your brutal tendencies if you expect to have any chance of courting Bronte. I admit I do not have the finesse the Hunters can claim, but I am very good at observing, and I did not get the sense that Bronte was favorably impressed with your display earlier.”

Grinding his teeth, Gabriel unclenched his fists with an effort. “You are plotting something,” he said finally.

Gideon shrugged. “I was only thinking that, if I must share her—and I do not mind telling you that I would rather not—you and I and Jerico have been comrades in arms through many battles on many worlds. There is no one I would rather have at my back in any battle—including this one.

“And I was thinking we have a tactical advantage, for once, and we would be fools not to utilize it when we are already agreed that Bronte suits us.”

Jerico and Gabriel exchanged a look. Slowly, they began to smile. “We have her,” Jerico murmured.

“Exactly,” Gideon agreed. “For months. If we can not figure out in that space of time how to win her....”

“We can manufacture a problem with the ship and squeeze in a few more weeks, at least,” Gabriel said thoughtfully.

Gideon frowned, turning his head to stare at the door of the sleeping quarters thoughtfully. “God help us! We will kill each other if it takes half that long. I am ready to tear her clothes off and try to convince her another way already!”

Jerico frowned. “Mayhap that is not such a bad idea,” he murmured thoughtfully. “We were fully programmed in
that
, at least.”

“Tearing her clothes off is a good idea?” Gabriel asked, his eyes glazed and vaguely unfocused.

“I told you his mind was on his cock,” Gideon said dryly.

“And yours is not?” Gabriel growled.

“Not
that
part of the idea,” Jerico snapped. “If we pleasured her she would not have as much time to consider that we are not skilled at flirtation and have no idea how to converse in a courtship, or what sort of things please a woman outside the bedroom … or any of those things.”

An expression of annoyance crossed Gideon’s features. “I tried that,” he said irritably. “She bit me. And I had not even gotten started.”

“Maybe it was the way you went about it?” Jerico asked uneasily, obviously reluctant to give up his idea.

“She was asleep … or just wakened, rather. If she had not … rooted all over me as we slept I would not have considered trying it,” Gideon said crossly. “I will certainly not object if either of you want to give it a try, but I have to tell you I do not believe
that
method of guerrilla warfare will work on Bronte. If she knees you in the balls, do not come to me to complain.”