Defying Death (9 page)

He didn’t know. Death stroked his hands over her
curves. Her breathing and words slowed. She folded more and more
into his form.

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. His human
was fully asleep once more. He held her for more moments, savoring
the feel of her.

Then he picked up the private viewscreen and
transferred more data for his medic to peruse when she woke.

He continued to monitor the open space around their
ship.

They passed a giant yellow planet surrounded by
equally colorful rings. It was unable to sustain life, had no sun
stones or other resources the humans and humanoids deemed precious
or useful. So it was of no interest to the Humanoid Alliance or to
other species.

Functionality was prized by all beings, especially
cyborgs. He’d show his human that he was useful. She didn’t value
his killing abilities but he had other skills.

Death relayed all of his medical information,
including the information she might gain from the blood and tissue
samples she’d mentioned.

* * *

While Tifara slept, Death hooked energy and
nutrition tubes to his wrists, restoring to full capacity. His
female stirred twice more. He bred with her each time, pouring
everything he had into her, not holding anything back.

Then he carefully cleaned her, dressed her lush body
in the pale blue flight suit and stark white medic jacket and set
her on her own chair.

If the enemy entered the bridge, they’d realize she
was his. His scent was all over her form. But they would think she
was merely a female he used for release. They wouldn’t know he
cared for her, couldn’t live without her.

They wouldn’t damage her to damage him.

She’d be safe.

Tifara
dreamed of sex, scorching hot, sweaty, sizzling sex, multiple
rounds, all explosive, all mind-torching, all featuring a hunky
cyborg with huge hands and grim lips. His cock stretched her to the
point of pain. His pace was unforgivingly fast and hard. She came
until she didn’t think she’d survive, splintering apart, the
pleasure exquisite.

It had seemed real, more real than any encounter
she’d ever had.

Then she woke, fully dressed, seated on her own
chair, feeling more rested and healthy than she had in solar
cycles. No cum dripped down her inner thighs. There was no soreness
in her muscles. Her skin was clean and her breath was fresh.

She slanted a glance at the male to her left. His
fit form was encased in black body armor. His dark head was bent
over a private viewscreen. His lips were as unrelentingly flat as
usual.

It had to be a dream.

Especially since she wanted him again. She licked
her bottom lip. Her pussy was as wet.

“Eat the nutrition bar.” Death didn’t look up. “You
can suck my cock later.”

“What? No.” She spluttered, her face heating. “I’m
not sucking your cock.”

He met her gaze and breathed deeply, his nostrils
flaring, his chest rising.

The damn cyborg smelled her arousal.

Because she
did
want to suck his cock. She
craved the taste of him, the warmth of his skin, his unique scent.
“I’m eating the nutrition bar.” It had been unwrapped and cut into
bite-sized squares. She popped a piece into her mouth and chewed.
“Did anything happen during my rest cycle?” Had he fucked her
senseless?

Her cyborg grunted.

That sounded like a yes but that could have been
wishful thinking. She was wearing a flight suit and her medic
jacket. Tifara plucked at the material. It was a surprisingly clean
medic jacket. She could have sworn she’d gotten blood on it.

That wasn’t the mystery she should be focusing on.
“We have to find a cure for the virus.”

“I compiled some data you might need.” Death slid
the private viewscreen over to her. “This contains all of the
medical information I have on myself, on cyborgs and on some of our
human females.”

“You’ve infected other human females?” That incensed
Tifara, her reaction to his revelation embarrassingly unscientific.
She wasn’t special. She was one of many. “You go around changing
the DNA of females everywhere?”

“I have only
infected
...” He shook his head.
“I have only bred with you,” he amended. “Those females belong to
other warriors.”

Tifara didn’t belong to any warrior. “There’s no
proof the virus is spread by sexual activity.” She believed the
virus was airborne. “And where are these other females? Are they
still alive?” She scanned through the data without seeing it, too
riled up to concentrate.

“They were alive when I blocked cyborg
transmissions.”

Why did he block cyborg transmissions? She stored
that question for later. “In other words, the females might be
dead. You don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Death admitted, frowning. “Rage
first bred with his female over two solar cycles ago and she
remained healthy. They have two offspring.” His gaze dropped to her
stomach.

“Sucking your cock doesn’t create offspring.” What
would it be like to carry his child? For one brief moment, she
pictured a different destiny, a destiny centered around birth, not
death, and she liked it. Too much. She couldn’t forget her family,
why she had survived, what her purpose in the universe was. “And
the virus could have a two-year incubation period. We don’t know.
We don’t know anything about this. This is all brand new.”

“Rage’s female was the first,” he agreed. “Review
the data. Tell me what else you need.”

“Ummm…” She needed him. Tifara wiggled. He was too
far away from her. “It would be more efficient if we reviewed it
together.”

He grunted.

She interpreted that as agreement and hurried to his
side. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap.
The sex must have been a dream. Her cyborg was hard, the ridge in
his body armor pressing against her thigh.

“That’s all we’re doing—reviewing the data.” She
felt obliged to tell him that, even though they both knew that was
a lie. “We must focus.”

Tifara pored over the data. Death fed her the
nutrition bar, one square at a time, and he addressed her
questions, his answers succinct yet illuminating.

“Many of the human females in the breeding program
lived to an elderly age.” She was forced to admit that. “Exposure
to the nanocybotics didn’t appear to hurt them. But…” She held up
one of her fingers. “The nanocybotics didn’t remain active inside
any of the females.”

“You’re unique, the one female genetically able to
host my nanocybotics.” Death rested his chin on her shoulder.

She liked that contact and she liked the idea that
she was special to him, but she was a medic. She had to look at all
possibilities. “
Or
the virus has evolved.” She paused. “Or
I’m imagining your nanocybotics inside me.”

“They’re inside you.”

“If I had a handheld, I could test myself and I’d
know that for certain.”

“I’m a J model cyborg. I
am
a handheld.”
Death drew her body closer to his and kissed her, plunging his
tongue into her mouth.

What was he doing? She slapped her palms against his
chest, not truly wanting him to free her. His metallic taste filled
her. His nanocybotics danced on her tongue.

She wanted him, needed him. Her fingers splayed over
his armor-clad chest.

The damn cyborg pulled away from her. “My scan of
your form is completed.” He extracted a dagger from a sheath in his
body armor. “Hold out one of your fingers.”

She obeyed him.

He pricked her skin with the dagger and inserted her
finger into his hot mouth. The pain faded instantly, the wound
healing.

“Blood test?” she guessed.

Her warrior dipped his head and released her finger.
“You’re healthy, fertile.” His eyes gleamed. “My nanocybotics are
inside you, repairing your damage.” He placed his right palm on the
surface of the private viewscreen. “I’m relaying all of the data.
You can confirm the results yourself.”

“My blood would have mixed with your saliva.”
There’d be cross contamination.

“My systems can separate the two.”

He was a wonder of genetic engineering. Tifara
scanned through the information. It was delightfully detailed, a
statistical paradise.

The scan Death had performed on her could be viewed
in layers. She could look at her circulatory system alone, the
feature giving her new insights on her own form.

He was right. She was healthy, remarkably so, except
“My body temperature is higher than normal.”

“It’s at cyborg levels.” He shrugged,
unconcerned.

“It could be an aberration. I’m only looking at one
scan,” she mused out loud. “If I had two, I could verify. It would
also show the progression of the infection.”

Death turned her head and kissed her again, longer,
deeper.

He was scanning her. She knew that yet she couldn’t
stop her reaction to him, sucking on his tongue, inhaling his
nanocybotics, his distinctive taste.

“Here’s your progression, my female.” He spread his
thick fingers over the screen. “There
are
some variations
but all are favorable.”

She compared the two scans. “My body temperature
remains high.” It wasn’t dangerously high but it wasn’t normal.
“Look at my bone density.” She’d always had issues with the bone
mass loss during her placements in space, taking shots to help
offset it. “I should be losing, not gaining bone density.”

“The gain was necessary. Your bone density was at
suboptimal levels.” Death touched her wrists. “The Palavian male
could have broken your fragile bones.”

“He didn’t.” She pulled her wrists away from him.
“And my bone density is within an acceptable range.”

“You care for others but not for yourself.”
Disapproval edged his voice. “You take too many risks with your
lifespan.”

“One of those risks was leaving the battle station
with you,” she replied. “You should concern yourself with your own
health. Look at these increases in your heart rate.” She pointed at
a graph depicting his heart rate over time.

He moved her finger to one peak. “That was the first
moment I saw you. Your flight suit was pulled across your beautiful
breasts. I could detect your nipples through the fabric. Your lips
were pursed and I thought how they’d look good wrapped around my
hard cock. The musk of your hot pussy filled my nostrils.”

Her face heated. “You were turned on. I get it.”

“I was extremely turned on.” As he was now, his cock
hard and long and thick against her thigh. “I almost came in my
body armor.”

Looking at her had almost made him lose control.
Tifara’s pussy dripped.

Death slid her hand to the right. “This was when you
bent over the Palavian and I imagined you bent over, your ass in
the air, and my cock in—”

“That’s enough.” She yanked her hand away from the
graph. “You’re healthy. That’s all I need to know.”

“I’m
very
healthy.” His eyes glittered. “If
you sucked my cock, I’d—”

He stopped talking and shoved her off his lap.
Tifara shrieked, waving her arms. The private viewscreen went
flying. He caught her with his booted feet and lowered her gently
to the floor.

She glared up at Death. “What—”

“Silence.”

She stopped talking, his tone demanding
obedience.

The ship’s communications channel crackled. “I
finally broke your block, you stubborn ass.” An unknown male
laughed. “Where are you?”

Tifara peered over the console. An image stretched
across the main viewscreen. She squinted. The feed was
scrambled.

“Who is that?” she whispered. “Is that one of your
cyborg buddies?”

“Yes.” The male grinned, the image stabilizing.

Death sighed. “I asked for silence.” He leaned
forward, his hands flying over the controls.

Her face heated. “I’m whispering.”

“I’m a cyborg.” The male’s eyes sparkled. “I can
hear you.” His model number was inked on his cheek. He was a J
model, as Death was, his coloring similar.

Yet he wasn’t as handsome or as imposing as he
cyborg. He didn’t interest her sexually. “Sorry,” she murmured,
pressing her lips together, determined to be quiet.

It was very, very challenging. She had quite a few
questions she wanted to ask.

“I’m Menace.” The male appeared in good spirits.
“You must be Tifara.”

She looked at Death. How did this cyborg know who
she was?

“She isn’t speaking to me. You’ve trained her well,
and in such a short duration.” Menace laughed again. He was as
frivolous as Death was grim. “Crash could take lessons from
you.”

“Crash,” Tifara repeated. Her friend Safyre had
planned to meet with a warrior named Crash. He must have been
another cyborg.

“Tell me where you’re going, Death.” Menace grew
more serious. “You need assistance. You can’t do this alone.”

“Can’t I?” Death tapped the controls.

“Fraggin’ h—” Menace’s face disappeared.

A scrambled image returned, then vanished, returned,
then vanished. After the third time, it didn’t reappear.

Tifara gazed at the stars. “What do you need
assistance with?”

“He believes I require his assistance to keep you
safe.” Death reached down and lifted her back onto his lap. “I
don’t and, even if Menace could assist me, I wouldn’t allow
it.”

“Why?”

“He’d be outcast from the rest of our cyborg
brethren, hunted by them. If caught, they’d execute him.” Her
cyborg’s voice was flat.

She studied Death, hearing more than his words. “If
they catch you, they’ll execute you, won’t they?”

His head dipped.

“Is that why you took me? Am I something to bargain
with?” She could stop the virus they’re spreading, allow them to
rejoin the rest of the universe.

“No, never.” Death’s eyes blazed with emotion. “I
would never trade you, my female. I disobeyed a direct order to
retrieve you.”