Indulgence (102 page)

Blood trickled down her chin. The ringing in her ears
intensified. The tunnel of darkness narrowed.

“You’ll be bending over for every engineer on the station.”
Boyd continued to hammer at her body with his reinforced-toed boots, a scary
grin on his ugly face. “They all want a shot at you. The guards too. But I’ll
be second, after the Commander has fucked you, shooting his wad inside your fat
ass. I earned that right.”

“By bending over for them.” Emotional agony added to Joan’s
physical distress. They’d discussed who’d have her first, every engineer lining
up to violate her, to hurt and humiliate her…as they hurt and humiliated the
cyborgs.

The entire battle station was corrupt. If she had known
that, she would have planted larger bombs in the service tunnels, compromising
the entire structure, allowing only enough time for the cyborgs to escape
before causing an implosion.

But it was too late for that now. It was too late for
anything.

“Get the prolonger from your chambers.” Plank’s voice
pierced the buzz. “Quickly before he loses it.”

Shit. She was running out of time.

Joan braced herself upward with her one functioning wrist.
“Is that all you have, Boyd?” She coughed blood. “You kick like a female.”

His eyes blazed. “I’ll show you how hard I can kick, Tits.”
He drove his booted foot forward, grunting with the effort.

Her muscles and every survival instinct she had screamed in
protest as she shifted her body to the left, placing her forehead in the path
of Boyd’s boot. Light exploded in her brain, pain zinged over her skull, and
everything went black.

The ship shuddered. They’d finally returned to the battle
station. About fraggin’ time. Rage was ready to lose his shit, the thought of
Joan alone, in danger, making him want to kill some being.

No, not some being. Crash and Gap.

“Release me,” he bellowed. His two former friends had
chained him to his seat.

“We will.” Crash gazed down at him. “First, vow on your
honor as a cyborg not to attack any being while the guards remain armed.”

Rage narrowed his eyes.

Gap stood beside Crash, his unmarked face furrowed with
concern. “You said we had to stick to the plan.”

He’d said that before he knew Joan was in danger.

“Every moment you delay is a moment your female remains
unprotected.” Crash raised one of his eyebrows.

“I vow.” He didn’t have a choice. She had remained
unprotected for far too long already. “If she’s dead, I’ll kill both of you
with my bare hands.”

“I know you will.” Crash dipped his head, accepting his
fate. “I did what I thought was right for you and for her.” He released Rage.
“Your processors weren’t functioning properly.”

“So you decided to shoot me.” Rage stood, flexing his
muscles. “Was that a logical response?”

Crash tilted his head.

“Frag you.” He didn’t have time for a discussion. Rage
stomped through the ship, his boot heels ringing against the metal floor.

Remember the humans will taunt you, trying to get a
reaction, which would give them an excuse to kill you.
The E model cyborg
followed him, transmitting through their secured lines.
Don’t give them what
they want. Your female’s life depends upon it.

He’d do whatever he damn well pleased. As Rage thumped down
the ramp, exiting the ship, the noise over the line amplified.

We can communicate with the cyborgs on the alternate
shift.
Gap expressed what he was thinking.
How is that possible? They’re
in their chambers.

My cursed female. That’s how it’s possible.
She’d
taken action into her own small, breakable human hands, not waiting for him to
return.

Because she didn’t believe he was coming back for her. She
didn’t know she was his, his to protect, his to keep.

Boyd, that warrior wannabe, stood by their ship, a smirk on
his bruised face, a long gun in his hands. One of his hands was wrapped in
medical binding.

Rage knew his feisty female was responsible for that also.
He inhaled and any satisfaction that he felt disappeared. He smelled her scent
on the guard.

“We’ve been waiting for you, machine, eager for the next
stage of fun to start.” Boyd lifted his long gun, reminding him who held the
power.

For now.

He touched her.
Rage’s vision turned red.
While I
was stunned into stillness on that cursed planet, he was violating my female.

You can kill both him and me after he disarms.
Crash
sounded as tormented as Rage felt.

He wanted to blame his friend for Boyd’s actions but the
bitter truth was, Crash was right. He hadn’t been thinking rationally, would
have gotten himself killed and not been able to help Joan now.

His error wasn’t failing to return early. Rage marched
toward his chambers. It was leaving her unprotected in the first place.

Your first priority is to ensure your female is safe.
Crash continued to spew soothing reason.
You can’t protect her if you’re
dead.

He’s injured. I can take him.
He could pivot on his
heels, slash the guard’s neck with one of his daggers. Rage’s fingers twitched.
Boyd’s skull would be bouncing on the floor before he had time to react.

The other guards will come to his rescue. You can’t risk
it.

Why does my guard smell like—

Shut up, Gap.
Crash didn’t respond fast enough. Rage
heard the kid.

All of the guards had violated her. His fingers curled into
massive fists. She was small and there were so many of them, the males bigger,
stronger. There wouldn’t be anything left of her, of his brave, beautiful
female.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt fear but he felt
it now. If he lost her—

No, he wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

And the humans would pay for their treachery.

Every non-cyborg, except for my female, dies.
He
opened the transmission to all of the cyborgs on the station.
Slowly,
painfully. Take them apart piece by piece. Use prolongers if they’re available.

The cyborgs cheered. They didn’t know the reason for the
order. They didn’t realize that his female had been tortured, could have been
killed.

He’d allowed that to happen, failed in his duty to safeguard
her. Rage’s knuckles whitened. He should have figured out a way to take her
with him, should have told her his plans, should have done something, anything.

He walked as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion.
Humans watched him as he passed them. He smelled her on more of the males,
heard the whispers.

“Tits got what she deserved.”

“No other female would dare to take one of our positions
after this.”

“It’ll kill her like it did the last engineer. There will be
nothing left of her.”

She was alive. Some of the tension in Rage’s shoulders
eased. He didn’t know what state she was in but she had survived. Because that
was what she was, what both of them were—survivors.

Rage, talk to me.
He heard the concern in Crash’s
transmission.
Are you holding it together?

He
was
holding it together, barely. Not having the
emotional bandwidth to reply, Rage put his vision and auditory on broadcast,
allowing his friend and every other cyborg to see and hear everything he did.

You’re close to your chambers.
Crash talked as much
as Joan.
You can do this.

He
would
do this, for his female. The hallway seemed
endlessly long, each step excruciatingly slow.

“We have a surprise for you this planet rotation.” Boyd
jabbed the long gun into Rage’s back. “Because you’ve been such a good killing
machine.” His chuckle held no humor.

Rage gritted his teeth, not responding. Joan was the only
human to see him as something other than a machine, as more than a weapon to be
used. She cared for him, was willing to die for him.

And, because of his lack of action, she’d been harmed. He
dreaded finding out how badly.

“We had our fun.” Boyd slapped his palm against the access
panel. The door slid open. “Now, it’s your turn.”

Rage stepped forward. Metal was wedged under the inner door,
preventing it from closing, and his chambers were a mess.

He breathed in the scent of cum and blood. The combination
should have excited him—breeding and fighting was what he was designed to do.

Instead, it turned his stomach. The violence was against his
female. The breeding wasn’t consensual. It was torture and it repulsed him. A
low growl rolled up his chest.

“Kill her slowly.” Boyd laughed.

Kill her? He’d rip the guard’s head off. Rage turned. The
door had already closed. He could pry it open.

He wouldn’t. Joan needed him. For the first time in his
lifespan, he put killing second. He rushed through the chambers, following her
scent, stopped when he spotted the lump on the floor.

That
was his female? “Joan.” His legs collapsed under
him. His knees smacked against the hard tile, jarring his physique. Rage didn’t
register the impact, his gaze on her naked form.

She was covered with blood, cum and other body fluids, her
skin sliced open, her face so badly beaten, he couldn’t see her eyes. He placed
one of his palms on her chest. The rise and fall was shallow and strained. Her
breath whistled.

She lived, but the pain. Fraggin’ hole. The pain she must
have felt, must still feel.

He couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t bear the sight of Joan
suffering.

Rage threw back his head and roared, rattling the metal
fragments scattered around him, filling the chambers with the sounds of his
horror, his regret, his sorrow. They did this to her, the humans, and they
would all die.

The overlapping flows of chatter on the secured line
abruptly ceased. The space was silent, except for Joan’s breathing. The humans
had stopped her constant talking, and that frightened him, so damn much.

You’re broadcasting this to every cyborg on the station.
Crash breached the quiet.

Don’t care.
Rage bent over Joan and gently brushed
the guck from her face, flicking it onto the floor. C model cyborgs were
possessive. They’d never touch a female covered with another male’s scent.

But Joan wasn’t simply
a
female. She was
his
female. He pressed his lips to hers and licked the swollen, broken flesh,
healing her with his nanocybotics.

What can we do?
Crash asked.

Make them pay.

The buzz on the secured line resumed, cyborgs fervently
vowing to avenge his female. That should have been Rage’s job. He was their top
warrior. She was his to protect.

Killing wasn’t his priority. All of his attention was on
Joan, on healing her. He laved her flattened nose. His saliva wouldn’t be
enough. Her entire form was fractured, the extent of her damage squeezing his
heart.

To restore her to full health, he’d have to breed with her,
becoming another in a long list of males to violate her. Rage discarded his
body armor, stripping naked. Would she forgive him for this, for everything he
did and didn’t do?

Did he deserve forgiveness? He carefully parted her legs and
lowered himself over her. His mind recoiled at the thought of doing this, of
hurting her more.

“I’ll serve you as you served me, little female.” It didn’t
matter the cost to him. Rage drew on a memory of their first meeting, how she
had kneeled naked before him, her eyes bright, her mouth moving.

He hardened, pushed into her, pumped three times and forced
his release. His nanocybotics attacked the remnants of the other males first,
dissolving their essence, their disgusting scents.

Rage smelled more of her and less of them. He waited for
five, six heartbeats, kissing her face clean, murmuring that she had to come
back to him, that she was strong, clever, cunning, and he needed her. He
couldn’t bear the silence, the stillness.

Then he repeated the process, pouring everything he had into
the female he couldn’t live without, knowing the act of saving her might cause
her to hate him forever.

*****

Time passed. Rage didn’t know how much time. His vision was
bleary and his body weak, drained. The door slid open and Gap sauntered into
the chambers, his face no longer as boyish, as unlined as it once was.

“I killed your guard.” He tossed a severed hand on a chair.
“Sorry. I meant only to remove his hand but then he started talking about
cyborgs and your female and I had to hurt him. One slice of my dagger became
fifty and eventually the human’s flimsy heart stopped beating. They can’t take
much, even with prolongers.”

“Don’t care.” Rage groaned as he found release yet again.
There was pleasure in the act now, his nanocybotics having repaired Joan’s
pussy, tightening her around him, and that increased his guilt. His female was
damaged. He shouldn’t be feeling any bliss.

“Crash says he’s saving the Commander for you.”

Rage grunted. He’d smelled the male on Joan. He’d enjoy
punishing him for hurting her, relaying some of his self-hatred to the
Commander.

“He also sent me here to help you.” The young cyborg stood
over him, gazing down at Joan.

Her bones had realigned and were starting to mend. Her
wounds had closed, the bleeding stopped. Her eyes were almost visible, the tips
of her brown eyelashes peeking between her swollen skin. Rage had licked the
top of her body clean, hadn’t yet risked moving her to clean her back.

“Do you want me to take a turn?” Gap waved his hand over
her.

“You will
never
touch my female.” Rage glared at him.
“She’s mine, mine to care for, mine to heal, mine to breed with.”