Indulgence (111 page)

“Increase the auditory levels for our human female,” Barrel
yelled.

Metal clanged. She recognized her cyborg’s grunts as he
waged mock war.

“Answer me.” Vector leaned forward and blood dripped down
Intrepid’s neck. “Do you concede?”

“Never.” The cyborg’s eyes blazed.

“You are as obstinate as your leader.” This was said with a
mixture of appreciation and disgust. “You wished for pain. This is pain.”
Vector twisted his sword.

Intrepid’s body convulsed. Crimson coated his body armor.
Joan covered her mouth with her hands, his death appearing too real for her
senses.

The big cyborg lay still for one, two, three heartbeats and
then gasped. “Frag.” He coughed blood as he sat upright. “That stung.”

Vector laughed. “You fought well.” He reached out, gripped
Intrepid’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “After I dispatch your leader,
we’ll share a beverage.”

“You won’t dispatch Rage.” Intrepid staggered out of the
battle square. “He’s the best.”

Vector turned his head. Joan followed his line of vision.
Rage stood above his opponent, in the same position Vector had been moments
ago.

“This is a battle.” His eyes blazed with blue energy.
“There’s no conceding in battle.” He twisted his sword, mock-killing the other
cyborg quickly.

The cyborgs around Joan stomped their feet and yelled their
approval.

“That cyborg won’t make that mistake again.” Crash nodded.
“Rage made him a better warrior, might have saved his life.”

That was the brutal world they lived in. One error could
result in death. The peace the cyborgs had found in their Homeland could
evaporate with a single invasion.

Joan knew that better than any being. Her parents never
expected the attack on the agri lot and they paid for their lack of preparation
with their lives.

The two remaining males in the square—Rage and
Vector—swaggered toward each other. This would be a battle to the mock death
also. She read that truth in her cyborg’s scarred face. He would never concede,
would never ask his opponent to surrender.

Which made last planet rotation’s actions more meaningful.
Rage had surrendered for her, had agreed to possible imprisonment to protect
her.

He loved her. She’d realized that before he’d said the
words.

“You trained your cyborgs well.” Vector circled.

Rage did the same, juggling his swords, his long black hair
hanging around his scarred face. “Your cyborgs are as skilled.” His biceps
bulged. Joan gazed at him with pride. He was big and fierce and hers. “I’m
enjoying your mock battle.”

“I thought you would.” Vector grinned, his white teeth
flashing in his gray face. “Are we chattering or are we fighting?”

Joan laughed, knowing right then and there that the two
cyborgs would be friends. Both of them were more prone to action than
conversation.

Rage struck first, swinging his two swords, the weapons
blurring. Vector blocked, sparks flying from points of contact. Strike. Block.
Strike. Block. The sound of metal hitting metal rang through the space. Their
arms blurred, the action too quick for her human eyes to follow.

Then the males bounced backward. Sweat trickled down their
cheeks, the moisture accentuating Rage’s scars.

“They’re equally matched.” There was awe in Barrel’s voice.

“Rage hasn’t fought in twenty-two planet rotations.” Crash
came to his friend’s defense. “He’s also exerted himself in other ways.” He
glanced at Joan.

Her face heated. Breeding with Rage before he went into mock
battle might not have the most intelligent decision.

But they’d been celebrating their good fortune. She hugged
her stomach.

Her breath caught as Vector surged forward. Rage was now on
the defensive, catching swords with his own. He grunted under the strain.

On the third blow, he lowered his body. Oh, fuck. Joan’s
heart pounded. Rage shot upward, flung Vector’s swords away from him, and swung
his own blades, grazing Vector’s armor-clad stomach.

“Frag.” Vector jumped backward, out of reach. “You’re
strong.”

“My female upgraded my mechanics.” Rage gave Joan all of the
credit. Cyborgs in the viewing area looked toward her and she glowed.

“Impressive.” Vector inclined his head. “Would she upgrade
mine also?”

“Yes, but it won’t help you with this battle.” Her dominant
cyborg attacked. His opponent ducked and dodged the blow, skimming his blade
over Rage’s right shoulder.

Armor shredded. Blood spurted, her cyborg’s blood. Joan felt
faint. Rage, that fool, laughed, and did the same to Vector’s left thigh.

The battle became more brutal, less civilized. The two males
hacked at each other, fighting to win. Sparks lit their faces, their
expressions dark. They kicked and twisted their torsos, using their entire
bodies to attack and defend.

Rage struck Vector once, twice, three times, stripping his
armor and drawing blood. Vector countered, landing a bone-jarring blow on Rage.

Joan winced. “This is a mock battle. He can’t die. This is a
mock battle. He can’t die,” she whispered over and over to herself.

“He’s endured worse.” Crash tried to comfort her.

“Once, when we were fighting the Mantidae, they severed his
right arm to the core,” Barrel reminisced. “He fought with his left arm and
survived.”

He was a survivor. He’d told her that, multiple times. And
this was training, not a real life or death situation. “Fight for me, Rage,”
she yelled.

He roared his reply and powered forward, driving Vector to
the far side of the square. Fuck. Joan stared at him. Her cyborg was a force to
be reckoned with. He—

Her stomach muscles twitched. She placed her hand over the
spot. The sensation happened again, pushing against her palm. “Our offspring is
kicking.”

Rage’s swords stopped in mid air. “Wait. What?” He turned
his head toward her.

Had he been listening to her all this time? “I think our
offspring kicked me, sir, but that’s nothing to worry about. Continue
fighting.”

“Frag fighting.” He strode toward her, sheathing his
weapons. “I concede.”

“There’s no conceding in battle,” Vector quoted him. His
swords dangled from his fingertips, his confusion palpable.

“We’ll fight at a later time.” Rage exited the battle
square. “My female is my first priority.” He said that with no hesitation. Joan
beamed. She ranked above fighting, above her C Model cyborg’s pride. “Our
offspring is kicking.” Rage bounded up the spectator seating. Cyborgs moved out
of his path.

“Can I feel it?” Crash asked.

“Not now.” Rage scooped Joan into his arms and sat in her
spot, setting her on his lap, the blood on his armor soaking through the flight
suit Crash had found for her. “Did our offspring hurt you, little engineer?” He
peered at her with a heart-touching concern. “I can tell him to stop.”

She doubted their offspring would listen. “He didn’t hurt
me, sir.” She placed his big palm over the spot. As though sensing his father,
their son kicked.

Rage’s mouth fell open, wonder reflecting in his eyes. “He’s
strong.”

“Our offspring is strong,” Barrel yelled. The cyborgs hooted
and hollered and jostled for position beside her, fighting over whom would be
next to feel the offspring kick.

Joan brushed the blood-dampened hair away from Rage’s
brilliant blue eyes and smiled. “He’s a survivor, sir, like his father.”

“Like his mother.” Rage leaned forward and skimmed his lips
over hers, his kiss light and tender. “I love you, female.”

Half a solar cycle later, Joan was watching yet another
battle. This time, their son, Choice, was the aggressor. He wanted to
temporarily leave the warship with his Uncles Barrel, Green and Zip and was
determined to wrangle permission for that adventure from his overprotective
father.

The three cyborgs stood at the threshold to their chambers,
grinning, as Choice followed the much-beleaguered Rage around the space.

“But I finished all my lessons, even that boring one on human
history, and Uncle Crash said my mechanics upgrades are almost as concise as
mom’s and I’ve been doing real good on using two swords at once.” Their son
huffed and puffed, having to work twice as hard to keep up with his father’s
longer stride. Despite that effort, he didn’t leave any gaps between his words.

“You’ve been doing really well,” Joan corrected, setting
aside the chip she’d been working on.

“See?” Choice flung one of his hands in her direction. “Mom
thinks I’ve been doing really well also. I won’t be able to see Windy, Dad, if
I don’t go with them. Uncle Vector won’t allow her on the warship. And it’s
only three planet rotations. That’s all.”

Rage glanced at her. Her big cyborg had been hyper-vigilant
with their son’s safety, deeming even a family trip to the Homeland to be too
large of a risk.

And she knew what he was thinking. They would be granting
him three planet rotations of freedom now, but in another half a solar cycle,
Choice would be a full-grown cyborg, wanting to walk his own path.

Denying him this treat wouldn’t stop that fate. “He can make
up the time when he returns, sir.”

Rage’s black eyebrows lowered. “You want this, female?”

No, she didn’t. She wanted to clutch their son’s unmarked
baby face against her bosom and never let him go, protecting him from the harsh
world and all of the dangers within it. If Choice had been born more human than
cyborg, she would have had eighteen or more solar cycles to spend with him.

But he was all cyborg, his countenance and build an adorable
miniature of his father’s. Cyborgs had been designed to develop quickly, the
Humanoid Alliance not wishing to wait to send them into battle or spend
resources on raising them.

She had to accept him for who he was, as others accepted
her, a human female in a cyborg stronghold. “He’ll have three capable cyborgs
safeguarding him, sir.”

The cyborgs’ grins widened.

Choice scowled. “I don’t need safeguarding. I can take care
of myself.”

Rage frowned at him. “Are you questioning your mother?”

Choice’s defiance instantly deflated. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Rage’s eyes flashed. “Because she’s the only reason
you’re being allowed to leave the warship.”

“Woot!” Their son punched the air. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Joan smiled.

“Uncles Barrel, Green and Zip will return you unharmed or
their heads will no longer be attached to their frames.” Rage leveled a warning
glance on the cyborgs in question. They swallowed hard, nodding their
agreement. “Now, go, before my logic returns.”

“Give us our hugs first.” Joan held out her arms.

Choice glanced at his cyborg uncles. “But they’re watching
and--”

“Choice,” Rage rumbled.

“Okay. Okay.” He gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Mom. You
won’t regret this.”

She already did. Before she could respond, he danced away
from her.

“Dad.” His hug for his father was even quicker.

Rage, however, had a cyborg’s reflexes. He managed to muss
their son’s hair and murmur words she couldn’t hear into his ear.

Then Choice was gone, taking the three cyborgs with them,
leaving Rage and her alone. The chambers seemed empty without his constant
chatter.

“He will always be our son,” she said more for herself than
for Rage.

Her big cyborg grunted his agreement and glowered at the
door, as though he was willing Choice to return.

“What do you wish to do now, sir?” She gave Rage the control
he needed.

He glanced at her, his expression ominous. “I want to kill
some being.”

“Or you could do that other thing C Model cyborgs excel at.”
Joan stripped off her flight suit, the cool air striking her heated flesh, and
she sank to her knees. “Let me serve you, sir.”

His eyes gleamed. “For what purpose?”

He’d asked her that once before. “Because I love you more
than life itself, sir, and serving you gives both of us pleasure,” she modified
her previous answer. “It’s in my design to attend to your needs as it’s in your
design to give me orders.”

Rage grasped the lapels of his flight suit and yanked,
ripping the fabric. “I’ll use you hard, female.” He shredded the garment,
leaving a trail of cloth as he approached her.

He was a brute. Joan’s pussy moistened. “I’m yours to use,
sir.”

Rage stood before her, his booted feet braced apart, the
rest of his body gloriously naked. “Wet me.” He gripped his cock, presenting
himself to her. A dab of pre-cum glistened over his slit.

She leaned forward and licked him from base to tip, tasting
metal and male, navigating shaft, scars, rim, cock head. He shuddered, her
cyborg powerless against the force of her wiles.

He was hers. Joan smiled as she flicked her tongue over him,
laving this intimate part of him. The nanocybotics within her had never faded,
were now bubbling over his skin, caressing him with effervesce.

She might not be cyborg, but she was no longer one hundred
percent human. He’d changed her as she’d changed him.

She sucked his ball into her mouth, rolling it with her
tongue, and Rage rumbled, energy snapping in his eyes. He sank his fingers into
her hair, his grip exciting her.

He inhaled deeply, his chest rising. “I smell your musk,
female.”

Joan released him. “Am I fertile, sir?”

“Not fertile, not yet.” His theory—that she wouldn’t be
fertile again until Choice was fully grown—might be valid. Animals on the agri
lot experienced the same delay. “But you’re very desirable, female.”

His passion for her hadn’t dimmed. “Thank you, sir.” She
nibbled along his shaft, teasing him with her lips and tongue.

“Vector objects to me calling you that—female.” Rage swirled
his fingertips, massaging her scalp. “He says it’s demeaning.”