LyonsPrice (2 page)

He didn’t have the usual human weaknesses. His bones were
laced with duerineium alloy, his joints replaced with cybernetic constructs.
His organs, arterial pathways and nerve clusters were all protected by
heavy-duty sub-dermal synthmesh that would absorb any blow an unaided human could
dish out. He’d been designed to play chicken with a shuttle and still walk
away.

They literally couldn’t damage him outside the operating
theatre, so the only reason for the beatings was to inflict pain. Some of his
people mourned the humanity they’d lost in the in vitro tanks when their
cybernetics had been implanted. He didn’t. The more he learned about the race
which had created his, the less he liked them. Apart from the pretty little
nurse standing in front of him. He liked her way too much for comfort.

She hit a particularly sore section and he flinched.
Swearing under her breath, she flicked a glance to his face.

“Sorry, I’ll try to be gentle. I can’t believe they did
this, what’s the bloody point?”

The pressure from the regenerator eased up. He breathed a
little deeper as the band of pain around his midriff disappeared.

“Making a point. The sheer human joy in causing pain and
suffering.” He shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m not human.”

Easing farther down on the bunk, he spread his thighs to get
comfortable. Without a break in her movements, she moved between his legs to
get at the remaining discoloration on his stomach.

“Bloody stupid. I’d like to get hold of them and give them a
taste of their own medicine,” she grumbled, dropping to her knees to look critically
at her handiwork.

Heat surged through his body. The touch of her hands was
maddeningly soft, heat surging through him before she knelt in such a
provocative position. If she leaned forward just a little further… He bit back
a groan of lust.

Her gaze shot to his face, worry written all over her
delicate features. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, drive a hand into her
dark hair as he claimed her lips. He’d hold her still and plunder her mouth.
Thrust into the welcoming heat, again and again, fucking her mouth with his
tongue. Shuddering, he snapped out of his daze and looked at her.

What was it about this woman? He’d had offers from women of
his kind. Strong, capable, cyborg women. Women who could withstand his rough
passion. So why did he want one who was so easily breakable?

Closing his eyes, he tried to conceal the effect she had on
him. He was lucky he was cyborg, with ultimate control over his body and its
reactions. Or she’d be up close and personal with how she was making him feel.
A face full of thick cock was hard to miss.

“Sorry, I’ll be gentler.”

Her voice was soft and calm; the consummate nurse. They
needed medics back at base. All raiding parties were ordered to snatch and grab
medically trained staff wherever they could and take them back to Redemption
Bay, the cyborg resistance home base.

Lyon shook his head and put the thought from his mind. That
way led to madness and a whole heap of trouble. He had a mission here. The
sooner he remembered that, and stuck to it, the better off everyone would be.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

She winced a little. He hardened his heart. No doubt she was
wondering how many people he’d killed. That was what humans always assumed of
his people. They were killers, born and bred.

“Okay, move your arms for me, please.”

He moved to allow her to reach the bruising on his stomach.
Not the easiest thing to treat when his hands were manacled in front of him.

“Who’d you lose to?”

She moved his hands again and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“To end up treating me. I can’t imagine it would be high on
the list of dream assignments in the nurses’ bay.”

“Oh.” Understanding filled her eyes. A blush raced across
her cheeks.

“No one. I asked for the assignment. Look, this is no good.”
She sat back on her heels and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, but I
have to put you in the restraints…”

She nodded toward the heavy-duty hooks on the wall above the
bed. Used for restraining the most violent cases when the cell had to be
cleaned, even he wouldn’t be able to break them.

“It’s that or call a full guard detail in so I can get to
the last bit of this. Which would you prefer?”

I’d prefer you on your knees sucking my cock.
The
thought slipped through before he could censor it. Swallowing, he concentrated
on something mundane. Like rewiring maintenance panels for the
Chameleon
or field-stripping a KL-700 heavy machine gun.

He locked the wayward thought away. Not only had she
apologized to him before, she was now giving him a choice. Admittedly it wasn’t
much
of a choice. Cuffed to the bed or get treated under armed guard,
but still, it was a choice.

“The restraints. Please,” he added as an afterthought and
ventured a small smile.

She smiled back and stood to draw the restraints together.
He lifted his hands. A moment later the mag-cuffs clicked into place and,
slowly, his hands were drawn apart. His hands safely out the way, it only took
her a couple of minutes to clear up the remainder of his injuries. Finally she
straightened and treated him to a bright smile.

“There you go, all fixed up.”

“Thank you. Are you going to divulge your name or is that
classified information?”

He couldn’t stop himself quizzing her as she packed her
equipment away. Everything was handheld and he knew there wasn’t anything with
a sharp edge in there. Just in case he managed to escape the three-inch-wide
cuffs, which would be a miracle of epic proportions. No, the only way he was
getting out of these babies was if his sexy little nurse made a big mistake or
if he could charm her into letting him go.

He was rusty, but he could manage a little light flirtation.
The full-on Casanova act, though, that was well beyond him.

She flashed him another smile from under lashes so full they
had to be illegal. Lyon sucked in a breath at the direct look. How did she
manage to look so hot in that utilitarian ship-suit? While it wasn’t fitted, it
also wasn’t a sack, but there was no way it could be described as sexy.

“No, not classified information. It’s Samara. Samara
Williams,” she said and started to hold out her hand. Halfway through the
gesture, she recalled he was chained up and stopped. A deep flush spread over
her cheeks.

Lyon inclined his head, ignoring her
faux pas
, and
simply smiled. She blushed so prettily, her mouth a bee-stung pout. He looked
away quickly, a wash of heat running rampant over his shoulders and chest all
the way down to get all friendly with his cock.

“Pleased to meet you, Samara. Now we’re all introduced,
would you mind letting my arms down a little? My fingers are going numb.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. There you go.”

Stepping to the side, she reached up and activated the
restraints. This time the mechanism drew Lyon’s wrists together over his head.
Hearing the click, she pressed the button to release him and turned around to
zip up her kit bag.

Perhaps through sloppiness or inexperience with the
equipment, she didn’t check to make sure the sound she’d heard was his
mag-cuffs locking together instead of Lyon clicking the cuff against the metal
of the wall. He froze for a second when she turned away, hardly daring to
believe his ruse had worked.

Testing the theory, he pulled at his wrist. It came away
from the wall with a small snick. He blinked, all his attention focused on the
woman in the room with him. She’d made a mistake. He was free. What did he do
now?

His logical side said he put her out of commission and fight
his way off the ship. Or, nastier, use her as a human shield. She’d been nice
to him though. She’d apologized and given him a choice. Treated him like a
human being and not the animal the rest of her race branded him.

Was he really going to repay her by proving the rumors
right?