Defying Death (10 page)

She
was the reason he was separated from his
own kind. Death must have heard about her from Crash and Crash had
heard about her from Safyre. Tifara’s heard squeezed. Her friend
had talked about her before she died. “Because you took me, you’re
now an outcast and the cyborgs are hunting you.”

Death said nothing.

She touched his handsome face, traced the firm set
of his jaw. “Return me to the battle station. Make peace with your
buddies. You don’t have to die for this. I can find the cure—”

“I’m never returning you to the battle station and I
didn’t take you because I wanted a cure.” He covered her fingers
with his.

“I’m a medic.” That was her sole skill.

“I’m a cyborg. I don’t require a medic.”

Then why did he take her?

Their gazes met, locked, and she knew. She saw the
desire, the heat, the need in his eyes. Her cyborg viewed her as a
female first, only. He didn’t care about viruses or the possible
deaths of millions of beings. He was a killer. “You took me because
you wanted me.”

Death nodded.

“How could you want me?” That wasn’t logical. “You
hadn’t met me.” What could Crash have possibly said to her serious
cyborg to make him risk his life, to leave his brethren, to find
her?

“Your scent is on the scarf.”

That
was
her scarf wrapped around the armrest
of Death’s chair. She’d given it to Safyre. Her friend must have
given the scarf to that Crash being before she died.

Tifara breathed in, breathed out, sucking back her
sorrow. She missed Safyre so damn much. Her soul ached.

The virus. Focus on the virus. “You knew I’d be a
perfect host for your nanocybotics by my scent.” Her thoughts
whirled. “By the genetic material left on the fabric.”

What was it about her genetics that communicated her
compatibility?

She scrambled off his lap and retrieved the private
viewscreen.

“Oh no.” The front of the device had detached from
the back, exposing its circuits. A couple of parts fell into her
hand. “We broke it.”

“
We
will fix it.” Death took the device and
parts from her.

Tifara frowned. “All of my data is on it.”

“All of your data is here.” Her cyborg tapped his
forehead. “I’ll transfer it.” He opened a compartment, found
another private viewscreen, placed his palm on the surface.

“If elevated body temperature is a sign of
infection, we could scan the battle station for heat signatures and
confirm whether or not the beings on board are infected,” she
suggested.

“We’re not returning to the battle station.”

“We can scan it remotely. All we need is access to
their systems.” Tifara glanced pointedly at his palm. He was a
cyborg. She suspected there wasn’t a system in the universe he
couldn’t access.

“No.”

She wasn’t discouraged. He’d do it eventually.

Even if she had to suck his cock to convince
him.

Fifteen
planet rotations later, his female continued to press him about
accessing the battle station’s systems. He refused. The risks were
too great and he knew he hadn’t infected the beings on board.

Because there was no virus.

The possibility that there was an outbreak caused
Tifara to spend every spare moment poring over the data he’d
relayed to her. She was quickly becoming the foremost expert on
cyborg organics, much to Death’s pride.

He added to her knowledge by scanning both of them
every couple of moments. It was no hardship scanning her. He would
kiss her constantly if she allowed it.

During the waking cycle, she also sucked his cock.
His little medic insisted on it, citing the scientific need for
continued contact.

Death didn’t know about scientific need, but he knew
about male need, and he agreed the cock sucking was necessary. He
managed to control himself during those encounters, holding back
the emotions he yearned to express.

There was no need for restraint during rest cycles.
She feigned sleep and he pounded into her with abandon, breeding
with her three or more times a cycle.

It wasn’t enough. Even now, as he pieced together a
spare private viewscreen, modifying it to act as a handheld, his
cock was as hard as the metal case in his left palm.

He discarded his body armor during waking shifts.
There was no barrier between his shaft and her mouth.

Not that she noticed his readiness.

Seated in the chair beside him, near enough to
smell, his female peered down at her screen, lines etched between
her finely arched eyebrows, her expression adorably intense. An
opened nutrition bar was set on the console before her. He’d
carefully cut it into squares, allowing her to eat while
working.

“If I had the scans I performed on myself before I
met you.” She popped a square into her mouth and chewed. “I could
determine how your nanocybotics have changed my genetic
material.”

Death grunted. He wasn’t accessing the battle
station’s systems.

Menace had already broken the blocks he’d put on
their communication lines once. Opening them might allow the
warrior to break them again, giving him their location.

“I’m mutating, Death.” Tifara sighed. “I’m no longer
human.”

She wasn’t a cyborg either. Her emotion system was
too active.

Death’s processors advised him to keep that
observation to himself.

“All I’d require is a couple of moments in the
battle station’s systems. I could retrieve my files and have all of
the information I needed.”

It would take him even less time. He was a cyborg.
He could enter and exit the systems before the humans even knew he
was there.

“You want to scan the battle station for heat
signatures also.” His processors weren’t malfunctioning. He knew
she desired more than her files.

“That could be done while I retrieve the files. I
could then be assured every being there is healthy.” She widened
her eyes. “I worry about them.”

Fraggin’ hole. She
did
worry, mumbling in her
sleep about outbreaks and death, her lush body trembling with fear.
Her emotional damage tortured him.

The battle station continued to exist. Death had
verified that at sunrise.

It had been many planet rotations since he’d taken
her from her home. The cyborgs wouldn’t expect him to access the
battle station’s systems.

He set aside the partially assembled private
viewscreen. “You require a heat signature scan of the battle
station, your medical files and that’s it?”

“Yes.” She bounced out of her seat, her white coat
flowing around her, her long brown hair tinged with fire. “And
maybe the files of a few other females. For reference. And if there
are any updates on my patients.” She stood by his side, her eyes
glittering with excitement. “And find out who has taken my
position. And—”

“Enough.” His tone was stern, his heart light. His
human expected him to give her the universe.

He’d gather as much information for her as he could.
Death placed his hands on the ship’s panel and accessed the human’s
communication channels. He couldn’t stay in the system for very
long.

It took several moments to hide his communications
trail. He wasn’t taking any chances. They would land on Carinae E
in less than two planet rotations and he didn’t want any being to
track them to their present location.

Satisfied that he’d concealed their position, Death
slipped into the battle station’s system and started the heat
signature scan of the battle station. He then located the medic
database and transferred all of it.

“Do you need help?” Tifara’s right foot tapped on
the floor tiles, his female dancing with impatience. “I have the
authorization codes.” Her lips twisted. “If they haven’t changed
them.”

The battle station scan ended. He captured that
information also.

“They
should
change them.” His little medic
worried about the authorization codes no cyborg would ever require.
“That’s protocol when a key staff member is abducted. Not that they
know I’ve been abducted but I
am
missing and—”

“The information has been relayed.” He exited the
system. “You can suck my cock now.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. Her face turned red. “No.
I didn’t agree to that.”

But she wasn’t adverse to it. Death breathed deeply.
Her musk had intensified. He pushed his chair back from the
console, spread his legs, and gazed at her expectantly.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He waited. His female fussed, putting up the
pretense of outrage and refusal, but she liked sucking his cock. He
certainly liked having his cock sucked.

“You assume too much, warrior.” She kneeled before
him, resting her plump ass on her boot-clad heels. “I’m not your
sex slave.”

“I agree.” He burrowed his hands into her hair,
twisting her curls around his fingers, and pulled her forward.
“You’re my medic and I’m your most important patient. You should
taste me, ensure I’m not damaged.”

“You’re a cyborg.” She nuzzled against his tip and
he sucked in his breath, her softness delighting him. “You
self-heal. You don’t require a medic.”

“Am I a cyborg?” He gazed at her, his eyelids
partially lowered. “You’re no longer human. Could you have affected
me as I affected you?”

She
had
affected him. He was stronger,
faster, and he craved her constantly, more than energy inputs, more
than anything.

But he was still a cyborg.

“Hmmm…” His Tifara tilted her head, considering his
words, as she nibbled on his rim, each exciting nip followed by a
soothing lick of her tongue. His female’s fascination with organic
forms, his in particular, had helped hone her breeding skills. She
experimented on his cock, laving here and pinching there, logging
the results in that clever brain of hers.

Death gritted his teeth and endured, hiding his
emotions under a stoic mask.

“Has my taste varied, my little medic?” He tugged on
her hair, forcing her mouth over him, preventing her from answering
his question.

She’d record the results of her testing in her
private viewscreen, tracking his flavor as she tracked everything
else. He liked that she observed him that closely.

She slid her lips down, down, down his shaft. Her
wet heat engulfed him, wrapping his flesh in a sensual embrace.

A rumble of happiness rolled up his chest. If his
brethren knew how good a female’s mouth felt, neither the cyborg
council nor the Humanoid Alliance could restrain them. Every
humanoid-habitable planet would be scoured by warriors seeking
their mates.

As his tip tapped the back of her throat, her
rounded chin brushed his balls in the most delicate of caresses.
Death shuddered, unable to conceal the effect she had on him.

She didn’t appear to notice, her gaze fixed on his
cock. He was too large for her to take completely. Some of his
shaft was left bare. His resourceful female covered this length
with her pale fingers.

His circuits buzzed, energy and arousal flowing over
him. “You’ll see a spike in my heart rate,” he droned. His heart
beat hard against his frame.

She gazed up at him, her brown eyes glittering. His
little female liked it when he discussed medical terms with
her.

A sensitive human male might wonder if her
fascination with him was purely scientific, if she truly was
pleasuring him for the betterment of the universe.

Death didn’t care why her tongue cradled his cock.
She’d claimed him. In time, perhaps planet rotations, perhaps solar
cycles, she’d grow to care for him, to love him.

For now, their physical connection was enough.

His Tifara pulled her head back, then sank back down
on him, pulled her head back, sank back down on him. He guided her
up and down his cock, controlling the pace with his grip on her
hair.

It was a surreal experience, like fighting the
fiercest battle of his existence, using a cloud as a weapon. His
need was great. Her curls were wondrously soft. She was so
delicate, fragile. To clasp her harder would cause her damage.

But fraggin’ hole, he wanted more. Death gritted his
teeth and rocked into her mouth. Her musk filled his nostrils, his
throat, his lungs, his soul. The scent had changed, his ownership
stamped on even this part of her.

He liked that. Death plunged his shaft between her
pink lips again and again, his desire savage, wild, primitive. She
took everything he gave her and more, sucking, licking, her cheeks
indented around him, her face flushing. Sweat glistened on her
forehead. Her damp curls clung to his fingers.

She was a being of passion and emotion, the most
beautiful creature he’d ever seen, more glorious than a sunset over
a battlefield.

And she belonged to him.

Pride meshed with arousal. Her teeth skimmed his
shaft and he lost control, bellowing his release, all of the
tension flowing through his cock into her mouth. She swallowed, her
throat convulsing and she screamed around him, her lush curves
shaking.

Death filled her mouth one, two, three, four times,
and his greedy little female drank him down, finding her own
release with every gulp. Colors tinted his vision system, pinks and
yellows brightening his world. Joy blossomed within his chest.

As Tifara laved his cock clean, she looked up at
him, speculation in her intelligent eyes. His female wanted to ask
him something. Her beautiful face was easy to read.

He waited, stroking her hair, savoring the moment,
the feeling of bliss

She released his cock with a juicy pop and rested
her chin on his right thigh. “You usually come quietly when I suck
you off.” His observant medic had noticed his lapse of control.
“This time, you roared.”

He had put her in peril with that roar. Death
glanced at the main viewscreen, ensuring the communication channels
were closed. He’d been careless.