Containing Malice, page 9
“Malice, yes.” She clutched him to her. “Yes, Malice.”
Hearing his name on her lips made him wild. He mouthed over her chin, along her neck, sucking, nipping, adoring her, branding her brown skin with his nanocybotics. A hurting sound originated in her throat. Her pussy closed around him, escalating his need.
Passion bombarded him. He gritted his teeth, absorbing the yearning, moderating his drives forward. She was damaged. He wouldn’t—
She clenched down on his shaft, snapping his control.
“Illona.” He surged forward, burying himself up to his base, and let go. A roar burst from his lips. Cum shot from his tip. Pleasure assailed him from all directions.
His female screamed, flung her head back. Her fragile skull smacked against the wall. She squeezed him again, raking his skull with her fingernails.
He bellowed her name louder, came again, harder this time. The pain had amplified his bliss. She was marking him, owning him as he owned her. He loved that, wanted more.
His systems couldn’t handle it. His nanocybotics were boosted but that wasn’t sufficient to handle his little medic. His universe went dark, silent. His knees threatened to buckle under him.
He didn’t fall. That would damage his female and he wouldn’t allow that to happen.
She shook against him, trembling, gripping and letting go of his cock, draining him of everything—his cum, his desire, his energy.
He shuddered, leaning into her, resting his forehead against hers. His chest heaved. The waves of bliss sweeping over him gradually leveled.
His systems rebooted. He breathed deeply. No scent of blood, but she was too still, too quiet, pressed against him. “Did I damage you, female?”
“Would it bother you if you damaged me?” She reached upward, traced his jaw with one of her fingers. “You plan to kill me this rest cycle.”
That was her timeline, not his.
She caressed him some more. Pleasure shimmered over his skin.
His eyelids partially lowered. “I should kill you.”
But he wouldn’t, couldn’t complete that feat. He was too addicted to her touch.
“If it would heal you, if it would ease some of your pain, your rage, end my lifespan.” She stroked him, her words softly spoken, her tone warm. “It would be a kindness. I have one planet rotation, maybe two, left, and I’ve helped you all I can.”
Had he not repaired her damage? Alarm filled Malice.
She hadn’t answered that question, had cleverly countered it with another query.
He hefted her higher against the wall. His tiny female weighed less than a missile launcher. And he examined her side. There was no trace of the wound, of any other damage.
She was fully functional, must have been referring to her blasted experiments ending, not her lifespan terminating. The tension in his shoulders eased.
“I determine when your help is no longer required.” He skimmed his lips along her now-repaired damage, and her stomach fluttered against him. “You won’t take any unnecessary risks, tiny human.”
She sighed, the sound relaying a mixture of regret and joy. “I take too few risks.” She ran her fingers over his scalp, massaging him, and he rumbled with happiness. “If I wasn’t so very cautious, I could have arranged the downing of the transmission blocker earlier. But I only had one chance at doing that, and technology…that isn’t my strongest skill.”
“It isn’t any skill of yours.” He snorted against her form. The programming on the remote access chip currently inserted in his neck slot had been a mess.
His female laughed and his soul lightened. “I’m a disaster at it.” She bent over him, kissed the top of his head. “Once I realized I needed to know something about systems to free anyone from this horrid place, I tried to teach myself those skills, but it was a struggle.”
He lowered her until their gazes met. “I had those skills.” She could have given him the remote access chip earlier. He would have downed the transmission blocker.
“You could have killed me the first time we were truly alone, with no one watching us.” She glanced at the deactivated monitoring equipment. “I had to ensure you had what you needed to free yourself if you did that.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You cared about the freedom of a warrior who might kill you?”
Her gaze returned to him, where it belonged. “There are fates worse than death.” A tremor ran through her small form. He tightened his grip on her. “And there’s no one I would rather have kill me than you.” She smiled at him. “You’re magnificent.”
He was magnificently aroused. And he didn’t want to talk about death and killing.
Not now. Not with her.
It aggravated him, made him want to pound some human males into puddles of flesh. That wasn’t possible to do, not at the moment, not without endangering Illona, Valor, himself.
He preferred to redirect his energy to the other task C Models were skilled at—breeding.
Malice covered his little medic’s upturned lips, sampling her joy.
It tasted like forgiveness.
Chapter Nine
Three mind-numbing fucks later, they had moved their sensuous antics to the sleeping support. Illona cradled her big cyborg between her thighs and undulated under him, caressing the male with her entire form, craving more, more, more physical bonding, more emotional connection. Desire coiled around her chest, squeezing down on her. Every breath was a struggle, and that thrilled her.
She was fully healed, and Malice showed her no mercy, taking her with an exciting fervor, ravishing her senseless, quieting her concerns, her fears, the torment of her grief. They crashed together and came apart again and again.
Heat radiated from her breasts, her hips, all other points of contact. She lifted into each of his drives forward, meeting him midway, pushing both of them closer to the edge of release.
This fuck and the fucks before this were gifts. She hadn’t expected to see him, talk with him, touch him again. As she threw herself against him, she was acutely aware the Humanoid Alliance could uncover her plotting at any time, could end her lifespan with a press of a button.
There was no future, not for her. There was only now, and she would embrace the moment with everything she had.
“Harder.” She clutched his shoulders, moving into him. “Deeper.”
Malice growled and complied. The sleeping support rocked with the vigor of his thrusts. Her ass smacked against its surface. He stuffed her with hard cock and then retreated. Sweat streamed between her breasts. Pain twisted around her pleasure, escalating it.
But she wouldn’t come. Not yet. She wanted to make this fuck last, to linger in—
Her cyborg drove deep and swiveled his hips, grinding against her clit, shattering every intention she had. She screamed his name, clenched around his cock, bliss hitting her with a breath-catching ferocity.
“Illona.” He roared her name, pushed even farther into her, dragging her ass across the sleeping support. Hot cum splattered against her inner walls. His nanocybotics resembled millions of fingers stroking her all over.
She screamed louder, came again and again and again, squeezing his shaft and releasing, coaxing every decadent drop from him. Her body, legs, arms gyrated. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, seeking something—him—to hold onto, to tie her to the universe.
Her warrior pinned her to sleeping support, captured her between his arms, his legs. She was surrounded by muscle, by him, and she reveled in that. His eyes were dark. His lips were set in a grim white line. But she felt his satisfaction. It flowed through her, tightening the link between them, an endless loop of succulent sensation.
Her euphoria dropped to levels she could manage.
Malice’s eyes brightened. He shuddered once, twice, and rolled, taking her with him.
She draped over his form, drained, sated, drowsy with fulfillment. “Fuck.” They were great together, lighting up the chamber with their passion.
He grunted his agreement, rested his big palms on her ass and his chin on top of her head. His chest rose and fell under her. She was wrapped up in him, in his muscle, his care.
The cuddling after their encounters was new. As was the tenderness of their first fuck.
The message that sent warmed her. Her cyborg might not trust her. She doubted that would ever happen. But he no longer hated her.
Her lips lifted into a small smile. She would die happier, knowing that.
Die.
She tilted her head back, gazed at the stretch of gray skin underneath his chin. “I should remove your explosive now.” She wasn’t the only being in danger. The Humanoid Alliance could end his lifespan at any time also.
“It can wait.” Malice’s voice was a low rumble. His grip on her ass tightened.
“No, it can’t wait.” She reluctantly wriggled out of his hold and padded across the chamber. The tiles were cool against the soles of her feet. She retrieved a cleaning cloth, her grippers, and her laser scalpel from her jacket. “This is unlocked also.”
The laser scalpel would be left with her warrior, giving him another weapon to wield. That might help him and Valor during their escape.
She no longer needed it. Dead medics didn’t require laser scalpels.
Illona returned to her cyborg’s side, placed the grippers and the cleaning cloth on the sleeping support. Her fingers curled around the laser scalpel.
Malice held out his hand. “I’ll remove your explosive first.”
“I don’t need to have my explosive removed.” If the Humanoid Alliance didn’t kill her that way, they would find another way to accomplish that goal.
Her cyborg narrowed his eyes at her. “I decide if you need to have it removed or not.” He didn’t lower his hand. “Give me the laser scalpel.”
It took everything she had to resist the dominance in his voice. “I won’t be leaving the lab.” She’d die in the structure.
“You won’t be leaving this chamber, ever, if you don’t give me the fraggin’ laser scalpel.” He growled that warning, his jaw jutting.
The male was determined to remove her explosive.
She studied him. Why would that be important to him?
Shit. There was one possible reason for his stubbornness.
“You don’t trust that there is an explosive inside you.” Her gaze met his. “You want to remove mine first to ensure I didn’t lie to you.”
He glared at her, his lack of answer giving her the verification she sought.
His distrust shouldn’t hurt her. Her cyborg had believed she’d been the hands of the Humanoid Alliance, of their shared enemy, for the past solar cycle and a half. Those suspicions didn’t evaporate after a few thrilling fucks and some half-assed helping.
But his lack of faith did wound her. Very much. “Do whatever you want.” She placed the laser scalpel in his palm. “Slice my throat if it makes you happy.”
She tilted her head back, exposing her neck and waited for the pain, for the possible end.
Malice pulled her to him until she was positioned between his legs. “Slicing your throat is too quick.” He curled his fingers around her neck. The laser scalpel was pressed against her nape. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d squeeze the life out of you.”
He brushed his thumbs under her chin, stroking her skin back and forth, back and forth.
Her cyborg could kill her. Easily.
The Humanoid Alliance must have broken her because that prospect turned her on. There wasn’t a drop of fear in her naked form, only need. The end would come for her…soon. She preferred he be the being to deliver that death.
“I won’t kill you.” Her cyborg activated the laser scalpel. “But this will damage you temporarily.”
It would hurt also. She braced herself for the pain. “If you cut too deep—”
“I studied the information you relayed.” He held her in place with one hand. “I process how deep to cut.”
The first slice caused so much agony she almost lost consciousness. She gritted her teeth, swallowing her scream. A tear dripped down her right cheek. Darkness edged her vision.
“Keep your gaze on me.” Her cyborg’s voice was gruff.
In the past, when she’d operated on him, inflicting greater hurt than a human like her could tolerate, he stared at her the entire time, his gaze angry, accusing.
Was that what he had been doing—fighting oblivion?
Malice deactivated the laser scalpel, placed it on the sleeping support. “You aren’t the only being with a knowledge of human anatomy.” He probed the wound with the grippers. Her world swirled around her. “Cyborgs study their enemies. Closely.” He removed the explosive, gazed at it for a moment. His face grew frighteningly hard. “There isn’t a large variance between learning how to damage and learning how to repair.”
She tried to focus on his handsome face, on the sound of his voice, but the pain was too much. “Malice.” She swayed forward, toward him, unable to say more, to find the words in her beleaguered brain. Warmth streamed down her neck.
“Stay strong, female.” He carefully set the explosive aside and returned his attention to her, securing her to him with one arm, lifting her chin with his other hand. “My nanocybotics will repair you.”
He licked the wound with the flat of his tongue. She hissed, tried to pull back, her agony becoming more acute. He didn’t allow her retreat, intensifying his clasp on her.
“Be still.” His voice was gruff with emotion. He laved her again and again.
Her hurt receded. Bubbling took its place.
Illona’s eyelids partially lowered. His method of healing was effective, tantalizing, stimulating. She grasped his shoulders, savoring the feel of him under her fingertips.
“Your damage has been repaired.” Her cyborg continued to lick her.
Her physical wound had closed. The injury to her heart remained.
“I didn’t lie about the explosive.” She pointed that fact out to him.
His distrust of her had been unjustified.
“I didn’t accuse you of lying, female.” Her warrior mouthed along her neck, between her breasts, tidying her bloodstained skin with his tongue, his lips. “That was your own incorrect projection.”
She replayed their conversation in her mind. Fuck. He was right. She’d reached that conclusion on her own. He’d said nothing…because she suspected that served his own purposes.
Her explosive had been removed first.
He had believed her. Her lips curled upward. That was one small step toward trust.
Her cyborg tended to her. Many moments passed before he seemed to be satisfied with her recovery. He then pressed his lips to her forehead and held her to him.
They didn’t speak. He stroked her hair. The fasteners had been long lost. The tendrils hung down her back. His petting was seductive, made her want to forget everything, focus on him.
But that wasn’t possible. “I should remove your explosive now.”
He remained in danger.
Her cyborg huffed, drew back from her. “According to the data you supplied, there are three tracking devices within us.” He grasped one of her forearms, rotating it.
“There are three tracking devices within you and Valor.” She tugged on her arm. He wouldn’t release her. “The Humanoid Alliance only inserts tracking devices into beings or things they value.” She couldn’t contain the bitterness in her tone. “That isn’t one female medic.”
He looked upward, met her gaze. “The Humanoid Alliance views me as a machine.” Resentment of that stance reflected in his eyes. “They value my ability to kill.” Her warrior brushed his rough fingertips over the delicate skin on her inner forearms, caressing her with a gentleness that made a mockery out of their enemy’s view of him. “They don’t value me.”
She valued him. “You removed my explosive.” She held out her right hand. “It’s my turn to remove yours.”
“We’ll breed first.” Malice stood, lifted her onto the sleeping support. The surface was warm from her body. “That will fully repair you.”
“No.” She closed her thighs. “I need to remove your explosive now.”
It was suddenly important to her that she do that as soon as possible. She couldn’t bear one more death, wouldn’t survive his demise. He meant too much to her.
Her dominant cyborg didn’t appreciate her response. He frowned at her.
She hadn’t the willpower for a long, drawn-out argument, for rounds of discussion. “I saw the explosive in my friend, in Medic Febris, detonate this planet rotation. It was…awful.”
She looked away from him. Memories of that moment flooded her brain. Unshed tears pricked her eyes. It had been horrific, would haunt her forever.
His death would be worse.
“I can’t see you die that way, Malice. I—” Emotion overcame her. Her voice broke.
Her cyborg cupped her chin, splaying his fingers around her healed wound, and turned her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. They looked at each other for several moments.
Nothing was said.
Yet the link between them tightened. She didn’t try to hide her feelings, her vulnerabilities. Not with him. And he gazed at her as though he saw into her soul.
“I haven’t survived this long to die like that.” He placed the deactivated laser scalpel on her palm, folded her fingers over it. “Remove the explosive, Medic.”
Malice reclined on the sleeping support, lifted his chin. His gaze remained on her.
She slipped to her feet, shook herself, donning her medic role. He was a patient. It should be a simple operation…one that had dire consequences for both of them if she made a mistake.
“This will hurt.” She activated the laser scalpel. “Don’t move.”
“You have cut me three thousand, six hundred and forty-one times, and I haven’t moved once.” He glared at her as though her instructions had been an insult to him and to his cyborg abilities.
She made the smallest incision possible. “I tried to convince the Humanoid Alliance to give me pain inhibitors to use when I experimented on you.” Blood coursed along his neck. The crimson was vivid against his gray skin. “I told them your form’s reaction to being hurt impacted results.” She traded the laser scalpel for grippers, probed the wound, searching for the explosive. “They didn’t believe that lie.”
