these warriors cyborgs?”
She shook her head. “They were human.”
Good. Vapor didn’t like the thought of some of his kind hurting her.
“I have to see for myself that you’re not like her.” Her hands twisted in the covering. “That you won’t die. I need to be reassured that you’ll heal.”
His female had lost so much and didn’t want to lose him. She cared about him—a cyborg. Struck mute by emotion, Vapor climbed onto the sleeping support. He faced downward so she could see his back.
Mira leaned over him, her perusal heating his circuits. “You’re no longer bleeding. There’s a thin layer of skin over your wounds now.” She touched an undamaged patch. “Are you in pain?”
“No.” He closed his eyes, tracking her exploration of his body with his other senses. Her caresses were light, dancing on his skin, and she smelled of him.
That pleased Vapor.
“Should we help your friend?”
“He doesn’t need help.” Thrasher, judging from his never-ending reports via the transmission line, was bored out of his processors, guarding the entrance to the tunnels.
“We should do something.” Mira rested her head on Vapor’s arm. Her breathing slowed. She wasn’t a cyborg warrior. His little human required rest.
“Sleep.” He rolled onto his side and gathered her to him, savoring her curves and her soft compliance. It wouldn’t last, he knew. His female was in shock, her thoughts occupied by the attack. Once she recovered, she’d battle him as she had in the past. “When you wake, we’ll take action.”
“We should take action now.” She yawned.
His lips twitched. “You’re in no condition to breed with me.”
Mira blinked. “You wish to breed with me again?”
He wished to breed with her always. “Yes.” Vapor cupped her head, pressing her face to his chest. “But first, you must restore your energy levels.”
Chapter Eight
Mira had no wish to restore her energy levels. She was emotionally exhausted, could barely focus her eyes, but she knew what was waiting in the darkness.
Staying awake was preferable to her nightmares.
The dreams never changed. Each rest cycle, she revisited every death she had caused, every life she’d inadvertently ended, starting with her mom’s execution. She’d see the shock on her mom’s face when she found out her best friend, her husband, even her daughter had betrayed her. Gunfire would ring out, shockingly loud. Her mom’s body would dance in the air. Mira would rush to her side, feel her heartbeat slow under her palms. Blood would pool around her knees.
The other deaths were as gut wrenching. She couldn’t, wouldn’t relive them.
Vapor rubbed her back, up and down, up and down, the motion soothing. Mira’s eyelashes fluttered. Each blink became slower and slower.
She fell asleep.
And dreamed about nothing.
When Mira woke, Vapor’s arms were wrapped around her tightly. His nanocybotics bubbled within her. He must have protected her from her memories.
She didn’t want to leave his sanctuary, didn’t want to face the devastation, the death, the guilt. Feigning slumber, she lingered in his warm embrace.
“You’re awake,” Vapor rumbled.
“No, I’m not.” She remained still. “I’m asleep.”
“You lie even about that.” He snorted softly. “How can any being ever trust you?”
Vapor didn’t lie, yet she couldn’t trust him. His first loyalty was to his fellow cyborgs, not to her, never to her. “You can’t trust any being. I’ve learned that much in my lifespan. My mom was betrayed by the husband she loved, by the friends who vowed to always remain by her side, by me, her own daughter.” She whispered that last part.
Vapor had cyborg senses. He heard everything. “Did you lie to your mom, also?”
“Worse. I shared information about our secret place with one of her friends.” Lydna had resorted to tears to gain that knowledge. It was a tactic Mira found difficult to resist even to this planet rotation.
She shook her head. “They were human.”
Good. Vapor didn’t like the thought of some of his kind hurting her.
“I have to see for myself that you’re not like her.” Her hands twisted in the covering. “That you won’t die. I need to be reassured that you’ll heal.”
His female had lost so much and didn’t want to lose him. She cared about him—a cyborg. Struck mute by emotion, Vapor climbed onto the sleeping support. He faced downward so she could see his back.
Mira leaned over him, her perusal heating his circuits. “You’re no longer bleeding. There’s a thin layer of skin over your wounds now.” She touched an undamaged patch. “Are you in pain?”
“No.” He closed his eyes, tracking her exploration of his body with his other senses. Her caresses were light, dancing on his skin, and she smelled of him.
That pleased Vapor.
“Should we help your friend?”
“He doesn’t need help.” Thrasher, judging from his never-ending reports via the transmission line, was bored out of his processors, guarding the entrance to the tunnels.
“We should do something.” Mira rested her head on Vapor’s arm. Her breathing slowed. She wasn’t a cyborg warrior. His little human required rest.
“Sleep.” He rolled onto his side and gathered her to him, savoring her curves and her soft compliance. It wouldn’t last, he knew. His female was in shock, her thoughts occupied by the attack. Once she recovered, she’d battle him as she had in the past. “When you wake, we’ll take action.”
“We should take action now.” She yawned.
His lips twitched. “You’re in no condition to breed with me.”
Mira blinked. “You wish to breed with me again?”
He wished to breed with her always. “Yes.” Vapor cupped her head, pressing her face to his chest. “But first, you must restore your energy levels.”
Chapter Eight
Mira had no wish to restore her energy levels. She was emotionally exhausted, could barely focus her eyes, but she knew what was waiting in the darkness.
Staying awake was preferable to her nightmares.
The dreams never changed. Each rest cycle, she revisited every death she had caused, every life she’d inadvertently ended, starting with her mom’s execution. She’d see the shock on her mom’s face when she found out her best friend, her husband, even her daughter had betrayed her. Gunfire would ring out, shockingly loud. Her mom’s body would dance in the air. Mira would rush to her side, feel her heartbeat slow under her palms. Blood would pool around her knees.
The other deaths were as gut wrenching. She couldn’t, wouldn’t relive them.
Vapor rubbed her back, up and down, up and down, the motion soothing. Mira’s eyelashes fluttered. Each blink became slower and slower.
She fell asleep.
And dreamed about nothing.
When Mira woke, Vapor’s arms were wrapped around her tightly. His nanocybotics bubbled within her. He must have protected her from her memories.
She didn’t want to leave his sanctuary, didn’t want to face the devastation, the death, the guilt. Feigning slumber, she lingered in his warm embrace.
“You’re awake,” Vapor rumbled.
“No, I’m not.” She remained still. “I’m asleep.”
“You lie even about that.” He snorted softly. “How can any being ever trust you?”
Vapor didn’t lie, yet she couldn’t trust him. His first loyalty was to his fellow cyborgs, not to her, never to her. “You can’t trust any being. I’ve learned that much in my lifespan. My mom was betrayed by the husband she loved, by the friends who vowed to always remain by her side, by me, her own daughter.” She whispered that last part.
Vapor had cyborg senses. He heard everything. “Did you lie to your mom, also?”
“Worse. I shared information about our secret place with one of her friends.” Lydna had resorted to tears to gain that knowledge. It was a tactic Mira found difficult to resist even to this planet rotation.
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