Seducing Stag (Cyborg Seduction Book 10) (6 page)

“You will be assigned to a male, and the only one you have had conversations with is Stag. He’ll never offer to keep you. He hates Earthers.”

“I’m aware.”

“He doesn’t want you. He’s made that clear. I’m a good choice. Are you concerned about your upkeep? I would never abuse you.”

Upkeep? She swallowed. “Let me think about it, okay? I do that. I need to let things sink in. I didn’t know I’d be given to someone. You people know I’m not an android, right? That’s just bullshit Stag said because I made him mad.”

“You’re an Earther. You can’t live alone. That’s how it will be. Other males will make the offer. I want you to consider me. I could show you how I would pleasure you.” He took another step closer.

“No.” He might be bigger but she’d still put up a fight if he tried to get her out of her clothes. “Please leave.”

He took a step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I need time to think. Alone. Thank you for the food.”

He inclined his head. “I’d take good care of you. Consider me.” He spun, left, and the door sealed behind him.

Nala walked to the bed and collapsed, relieved he hadn’t assaulted her.

Anger came next. She was to be given away to some cyborg as though she were an android. Worse, a sex bot, since Parqel made it clear she’d be viewed as one by anyone except Stag.

She glanced at the food but it held no appeal. She’d lost her appetite.

Some cyborg would collect her when she was taken off Stag’s ship and he’d demand she have sex with him. She’d seen some sex slaves on Belton Station. They were women who’d committed crimes there and been sentenced for at least a year of servitude. The highest bidders would buy them and they’d have no choice but to comply or more time was added to the sentence.

There were rules to be followed. The men couldn’t beat or maim the women. They also couldn’t make a profit by leasing out rights to her body to other men. The women had to be fed, housed, and clothed. Nala had pitied them. They were forced to sleep with the men who bought them, cook for them and clean their homes. It seemed that would be her fate.

“I didn’t even commit a crime,” she muttered. “My freighter was attacked. This is bullshit!”

Tears came next. It was all Stag’s fault. He could drop her off at some station and set her free, but he’d already sworn he wouldn’t. She wiped her eyes and got up, entered the cleansing unit, and just stood there.

“What am I going to do?”

She got tissues and blew her nose, washed her face, and returned to the bed. She ignored the tray, unmotivated to try to choke it down. She was too upset.

“Damn you, you cold-hearted bastard.”

The doors opened and Nala bolted to her feet at the sight of two cyborgs. They carried Stag between them.

She grabbed the tray as they entered, moving it off the bed. She’d wanted to kill him, but seeing him limp, and bandages covering his shoulder, forehead, and one leg below his knee, made her instantly horrified.

“What happened? Is he okay?”

Maze and the bulky cyborg put Stag on the bed. Maze turned to her as he straightened. “There was an accident.”

A third cyborg entered carrying a large med kit. He set it down, glanced at Nala, then left.

The thick-chested cyborg smiled at her. It looked a little strained. “I’m Hellion. Pick me.”

“What?”

“Not now,” Maze snapped. “Go. I’ve got this. Someone has to make sure the patch is complete and do an exterior check to see if any more damage was done.”

Hellion nodded, flashed another smile at Nala—then shocked her by turning at the door, lifting his hand, and blowing her a kiss.

The doors shut, blocking her view of him, and she turned as Maze dropped to his knees next to the bed and opened the case.

“How bad is he hurt?” She evaluated Stag. He only wore the black underwear he seemed to like. His skin looked a bit off, paler than usual. “Is he going to be okay?”

Maze yanked out a scanner, a smaller one than he’d used on Nala, and ran it over Stag’s head. “I patched him as best as I could inside the docking bay.” He laid the scanner down and grabbed an injector, programming it with an efficiency that spoke to his knowledge of the equipment. “The leg and shoulder wounds are superficial. It’s his brain I’m concerned about.” He injected Stag with some kind of medication.

“What happened?”

“A bomb attached to one of our solar panels and blew. It sent shrapnel toward Stag and ruptured his suit. He managed to halt the leakage but lost too much oxygen before I could get to him. It also slammed him hard into our ship. It could have been worse.”

Ruptured suit? Loss of oxygen? Those were both usually causes of death. “How?”

“He didn’t float off. He wedged his arm into one of the travel handles before he lost consciousness. It would have taken me more time to retrieve him otherwise.”

“How long did he go without oxygen?” She noticed that Stag’s chest rose and fell but that didn’t mean he’d be okay. He could have suffered brain death.

“It took me three minutes and forty-two seconds to bring him in. Another thirty-two seconds to reinstate life support in the docking bay. Add in at least sixty seconds to clear him of his helmet, open his suit, and revive him.”

“Did he wake up? Say anything? Was there any air left in the suit?”

Maze grabbed the scanner, slowly running it over Stag’s head again. “He was down to four percent but he’d stopped breathing by the time I was able to work on him.”

That information hit Nala hard. No one could survive that long out in space if they weren’t breathing. He’d have suffered brain death. Her knees almost gave out and she bent, grabbing the end of the bed.

She was so sure she hated Stag…but the pain in her chest said otherwise.

“I had to turn off all his implants when I ran an electrical current through him to restart his heart rhythm. They will be down for hours, since I had to force the shutoff. I’m not reading any real damage, so we’ll have to wait.”

“English,” she got out.

Maze glanced at her. “That was in English.”

“I don’t know what that means!” She was upset and frustrated. “Is he brain dead? Just tell me.”

“I’m reading some activity. It would be easier if I could access his chips, but I panicked.”

She just stared at him, confused.

“I’m a medic. Every cyborg in my care has allowed me a pathway to hack access to their bodies in emergency situations like this one. I can shut down their implants and chips. Otherwise, sending a current of electricity through them can damage those cybernetics permanently. Stag matters too much to me, and I think I may have drained the power to them completely.”

She tried to make sense of it. “I get that electrocuting them is bad, but power drain?”

Maze twisted, grabbed another scanner, and ran this one over Stag’s chest. “Our bodies generate power for our cybernetic components. As a medic, I was designed to be able to drain that power to care for other cyborgs if they give me access to do so. I think I overdid it. I panicked. I wasn’t calm. It means it’s going to take hours for his cybernetics to recharge enough to work again.”

“What does that matter? I mean, how would they help you figure out what’s wrong with him?”

“We have three chips implanted inside our brains. They could tell me if there’s any damage around them. They’re off, and not responding to me trying to turn them back on. Recharging.” He grabbed another injector, pressing it against Stag’s side.

“What was that for? Is something wrong with his heart or lungs?”

“I’m not reading any damage to his organs. I just gave him a sedative to keep him under.”

“Don’t we want him to wake up?”

“He’ll heal faster if he’s immobile.”

She felt frustrated. “If he survives.”

Maze finally put his gadgets away and closed the case. He stood. “He’s a cyborg. We’re tough, and we heal faster than you do. It’s how we were designed. I am reading brain function.”

That calmed her. “So he’s going to be fine?”

“He was lucky. The drug will keep him down for an hour. I’m going to give you access to direct coms with me. Just press your hand on the panel next to the wall and say my name. I have to go. Another crew member will leave the ship to check Stag’s work on the patch and seek out any other damage. I want to be there in case there’s another medical emergency. Will you watch over Stag and contact me if he’s in distress?”

“I don’t have much experience with injured people. How will I know?”

Maze walked over to the door and pressed his hand on the panel. “Just contact me if you become alarmed with anything. Watch him.” He pulled his palm off the sensor. “The computer will now transfer your calls to me. Just say my name. It’s Maze, if you’ve forgotten.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He regarded her with a stern look. “I’m trusting you not to do him more harm. I’d have put him in my room to heal, but I hate to leave him alone in case his condition worsens. He saved your life when we took you off the Pride. It wasn’t in our orders to save anyone on that ship. Just to investigate if it was in fact the Markus Models that had attacked it, and to see if we could gain any information of why they would target it.”

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

He continued to watch her.

“I swear. He’s an asshole, I won’t lie. But I’ve seen some good qualities about him too. I don’t want him to die.”

That seemed to alleviate any of his doubts because his expression softened. “Stag is a good male. He’s been emotionally damaged by Earthers. It’s impossible to forget the abuse we suffered while they were in control of our lives.” He picked up the case. “There’s a med kit in the lower bunk wall drawers. Can you wash the blood off him and redress the wounds? I sanitized them but I didn’t have time to do that.”

She nodded. “I can handle that.”

“I’ll check in when I have time. It will be a while though.” He left.

Nala turned, staring at Stag. He still looked too pale, and she knew he’d hate being vulnerable to her, since she wasn’t tied to the bed while he slept. She bent, crawled under the bunk, opened the drawer, and slid out the med kit, placing it by his feet at the end of the bed. A trip to the cleansing unit and she returned with warmed, wet clothes.

“Look, we might fight a lot, but I want you to wake up and be okay.”

She removed the hastily applied bandage below his knee with care, his skin warm to the touch. The cut made her wince. It was jagged, about an inch long, but not deep. It wasn’t actively bleeding anymore but she didn’t expect it to be. Sanitizing wounds meant it hadn’t only been cleaned out, but the injured blood vessels had been sealed.

She sat on the edge of the bed and gently washed away the blood from his skin, glancing up at his face. He looked younger in sleep, peaceful, and all the harsh lines that he usually wore were gone.

“Be okay, alright? I’m sure we have a ton more arguments to have before you’re rid of me. Plus, if you stay the way you are, think of all the bad things I could do to you.” She smiled. “I’m sure that’s your biggest fear. What is that horrible Earther plotting with her devious mind?”

But her humor faded, because it was possible he’d never wake up. “You’re paranoid for no reason. You haven’t hurt me. We agree on the definition of self-defense, remember?”

She put a clean bandage on the wound and scooted higher, almost afraid to see what waited under the larger one on his shoulder. She placed the med kit up by his pillow, where she usually rested her head while they slept. It was tough to get close enough to him so she lifted his arm, inched closer, and laid it across her lap to lean in.

Her hands trembled a little as she used her fingernails to carefully break the seal on the bandage and lift it up. There wasn’t one cut, but two. Maze said Stag had been hit with shrapnel. The medic had done more than just clean and bandage the top cut. It was deep, and she could see foam, a bonding filler that would prevent more bleeding as he healed.

“Damn, Stag,” she whispered. “That had to hurt like hell.” She gently cleaned around it, wondering if he needed stitches instead. Her crew would have gotten them but Stag was a cyborg. His medic would know best. She put a fresh bandage on and straightened, her gaze wandering over his stretched-out body.

His arm jerked on her lap, startling her. She looked at his face, seeing it twisted in a grimace, possible from pain. She caressed his cheek. “Stag? It’s okay. Can you hear me? You’re in your room.”

He groaned, and she thought he might wake, despite the sedative. That would be a good thing, in her opinion. She was concerned what the lack of oxygen had done to him.

She touched him a little more firmly, stroking his smooth skin from his jaw to his ear. “Stag? It’s Nala. You’re safe. Do you hear me? Maze and a few of your men brought you to your room.”

Then he thrashed violently and in a split-second, brought up his knees. One of them hit her in the back and she fell on top of him, stretched across his upper body.

His eyes remained closed but he took a swing at her. His fist missed her head but some of his fingers caught in her hair. It hurt.

She shoved away from him and fell off the bed, landing on her ass. He thrashed more, made a pained sound, and she climbed to her feet, rushing to the panel.

“Maze!”

His voice came seconds later. “What’s wrong, Nala?”

She glanced over her shoulder. Stag thrashed, turned, and almost rolled off the bed.

“Help!” She jerked her hand off the pad and ran back to him, almost tackling Stag to put him on his back and away from the side of the bed.

He fought and tried to buck her off. She shoved at his chest, attempting to pin him down, but he was incredibly strong.

“Stop! It’s okay, Stag. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Blood seeped through the bandage on his shoulder when she pressed her head to his chest to avoid a swinging arm directed her way. The bright red trailed toward her when he attempted to roll them into the wall, but she ignored it, keeping herself pressed tight against him, her arms around his waist.

Her gaze lifted to his face but his eyes remained closed. It was as if he wasn’t awake enough to realize he wasn’t still outside in his space suit, possibly having a flashback of fighting to survive.

She hoped Maze was close as the big cyborg under her rolled again and almost dumped them both off the bed. She braced one foot on the floor and shoved, pushing him back toward the center of the mattress.

* * * * *

They were going to kill him.

Stag fought against the three guards. They’d come to cause trouble, but he wasn’t willing to let them put him inside one of the food-storage lockers to see how long it would take for his body to freeze. They were bored, and they’d targeted him for amusement.

One of them laughed. “Think it’ll be okay when it defrosts?”

“They might have to replace the skin on the exterior if we leave it in there until the end of shift. It’ll be an ice cube.” He lunged at Stag, using a prodded weapon to try to stun him.

Stag twisted, avoiding it. “You’ll be brought up on charges for this. Destruction of property is a criminal offense. I won’t survive.”

“I?” The one in charge laughed. “Look at it, trying to act like one of us. You’re nothing but a skin droid. You’re an it, and we want to see if you turn blue once that skin you’re wearing starts to freeze over.”

They didn’t seem to care that it was against the law to injure him. Another one of the crew came at him, swinging a metal rod, aiming for his head.

Stag ducked, avoided the blow that would have knocked him out, and grabbed the rod. He tore it from the Earther’s hand and swung it himself. All three jumped back.