Defying Death (24 page)

The sun had set and then risen and he remained
silent.

Death cut a nutrition bar into small, perfect
squares, his head lowered, his lips set in a grim white line.

They’d made love five times, each encounter more
frantic than the last. And that was exactly what it had been—making
love. Death hadn’t said the words but she’d seen the caring in his
dark eyes.

Her killer cyborg loved her.

He had always loved her. She simply hadn’t seen
it.

Tifara gazed at the squares Death sliced so
diligently with his dagger. The Erinomean girl had offered him
pieces of nutrition bars. That had been his first experience with
love.

And now he offered them to her. He sheathed the
dagger and slid the squares toward her. “Eat.”

“I love you too.” She tossed one into her mouth.

His eyes gleamed.

The ship shuddered. She swayed, holding onto him for
support. “What was
that
?”

“Fate.”

“Every time you say that, something terrible
happens.” Tifara’s bad feeling intensified. “I don’t think you
understand the concept of fate. It can be positive.”

“Yes, it can be positive.” He cupped her chin and
their gazes locked, the passion in his eyes taking her breath away.
“You were my fate and that has brought me unparalleled
happiness.”

“It was more likely genetics, not fate.” Her voice
was husky.

“Other warriors will search multiple worlds for many
human lifespans and never find their females.” Death skimmed his
lips over hers. “It’s a large universe.”

She forced herself to focus on his words. “But if it
is genetic, there are databases containing that information.
Cyborgs could access those systems and look there.”

“They don’t know what they’re looking for.”

“Yet.” Tifara held up one of her index fingers. “You
and I are—”

“It’s time.” Death straightened his shoulders. His
chest was distractingly bare, all golden skin and muscles. The
lower half of his body was covered in black armor. “We have to
leave.” He clasped her hand.

His fingers trembled and that scared the shit out of
Tifara. “What is it time for, Death?” She allowed him to lead her
toward the exit. “And don’t say fate.”

He said nothing.

When they descended the ramp, her questioning
stopped. She now knew, as he did. They were in deep shit.

Hundreds of warriors faced them. Judging by the
model numbers inked in their cheeks and their black body armor,
they were all cyborgs.

Except for a familiar form standing beside a
gray-skinned male.

“Safyre.” Her friend was alive. Tifara’s gaze
dropped to her friend’s left hand. It rested on the gray-skinned
cyborg’s thigh. And she was in love.

“Tifara.” Safyre stepped forward. The cyborg held
her back. The unlikely couple exchanged a heated glance. Her friend
had a temper as intense as her orange hair.

Yet she didn’t win the silent argument. Safyre
backed down.

She never backed down.

Tifara’s sense of foreboding escalated. She gripped
Death’s hand harder. “We battle this together.”

“All of us.” Menace stood by the ramp, his arm
around an agitated Ada-971. “You’re not alone, my friend.”

Death grunted.

Tifara didn’t like that sound of that. “I need
weapons.” She reached for a dagger.

“No.” Death stopped her. “We negotiate.”

Now, she was petrified. “You don’t negotiate.”

He stepped forward. “Crash.”

“Death.” The gray-skinned cyborg did the same. His
black-eyed gaze darted to Tifara and then back to Death. “If you
had told me about your link, this wouldn’t have been necessary. I
would have talked with the cyborg council, changed the plan.”

“I told you what I would do.” Death lifted his chin.
“And I did it.”

Tifara gazed at him with admiration. He was so damn
dominant.

“It’s too late now.” Crash wasn’t intimidated. “I’m
not authorized to negotiate with you. And there’s no reason for me
to seek authorization. You wouldn’t win a fight. There are four of
you. You’re outnumbered.”

“Are we?” Death held the cyborg’s gaze.

A J model cyborg broke ranks, marched to the other
side, and stood behind Death, his boots braced apart, his hands
resting on his guns.

“You’d rebel against your own brethren?” Crash
raised his eyebrows. “That will result in your death.”

One by one, the cyborgs joined the first,
repositioning with Death, Tifara, Menace and Ada-971. Only a few
youthful looking K models remained behind Crash, their uncertainty
reflecting in their eyes.

“Oh shit.” Safyre’s face turned pale. “It’s a
fuckin’ mutiny.”

“It’s loyalty.” Menace was uncharacteristically
serious. “Death has earned it. The cyborg council hasn’t.”

“Is there a reason to negotiate now?” Death
demanded.

“Why would you do that?” Crash looked pointedly at
the males facing him. “You now have the advantage. You’d win any
fight.”

“A fight would risk our females—yours.” Death nodded
at Safyre. “Menace’s.” He looked at Ada-971. “Mine.” His gaze
rested on Tifara’s, all of his love, his passion in his eyes. “They
are too precious, too valuable to put in peril.”

A lump formed in Tifara’s throat.

“You rebelled against the cyborg council.” Crash’s
voice was gruff. “If they show you leniency, all warriors would
rebel, try to find their females. That would place our brethren
remaining in the Humanoid Alliance’s control at risk.”

“I would never put my brethren at risk.” Death’s jaw
jutted. “And I haven’t asked for leniency.”

“What? No.” Tifara gripped his hand. “You’ll show
him leniency. You have to.”

“What do you want?” Crash ignored her.

“I want forgiveness for Menace and the J models who
have supported me. They shouldn’t be reprimanded for their
loyalty.”

“You stubborn ass,” Menace muttered.

“I’ll insist upon it,” Crash vowed.

“You will ensure Menace’s female is never separated
from him,” Death continued.

Crash’s gaze slid to the clone female. “The council
is unlikely to take a female away from her male. Compatible couples
remain disturbingly rare.”

Death was her male. Tifara blew out her breath,
relieved. They wouldn’t take him away from her either.

“You will vow to always protect my female, with your
life if—” Death’s voice broke.

“No. No. No.” Tifara shook her head. “That will
never be necessary. Protecting me is your job, Death.”

He stared at Crash, refusing to look at her, his
face as hard as stone, forbidding, grimmer than it had ever
been.

“Death.” She moved in front of him.

He wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

“I will always protect your female,” Crash
confirmed.

“My last request is that you make the kill quick and
clean.” Death fell to his knees and lowered his head, exposing his
neck. “I regret nothing. These moments with my Tifara have been the
happiest I’ve ever known. I will go to my death having loved and
having been loved. I wish the same fate for every warrior.”

Murmurs rolled through the J models. Tifara paid
them no attention, her focus on her big male. “Stand up.” She
tugged on his right arm. “Fight for me, Death. Fight for us.”

“I don’t want to do this.” Crash extracted one of
the swords from the sheath slung across his back.

“Then don’t do it, my male,” Safyre snapped, her
friend vibrating with emotion. “Transport Death to the Homeland and
let the cyborg council carry out their own fuckin’ orders.”

“That’s not possible, my female.” Light gleamed off
the sharp blade.

Tifara’s panic increased “No.” She flung herself
over Death’s back, covering his neck with her body. “We’re a team.
If you kill Death, you have to kill me also.”

“My Tifara—”

“I’m not going anywhere, cyborg.” She slapped his
shoulder, trying to smack some sense into him. “I won’t live
without you.”

“My Safyre.” Crash’s voice was strained. “Move your
friend.”

“Fuck, no.” Safyre jammed her fists on her hips, the
tuft of orange hair on top of her head sticking straight up. She
looked like the warrior she was. “I don’t know anything about your
fucked-up cyborg council but I know Tifara and I know Death, and if
they thought it was necessary to rebel, it was necessary to
rebel.”

Crash gritted his teeth. “Death rebelled to find his
female.”

“I’m not merely his female.” Tifara searched her
brain for a reason, any reason to justify Death’s rebellion to the
cyborg council. “I’m a medic, one of the foremost experts in the
universe on viruses.”

“Cyborgs don’t get viruses.”

“Let her talk.” Safyre whacked Crash’s arm. “She’s
making a point.”

They looked at her.

Sweat trickled down Tifara’s spine. These were the
most important words of her lifespan. She had to get them right.
The fate of the male she loved depended on it.

“Cyborgs don’t get viruses?” Repeating Crash’s words
gave her more time to think. “Then what is this?” Tifara made a
circular motion with her right index finger, indicating the two of
them. “I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a virus. Safyre is the
perfect genetic host for your nanocybotics, as I’m the perfect
genetic host for Death’s nanocybotics.”

“And?” That wasn’t enough to satisfy Crash.

She gazed at the other males standing around them,
males without females, males willing to die to protect their
friend, to protect a being they cared about.

“Other warriors could search multiple worlds for
many human lifespans and never find their females,” she paraphrased
Death. “It’s a big universe.”

The cyborgs mumbled.

“But it doesn’t have to be.” She appealed to them
from her position on top of her cyborg. “What if we pinpointed the
genetic anomaly that made a human female the perfect host for a
warrior’s nanocybotics? We humans keep databases with that
data.”

“We could access those databases.” One of the J
models stepped forward.

“We could find our females quickly and protect
them,” another cyborg added.

“They might be in danger as we speak.”

That possibility seemed to alarm the warriors. They
were all as protective of females as her warrior was. Tifara cupped
his cheek. He turned his head and pressed his lips against her
palm, that open display of affection thrilling her.

“Can you do that—pinpoint the genetic anomaly?”
Crash frowned.

“If anyone can, it would be Tifara.” Safyre grinned.
“She wasn’t boasting…much. She truly is the best in the universe at
that sort of thing.”

“Death, I might have to deny that last request of
yours.” Crash walked away, heading in the direction of a giant
freighter. “I have to discuss this with the cyborg council.”

“I’ll join you.” Safyre winked at Tifara and hurried
to catch up with her cyborg. “I have a few things to say to those
assholes myself.”

“This neck is safe. For now.” Tifara kissed Death’s
nape. She gazed at it. “Your cervical spine is made of the
strongest metal in existence. How could he have cut through it with
a blade?”

Death said nothing.

A wave of cold swept over her. “That’s why he had
multiple swords.” Her voice rose. “He would have hacked at you
until he severed your head from your torso and you would have felt
everything.” She sprinkled his neck with fervent kisses, imagining
his pain, his anguish. “I would have been dead, unable to protect
you.”

“You would have been alive,” Menace contributed.
“The stubborn ass planned to toss you off his back. I was given the
task of catching you.”

“What?” Tifara yelled.

Death turned his head and glared at Menace. The
cyborg raised his hands and slowly backed away, taking Ada-971 with
him.

“Let me get one message through that metal-encased
skull of yours.” Tifara rapped her knuckles against his stubborn
head. “If you die, I die. I’d end my own lifespan before I lived
without you.”

He stood, taking her with him. “What about your
destiny—to stop an outbreak?”

Tifara swung around his body, needing to say this to
his face. “That’s not my destiny.” She released his shoulders,
trusting him to catch her. He did, his reflexes cyborg fast.
“You’re my destiny, Death.” She cupped his cheeks. “You’re my
fate.”

“You’re my everything.” His voice was sinfully deep.
“They
will
reprimand me, female. They have to.”

“They will reprimand
us
.” She stroked her
thumbs over his skin. “We’re in this together.”

Death walked with her toward a huge white boulder.
“I won’t allow them to damage you.”

“And I won’t allow them to damage you.” She’d fight
for him, kill for him, if that was necessary. “I doubt they’ll take
such extreme action.” She wasn’t confident about that. They had
planned to execute one of their own. “They need our help to locate
females for their warriors.”

“And for themselves. None of the council members
have females.” Death sat, placing her on his lap.

Cyborgs watched them. She saw wistfulness and envy
in their expressions. They all wanted what Death had—a female to
love and care for.

“If you help them locate more females, the virus
you’re trying to stop will spread.” He nipped at her right earlobe
with lip-covered teeth.

She smiled. “It’s a love virus, the best kind.”

He grunted.

They sat on the rock and waited to hear their fate.
She talked about the next steps in their study of cyborg-human
genetics, sharing some of her more extreme theories. Death listened
as he always did.

His tension didn’t ease, his muscles like stone
against her, flexed, ready to respond to any threat. The cyborg
council was the primary source of the danger.

Finally, Crash walked toward them, his hand in
Safyre’s. Both of them looked solemn.