Defying Death (25 page)

“That’s not good.” Tifara worried her bottom lip
with her teeth.

Death pulled her closer to him.

The other cyborgs gathered around the boulder,
forcing Crash and Safyre to stop strides away from them. The males’
unspoken message was clear—they would fight to protect her, to
protect Death.

“The cyborg council offers you the choice of death
or a lifespan in incarceration.” Crash’s voice was flat. “You’ll be
restricted to a small, heavily guarded compound on the
Homeland.”

“With my female?” Death asked.

“With your female,” Crash confirmed. “The two of you
would share this reprimand. Humans are not normally allowed on
Homeland. But the council would make an exception for your female
as her movements would be severely limited and constantly
monitored.”

“The fuckers won’t allow you to leave the planet.”
Safyre had a low tolerance for authority. “You wouldn’t ever fly.”
That, for Tifara’s pilot friend, was a fate worse than death.
“You’d be stuck on the fuckin’ surface.”

Tifara wasn’t as concerned about that. Being
restricted to a compound on a planet wasn’t very different from
being restricted to the medical bay of a battle station.

“No being would damage my female?” Death remained
focused on her safety.

“Not physically.” Safyre’s orange hair waved.
“Emotionally, she’d be trapped, her wings clipped.”

Crash cast her a speaking glance before returning
his attention to Death. “No being would ever damage your female. We
require her skill to find the genetic anomaly. She’ll have the most
advanced equipment we can steal, every resource we can give
her.”

“Except her freedom,” Safyre muttered.

Tifara had never truly had autonomy. Her entire
lifespan had been dedicated to science, to her patients, to
preparing for the next outbreak.

But her cyborg might view the situation
differently.

“You have a choice—lose your freedom or lose your
lives,” Crash bluntly stated. “That’s the best we could do.”

Tifara gazed at her beloved male. “You’d never kill
again.”

“The most intelligent female I know, a female I
respect and love, vowed to find me a new less bloody destiny.”
Death’s lips curled into a small smile. “You’d be safe. You’d never
lose another patient. At least once a rotation, you’d suck my
cock.”

“That’s too much fuckin’ information,” Safyre
muttered.

“We’d breed between testing your theories. I’d spend
every moment with you.” He tapped the tip of her nose and she
blinked. “I’d be happy.”

Her heart melted. “Would you be happy?”

“I would, my female.” His smile spread, his joy
transferring his entire face, crinkling the skin around his dark
eyes, creasing lines around his mouth. “We choose to lose our
freedom.”

“Fuck me.” Safyre’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see
that
happening.”

“I did.” Tifara laughed. “It was our destiny.”

Death captured her face with his big palms and
kissed her soundly, communicating the way he did best—with
passion-fueled action, not words.

Twenty planet
rotations later, Death sat half a chamber away from his female and
watched her chatter with her friend, Safyre. The two females had
laughed and cried and laughed some more, their range of emotions,
openly expressed, fascinating him.

He could gaze at Tifara all planet rotation, part of
him still unable to believe that she was his, that he lived, would
spend a lifespan with her.

Crash, sitting beside him, stared at his own female
with the same intensity. Safyre pointedly ignored him. Tifara cast
the E model a hard glance and slid her hands downward, searching
for pockets she no longer had.

“If you find a medic jacket on a mission, bring it
back to Homeland with you,” Death instructed. There were no medic
jackets on the freighter.

“When I do that, will she stop looking at me like I
killed a being?” Crash grumbled.

Tifara had no issues with killers. Death was a
killer and she loved him. It was
whom
the warrior had
planned to kill that had upset her. “She’s protective of me,” Death
said smugly, making no attempt to hide his joy.

“She’s like my Safyre that way.” The warrior’s tone
was rueful. “If some being had considered executing me, that would
be no seeking of forgiveness. She would have killed that male.”

Death’s softhearted female wasn’t a killer, though
she had inflicted damage to safeguard him. “You were following
orders.”

“Neither of them sees it that way.”

Their females were human and non-military. They
hadn’t been designed to be loyal, to obey commands. Death could
count on one hand how many times his Tifara had followed his
instructions.

Crash’s female was more independent, openly
rebelling against the E model. She would have chosen death over
incarceration.

Some of Death’s brethren would have done the same.
They had waited their lifespans to be free, to be able to make
their own decisions, to follow their own orders, and they wouldn’t
have relinquished that liberty.

They were fools.

The compound Death and Tifara would be assigned to,
Crash had relayed, was one of the most secure locations in the
universe, guarded by cyborgs, on a planet inhabited only by his
brethren, in a sector controlled by the warriors. They couldn’t
leave but the enemy couldn’t reach them either.

They would be safe and he’d have more moments with
her. Death gazed down at Tifara’s nodding head, admiring the way
her curls bounced against her shoulders. He’d be there to ensure
she was cared for, protected, loved.

If they were fortunate, they might create
offspring.

All of the offspring created thus far had been male,
but that didn’t stop Death from envisioning a female offspring with
her mother’s coloring and constant chatter. He would safeguard that
tiny being also, holding her chubby fingers carefully in his,
ensuring she never knew fear or pain.

His lifespan would be filled with smiles and
laughter, happiness and love.

He rumbled with contentment.

Tifara turned her head. Their eyes met. He allowed
all his caring, all his passion to show.

She gave him a cock-hardening smile, hugged Safyre
one more time and hurried toward him. Her flight suit pulled tight
across her thighs and breasts.

“Death.” Her gaze flicked to Crash. “Safyre’s
male.”

The E model’s lips flattened. “Death’s female.”

Death smothered a laugh. The warrior didn’t like
being addressed as females were, by relationship, not by name, but
Tifara hadn’t been the originator of that idea. Safyre was the
female creating trouble.

Death’s female saved her big brain for medical
research and pleasing her male. “Come.” He swung her into his arms,
enjoying the feel of her. “I have to scan you.”

“Using the modified private viewscreen?” Her eyes
glowed.

“No.” He’d use his tongue, scanning every part of
his female. Death carried her into the hallway, the doors opening
and closing around them.

Warriors lingered in the narrow space, the freighter
filled to capacity. They gazed at him with envy and flung jibes at
him through the transmission lines, offering to carry his female
for him, volunteering their services if he was unable to please
her.

That foolishness didn’t concern Death. None of them
would dare to approach his Tifara. They’d seen how he’d been
willing to die for her. If they touched her, he’d kill them and not
process twice.

“I can walk.” She kicked out her feet, her right
boot almost connecting with a J model’s head. “I’m not
helpless.”

Death grunted. He liked carrying her and she liked
being carried. It freed her brain for other things.

“Safyre, Nymphia, and I were all compatible with
cyborgs.” Tifara’s lips drooped as they always did when she thought
of the friend she had lost. “There were thousands of orphans yet we
were drawn to each other. Could it be possible that we somehow
sensed our common genetic anomalies?”

Cyborgs had been trained not to question, but to
obey. His female, in contrast, questioned everything. Death entered
their sleeping chambers with her. He’d protect her right to do
that.

Their chamber was the smallest sleeping space upon
the freighter and it doubled as a laboratory, devices strewn over
every horizontal surface, but it was theirs exclusively. Others had
to share accommodations.

The sleeping support was covered with pieces of
private viewscreens. Death couldn’t wait. He stripped his female
bare, discarding her flight suit, her boots, and propped her
against the wall.

“What are you doing?” His Tifara left her science
stupor.

Death didn’t answer. She was an intelligent female.
She knew what he was doing, her musk heavy in the air. He removed
his not-yet-repaired body armor, freeing his hard cock.

“You said you’d scan me.” She placed her soft hands
on his chest and he shuddered, her touch felt down to his balls. “I
should—”

He covered her lips with his, swallowing her
sure-to-be lengthy list of shoulds. She moaned, letting him into
her warmth. Their tongues caressed, stroked, stimulated.
Nanocybotics fizzed.

Her mouth continued to move, sounds coming from her
throat. His lips curled upward. She was talking while they
kissed.

If his female could do that, he wasn’t seducing her
vigorously enough. Death rubbed his shaft over her mons, his chest
over her breasts. She wrapped her legs around his waist, offering
him the wetness of her pussy lips.

He rumbled his acceptance, running his shaft along
her warmth, angling his sensual attack so his rim teased her clit.
She gasped in his mouth and trembled. Death grinned. She sucked on
his tongue, drawing him deeper into her.

They played, kissing, brushing against each other.
His little female trusted him to hold her, to not allow her to
fall, her confidence in his abilities warming his heart.

He was a powerful warrior, the chosen leader of the
J models, yet with her, he felt even more formidable, invincible,
as though he could battle the rest of the universe and win.

And he felt loved. Caring shone from her big brown
eyes, warmed by passion.

Death bred without entry against her, coaxing her
desire higher, his lips sealed over hers, their breaths shared,
one. Her breasts were soft, her nipples tight. Her scent swirled
around him.

Each encounter with her was a miracle, as mystical
as stories of stars collecting spirits. He’d thought when he faced
Crash that he wouldn’t have another breeding session with Tifara,
never hold her again. He’d never been so happy to be wrong.

Frag. He had to be inside her. Death pulled back,
prodding, searching for her tight pussy hole. Finding it, he slid
his tip inside her and gritted his teeth, her embrace on him
delectably snug. He pushed deeper, moving slowly, relishing how her
warmth swept up his shaft, the exquisite squeeze along his
length.

“So good,” Tifara murmured encouragement, clinging
to his shoulders. “So thick and hard. I’m full, Death, full of
you.”

He buried himself up to his base and waited for her
to adjust to his invasion, mouthing over her forehead, cheeks, lips
and chin, covering her beautiful face with his nanocybotics. Her
skin turned pink. Her eyes glowed.

“We’re made for each other.” Her husky voice rasped
along his skin. “Genetically. Physically. Intellectually.
Emotionally. You’re my perfect male.”

“I’m a killer.” He rocked against her, trapping her
against the hard wall and his harder body, shielding her from any
possible attack. The enemy would have to go through him to get to
her and he was a cyborg, built for battle.

“I’m a medic.” She smiled, her lips plumped from his
kisses. “I’m female and you’re male. I’m human and you’re cyborg. I
live in my brain and you’re a being of action.”

She was yielding curves and he was unrelenting
muscle. “We’re different.”

“And that’s what makes us perfect for each other.”
She nudged his chin with her head. “We seek what we genetically
need to improve.”

The big brain of hers continued to function. Death
increased his pace, drawing more wet heat from her core, more
passion from his female.

They bred against the wall and his entire universe
revolved around his Tifara. She was his everything, the reason he
was alive, the reason he was manufactured.

“Yes. Oh. Death. Yes.” Her sentences became single
words, her thought processes shutting down. She carved her
fingernails into his shoulders, bounced her heels against his ass.
“Good. This. Good.”

He lowered his head and pounded into her, knowing
she could take it, that her full figure was built for his breeding,
that she was designed for him in all ways. She was the female he
was meant to claim, to cherish, to love.

Her ass smacked against the wall. Their hips clicked
together. His chest flattened her breasts. She called out one-word
instructions. “Harder. Faster. Lower. Yes. Death. Yes.”

The entire freighter would know he owned her and she
owned him. Death grinned, his joy unfettered, as wild and free as
their breeding.

Then her body closed around his and his grin faded.
She stripped his control, humbled him with her desire. The sweat
from her skin covered his, warming him all over.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” Tifara mouthed against his chest.

His muscles strained. Not from their breeding and
not from holding her. He was a cyborg. He could breed with her for
a planet rotation and not tire.

It was the effort of holding back his release that
threatened to overwhelm his processors, to short his circuits. He
clenched his jaw, battling with himself.

Her fit around him, her ragged breaths against his
neck, her pussy juices dripping between his balls overwhelmed his
defenses, cut through him like a dagger slicing unprotected flesh,
baring him to the frame.