The deep growl was instantly familiar, a voice she’d heard both in her dreams and nightmares for months. As was the hard body she was yanked against. The metal arm around her waist—the one her hand instinctively curled around while her other went to the wrist of the flesh and blood one over her mouth—also figured in, but only in the nightmares.

Her eyes widened in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. It couldn’t be. She was dreaming again. She had to be.

Drew. It couldn’t be. He was dead, his body turned into a mindless killing machine. She’d turned him into a mindless killing machine.

“We good?” he murmured again, his growl softening a little. She fought back the shiver as his breath washed against the side of her neck. “I’ll lift my hand but if you scream people will die. Understand?”

She nodded, her head moving jerkily, and he lifted his hand hesitantly, as though he expected her to scream anyway. The big body behind her didn’t move, perfectly motionless as he held her against him. Any second she expected the metal arm around her waist to tighten, crushing her ribs and internal organs.

Instantly though, she discounted trying to escape. He was a cyborg, enhanced to be massively stronger and faster than any human, and even if he hadn’t been? In life he’d been a special forces soldier, trained to be the best of the best... and more than capable of restraining one petite, should-go-to-the-gym-more doctor. She didn’t do battlefield combat—the most she fought was stupid rules and regulations, and that asshat Pike, on a regular basis.

“You didn’t scream.” He sounded almost surprised, if a machine could sound surprised. Sounded almost human, even though she knew he wasn’t. Not anymore. “Why didn’t you scream? Logically, that makes no sense. You’ve been captured by a massively more powerful adversary. Your chances of survival in such a situation diminish rapidly the longer you remain apprehended, to nothing if I remove you from this protective environment.”

They still hadn’t moved, and he hadn’t hurt her, so she risked turning her head slightly. He tensed, the muscles against her back moving, and she closed her eyes for a second. But the metal arm didn’t move, not by so much as a millimeter, and she relaxed a fraction.

“You need me for something.” Her voice was way too breathy but she dared not cough to clear her throat. Not with that metal arm in place. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have risked coming here. Not after disobeying Pike’s orders—” She gasped as the metal arm tightened incrementally at the Colonel’s name. “Please... you’re hurting me.”

She felt him relax and sagged a little back against his chest as the brutal pressure around her midsection eased up.

“You need me for something,” she carried on quickly. “Or you wouldn’t have risked coming back here. There are easier people to snatch for access to the base or its systems, so you need me specifically. It’s also not revenge or I’d be dead already. You could have snapped my neck the moment I stepped through the door and I wouldn’t have known a thing...”

He was silent so she kept talking. “You’re a logical being, so it’s also not torture...” Her knees weakened at that thought. Actually it could be. Psychological warfare... her broken body left here for the base staff to find. A silent and brutal message that the cyborgs could strike at the very heart of the base.

“I think you need me. Am I right?” she demanded softly, hoping and praying that she was right. Please let me be right. “Drew... errr, Captain Fisher?”

He’d gone still and silent behind her, staying like that for so long she began to panic. He moved. She flinched, a small sound of terror escaping her lips, but his hand merely moved to capture her wrist.

“77,” he growled, letting go of her waist and spinning her around to face him. “Fisher is dead. I’m Unit 77.”

She nodded, her eyes widening as she saw him properly for the first time. The lights were out in here, which made the hulking figure looming over her seem even bigger. She’d found the darkness odd when she’d stepped through the door, but she’d assumed the bulbs had blown again.

The gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, her free hand stealing up to her lips as he stepped forward into the slice of light from the shuttered skylight overhead. He’d always been big and heavily muscled, his carved physique and handsome face featuring in her dreams regularly, but the additions of the metal arm, the hardware on his face and side of his neck... all conspired to make him seem even larger.

His face was set as he looked down at her and she searched his eyes, looking for some sign of the charming soldier she’d known. But the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes didn’t move, set in place as cold, brown eyes studied her. She shivered and nodded.

“Unit 77,” she corrected herself. “My apologies. Your... errr... I knew you. Before. I mean, I knew the man who donated your biological components,” she managed, all but tripping over her words. Why was she telling him this? He was a machine. It wouldn’t make sense to him. But she did anyway.

“Less talk, more moving,” he ordered, turning to the door and pulling her after him. He paused to look outside, gaze sharp as he assessed the scene. He turned his head slightly to catch her watching him. “Do not scream. People will die. Not you, people you know. And this time you won’t be there to turn them into monsters.”

She hadn’t even been thinking of escape, but his words hit her like a shuttle at light speed, making her flinch. Monsters. He considered himself a monster. And she’d done it to him.

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, but they were already moving, slipping out of the door to skirt around the edges of the main courtyard. The big cyborg moved fast and silently, far faster than she’d expected for a man—no, a machine—as big as he was.

Before she knew it, they’d reached a section of the wall that appeared unguarded. Rather than take the metal ladder bolted to the wall, 77 stopped abruptly and yanked her closer. He crouched and just... jumped. She bit back her squeak of surprise and fright as they shot upward.

The cyborg landed lightly on the parapet and she realized what had happened to the guard. Another cyborg, he was slumped against the concrete, his sightless eyes looking up at the sky above. Blood and other fluids drew a gruesome pattern on the pale gray of the walkway he’d been guarding. Next to his motionless metal hand was a section of spine, the metal of a CyBRG unit glinting in the grisly mess.

“You killed him...” she looked at 77, still holding her against his chest, in surprise. He’d killed another cyborg... brutally. Insubordination was one thing, but actual aggressive acts against another unit? They weren’t supposed to be capable of that. Their “friendly fire” subroutines were hardcoded to prevent it.

77 just shrugged, his arm still hard about the back of her waist. “He was already dead. Can’t kill the dead.”

“Wait!” She stopped him as he carried her to the edge of the parapet, obviously about to jump over it. “I need that.”

He frowned as she pointed to the CyBRG unit. “Why?”

“They never let me look at them,” she explained quickly, sensing a small gap in her captor’s implacable manner. “I don’t know how they work, what they do... Pike—” she gasped as his arm tightened cruelly. “He says I implanted them wrong in you and the... ummm others who have disobeyed orders. He says you’re my fault.”

77’s face twisted into a rictus of rage. “Why? So you can make better monsters? Look at your handiwork, Doc... are you proud of yourself?” he snarled as he shoved his face closer to hers, grabbing her free hand and making her touch his facial implants.

She whimpered, his grip punishing. Just a little more and his metal fingers would break her wrist.

“Please... no.”

He let her go so abruptly she staggered back. Stomping across to the remains, he plucked the CyBRG unit from its grisly home and shoved it into a pocket of his combat pants.

She flicked a glance to the ladders behind her. She should run. She might actually be able to make it.

“You’re not fast enough, Doctor,” he advised her in a low voice that sent shivers up her spine, his breath already fanning over the skin of her neck. She jumped. She hadn’t heard him move but he was already behind her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body, the organic parts of it anyway, beating against her back.

“But you can try it if you like. I’d enjoy chasing you down. I’ve only hunted others of my type. Never a human.”

She closed her eyes, fear making her knees weak again as he scooped her up, throwing her over one broad metal shoulder. Then he jumped and her last chance of escape was gone.

Unit 77 moved fast, the scenery around them just a blur as he ran. At first, Claudia tried to note things around them, but within a minute she had to divert all her energy to clinging to 77’s broad shoulder. He had an arm clamped around the back of her knees, his shoulder digging into her midriff as he smoothly ran and jumped. Sometimes he stopped, pausing so perfectly still she wasn’t sure he’d not simply just shut down. Before she could get up the courage to query him, though, he started running again.

No one stopped them. There were no shots, no shouting... all in all, she realized, it had been pathetically easy for him to sneak into the base, snatch her and get out without being detected.

77 stopped.

She stayed where she was, like a limp rag over his shoulder as she fought the need to be sick. With a nonchalant movement, he rolled his shoulder and she dropped to the ground at his feet. Her legs didn’t hold her weight and, embarrassingly, she collapsed into a little heap.

Instantly, he was there, crouched in front of her. Hard fingers gripped her chin, making her look up at him and for a second, the concern in his eyes took her breath away. She could almost believe it was Drew back again. His eyes searched hers for long moments, and then he frowned.

“You’re scared.”

“You don’t say?” she snorted, unable to keep the bitter amusement inside. “What did you expect? You snatch me from safety wearing the face of my friend and you expect me not to be scared?”

His eyes narrowed. Just a tiny bit and his gaze unfocused for a second, as though he’d gone somewhere else in his head. Then he looked at her again, his gaze laser-focused.

“We were friends?”

“Yes.” She nodded, hope beginning to unfurl in her chest. “You saved me from a hopper attack. Brought me coffee when I had to work late...”

It had been just one time, but it was etched in her memory...

She’d had to work late, grumbling under her breath about asshat Pike and his demands. He’d kept her too busy to do everything she needed to. There were still the reports on recent troop injuries to go through. She hated reports and dry data but it was necessary if she wanted to judge the patterns and anticipate medical needs. Making sure she had the right equipment and supplies could mean the difference between life and death for the men under her care.

“Hey, Doc. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The deep voice at the door made her look up, her smile already in place. Captain Fisher... Drew... stood in the doorway, two steaming mugs in his big hands. Pleasure filled her, more at his presence than the welcome hot drink, and she waved him in.

“Don’t let all the cool air out... and unfortunately, going through reports. No rest for the wicked.”

The comments rolled off her tongue without the apparent intervention of her brain as she tried not to watch him as he walked toward her. It was impossible. He had a build that would make any red-blooded woman weak at the knees and she was no exception, the memory of being held against him after the hopper had nearly killed her haunting her dreams at night. Was it bad she almost wanted to be attacked again so he could come and rescue her?

“Oh, I wouldn’t call you wicked,” he rumbled as he leaned on the counter next to her stool and slid her one of the mugs. He winked. “More mildly naughty.”

She tried hard not to notice the power in his big body as he lounged next to her, one hip against the high counter and weight on one elbow as he used the other hand to lift his mug to his lips.

She bit back the whimper and stuffed her nose in her own mug to cover it. Did the guy not realize what effect he had on her? He couldn’t... or this would be counted as teasing. No, she told herself, he was just being kind to the dried up old nun on base to stop her feeling isolated. Good command skills.

“Mildly naughty?” She looked over the top of her glasses when she’d gotten herself together enough to talk. “More dull and boring, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s a pity...” he made a show of blowing the steam off the top of his mug, and then his dark eyes flicked up to hers again. “I quite like the idea of you as a naughty doc. Makes me wonder what you keep under that white lab coat...”

She blinked and looked down at herself. She always wore a skirt and a shirt. Plain. Simple. Comfortable. He could tell that, surely?

She cleared her throat, flicking him a glance as she sipped her coffee. She wasn’t good at flirting. She’d been around academics most of her life. They didn’t flirt. Either they were too involved in their own fields of study or when they did find themselves in a situation with the opposite gender, it was a case of the blind leading the blind.

Abruptly, she wondered why he was bothering with her. She wasn’t his type. She’d seen him once, off base while on leave on some planet over in the Latarian Circles. She’d wandered into the wrong area and found herself on a street full of bars. A door had opened ahead of her, Fisher and his men spilling out onto the street. She’d hidden quickly, but couldn’t stop herself from watching. Women had surrounded the soldiers, and he’d had one on each side. Both tall, slender blondes with obvious breast augmentations and soft, seductive laughs as they’d pressed against his tall, heavily muscled body. It had been easy to figure out where they were spending the night...

“You’re gorgeous when you blush,” he commented, looking away so she could escape the prison of his gaze. “I should make you do it more often.”

“You try and make me blush on purpose?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat as he nodded, put his mug down, and started to move toward her. Before he could say, or do, anything else... the raucous squark of the base alarm made them both jump.

“Shit, not now,” he hissed, annoyance crossing his face for a second before he leaned in and dropped a kiss right there on her cheek. “Duty calls, Doc, but hold that thought.”

The memory trailed off into sadness. The next time she’d seen him he’d been lying on her treatment table, broken and dead. Staring down a court-martial, thanks to Pike’s threats, she’d been forced to turn him into something else... turn him into the machine crouched in front of her.

“We were friends,” she said again. “Close friends...”

77 tilted his head. “Your heart rate just went up, and your pupils dilated. You and this body were sexually intimate?”

“No!” Her response was instinctive, as was the heat that burned over her cheeks. Then she realized this wasn’t Drew. He was gone and she did his memory no honor by lying. “Eventually I think we would have been, yes,” she admitted, more to herself than the man-machine in front of her.

“Interesting.”

He didn’t let go of her chin so she stayed where she was. The metal fingers were warmer than she’d expected, his touch so soft even though she knew he could easily crush her jaw in his grip. She’d added all his implants and cybernetics, knew them as intimately as she knew her own medical record, so she knew the pounds per inch pressure he could put down... but she’d never considered how his metal skin would actually feel against her own.

“Why did you take me?” she got up the courage to ask. “It wasn’t to ask if Captain Fisher and I were lovers...”

He shook his head, a curt shake, and a little bit of the hope she’d still harbored in her heart died.

“No. I needed a doctor. You were the closest I could acquire with minimal risk.”