***

He left her in his bed, soft and well-loved, the marks of his claiming all over her body.

Reid sat next to her, uncomfortable in the after-throes and with the cuddling, unable to find a position to relax because a niggling sensation of guilt tapped at his gut. He used her. She used him. He gritted his teeth thinking that they were equal in that matter but they weren’t. He ran his palm down his face.

Clara had fallen right to sleep as soon as he laid her on his bed—he remained wide awake. The metal in his body longed to release and reform, shift and resettle, to make him back into the canine he was so he could find peace and sleep with his—

With Clara.

His mutt had a better sense of smell, a sense of hearing that was intensified. His beast had a simpler state of mind, an alert one in which he was not bogged down by everything that made him a man... and a machine.

Everything is easier when I’m not human.

Reid shifted his teeth in and out, his claws as well, finding the process moderately relaxing. He kept his back to her, afraid he’d wake her and take her again.

Even now, after everything, after the consumption of her body, submitting to his dominance, and even after he started on the long and tedious trek to claim everything of Clara’s—starting with her body and her desires—he was restless, his beast growling to prowl.

Reid gritted his teeth and stopped himself, having already risen from the bed and circled the edges of the room twice.

Restless.

His eyes shot to Clara turning over on his bed, burrowing deeper into his covers. He moved to loom over her vulnerable, sprawled frame and sniffed the hair that lay across his pillows; calculating each of his movements so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her.

She won’t hear me, smell me, know in any form that I’m here.

Reid read her movements, willed his internal tech to scan and access every part of her at every moment. If Clara awoke, he’d know. If a heavier breath escaped her lips, he’d know. If her foot twitched.... he’d know.

He knew a lot already, almost everything when it came to her physically, but now that she was his and part of his pack—the idea he didn’t want to acknowledge because it felt so fleeting—he wanted to know her mind.

His eyes left her face, his nose her ear, and trailed down over her exposed neck, keeping his lips a hairsbreadth from her skin and giving whisper kisses to the messy tendrils of hair that resided there. His heart recalibrated to beat with hers, weak and slumbering. Reid stopped before he nuzzled.

But his fingers trailed up one of the blankets covering her, and gently slid it off her right arm. It was so easy. Clara slept in a prey position, clasping one of his blankets between her arms and legs, lying on her side. Her backside would be exposed if it weren’t for the other sheets on his bed. The position did stop him from burrowing his nose between the gap of her breasts but he didn’t mind, releasing the need to do so with one quiet groan.

He continued his descent down the run of her elbow, close to her vein, and followed it back up where her fingers were cinched under her chin.

If she wakes up... he wouldn’t be able to stop the sudden fear that would crash through her, seeing his face in front of hers. A survival reflex. I do so like the smell of fear.

And seeing Clara’s violet irises wide and bright, terrorized for an instant before comprehension dawned wouldn’t be able to stop him from covering her and taking her again.

She fears Santino, not me.

With the metal wires vibrating behind his teeth, Reid took a heavy step back and eyed her from a safe distance away. There had never been a woman in his den before—nor anyone. Her pale skin and soft curves amongst his sheets brought forth a horrible need to trap this moment for eternity.

The wires strummed harder, practically begging him to shift. He glared at the cement walls, ceiling, and floor on all sides of him, disgusted. There was nothing of comfort, nothing besides his bed.

His suits were hung in a closed, attached closet to the adjoining bathroom which was just as cold and uninviting as the rest. Even the air was cold. The whole damned facility could’ve been a cross between a mechanical plant and a prison if no one looked hard enough.

Reid paced, his bare feet hitting that cold cement he was coming to dislike. Can babies tolerate cement? I’m going to have to get a rug.

There was one piece of furniture in his room besides the bed, and that was a metal nightstand where his hardware was stored, and a gun.

Anything else he had was stored elsewhere in the facility. He kept several EMPs stored throughout, smuggled in when he first began working here because he knew one day they would be needed. A Cyborg needed to protect the secret of cybernetic children. The information he kept hidden and the rest that he fabricated would someday be outside the reach of his keeping. He trusted none but another Cyborg with it, and a Cyborg would never take his position willingly.

Seeing Clara in his space filled him with unease. It also filled him with satisfaction.

Reid’s lip jerked. He was a mal-crafted anomaly even for his own kind. If anyone was going to make cybernetic humans by natural law—it would be Cyborgs. Not humans.

But until that day of severance came, they’d hide what they knew and continue to work alongside their creators amicably.

“We are, after all, part human too.” He checked Clara over once again, obsessively, sensing her REM cycle at its deepest state and moved to redress, trapping the canine further behind a man-suit that then put on another... suit.

When he fixed his tie into place, he allowed one last, lingering breath to fill his nostrils and his memory. Bliss. Berries and seed. Clara’s berries buried among and entwined with his smell gave him ownership of it.

He quietly lifted his bedside gun and holstered it behind the lapel of his jacket, keeping his eyes on the woman in his bed the whole time. She mumbled and stretched her half-exposed leg outward, shifting the blanket back to reveal the thin white edges of her scarring.

Santino didn’t know he was going to die tonight.

He was filled with a sick sort-of glee.

Clara’s words replayed in his head as he walked backwards toward the door.“Go ahead, kill Santino, make it long and painful.”

Oh, dear Clara, you know how to woo me.

The door zipped open—without a sound—and he stepped back and into the hallway. It closed the same way, hiding her from his eyes. The lock clicked into place loud enough for only him to hear and he turned away. The ventilation system partially cleared his nose, and with it, his head.

Reid found Marsha and her girlfriend, Natalie, several barricaded security doors away and stormed into their room without announcement or hesitance.

They were awake, startled, jumpy in that way only past trauma made a person, but ultimately annoyed by his rudeness.

“Dr. Reid...” Marsha muttered, standing up, back stiff, a show of wary thankfulness flashing over her face.

“Officer.” He looked at the other woman, her legs curled into her chest and perched on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Much better. Thank you, sir, and—”

“—good—”

“—I’m sorry for being ungrateful before. It’s hard to trust easily after... what happened.”

Reid nodded.

“We want to do what we can to help with Santino, for Clara, it’s personal,” Marsha added, her eyes growing harder by the second. “I hate men, no offense. Scum of the Earth.”

“None taken.” Reid tapped his finger on his lapel, over his gun. “I hate Trentians. We all hate something.”

Marsha mumbled in agreement.

He didn’t come here to talk to the women, which they understood when he cleared his throat and things went into an awkward territory. He pulled back his sleeve and projected the screen from his tablet from his wrist, the skin on his arm peeling back. The contents filled the space before the two women.

“You’re not pregnant.”

There was a moment of silence before a horribly stiff exhale passed between Marsha and Natalie. The screen changed to project what medical had uncovered: the inside of Natalie’s womb, the obvious health of her reproductive organs and an untouched egg from ovulation. The beginning signs of her next menstrual cycle on the horizon.

“You’ll have your monthly within the next few days,” He tossed a small vial through the projection to land next to Natalie on the bed. “For your cramps.”

“T-thank you.” The quickening smell of tears made his nose twitch but they never formed in the woman’s eyes, and they never fell.

“You’re welcome.”

Marsha sighed, saving him from any more emotion, and his projection dropped, his sleeve back in place. “What now?”

“We kill Santino.”

“Thank fucking god. What needs to be done?”

***

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, he waited outside the Dallas city limits, standing in the shadows of a slum that was long-ago abandoned. Graffiti graced every wall and surface around him, and what wasn’t covered had been corroded with rust on top of rust or crumbled with deterioration where old metal met stone.

The shadows were long and thick in the ancient cities, where only miscreants and the occasional vandal lived, but they were otherwise deserted, taken over by wisps of the past. The old world only held glimpses of what it used to be. It made Reid fidget. Being amongst rotting metal, it made him feel itchy, as if he stood amongst the corrosion long enough, it would take him with it.

He deleted the thoughts that arose in his head and sniffed the air. Even the air here barely held the hint of human inhabitation. Places like this reminded him of how few humans were left, how fewer females still. And even fewer Trentians.

The wait continued and his thoughts roamed. Clara told him how it was impossible to leave Earth because of her medical issues and the debt that arose from them. But it was impossible regardless. Women were detained every which way from going off planet; fertile ones being stranded was no secret the government held. It was harsh, trapped on a sad world.

Commercial cruises and vacations were one thing. Those were allowed to all sexes equally. Women could leave with regulation, knowing that they were forced to return. Women could also leave if it was for an Earthian regulated job—usually contracted for a span of time and impossible to back out of, but a single female, even those attached to families, whether through marriage or blood, had to jump through endless hoops to get off-world.

If a woman wanted to move to Gliese, to Kepler, or to one of the other space stations floating about and wasn’t contracted into a governmental position or corporation (one that could pay the fees), it was impossible. If a woman was caught fleeing, it was treason. If a man was caught smuggling women off-world, it was a life sentence on a mining rig or prison planet. If a woman was caught smuggling other women off Earth, well, it was treason and a life sentence.

The news was paid to scare them to stay.

Clara was stuck on Earth. Reid caressed the handle of his gun in thought.

Laws were currently being pushed through to demand all space-born children to travel back to Earth for their education. A trap. The technology to create babies from vats was used extensively, but not enough to counteract a century of war.

Even now, female children were being hidden away and raised as boys. Every day the noose tightened because the control slipped a little further away from those in charge.

His systems picked up movement. Marsha was in position with Natalie who was made to look like Clara as bait. The two of them waited at the drop-off point, but time continued to pass and no one showed.

If Santino took the bait, life would be easier, if he didn’t—and Reid knew the criminal wasn’t any other testosterone-fueled imbecile—they’d have to move on to plan B.

Plan B was both lot messier and wouldn’t give Marsha and Natalie the delicious satisfaction of revenge.

He cracked his neck and shifted his canines back and forth, into and out of his gums. Another signal coursed through his sensors, stopping him mid-shift.

Reid brought the intrusion forward, a message, private and secured to all hell-and-back presented itself; it was encrypted and sent directly to his IP address, the type of network message that skipped the normal servers and channels of regular correspondence.

Which meant it was Cyborg mail.

He rescanned his perimeter and checked on the women before decrypting it and downloading the missive into his hardware. No virus was attached, but there never was. The was an easy death sentence to the sender if ever caught.

He preferred to speak to his brethren one-on-one but his curiosity won out.

188.151.3.111. The message was from Rose. Rose?

What the fuck?

She was a doctor, like him, but lived and worked in Ghost City. They communicated once every three to five years, to share new information and developments, but all that was preplanned. She held up her end when it came to cybernetics run by cybernetic beings, and he kept tabs on, well, human experiments on cybernetics and cybernetic beings.

His heart thudded against the metal in his chest and his eyes roved through the heavy shadows and patterns of wall art from eras past. He felt a bottom feeder creature of worry suck at the wires in his gut. This was why he didn’t get involved. This was why he remained alone. His need to give all his attention to Marsha and her girlfriend weighed against the abrupt message from a trusted colleague. Reid stepped further into the gloom and made his choice.

Dr. Reid Canis,

First, let me apologize for this message and its inopportune appearance. I hope it finds you at an easy time.

Please delete all traces of it and any sources it’s attached to after you’re finished reading it.

To get to the point, we have a human female aboard Ghost, attached to a temporary resident, Dommik. She’s pregnant.

A bubbling sense of anger rose within him. Cyborgs didn’t get females pregnant—ever. The risk was too great. The law of it was well regarded... but in recent years more and more ‘borgs ignored it.

Even he ignored it, thinking about Clara, and his seed that had already claimed her egg. He let some of his anger simmer down to frustration. He disliked what he couldn’t control.

Every other Cyborg started their family in the security of deep space... if anyone was risking his species, it was him.

He read on...

The fetus is unusual. The pregnancy abnormal. Katalina is well into her second trimester but has shown no signs that she has ever progressed past her first. The child has... Dommik is like you... and with unconventional DNA.

Kat remains bedridden and attached to medical all cycle long. It’s stabilizing her and slowing down all progression even further. I’m afraid I may miss something...

Attached is her basic chart—nothing incriminating. They won’t be much help, I believe, but it’s something at least. Some information I can give you.

My reason for this correspondence should be clear. You should know by now what I want from you. What would benefit our...

Don’t send your response. You’ll either give me what I want or not.

Rose.

Reid deleted everything immediately, having already memorized everything, before connecting back to the network. He quickly then sourced out all traces of the message through the network for as far as his signal allowed him and cleaned up the trail. He knew Rose would take care of things on her end.

When he grounded his conscious again, his fists were clenched at his sides. He loosed his fingers before he crushed the metal in his hands, straightened the sleeves of his jacket, checked his gun, shifted his canines back and forth once more, and stepped back out into the moonlight.

Dommik was a shifter, like him, but not. He was a hundred times worse. Even now, after dozens of years since their last meeting, he could see Dommik’s ropes clogging up the Cyborg’s ship, back when they were both commanders. They worked in the same fleet and battlestations as many of the others of their kind—shifters—and no one went into Dommik’s territory. Ever.

Not because it bothered the Cyborg and his peculiar tendencies, but because it was private.

Like my den is private. My family. My fucking office and even the damned parking is mine on a good day.

Reid checked on Marsha and Natalie’s position, finding no movement on their end, and walked headfirst into the street, over the potholes and broken asphalt, until he got into his flyer and was positioning to land beside them mere minutes later.

The doors shot open and he didn’t say anything, didn’t need to because his face said it all. The women loaded in and he shot up into the air.

“That sucked,” Marsha snapped the safety of her brand new gun, one he replaced before they had left the facility.

“He’s not an idiot.” Reid really wished Santino was. But the guy left no trail after prison and knew how to keep on the down low.

“Would’ve been too easy. So now what?” Marsha asked.

He drove them to an open bar, landed, and reopened the doors.

“Get out.”

“What? Why? Where are we?”

“Safe. Now get out.”

They didn’t move and he made a show of eying Marsha’s new and very expensive gun. His gaze screamed: I’ll break it too if you annoy me. He’d crush it and leave them weaponless before she ever had the chance to fire it.

“We’re not moving until you tell us what’s happening. We could’ve waited longer, the night has barely begun, there’s hours left to go! You made us fucking leave and owe us something for standing there lamely for nothing. What the hell, Cyborg? Do you even know how to deal with humans?”

Reid sighed, holding back his annoyance. “Plan B doesn’t involve you.”

“Like hell it does! Santino takes Natalie,” her hand came down on her girlfriend’s shoulder, “and it’s not personal for us because you say so? What has he done to you?” she hissed. “A woman’s revenge is one of the only things she has left in this god-forsaken universe.”

He held back the flinch her words spurred, hitting home where his thoughts had previously been. His palms ran down his thighs as his body caught up to his tech to stop the pounding that built in his temples. When he commanded people, they listened; when he ordered, questions weren’t asked. When problems like Clara arose, like Marsha and Natalie, it made him annoyingly vulnerable.

“Look. Cop. Get a drink. Get several on me.” He searched for the right words. “But what’s about to happen—with me—won’t be pretty or safe.”

“I’m trained, Reid. Back up. Ever heard of it? I’ll be back-up,” Marsha’s voice lowered and he knew she noticed the change in him.

The pounding in his head intensified. His canines unlocked in his jaw, demanding to be released.

“I’ve killed before, I’ll kill again. And for a lot less,” Marsha said.

“You can’t die!”

The silence after his admonishment only ratcheted up the tension coursing through him. The aroma of berries clawed at the back of his senses. The whistle of wind flowing through his flyer, only to escape again, hounded a barely buried need to shift and join its journey. The berries left him and were replaced by the smells of the two women in his vehicle.

“Why?” Natalie broke the silence quietly at his side.

“Because...” Reid glanced at her then at Marsha through the mirror. “Because I know you now.” He didn’t know how to explain it. How to relay what the canine inside him demanded, what it wanted, what it needed. How to put into words how hard it was to know someone then lose them during war.

The silence was deafening again until Natalie turned away from him, his knuckles turning white over his knee. He watched as she stepped out, as Marsha glared at him through the front window’s reflection while she followed her girlfriend. The doors closed and he could breathe again. A knock sounded on the glass next to his head.

Reid lowered it. “What?”

“Money? Drinks are on you, right?” Natalie asked.

For the first time that night, Reid smiled.