Twelve
Astrid sorted her belongings. Not knowing how long she’d be staying on the cyborg planet, she only unpacked the items she immediately needed, including her garments, her private items, and of course, her weapons.
She displayed some of her weapons on the wall, putting her smaller battle-ax in front of Vengeance’s larger one, placing her thinner-bladed sword next to his huge skull-splitter. Her other things were distributed around the chambers, ensuring that everywhere he looked, her cyborg would be reminded of her.
This arrangement took her the entire planet rotation to perfect.
Her stubborn male didn’t return.
He was avoiding her, and she knew the reason why. Her body already burned for his, aching for the brush of his skin over hers.
If he had shared the same chamber, she doubted she could have resisted touching him, rubbing against him, tempting him with her form, her caresses, her words. Driven by her own uncontrollable lust, she would have shamefully violated their agreement.
Her cyborg would eventually break, would eventually submit to the desire raging between them. That was as inevitable as her next breath. But his capitulation wouldn’t be caused by her discarding the vows she made. She would prove to him that her honor, her word, was equal to any cyborg’s.
Even if the wait destroyed her.
Unable to bear the feel of her garments, of anything against her skin, she stripped. The cool air was a temporary relief.
The arousal would return. She preferred to be asleep when that happened.
There was no sleeping support, cyborgs not needing to rest. She folded covering cloths, put them on the floor, curled up on them.
It wasn’t the worst sleeping support she’d had. She’d spent plenty of rest cycles on the battlefields, huddling in trenches and holes in the hard ground.
But it was lonely. She missed her warrior. Closing her eyes, she pictured his handsome face, wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking of her.
There had been moments during their journey when she had believed he’d change his mind and not subject them to this frustrating test. He hadn’t backed down, however. She had to stand in front of his clan’s leaders and hear him renounce her.
That had been humiliating. She’d yearned to shoot them all, starting with her cyborg. Instead, she’d feigned disinterest as best as she could while her heart howled a protest.
She loved her big brute. Only he could lead her into a former enemy’s territory. Only he could convince her to set aside her pride. Only he could inspire her current level of lust.
Fuck. Her ass wiggled. She was horny. Her pussy throbbed. Her nipples were so taut they could cut rock.
She had to think of other things, non-sexy topics like digging trenches and cleaning body armor, activities that didn’t involve a certain cyborg.
In her mind, she took apart and reassembled her favorite long gun. She calculated the distance of a projectile if she increased a weapon’s barrel size by the width of her thumb. She counted her confirmed kills, starting from her first battle.
She’d reached three hundred and forty-nine confirmed kills when sleep came and darkness overtook her.
***
She woke alone, her fingers in her pussy, her skin soaked with wetness. Her male had visited the chamber while she slept. Her garments were clean and neatly folded. Her boots were polished. Nourishment bars and fresh containers of beverage were set on a horizontal support.
He hadn’t woken her, hadn’t wished to talk with her, touch her, but he had been thinking of her. That was a small win, and small wins often won wars. Astrid would take it.
She tidied her body with a cleaning cloth, dressed, filled the empty sheaths and holsters with weapons, drank, performed her other morning rituals, forgoing the nourishment bars.
Desire twisted her core, unsettling her stomach. Eating didn’t appeal to her.
She clasped one of her cyborg’s daggers, curling her fingers around the hilt, gripping it as he would. Did he miss her as she missed him? Did—
The viewscreen buzzed, flashing light and dark. That must be him.
She ran to it, placed her palm on the surface. “Cyborg?”
“Astrid, this is Medic Tifara.” The human female’s face appeared on the viewscreen, and Astrid tried to conceal her disappointment. “I’m here with Death, my male, to take your readings for the planet rotation.”
Fuck. Her cyborg was still avoiding her. “Come in.” She authorized the entry.
The doors slid open. The female entered, her lush body covered with a white coat, a handheld in one of her hands. A tall grim-looking J Model followed her, his gaze observant, his expression wary. The male was a true warrior, always expecting danger.
“All I want to do is take a reading.” The medic looked pointedly at the dagger in Astrid’s hands. “I’m no threat to you.”
“The weapon wasn’t due to your arrival.” She set it down. “I was thinking of a certain cyborg.”
Medic Tifara grinned. “Vengeance invokes that type of reaction in beings.” She waved the handheld at her, looked at the small screen. “There’s no change in your nanocybotics level.”
“You and I both know there will be no change.” She rolled her eyes. “The bond between that stubborn brute and me is permanent.”
The female’s eyes widened. “If you know the bond is permanent, why are you testing it?”
“He won’t admit that truth.” Her logical cyborg required cold hard facts, not gut feelings. “And at the moment, I’m also testing my willpower and control.” She gazed at the weapons on the wall. “It isn’t a futile exercise. Both are necessary characteristics for warriors to have.”
Death’s dark head dipped, the J Model silently agreeing with her.
“You’re a stronger female than I am.” Medic Tifara brushed against her male. “If I go a couple moments without touching Death, I’m extremely uncomfortable.”
“I’m extremely uncomfortable.” She was frustrated as fuck. “But I’ll survive. All I have to be is stronger than that arrogant C Model.”
Death’s lips twitched.
“You don’t…like Vengeance?” Medic Tifara gazed at her with concern.
“I love him more than my own life.” She admitted that truth. The cyborg was her kinfolk now. They were a clan of two, whether he wanted them to be or not. “But I’ll take a dagger to the gut before losing this battle to him. He will break first. I will see that male crawl.”
“I’d like to see that also.” The medic grinned. “He wouldn’t speak to me before he left to retrieve you. He hated humans that much.”
“I hated cyborgs more.” Astrid’s gaze flicked to Death, a warrior she would have considered the enemy a solar cycle ago. “Beings change.” She shrugged. “What do I need to know to win this battle? Who is the E Model?”
“That’s Power.” Medic Tifara wrinkled her nose. “There’s a rivalry between him and Vengeance. Each believes himself to be in control of the council.”
“I can use that.” She nodded. “The warrior doesn’t have a female?” She assumed that was the case. He had been blatantly flirting with her.
The medic shook her head. “We haven’t found a genetic match for him in any of our databases.”
“Good.” She wouldn’t be interfering with another female’s relationship.
“He’s even more arrogant than Vengeance.”
“That’s even better.” His pride would survive not being chosen.
Because Vengeance was the male for her. He was the warrior she was battling to keep. Power would merely be a weapon she’d use to win that war.
“Where is he?” She’d start her advance immediately.
“Both of them are in the council chambers.” Medic Tifara’s eyes glowed with open curiosity. “They’ll be meeting all planet rotation. Our attendance wasn’t required.”
Shit. That demolished those plans.
She glanced around the chambers. Nothing would be accomplished in here. “Where are the training chambers?”
Medic Tifara looked at Death. The warrior nodded. Her gaze returned to Astrid. “We can show you where they are.”
She’d have an escort. A smile curled her lips. She wouldn’t have to contact her cyborg.
He would be informed she left the chambers. There were warriors everywhere and they would transmit her movements. That would irk him.
He might communicate with her.
She clasped his dagger. “Let’s go.”
There were two C Models waiting outside the chambers. The males looked at each other when she exited yet didn’t say anything.
She followed Medic Tifara and Death. The C Models trailed soundlessly behind her.
She had two sets of escorts. Her gait lightened. Her male would know everything she did.
Other warriors gawked at her as she passed them.
“There are so many cyborgs to battle.” She mused, tossing Vengeance’s dagger in the air and catching it. “Where should I start?”
“You can’t touch any of them.” Medic Tifara frowned, her fingers linked with Death’s. “That might transfer nanocybotics.”
“I can’t touch them with my hands.” She spun the blade on the tip of her right index finger. It was a perfectly balanced weapon. “I can touch them with my daggers.”
“That’s permissible.” The medic conceded. “Nanocybotics don’t live very long on inanimate objects.”
The female chattered about nanocybotics and viruses. Astrid watched for possible threats and noted the route they took. Medic Tifara and Death wouldn’t always be there to lead the way.
They entered a chamber, the doors opening and then closing behind them, and her jaw dropped. The space was massive. There was a shooting range, fighting rings, even virtual battles. Warriors bellowed and grunted, beating each other, throwing kinfolk over their shoulders, flinging battle-axes, swinging swords.
“I never knew a place like this existed.” It was a haven for beings like her. She inhaled. Even the smell, a mixture of blood and projectiles, appealed to her.
“Death and I will give you a tour.” Medic Tifara’s tone was flat, her enthusiasm for the offer low.
“There’s no need for you to do that, Death’s female.” A familiar voice said behind them. “You can return to your precious laboratory. I’ll give Astrid Ragnhild, the Buoir Berserker, the tour.” Truth, Vengeance’s never-serious warrior friend, winked at her.
The medic looked in her direction. “Do you prefer that?”
Medic Tifara clearly preferred that. Astrid smiled. “I prefer that. Truth is on my list of cyborgs to kill.”
“I like this female.” The D Model laughed.
“I like her too.” The medic turned, her small fingers in Death’s big palm. “We’ll see you next planet rotation, Astrid.” The doors closed behind them.
The two huge C Models didn’t leave. They crossed their arms and gazed at Truth with hostility.
“I have escorts.” She shared that obvious fact with the cyborg.
“I’ve observed that.” He grinned. “Your escorts have transmitted the commands they were given. The most notable one being to beat into the floor any male who touches you.”
“Beating other males into the floor won’t be necessary.” She cast a hard glance at them. “I’m a warrior and I can protect myself. Tell your leader that.”
Their eyes, so similar to her male’s, blazed with energy.
“Vengeance is wrong about many things, but he is right to protect you, Astrid Ragnhild, the Buoir Berserker.” Truth’s voice softened. “Many warriors want you for their own, would fight to claim you if you were alone. Not me.” His gaze met hers. “I believe my female is out there, and I must be true to her.” While his tone was breezy and light, she suspected the warrior was deadly serious about his vow. “Or she will attempt to kill me as you attempted to kill your male.”
“Call me Astrid.” There was no need to use her full name. “And I could have succeeded in my attempt. I spared Vengeance’s lifespan at the last moment.”
For that, she would always be grateful.
“We’ve seen his finger.” The warrior’s grin returned. “I look forward to fighting against you in the mock battles.”
The mock battles excited her. “Before I fight, I want to familiarize myself with the weapons.”
She didn’t wish to be at a disadvantage, especially as she would be battling cyborgs on their home terrain.
“We can do that.” Truth walked through the space. She kept pace with him. Her escorts followed them. Other warriors watched them.
Right now, she was a novelty. It was often that way when she joined a new group of warriors. They would soon become accustomed to her, treat her like all the others.
“I understand the weapons don’t cause actual wounds, but the pain feels real.” If she was killed in a mock battle, the experience would resemble her actual death.
“The wounds are superficial.” Truth handed her a dagger. “They’re only skin deep.”
She examined the weapon, spun it in her hand, flipped it. “It’s a normal dagger.” She could dispense deadly damage with it, kill a being.
“The blade folds.” He took the weapon from her and stuck it into the back of his hand, driving it into his flesh up to the hilt. Blood gushed. He turned his hand over. There was no dagger tip, no wound on his palm.
“Does it hurt?” She scanned his face, was unable to detect any emotion. He sported that blank countenance all cyborgs seemed to have mastered.
“It hurts like the real thing.” Truth tugged the dagger out of his flesh. Rivulets of crimson flowed between his fingers. “The projectiles operate the same way—they cause flesh wounds only but inflict real pain. All of the mock battle weapons have been modified.”
“Do the weapons work on humans?” She retrieved the dagger, studying the blade more closely. There were faint lines in the metal, barely detectable fold marks.
“I’m checking the database.” Truth’s forehead furrowed. “Yes, it should work on you.”
“Good.” She’d test it. Now. Before she could talk herself out of that reckless action. She drove the dagger into her upper right thigh.
Pain surged through her. Yes, it felt real, too fuckin’ real. She pressed her lips together, suppressing her screams.
Blood spurted as she yanked the blade out of her leg. There was too much of it. Her head spun. She was human, not cyborg, didn’t have enough nanocybotics to immediately stem the bleeding.
“Gauze.” She pressed her palms against the wound, attempting to stop the flow. “I need gauze.”
A warrior held out a roll. Other males gathered around them, their expressions concerned.
“It’s nothing.” She wrapped the white gauze tightly around her thigh, her hands shaking. “This isn’t my first flesh wound. There’s no need to worry.”
“There’s no need for you to worry.” Truth was no longer smiling. “I allowed you to be damaged. Vengeance is going to tear my limbs off.”
“Vengeance knows I’m a warrior.” She looked at her C Model escorts, communicating they should relay that message. “Warriors are wounded in battle. We often deal with pain. That’s part of who we are.”
The males around them nodded.
Ideally, she’d take a moment to recover, but every warrior in the training chambers was watching her, judging her. These were her cyborg’s kinfolk, his clan.
If she wanted to be accepted, she had to suck up the pain, act as though nothing had happened.
“How do I erect targets?” She summoned a smile as she hobbled toward the throwing area, every step a torment. “I have to practice throwing if I want to inflict the agony I just endured on all of you.”
The warriors laughed.
***
She’d completed twelve throws, becoming more and more accustomed to the daggers, when the air around her changed. Her nipples tightened. Her pussy became wet.
Her cyborg had arrived.
“You’re supposed to be meeting with the council all planet rotation.” She didn’t turn around, didn’t glance at him.
If she looked at him, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. She’d throw herself into his arms and he’d view her as being weak, blame her for the failed test.
“You damaged your upper right thigh.” His voice was gruff. “You require my nanocybotics to repair yourself.”
She required his arms around her, his lips on hers. “I’m healing. Your nanocybotics haven’t yet faded inside me.” She aimed at the target, threw her dagger. It pierced the center, vibrating with a twang.
“You’ll heal faster if I tend to your damage.” He drew nearer to her, all of her senses tingling in anticipation.
“Vengeance.” Her resolve was fading.
“I vowed you wouldn’t be damaged.” His deep, dark tones swirled around her. “That included damage done to yourself.”
“Is that why you’re here—because of your vow?” She frowned.
“You’re under my protection.” He made tending to her sound like another task on his lengthy list, a chore, not a privilege. “You’re mine to safeguard.”
He had rushed to her side because of a vow, not because he was concerned, not because he loved her. His sense of honor was driving his offer, not his heart.
Her disappointment dampened her desire for him.
“I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to heal me.” She needed him to love her, to pull her against his hard body and profess that his feelings for her were stronger than everything else, stronger than his role on the council, his duty to his kinfolk, his pride. “I’m a warrior. I survived for endless solar cycles before I met you.”
That was all she had been doing—surviving. He had given her happiness, a sense of home, hope for the future.
“If that is why you’re here—to protect me, heal me, you should go. Return to the council chambers and make your important decisions.” She stared at the target, willing him to say he had come for her, because he missed her, cared for her.
An uncomfortable silence stretched, fraught with emotion.
He sighed, that sound pulling at her soul. “Don’t damage yourself again, human.”
Her body screamed a protest as she sensed him walking away from her. Despair swept over her, pulling her down, down, down.
She bowed her head for a moment, her shoulders rounding. This battle had been lost.
But she wasn’t giving up on him or their relationship. She straightened. “You’re an impossibly stubborn male.” She picked up another dagger, aimed, threw it, the placement perfect. “I will conquer you or die trying.”
This would be the fight of her lifespan.