Wickedest Witch (24 page)

She jumped as the guard, who shadowed her steps, spoke. “He’s a nasty brute that one. Make sure you keep your hand away from his mouth at all times. He’s got a wicked set of
teeth and he’s not afraid to use them. Also, if you see his loincloth twitching, move. He pissed on the last nurse that came down here.”

Shocked, she could only gape at the man, no
, make that the robot covered in flesh, that hung there. A sardonic smile tilted the cyborg’s lips while his blue eyes — a clear light blue that seemed almost lit from within — regarded her with a coldness that made her take an involuntary step back.

“He asked for a sample. I gave it to him,” the cyborg said, his gravelly voice sliding over her skin and leaving goose bumps behind. “Don’t worry, female. I find you much more appealing than the simple idiot they sent before. If it’s a sample you need, then you may grip me with those tiny hands of yours. Of course, I don’t guarantee what will come out of the end if you do.”

Heat rose to her cheeks as the innuendo penetrated. The cyborg laughed at his own crude joke.

“Nasty fucker,” snapped the guard. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

The laughter cut short as the cyborg cocked his head and eyed them coldly. “She’s human. You’re human. There’s only one thing humans are good for, don’t you know? Parts.” The cyborg laughed again, and her horror deepened.

Did she truly need the credits enough to do this? To get into that cage with the monster?

She thought of her tiny cubby back on earth, barely a closet really, all she could afford on her salary.
I wonder if my coffin will be bigger.
She thought of all the assignments she’d taken over the past few year since getting hired by the military after her accident. People’s faces and places blurred in her mind, and while she tried not to dwell on some of the abuses she’d suffered, she couldn’t shake her general unhappiness at her current lifestyle. If she wanted to get away and start afresh — escape the leering comments, the inappropriate touching and worse — then she needed funds.

“Are you sure, ma’am, that you want to go in?”

She took a deep breath before nodding. Instead of opening the cage while remaining at her side, the guard returned to his checkpoint and raised the shield first, separating them. How reassuring. A deep beep sounded, followed by a robotic voice saying, “Electrical current deactivated. Disengaging locks.”

With a loud click, the door to the cage swung open. Steeling herself to stand straight, and not cower like she longed to, Chloe stepped into the cage with the machine and prayed she’d get out alive
— with all her body parts intact.

*

Joe, a name he gave himself when he achieved his freedom, couldn’t help analyzing the female who dared enter his prison. Shorter than himself, much shorter at five foot six according to his visual calculation, she trembled with fear. But at least she proved an attractive distraction compared to the moronic males they sent before.

He kept his gaze trained on her as she gnawed on a full lower lip. Her green eyes dilated wide, fear evident in their depths.
It seemed his reputation preceded him. She dropped her vision to his chest and kept it there. For some reason, he swelled under her regard, and not just in the upper torso area. His cock showed interest too. His neural net sent a command to stand down. To his surprise, his dick seemed determined to mutiny.
What is it about this human female that calls to my baser instincts?

Full figured, fuller than most human females leaned toward, she was the polar opposite of him with her pale, unblemished skin, her dark hair and complete lack of muscle tone. Not that her physical health mattered. As he and his reborn cyborg brothers
had discovered, there was only one muscle human females needed,  a pussy, and no matter a female’s general shape, it was always a delight to exercise it. However, he doubted she’d come for a workout. A shame.

Judging by the kit clenched in her hand, she
intended to take some samples. He’d hoped the human military and scientists were done with their stupid tests. He could have told them they wasted their time. Nothing they could do to torture him would ever force him to betray the location of the cyborg hideaway. No drug they could devise would ever fool the neural interfaces that regulated his body down to the last cell.

Joe would die before he’d give one inch to the bastards who created, then tried to destroy
, him.

As the newest nurse placed her testing kit on the floor
with shaking hands, well away from his shackled feet, he wondered at their newest tactic. In the past two weeks, they’d only sent the burliest of orderlies, humans a bare step above animals, who thought themselves so brave taunting the chained machine. How the cruel jokes stopped abruptly when he got loose and wrapped his hand around their easily breakable necks or bit off body parts when they leaned in a little too close. Satisfying as those little victories were, he longed for his freedom, a freedom that lingered just around the corner if he could only find what he came for, the secret of their creation.

But alas
, the secret he searched for remained hidden. Since he needed to bide his time a while longer, why not amuse himself with the human sent in like a proverbial sacrificial lamb? Joe knew his human histories and fables well. He’d studied them after his escape in an effort to understand the enemy — and himself. He suspected the meek nurse was part of some ruse to get him to spill his guts. Did they think he’d suddenly become loquacious with the chesty female?

Idiots. Cyborgs didn’t think with their dicks like humans did. Most of the time anyway. It seemed his groin region needed a refresher memo.

Back to the situation at hand. Knowing the enemy was to best the enemy. Forget his origins. Born of a womb and parents that allowed him to be sold to the military — or so the few paltry records he recovered stated — he renounced his humanity and renounced his past, what little he remembered. He was cyborg, and he owed allegiance only to himself and others of his kind. So, despite how innocent the female appeared, no matter how she woke the nerves in his cock or made his mouth water, he would resist her obvious charms and discover her true purpose — which he doubted involved soothing his rebellious prick.

She removed a swab from her kit and stood staring at him with uncertainty, gnawing her luscious lower lip. A deep breath made her jumpsuit swell in the chest area
, and she lifted her gaze finally to his face. The first direct contact of their eyes caused a strange sensation in his chest, as if his mechanically enhanced heart stuttered. A faulty reaction he’d analyze later. Right now, he had a human to disconcert.

“I don’t suppose you’d open up and let me take a sample?” she asked, her tone already resigned.

“I have a better idea. You kiss me, and I’ll give you all the saliva you want.” Joe couldn’t have said why he blurted that instead of his planned speech to frighten her. His kind never spoke spontaneously, their BCI always calculating everything before acting. However, once said, there was no taking it back, and as it turned out, he quite enjoyed the reaction to his suggestion. The curvy nurse turned a beautiful shade of pink, and, according to his visual sensors, the core temperature of her body went up a half degree. How interesting. He wasn’t sure how the knowledge helped him, but he stored it for future use.

“I am not kissing you.”

“Why not? I thought you came for a sample?”

“
But not like that! I’m not s-s-stupid,” she stammered, flustered and yet she still held his gaze much to his surprise. “They told me not to get close to you. That you’re dangerous.”

His mouth curled in amusement.
“I didn’t realize the rumors of my sexual exploits had travelled so far. I guess I should be flattered that you would think I could cause so much havoc with my tongue and lips. Although, for full effect, it’s not the lips on your face you should kiss me with.” He spoke crudely and was rewarded.

The blush on her cheeks deepened. “
You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t even know your kind had sex. You’re purposely twisting my words.”

“I’d rather twist other things.”

“Like my neck? I know you’ve injured others who’ve come to see you. I don’t intend to let you do that to me.”

“Oh really, little human
? Because you do realize, if I choose to hurt you, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” A threat that didn’t have his usual vehemence behind it. Not that she knew the difference.

Her breathing hitched as she stared at him, her eyes wide with fright. For an irrational nanosecond, guilt flooded his synaptic senses, and he clamped his lips tight
, lest he apologize. What did he care if one little human was scared?

“But you’re tied up. You can’t move,” she retorted bravely
, only to recoil when he leaned his head forward as far as he could reach.

“Think of me as a
cyborg Houdini. You do recall that famous human magician, do you not? Like him, nothing can keep me captive forever. I will escape, little one, and when I do, perhaps I shall come looking for you.”

Find C791 and other stories by Eve Langlais at all major online stores.

He’s a freakn’ beast.

Naomi watched in rapt fascination as player number forty
-four scored yet another goal. Like an implacable freight train, he plowed through the opposition’s defense as if they didn’t exist, using his size, and surprising speed, to bowl them over. At the end of his shift, he went to sit his turn on the bench, but her fascination in the game didn’t waver. Her attention ended up snagged by player sixty-nine. Smaller in stature than the behemoth, he absorbed her just as completely with his feline grace as he twisted and moved around the floor. He almost danced as he ran, his stick held high and usually cradling the ball.

What is it about the two of them that fascinates me? I don’t even like lacrosse.
And she hated jocks.

Naomi still couldn’t believe she’d allowed her friend, Francine, to talk her into coming to watch a lacrosse game. She usually left contact sports and their watching of to her father and brothers, preferring games of intellectual skill and preciseness, like curling or golf. However, a free ticket
, and nothing better to do on a Saturday night, along with a promise by Francine to go dancing afterward, swayed her. Thus, she found herself a spectator, seated about twelve rows up, just above the protective glass. With her enhanced sense of smell, she could catch occasional whiffs of the sweat glistening on the players’ skin, the musky aroma not at all repulsive like she expected. She reluctantly admitted—if only to herself— the impressive speed and strength displayed by the lacrosse players—two in particular—made her girly parts tingle. Even more surprising, something about these males made her inner wolf yip in excitement.

Ignoring her bitch’s griping, she returned her focus to the game, but her brow crinkled as she found herself unable to divert her attention from either the behemoth or the lithe runner. Her wolf wouldn’t let her, even when they both sat on the bench.
This is not a good sign.
Naomi fidgeted, trying not to stare at the two players, but unbidden, her gaze kept straying back.

Francine must have caught on to something because she whispered. “What’s wrong? You look like you just swallowed a lemon? And did I just hear you growl?”

A frown crossed Naomi’s face. “Yeah, I growled. It’s not my fault though. Something’s got my wolf in a tizzy.” Naomi shrugged, pushing aside her unease as her eyes swiveled to track the behemoth who had exited the bench and now ran across the floor again. Warmth suffused her at the raw power he exuded as he body checked an opposing player—
I wonder if he’s as active in bed?
Naomi’s scowl widened at the train of her thoughts. “Maybe it’s all the violence or something making my bitch agitated.”

A snort escaped Francine. “You’re kidding, right? 
On a good day, your family makes these guys look like pussy cats.”

Naomi bit her lip as she thought of the males of her clan whose idea of a discussion usually resulted in bloodshed, sore knuckles and black eyes. “Okay, you might have a point. But still, there’s something in the air or crowd that’s agitating my wolf.”

Francine clutched Naomi’s arm in a tight vise and turned a face lit with excitement toward her. “Hey, maybe your wolf is sensing your mate in the arena.”

Mate?
Naomi’s surge of warm pleasure at number sixty-nine’s pirouette and dash shriveled as she gazed around at all the big and brash men in the crowd. Shifters, of course. Mere humans could try all they wanted to attend one of their sold out lacrosse exhibitions, only those who could claim an animal in their ancestry could attend. The privately owned gymnasium they used for their clan sports was owned and operated by those of her kind. Sports provided a civilized way for them to express their more volatile side. And a profitable one as she well knew since she did their accounting.

Francine’s assertion that her mate could
, in fact, be one of these violence-loving, meatheads left her cold. She shivered, not in fear but repugnance. “No thank you. The idea of getting hitched to a Neanderthal makes me want to puke.”