Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Cure was the hottest medic Cyra had ever met. She watched him covertly as he picked up a container larger than she was and easily carried it to the cargo hold.

He was tall and broad, had flawless gray skin, light-absorbing short black hair and brilliant-blue eyes. It was those eyes that revealed he wasn’t the emotionless being he portrayed himself to be.

When he talked about the cyborg he couldn’t save, his countenance had been a blank mask and the words were delivered in a robotic monotone.

But his eyes had reflected the greatest despair. It spoke of a sorrow that cut deep to one’s soul.

Cyra had to fight the urge to hug him. That was a response she suspected he wouldn’t have appreciated.

And after that, she watched his eyes. They blazed with energy when he was angry or excited or…when she touched him.

She liked touching the cyborg medic. As she carried a much-smaller container past him, she deliberately brushed her shoulder against his arm. His lips flattened but his eyes shone brighter than an xT-1 scan.

He wanted her. And she wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted anyone. Her attraction to the male had been immediate.

The longing cut through her constant pain, her ever-increasing exhaustion.

Because, Fates, who wouldn’t desire him? He was perfect. Physically.

And the best part was…he wasn’t a potential patient or an existing one.

Her sex life had been seriously inhibited since she moved to Cancri B. Her ethics wouldn’t allow her to form romantic relationships with patients. And she was the only medic in the settlement. Which meant every being was a patient.

Except Cure. She placed the container in the cargo hold. Cure was a fellow medic. And he still appeared healthy. Very healthy.

Unlike herself. She sat on the edge of the cargo hold. Fatigue gripped her. Her brain was a bit foggy. Her legs were weak. She touched the back of her neck.

Cure set his huge container in the cargo hold. “The small containers go back here.” He pushed her delivery forward, leaning over as he did that.

Cyra’s gaze lowered. The male had a great ass. “I like how you arranged it.” Her voice grew husky.

He abruptly straightened and looked at her. The faintest of lines appeared on his forehead.

The medic was adorably confused.

“When you bend over, I have a spectacular view of your ass.” She couldn’t resist teasing him.

He frowned. “My ass is within spec for a D Model.”

“The Fates blessed the D Models.” She grinned.

He huffed and continued carrying containers. The medical equipment had already been loaded. Cure deemed transport of those to be a priority.

Cyra stayed where she was. She knew her limitations, and she was dang close to reaching them. “Cancri B doesn’t receive very many visitors.” She addressed one of her concerns about Cure’s visit. “The locals have never seen anyone who looks like you.”

It wasn’t the Cancris she was worried about, however. The Humanoid Alliance would cause trouble if they noticed him.

Cure conveyed more containers and said nothing.

Hints, she found, didn’t work with the medic. It could be a cyborg quirk. Or Cure-specific. She didn’t know which it was. “I’d prefer not to draw attention to the medic bay.”

He set the last container down. “I won’t draw attention to your medic bay.”

“You’re huge and your skin is gray.” She waved one of her hands at him. “And you have a great ass.” She laughed. “If you’re seen entering the medic bay?—”

“No one will see me entering the medic bay.” He sounded certain about that. “I’ll recline the seat in the land transport. And I have a garment that blocks lifeform scans.”

He’d willingly conceal himself.

Relief washed through her. “Reclining the seat is all that’s necessary. Very few beings run lifeform scans.”

The Cancris had no need for that.

And the Invaders didn’t trust them. The rock on the planet blocked scans.

Cure studied her. “Once I’m inside the medic bay?—”

“I don’t care who sees you then.” The Humanoid Alliance rarely entered the structure.

And she would have a warning if they did that. The Cancris somehow always knew when the Invaders were in the vicinity, and they scattered, leaving the area.

When a mass exodus of the medic bay happened, she’d tell Cure to hide.

“Your patients will chatter.” The male pointed out that universal truth.

Beings everywhere gossiped.

“They won’t chatter to anyone I’m concerned about.” The Cancris didn’t willingly talk to the Invaders.

“The beings you don’t want to see me aren’t your patients.” Cure was too cursed clever. “You relayed in your communication 0.9856 solar cycles ago that you were the sole medic in your settlement. In your communication sent 0.5771 solar cycles ago, you stated that any being in the settlement could walk into your medic bay and request healing.”

Fates. His memory was impressive.

Cyra debated whether or not she should tell him everything. She didn’t like talking about the Humanoid Alliance because they could be listening

But the two of them were currently far from the settlement and any structures. That was why she chose the meeting location.

And Cure would probe until he received satisfactory answers. She knew that about him. The questions he asked would get him, her, and others killed.

She looked around them. No one was visible.

Cyra leaned forward. “Look. Here’s the situation.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. They appeared to be alone, but she couldn’t be certain of that. “Five solar cycles ago, the Humanoid Alliance landed on Cancri B. The locals call them the Invaders…because…well…that’s who they are. They invaded and forced the Cancris to help them build a huge powerful weapon.”

She glanced at one of the mountains in the distance.

Cure followed her gaze.

That was the site of that weapon construction. “The mining of Belel 6 Uraninite or monster-making ore, as the Cancris call it, is causing the tumors.” She’d never seen the substance herself, but she’d definitely viewed the impact of it. “The first round of testing of the weapon caused tumors and other trauma also. That testing was, thankfully, interrupted.”

She owed the Rebel Female gratitude for that.

“The Humanoid Alliance is looking for the beings who did that.” Their presence in the settlement had increased. “They’re also causing other…problems.” Like destroying a structure filled with beings. “I’d rather not draw their attention.”

Cure’s eyes hardened ever-so-slightly. “Did they damage you?”

“No. The medics they allow to practice have an agreement with them.” The medics the Humanoid Alliance didn’t allow to practice were now dead. “But I’m aware that could change at any time.”

She hopped off the edge of the cargo hold.

Her knees wobbled but held.

“We should go.” She closed the cargo hold, securing it. Then she opened the doors on both sides of the land transport.

Cure picked up her head covering before he lowered into the passenger seat. “Am I discarding this?”

Cyra claimed her battered chair. “Place it behind your seat.” It had been a gift from Kritalin and was her favorite head covering.

But she had removed it before meeting with Cure because it was now covered with blood and other substances.

“The design is impractical for a medic.” He rotated the head covering in his big hands. “The feathers absorb blood and the creases are difficult to reach to clean. A logical being would discard it.”

“Then I’m not a logical being.” She snatched the head covering from him. “Because I’m not discarding it.” She placed it in a side compartment.

“Hmmm…” Cure reclined his chair until he was no longer visible in the portal.

Cyra felt a tinge of remorse for her sharp tone. “It’s…special to me.” She closed the land transport’s doors.

Cure said nothing. He merely watched her.

If he was waiting for an apology, he’d be waiting a long, long time.

She turned their small ship slowly and carefully and then flew it equally leisurely toward the settlement.

“Your land transport is barely functional.” Cure broke the quiet with that accurate observation.

“It’s a wreck.” She laughed. “But it works. For now. And I prefer to use any credits we collect to buy more medical supplies.”

More silence stretched.

As Cyra flew the land transport between the mountains, she battled her exhaustion.

She’d chosen the location far from other beings because a ship would be noticed, and the Humanoid Alliance was always watching.

But that meant she had a significant distance to fly.

Her eyes lowered. She?—

“You’re weaving.” Cure’s voice woke her.

“Fates.” She jerked upward.

“I’ve got it.” He placed his hands over hers on the controls.

The contact was…comforting. As was the warmth radiating from his big form. “It’s been a long planet rotation.” That planet rotation was made longer by the strain of her illness.

“According to the databases, planet rotations on Cancri B don’t vary in length.” He interpreted her words literally. “You’ve been working through your rest cycles.”

“Everyone is ill.” Cyra shrugged. “They all need a medic, and I’m the only one in the settlement.”

“ Everyone is ill.” He studied her.

The male was too cursed clever. He’d soon figure out that she was ill also.

And then she’d become his patient.

Their status would shift. Cure would view her differently.

He wouldn’t allow himself to fuck her.

She desperately wanted him to ravish her senseless.

“You’ll become ill also. If you remain on Cancri B.” She tried to distract him with that truth. “You shouldn’t stay here for very long.”

“I won’t become ill… also .” Cure had picked up on that slip also. “Cyborgs don’t get tumors. Our nanocybotics repair us.”

“Could those nanocybotics repair other beings?” The possibility roused her completely. No more Cancris would have to die.

“My nanocybotics only function in my form and in my genetic match’s form.” Cure quashed that hope. “They cease to function in other beings’ forms.”

They could test that. Cyra opened her mouth to tell him that.

“We’ve tested that.” He addressed her suggestion without her having to say a word. “Multiple times.”

“I’d still like to examine your nanocybotics.” It was the best lead she’d had in a while. “Something about them might inspire us. We might find a cure.” She paused. “A cure for the tumors. Not you. Though I guess I found you also.” She laughed. “It must be confusing, being a medic named Cure.”

“It isn’t confusing.” He touched a lock of her simulated hair.

“You should hide your cute face again.” She stopped the questions she knew were coming. “We’re approaching the settlement.”

That wasn’t a lie. She spotted one of the domiciles situated on its outskirts.

Cure reclined. “My face is?—”

“Within specs for a D Model.” She completed the sentence for him. “What does that mean? Do you all look alike?”

She’d met a clone while she was at the academy. But that male had been focused on obtaining medic skills and hadn’t wished to chatter about other things.

“There are sufficient variances to distinguish us.” Cure tilted his head. “There are other humans situated within a shift’s run from our current location.”

“Fates.” She didn’t want to run into any Humanoid Alliance beings. “They’re that close? Are they positioned to the right, left, or in front of us?” She tapped on the controls, preparing to alter their route.

“They’re situated within a shift’s run for a cyborg from our current location.” Cure amended his statement.

“I don’t know what that means.” She slowed the land transport.

“Unless they’ve expanded their monitoring systems, they won’t detect us.” Cure’s explanation calmed her paranoid ass down.

“Thank the Fates.” She released her breath.

“You project all other humans are members of the Humanoid Alliance.” He reached that correct conclusion.

“ Most of them are Invaders.” She lowered her voice. The Rebel Female was the exception.

Cure gazed at her.

“When I first arrived, I was the sole human in the settlement.” The memory of those planet rotations made her smile. “The Cancris were so welcoming. That was their way before…” She waved one hand at the portal. “They greeted everyone as though they were a friend.”

Cyra told him how the Cancris had opened their hearts to her. She chattered about their nourishment and sayings and customs, advised him not to mock the Fates, the deities they worshipped, and tried to impress on him how very special the locals were.

Cure remained silent. But he seemed to be listening.

They arrived at the medic bay. She parked the land transport in its usual space, close to the loading doors. That wouldn’t raise suspicions.

She looked around them. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone lingering close by.” That didn’t mean they were alone. “I’ll go first and unlock the doors. Then I’ll signal to you to follow. You should be okay.” She hoped that was the truth.

“No one other than you will see me.” Cure remained where he was.

“At sunrise, I’ll ask some males to unload your stuff.” Some of her Cancri patients thanked her by helping with tasks.

“That’s not necessary.” Cure rejected that proposal.

It was necessary. Because she didn’t have the energy to help him unload the supplies and the equipment now.

She opened her door and pushed herself upward. Her head spun. She swayed a bit and reached out to grab the land transport to steady herself.

Her knees buckled. She fell and braced for impact.

That pain didn’t come. Before she hit the hard pathway, she was swept upward, off her booted feet, and pressed against a rock-hard body armor-clad chest.

“You’re a stubborn being.” Cure’s eyes blazed down at her.

“You were supposed to remain in the land transport.” That was the plan. “I have to open the doors.”

“I’m opening the doors.” He placed his palm on the control panel.

How they’d arrived at the doors that quickly, she didn’t know. She had blinked and there they were.

The doors opened. Cure carried her inside the structure.

“I didn’t give you the code.” She frowned. “How did you do that?”

“I’m a cyborg.” He turned with her. “I don’t require a code.” The male sniffed the air. “Where are your private chambers?”

“I should look at a couple of patient files first.” She yawned.

“You’re malfunctioning, little human.” Cure frowned at her. “You require more sleep.” His jaw jutted. “Where are your private chambers?”

“Third door to the right.” She pointed in that direction.

His tread was soundless as he conveyed her along the hallway and into her makeshift private chamber.

The space had always been small. It had once contained supplies.

But it looked ridiculously tiny with Cure in it.

He was a large male.

Cyra was set on her sleeping support. She immediately fell face-first into that softness. “Fates. This is nice.” The surface muffled her voice.

Cure roamed around the chamber. He stopped at the horizontal support. “There’s a beverage container with a note on it.” He loomed over it. “It says, ‘Drink.’”

Zorelle must have left it for her.

“I’ll drink it at sunrise.” Cyra waved a hand. “I’m too sleepy right now.”

“You’ll drink it now.” Cure brought her the container. “Humans require nourishment and beverage also.”

“I guess I’m lucky.” She summoned a smile. “Because this is both.” It would be liquified nourishment, prepared by her friend.

Cure hooked one of his arms around her, lifting her upward. “You’re malfunctioning.” He opened the container and pressed it to her lips. “Drink.”

Cyra didn’t have the energy to fight him. She drank and drank and drank. Some of the liquified nourishment dribbled down her chin. Cure wiped that mess away.

If she was thinking, that would have mortified her. But she was well past that.

Her eyes could no longer focus.

“I should…” She yawned. Fates. She didn’t know what she had to do, only that there was something she’d neglected.

“You should sleep.” Cure lowered her. “But first?—”

“No.” She closed her eyes. “No but first.”

“You—”

“You do it.” The darkness was reaching for her. “I’m sleeping.”

And she did exactly that.