Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cyra enjoyed flirting with Cure. It was fun and sexy, and she planned to do more of it.

But first, she had to tend to patients.

He was assisting her with that honor. That added a few complications.

“It’s unlikely any of the Humanoid Alliance beings are nearby.” She told him. The Cancris would have scattered if that had been the situation. “But you might want to stay out of sight while I let the patients in.”

“No one situated outside the structure will see me.” Cure disappeared into a shadowed alcove.

“That would be perfect.” She could no longer see him, but she was very much aware he was there. And she’d ensure he felt the same way about her. “Don’t look at my ass as I walk to the front.”

Saying that increased the probability he would look at that part of her.

She quashed a smile and put some extra wiggle into her walk.

The antics ceased as she opened the front door. “The medic bay isn’t yet open.” She informed the waiting crowd. “But I can let in one patient, along with their companions, at a time.”

She waited for Yuuval, an elderly Cancris female, to hobble into the structure.

Then she locked the door behind her.

“Sorry for the long wait.” She offered Yuuval her arm.

“It’s no bother, Healer.” The female clutched it. Her first patient of the planet rotation was breathing hard. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

All of Cyra’s humor vanished. “Is it the pain?”

“It was bad this rest cycle.” Yuuval admitted. “But I know you can’t do anything more for it than you’ve already done.” She squeezed Cyra’s arm. “It’s the breathing I thought you might help with.”

A tumor was obliterating one of the female’s three lungs.

“We’ll see what we can do.” Cyra patted the female’s hand.

She doubted there was much she could do, but she’d look at it and try her best.

“A healer is here for a visit.” She nodded at Cure as they passed him. “Do you mind if he joins us this planet rotation?”

“Anyone who wants to join us can do so.” Yuuval grinned. “Bet your healer friend has never seen a body as old as mine.”

“You would lose that bet,” Cure murmured.

Cyra smiled as she led Yuuval into the nearest patient chamber.

Cure entered the space also.

“I’ll scan you first.” Cyra extracted the handheld from a pocket of her jacket. “I’ll see what’s happening.”

Yuuval sat in a chair. She sighed as though with relief. “Getting older is what’s happening.” She started unfastening her garment. Her hands shook slightly. “That your healer standing behind you?”

Cyra glanced at Cure. He wasn’t her healer. But… “Yes. He knows a lot about the treatments you’re taking for the growths.”

“He looks like he knows a lot about other things too.” Yuuval gazed up at Cure. Her eyes sparkled. “He’s a big male.”

Cure’s lips parted.

Knowing the cyborg medic, he was going to ask what being big and knowledge had to do with each other.

Cyra shook her head.

Cure closed his mouth.

“He is a big male.” Cyra acknowledged that thrilling truth.

She tilted the small screen of her handheld toward Cure.

His eyes flashed.

He must have recognized the grimness of the situation.

The female’s lung was failing.

Yuuval was frail. She wouldn’t survive an installation of a simulated version.

And even if she did, the newly-uncovered tumor growing on her heart would kill her.

Cyra went through the process of examining her patient’s chest. Perhaps she’d uncover something that would change that prognosis, extend Yuuval’s lifespan.

Until that happened, all she could do was make her patient as comfortable as possible. “Sleeping in a chair might help with the breathing.”

“I’ve always said I’d die in my own sleeping support.” Yuuval refastened her garment. “It seems the Fates have decided that won’t happen.”

“The Fates work in ways we don’t understand.” Cyra repeated one of the common sayings on Cancri B. “Put this on your chest before each rest cycle.” She grabbed a small container of pain suppressing lotion off a nearby horizontal support, and showed it to Yuuval before placing it in the female’s pack. “It should help.”

She glanced at Cure and lifted her eyebrows, silently asking if he had any advice.

He shook his head.

“Come back if there are any changes in your condition.” Cyra helped the female to her booted feet.

“Thank you, Healer.” Yuuval smiled at her. “And thank you, Visitor Healer.” She glanced at Cure.

He nodded at the female. His expression was blank.

His eyes, however, reflected a frustration Cyra shared.

Yuuval returned her gaze to Cyra. Her grin widened. “I know who he really is.” Her whisper wasn’t much quieter than her regular voice. “Visitor. Bah.” She waved one of her hands in the air. “You can’t fool me. I’ve been watching mates meet since before you were born.” She gripped Cyra’s arm and leaned closer to her. “That young male is your mate.”

Cyra stiffened. “He’s not?—”

“Don’t lie to an old female, Healer.” Yuuval tsked. “And don’t disrespect the Fates. They brought you, our Healer, a Healer mate. Because the Fates know, in their divine wisdom, their faithful are ill and need their help.”

Cyra’s face heated. She couldn’t look at Cure. “Yuuval?—”

“You’ll save us, Healer.” The elderly female appeared more energized than Cyra had seen her…ever. “You and your mate will save us. I told the others, when you arrived, you might have been sent here by the Fates for a special purpose. Now, I’m certain of it.”

Yuuval’s faith in her was humbling. And frightening.

Because the only way she could save the Cancris was to complete the assignment the Rebel Female had given her. She had to rid the planet of the Humanoid Alliance. Permanently.

Once she did that, the mining of the Belel 6 Uraninite would cease. There would be no more testing of giant weapons.

And the surviving Cancris shouldn’t be afflicted with new tumors.

Then maybe the next medic could vanquish the existing growths.

“I’ll do my best.” She walked with Yuuval to the front door.

One of the female’s neighbors waited there for her.

Yuuval murmured something to the female.

The female looked at Cyra with wide eyes.

Yuuval was a force of gossiping nature. The chatter about mates and special purposes would be spread through the entire settlement by sunset.

Cyra hid her alarm under a serene smile.

“I have to tidy the chamber,” she informed the beings waiting in the line. “Then I’ll return to greet the next being.”

The Cancris looked disappointed. But they didn’t voice their frustration with the delay.

Their culture valued support and tolerance and gratitude.

Cyra shared those views. And she was grateful for them, especially this planet rotation.

Because she had a cyborg medic who warranted an explanation…and a warning.

She hurried back to the patient chamber.

When she entered the space, Cure was already tidying it at a dizzying speed. His big body was a blur.

“The Cancris believe in destined mates.” She extracted another container of pain-inhibiting lotion from a wall compartment and placed it on the horizontal support. “I didn’t correct Yuuval because she was so happy believing I had found a mate, and I didn’t want to take that joy away from her.”

The female would find out the truth…when Cure left.

But until then, it would make her happy.

It would also increase their patients’ acceptance of Cure’s presence by her side. Her mate would be viewed as being a part of her, sharing the same beliefs, the same values.

The Cancris trusted her and they would extend that trust to him.

“Your patient is dying, Medic .” Cure flicked his cleaning cloth with vigor. “Nothing will make her breathe easier, because one of the lungs she’s breathing with is severely malfunctioning. And the tumor on her heart might be small now but it’ll grow. She has less than a solar cycle left of living. At the most.”

“I know that.” Cyra lifted her chin. She wasn’t a fool.

“Tending to her is taking time and resources you could be using to treat patients with a higher probability of longer-term survival.” He put the cleaning cloth away and glared at her.

The anger in his eyes fed the rage inside her heart.

“And who would those patients be?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared right back at him.

The situation was unfair and cruel, and she couldn’t help any of the beings the way she wanted to help, the way she’d been trained to help.

She was a medic, for Fate’s sake, and all she could do was dole out pain suppressors and slow her patients’ deaths a tiny bit.

“Every being on the planet, except for you and perhaps some of the Invaders, have life-ending tumors. Which we have no cure for.” That frustrated the shit out of her.

“There are stronger, more functional patients, beings with less-developed tumors.” Cure didn’t understand the situation. “Focus on them.”

“I focused on some of them last planet rotation.” Those images would stay with her forever. “Those beings were strong, less afflicted, courageous, and kind. They were males in their prime.”

They had volunteered to work in the Humanoid Alliance mines, knowing that was a death sentence, so others wouldn’t be forced to do that.

“The Humanoid Alliance deliberately collapsed the structure they were in, crushing them.” It had been a mess when she arrived at the scene. There were bodies everywhere and more still being pulled out of the rubble. “Some died quickly. More died slowly.”

They had died in front of her. Their wounds were too severe to heal.

That was more failure.

“I was able to save some of the males, but not enough.” The fight flowed out of her, and her shoulders sagged. “Not nearly enough.”

She gazed down at her booted feet, seeing the faces of the dead there, feeling hopeless and tired…of everything.

Silence stretched.

Cure then made an aggravated sound, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He drew her to his warm form.

She rested her forehead on his body armor- and medic jacket-clad chest.

That connection with him, with another being, soothed her.

“It was their blood you were wearing when you met with me.” His voice softened. His anger seemed to have faded also.

“Yes, it was their blood.” She sighed. There had been so much of it. “Unless the Humanoid Alliance leaves—” Or died. “—none of the patients I see will have long lifespans, Cure. I try to lessen their pain, and I show them kindness. That’s all I can do for them as a medic.”

“We’ll find a repair for the tumors.” He rubbed her back.

Fates. That felt good.

Both the touching and his use of the word we.

She’d been unwilling to share her emotional burden with anyone else. The others had their own trauma to deal with. And the weight of…everything had been crushing her.

Shifting it temporarily to the cyborg medic’s broad shoulders was such a relief.

“The source of the tumors has to be eliminated first,” she murmured into his chest.

“That isn’t a task for a human medic.” Cure sounded certain about that.

“Perhaps only a human medic can complete that task.” According to the Rebel Female, she was one of the sole beings the Humanoid Alliance leaders would trust to get close to them.

“That’s improbable.” Cure didn’t understand the situation.

And there was no reason to explain it to him. He was merely visiting the medic bay and the planet and would likely be long gone before any action was taken.

The prospect of him leaving shouldn’t distress her.

Yet it did.

“We should see the next patient.” She pushed away her sadness and focused on her role.

“That—” Cure stiffened. “The back doors have been accessed.”

He turned and shoved her behind him, placing his big body between her and the chamber doors.

“That’s probably Zorelle.” Cyra wasn’t concerned. “She?—”

Cure’s arms blurred. Two guns appeared in his hands.

Alarm rushed through her. “Do not shoot my friend.”

The doors to the chamber opened. “Why, when I passed Yuuval, was she clutching one of our containers?” Zorelle entered the space. “We had an agree?—”

Her friend abruptly stopped. She dropped the beverage container she was carrying and held up her hands. “I’m unarmed. Don’t shoot me.”

“He won’t shoot you.” Cyra pushed past Cure. “Zorelle, this is Cure. Cure, this is Zorelle.”

“Fates.” Zorelle’s eyes widened. “ You’re the visiting healer? I mean…yes, I see the white jacket. You’re a healer but you certainly don’t look like one.”

Cure holstered his guns.

“He’s the visiting healer,” Cyra confirmed.

“Wow.” Zorelle met her gaze. “You never told me he was…wow.” Her gaze returned to Cure.

Her friend’s ogling, for some unexplained reason, irritated Cyra. “He’s within spec for a D Model.”

Cure’s eyes glinted.

“Sign me up for a D-Model mate, then.” Zorelle grinned. “Did I interrupt something? Tell me I interrupted something.” She nudged Cyra with one of her elbows. “The two of you were in here all alone. Without any patients. Were you kiss?—”

“We were cleaning the chamber.” Cyra hastily offered that explanation. It must be embarrass-a-medic planet rotation because everyone seemed to be determined to do that. “We were just about to retrieve the next patient.”

“Sure, you were.” Zorelle’s tone communicated her disbelief. “He looks like he’d be a great kisser.” She studied Cure. “Is he a great kisser?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Cyra’s face felt like it would burst into flames. “We were cleaning .”

“He looks very intense.” Zorelle chattered as though Cure couldn’t hear her. “I think he’d be a great kisser.”

Cancris didn’t kiss anyone other than their destined mates. Her friend, having not yet met her being, was obsessed with the act.

“There are patients lined up in front of the medic bay.” Cyra sought to change the subject.

“Oh.” Zorelle’s lips formed a circle. “You want to be alone. I get it.”

She winked at Cyra. First with one eye. And then the other.

If Cyra could disappear into the floor tiles, she would.

“Here. Take this.” Her friend retrieved the undamaged beverage container and gave it to her. “I’ll go.” Zorelle hustled to the door. “Intake the patients.”

Thank the Fates. Cyra’s shoulders lowered.

“You can get back to the kissing…I mean, the cleaning .” Zorelle laughed as she exited the chamber.

Cyra pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to five.

Then she squared her shoulders and turned to face Cure.

“It might not sound like it this planet rotation.” She couldn’t find the courage to meet his gaze. “But this is a serious medic bay. I promise.”

“I have to join a communication,” he announced.

“Oh.” That was…unexpected. She looked around them. “Do you want to take it here?”

There was a main viewscreen on the far wall.

“You don’t require use of this chamber?” Cure frowned.

“Ohhhh…” Understanding dawned on her.

He required privacy. She couldn’t be part of his mysterious communication.

They had never chattered about their lives outside of their medic roles. She had assumed he was like her and didn’t have one.

It seemed that assumption was incorrect.

That shouldn’t bother her. Yet it did. Very much so. “You can use my private chamber. I won’t be returning there until late in the rest cycle, and no one can hear you. The space once held an energy generator, which was quite noisy, and it was soundproofed for it.”

Fates. She was babbling.

“You can use it.” She finished lamely.

“It’ll suffice.” He nodded.

The male didn’t move.

“Do you need something for your communication?” Cyra would try to be accommodating. “A handheld? Or another device?”

“I am another device.” Humor gleamed in his eyes.

He was such a cursed hottie.

She gazed up at him.

He likely had someone. A genetic match. Someone he could share his tumor-preventing nanocybotics with.

That being was fortunate.

And she…she was alone.

Cyra suppressed a sigh.

“I don’t need something for my communication.” Cure closed the gap between them. “But there’s something I must do before it.”

She swallowed hard. The heat radiating from his big form was tantalizing.

“Do you need help with that something?” She tilted her head back, back, back to meet his gaze.

His eyes were the brightest blue.

“Yes.” Cure hooked his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his fit physique. “This requires your assistance.”

She opened her mouth to ask for clarification.

He covered her parted lips with his own.

Energy, strong and primal, flowed through her. It was shocking, exciting, erotic.

She gasped.

He surged into her mouth, sliding his tongue over hers.

A sexy bubbling sensation accompanied that invasion. It spread along her throat and through her entire body. She moaned and leaned against him.

A rumble rolled up her cyborg medic’s chest. He cupped her ass, lifting her high against his huge form. There was a pronounced and impressively large bulge in his body armor.

And he held her as though she weighed nothing. Her booted feet dangled off the floor as their tongues twisted and twined and their lips fused together.

Cure, the medic she had teased about being emotionless, stroked in and out of her, ravishing her mouth, her senses, all of her.

She dropped the beverage container. It thumped against the floor. And she clutched his broad garment-covered shoulders with both hands, sucking on his tongue.

He tasted of metal and minerals, of the very elements of life, and she couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted. She needed. Desire raged within her, tightening her nipples, wetting her pussy, curling her toes.

When he finally broke the kiss, pulling away from her, they were both breathing raggedly, their chests rising and falling, colliding and coming apart. His beautiful eyes were as bright as a star.

“ What was that?” She darted her tongue over her throbbing bottom lip. The peculiar effervescence inside her remained, though it was fading ever so slightly.

And there was no pain. The headache she’d had for planet rotations had dissipated.

“Your friend asked if I was a great kisser.” Cure lowered her slowly until her booted feet touched the floor once more. “You said you didn’t know.” He released his hold on her body. “Now, you know.”

“Now, I know.” She stared up at him. The embrace had scrambled her brain.

“Now, you do.” His countenance had returned to his normal blankness. Only his eyes revealed his emotions.

And in those blue depths, she saw a need that matched her own.

That thrilled her.

“I’ll seek you out when the communications are over.” His tone turned brusque. “We have patients to see.”

For the first time in many, many solar cycles, she wasn’t focused on her patients. All she could think of was him, his hands, his lips, that kiss. “Cure?—”

“The communications are starting.” Then he was gone, running out of the chamber faster than her gaze could track.

Cyra resisted the urge to run after him.

He needed privacy for his mysterious communication. Which she now knew was not with his genetic match. She understood Cure well enough to realize he’d never betray a being’s trust.

He’d never ravish a being while he was committed to another.

She touched her kiss-swollen lips. And she had been ravished. Thoroughly.

“Zorelle asked if you were a great kisser.” She talked to Cure as though he remained in the chamber with her. “That would be a yes. You have no rival when it comes to kissing, my medic hottie.”

Now that she’d gained the answer to that question, she had another one.

Was he a great fuck?

She planned to find out.

As soon as she finished seeing her patients.