Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cure bred with his female in the laboratory one more time. They dressed, returned to her private chamber, stripped naked, and bred again. They then consumed liquified nourishment. His female slept in his arms. He restored his energy levels also. When she woke, they bred a fourth time.

Kissing his female and holding her had topped his list of best life experiences. Breeding with his little human, however, propelled him to a level of pleasure he never projected was possible.

And, that first moment he found release with her, he processed he couldn’t leave his female’s side. Not for longer than a shift, two at most.

He didn’t have the inner strength to forego the bliss, the connection, the companionship he had found with her.

That meant, unfortunately, one of them would have to give up their current medic role.

That decision would have to be made.

But it wouldn’t be made now.

Because, at the moment, he was deep inside his female, breeding with her for the fifth glorious time.

Cure pistoned in and out of her wet heat. Pressure formed at the base of his simulated spine. His balls felt as though they might explode.

His female appeared to be as close to release as he was. She gazed up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were bright with passion. Her lush lips parted as she panted. She gripped his shoulders with her slender fingers and squeezed his hips with her thighs.

“Harder. Faster.” Her huskily issued commands shredded his control strand by strand.

Fraggin’ hole. She was manufactured for him.

He gave her the more she demanded, quickening his rhythm, thrusting into her again and again. Their bodies smacked together. Some of the perspiration glistening on her dark skin splattered on him. He was covered with her scent.

And he loved it. She was claiming him as he’d claimed her.

He deeply inhaled, smelling her and him and them. His nanocybotics had multiplied within his little human, becoming one with her gorgeous form.

They would never dissipate. That gift from him to his genetic match was permanent. Every cyborg in the universe would process Cyra was his.

That pleased a part of him he had longed denied existed—the primitive possessive part, the side of him that was illogical, wild, purely organic.

“Cure?” His female pressed her fingertips into his skin.

He processed what she required.

Modifying his angle, he drove into her. Her breath hitched as he brushed against her clit.

Cure then swiveled his hips, grinding into her.

“Cure,” she screamed. His little human propelled herself upward, flinging herself toward him.

He blocked her ascent with his form and caged her between his arms to ensure she didn’t fall off the sleeping support. She was his and he would protect her. Always.

She attempted to claw at his chest. There was no damage as she didn’t sport fingernails. And she clenched around his cock.

That decimated his little remaining restraint. “My Cyra,” he tilted his head back and bellowed.

Cum shot from his cockhead. Pleasure bombarded him. It was too much for his processors to handle. His auditory and visual systems went down. His world turned silent and dark.

But he felt. Frag, how he felt.

His female constricted around him again. She was hot and wet and so very snug. He relayed more of his essence to her.

The cycle repeated again and again and again. His female gyrated underneath him. Her nipples caressed his chest. Her thighs vibrated around his waist. He was surrounded by her.

It was a sublime experience, a connection he’d never had with another being, an ecstasy without equal.

He had no choice but to give her everything, all of him, until he had nothing left. His organic brain and his processors were empty. His form was zapped of energy.

His arms and legs threatened to fold under him. He fought that pull.

His female was small and fragile, and he would safeguard her.

She finally stilled under him.

The sensual assault eased. His elation faded to manageable levels. His systems rebooted.

The first image he saw was her gorgeous face. Her eyelids were partially lowered. A sated smile curved her lips. Her dark skin glowed.

“Frag.” Emotion hoarsened his voice.

He rolled to the side, bringing her with him, stopping only when he was flat on his back and she was draped on top of him.

They lay there for several moments, not chattering, simply feeling.

He ran his palms up and down, up and down her back, following the proud set of her fully organic spine. Her breath wafted over his chest. It was the softest of touches.

“You said you couldn’t transfer your nanocybotics to other beings.” Her voice was barely audible. “But they continue to bubble inside me, and I feel…good, better than I’ve felt since the Humanoid Alliance arrived and started their activities. And not purely because I’ve been fucked senseless.”

His female hadn’t been fucked senseless. Her brain remained functional.

Cure was interested in attempting that feat, however.

His cock twitched inside her.

But his little human had to rest, and he should explain the situation.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t transfer my nanocybotics to other beings.” That statement wouldn’t have been true and cyborgs couldn’t lie. “I said my nanocybotics only function in my form and in my genetic match’s form.” He splayed his fingers over his female’s pert ass. “You’re my genetic match.”

She propped her chin on his chest and met his gaze. “I truly am your mate?”

Cure nodded. “Cyborgs prefer the term genetic match.” Their bond was based on genetics, not destiny or mystical beings. “And my nanocybotics have repaired you. That’s why you feel good.”

“I’ve been healed?” Her forehead furrowed with processing lines. “The pain won’t return?”

His female had been in pain.

He wanted to howl, to kill, to destroy all Humanoid Alliance beings and their horrid weapon, the cause of her hurt. It was a struggle to control his rage and remain silent.

“I won’t be tired anymore?” She listed her damage. “My hair will grow back?” She touched her skull. “I have stubble.” The joy in her eyes twisted Cure’s heart.

“You’re repaired.” It took a lifespan of training to scrub the emotion from his voice. “You won’t ever become ill, and you won’t ever die.”

Her natural lifespan would extend forever. He would ensure she didn’t die from other causes.

“Every being dies.” She lowered her gaze. “Your nanocybotics can’t stop that.”

“ I will stop that.” He frowned at his female.

“You can’t save everyone, Cure.” She gave him a sad smile. “You shouldn’t save everyone. Some beings have to die so others may live.”

“One of those beings won’t be you.” He couldn’t project why she believed she would die. “You’re repaired.”

“I’m repaired.” She kissed his chest. That act of tenderness warmed his heart. “It’ll be sunrise soon, and Zorelle’ll be opening the medic-bay doors. There will be patients to see.” Her lips twisted. “There are always patients to see. Will I have your help for another planet rotation?”

She would have his help for every planet rotation. But, in the future, they might not be tending to patients on Cancri B.

He kept that information to himself. For now. “You have my help for another planet rotation.”

* * *

From sunrise to sunset, they tended to patients.

Cure watched his female interact with the Cancris. And he learned from her how to treat purely organic beings. Hiding all his emotions made them uneasy. He expanded his chattering and smiled more, and that increased their patients’ respect for him. It didn’t decrease it.

From sunset to sunrise, he had his female to himself. They ran different treatments for the tumors through the simulators. They shared nourishment. His female drank beverage. And they bred. Three or four times a rest cycle.

His female’s joy amplified his own.

And Cure was happy, happier than he’d ever been in his long lifespan.

On the tenth planet rotation of the medic bay’s schedule, their routine modified.

The last patient left. They cleaned the chamber.

“We’ll have to forgo the lab this planet rotation.” His female linked her fingers with his. Tufts of black hair peeked out of the edges of her extremely impractical head covering. “We’re distributing nourishment and beverage outside the medic bay.”

He frowned. “Supplying nourishment and beverage is part of a medic’s role on Cancri B?”

“It’s part of this medic’s role.” She led him through the structure. “There’s no point in healing beings only to watch them starve.” His female sighed. “The Cancris wanted for very little before the Humanoid Alliance arrived. But the Invaders destroyed their agri-lots and their water sources and their health. The Cancris have no excess energy to rebuild any of that.”

That was the Humanoid Alliance’s way. They killed and destroyed everything they encountered.

Drift had been giving updates on their mission to stop the enemy from finalizing their world-destroying weapon. And those updates were mainly…that there were no updates.

Cure projected his mission partner had new intel but was keeping it to himself for now.

Cure was equally close-mouthed. He had heard stories about the Humanoid Alliance, or Invaders, from his female’s patients.

But his certainty surrounding that intel wasn’t sufficiently high to share it.

Cure’s female guided him out of the structure. They moved toward the site of excessive chatter.

“Healer Cure.” Uuppie ran up to them. The boy, as Cure’s female fondly referred to the Cancri offspring, frequented the medical bay every planet rotation. “Healer Cyra.”

Uuppie grasped a piece of a nourishment bar in each of his two hands. And a full nourishment bar was stuffed into one of his garment’s chest pockets.

“Have you tried this?” The boy held the pieces out to them. There were fingertip indents in the surface of the treats. “It’s the most delicious nourishment I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll give them their own nourishment bars, Uuppie.” Zorelle joined them.

“There’s more for me then.” The boy shrugged and popped both pieces of nourishment bar into his mouth at the same time. “Fighters don’t hold hands.” He attempted to scowl at Cure as he vigorously chewed.

His efforts weren’t successful.

“This healer holds hands.” Cure gazed blankly back at the boy.

Uuppie looked pointedly at the dagger strapped to Cure’s right body armor-clad thigh. “You’re a fighter.”

Cure projected that was part of the boy’s fascination with him.

“Have you ever killed a being with a rock?” The boy was fascinated with killing and death.

“Yes.” Cure had killed many beings with rocks…and sticks…and anything else he found on the battlefield.

“Did you throw the rock at that being?” Uuppie patted his garment’s chest pocket, flattening the nourishment bar hidden there even more. “Can you kill a being that way?”

“You can kill them that way if you throw the rock with sufficient force.” A cyborg warrior could propel a rock right through a human’s bare head. “Especially if you hit them in the eyeball.”

That was a more effective target.

Uuppie’s eyes widen. “Did the eyeball explode?” The boy vibrated with excitement. “Did the guck spray everywhere?”

Zorelle grimaced. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping at the liquefying station, Uuppie?”

“Oh yeah.” The boy ran off.

“He’s a menace.” Zorelle shook her head.

“He’s our menace.” Cure’s female said that with pride. She squeezed Cure’s hand.

He squeezed back. His female cared for the boy more than a medic should care for a patient.

But he said nothing because that was who his female was—a caring being.

“He likes the new nourishment bars.” Zorelle looked at Cure. “I found them in the storage chamber. I don’t know where they came from, but I wish whoever supplied them would tell me how to find more. They liquify well and the Cancris love them.”

Cure could relay the ordering information to her. That resided in the Dauntless’s databases. But he couldn’t share any details that weren’t documented. That wasn’t his expertise.

“I’ll set up a communication with the being who sourced the nourishment bars.” It would be held over a secured line.

“Yes. Let’s do this.” Zorelle’s face lit up. “Litph, you’re in charge.” She yelled at that volunteer. “I have to see to something important.”

Cure glanced at his female. “Am I setting up the communication for now?”

“Looks like it.” His female shrugged.

“We don’t have a lot of credits.” Zorelle’s attention returned to Cure. “Will that be an issue? Because it has been an issue with other suppliers.”

“They sent stale nourishment bars,” Cure’s female whispered.

Organic beings had an obsession with credits. Cure’s lips flattened. It was illogical. “Lack of credits won’t be an issue.”

Credits were numbers in a database. He would simply change the number.

“Good.” Zorelle walked toward the medic bay’s front doors. “I’m assuming we’re doing this inside.”

“That’s a correct assumption.” He and his female followed the Cancri female.

As they were relocating, Cure reached out to Yum through a private transmission line.

Do you need another being for the mission? Excitement edged the male’s transmission. I’m in. My kill rate isn’t the highest, but ? —

My contact’s friend requires intel about the nourishment bars you packed. Cure corrected Yum’s false projection.

There was a pause.

Cure entered the medic bay behind his female and his female’s friend.

“We can do this in my working chamber.” Zorelle chattered about her viewscreens and other devices.

Captain has authorized the sharing of that information, Yum relayed through the transmission line. I’m sending it to you.

I told my contact’s friend you’d communicate with her. Cure would forward the ordering information to Zorelle.

There isn’t much more a being needs to process. Yum prided himself on his documentation. But I will communicate with your contact’s friend if you project that would be helpful.

It would be helpful. And it was necessary.

Because Zorelle was rearranging seats in front of a viewscreen.

“This is all you, Zorelle.” Cure’s female claimed the chair farthest away from the recording area. “I won’t be speaking on this communication.”

“I’ll limit the image to Zorelle and myself.” Cure secured the line.

“Do I look presentable?” Zorelle ran her hands over her impractical head covering and brightly colored flight suit.

Cure opened his mouth to tell the Cancri female her appearance wasn’t an input.

“You look adorable.” Cure’s female smiled at her friend.

Zorelle smiled back at her.

“I’m opening communications.” Cure did exactly that.

An image of Yum’s face appeared on the viewscreen.

“Fates, he’s handsome,” Zorelle murmured.

Energy flashed in Yum’s eyes. “Who is that beautiful being?” He straightened.

Zorelle’s cheeks flushed with bright-orange pigment. “I’m Zorelle.”

“I’m Yum, my Zorelle.” The way the male referred to Cure’s female’s friend relayed the situation.

Zorelle was Yum’s genetic match. The male recognized who she was to him by her voice.

“You certainly are Yum.” Zorelle giggled.

Cure’s female stared at her friend.

Her reaction was only noticed by Cure.

Zorelle and Yum gazed at each other as though no one else existed in the universe for them.

Cure wasn’t required for the communication. “Yum, will you relay intel about the nourishment bars to Zorelle?”

“I’ll relay anything she wants to hear.” The male was besotted. “Return to your patients, medic. I’ll take good care of my Zorelle.”

“I like the sound of that.” Zorelle glowed.

Cure grasped his female’s hand and pulled her out of the chamber.

The doors closed.

“What. Is. Happening?” Cure’s female sounded bewildered. “Sure, your friend Yum is a hottie. Not as hot as you, of course.” She patted his chest. “But still…he’s a good-looking male. I’ve never seen Zorelle act like that, however, around anyone. She was blushing. Blushing.”

Cure suppressed a grin. His female believed he was the hottest. And... “Zorelle is Yum’s genetic match.”

Cure’s female blinked once, twice. “They’re mates?”

Cure nodded.

His female looked at him, looked back at the closed door, and returned her gaze to his. “Tell me about Yum. Is he a good male? Because if he hurts my friend, I’ll?—”

“He would prefer to die rather than damage your friend.” As Cure would prefer to die rather than damage his female. “Yum is fully functional.” He started with what he processed best – the male’s medical records. “He has honor.” Yum wouldn’t be stationed on the Dauntless if he didn’t have honor. Captain had high standards for his crew. Each warrior had been hand selected. “He’s responsible for supplying the entire battle station’s nourishment. It’s a valued role.”

“He won’t hurt her.” The fierceness eased out of Cure’s female.

Cure pulled her into his arms. “He won’t hurt her.” He utilized her words. “And when he claims your friend, his nanocybotics will repair her.”

“Her tumors will disappear. As mine have.” Cure’s female rested her cheek on his body armor-clad chest. “She won’t ever die.”

Every being dies. That was what she had told Cure the sunrise after he’d transferred his nanocybotics to her.

That statement didn’t seem to apply to her friend.

But it did apply to her.

“Why did you project you’ll die, my female?” Cure gazed down at her.

She looked up at him. “Someone has to stop them.”

He processed, without her telling him, which them she was referring to.

His fragile human medic female planned to stop the Humanoid Alliance, the Invaders.

A coldness gripped him, chilling him to his frame.

“That someone won’t be you.” Cure tightened his hold on his female.

“If it isn’t me, who will it be?” She lifted one of her simulated eyebrows.

“It will be me.” He trusted her with that revelation. “That’s why I came to Cancri B—to stop the Humanoid Alliance. That’s my mission.”

Finding a repair for the tumors would have to be delayed.

His initial assignment had to be his focus.

Because if he didn’t purge the planet of the enemy, his female would get herself killed attempting to complete that task.

And that would end Cure’s lifespan as thoroughly as any projectile.