Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Preparing for the upcoming mission, unfortunately, took precedent over the altering of the Rayan Skin Restorer.

They couldn’t do both. Cyra and her cyborg had very little spare time after tending to patients, eating, sleeping, and fucking each other senseless every planet rotation.

She glanced at that machine as Cure loaded the last injector-tube explosive into the medic pack.

“We’ll continue the tumor-elimination tests when we return from our mission.” He addressed her thoughts without her having to express them. That was how in sync they were.

She peered into the medic pack. The killing compounds were already loaded. Everything was color-coded and organized. “And if we don’t return from our mission? What happens then?”

“We’ll return from our mission.” Her cyborg medic sounded certain about that. “But in the very-low-probability event we don’t return from it, Doc has all the intel about the process, and he has vowed to ensure a repair for the tumors is found and applied to every damaged Cancri on the planet.”

Cyra stared at her male. “You asked him to do that?”

Cure nodded.

“Fates.” She threw herself at her male, hugging him hard. That physical contact with him immediately eased the tension stretching across her shoulders. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Cure stiffened.

Curse it. She’d made a terrible mistake.

Now was not the right time to express how she felt about him.

She stared at his medic jacket and body armor-clad chest.

But there might not be a right time to do that.

They could both die in mere planet rotations.

“ Do you love me?” Her cyborg’s voice was robotic.

He had retreated to his machine side, hiding his emotions from her.

That made Cyra extremely nervous.

“Or was that merely an expression of appreciation because I asked Doc to tend to our patients?” He provided an alternate explanation for her outburst.

He had asked for more than mere tending. Her male had asked his brethren to cure the Cancris.

And he was now, considerately, giving her an out.

She could laugh and tell him the surprise I love you was only a flippant statement.

But that would be a lie. And he should know how she felt before they went on their dangerous mission.

“I love you, my Cure.” She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “I suspect I’ve loved you since you first answered my call to the universe. You were arrogant and dismissive.” She had also hated him a tiny bit in those early planet rotations. “But your thought processes were brilliant, and I…” She took a deep breath. “I understood them. I might not have always liked what you said, but I valued your opinions. And every time I made progress on the tumor-slowing formula, you were the first being I reached out to. I talked to you before I talked to Zorelle or anyone else.”

His lips moved but he said nothing.

Fates. She was messing up their relationship with her confession. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me.” Her gaze lowered again. She didn’t want to see that rejection in his eyes. “Or if love isn’t something cyborgs do. But I wanted you to know before…” She waved at the medic pack. “And I didn’t want you to think it was a joke or?—”

Cure moved at cyborg speed, capturing her face between his big hands. “Look at me, my female.”

She obeyed that order.

Then she inhaled sharply.

His eyes blazed with emotion. His lips, normally grimly set, curled ever-so-slightly upward.

“I must clarify two things.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “One, love is something cyborgs do. It is something we would battle the entire universe to experience. And two, I feel that way about you. There are thousands, millions of requests for help from medics on the communication lines every planet rotation. I only responded to one non-cyborg’s request – yours. And I couldn’t stop responding to your communications.”

She stared at him. “You love me?” She wanted to be certain that was what he had said.

“I love you.” Cure grazed her lips with his. It was the lightest and the sweetest of touches. “I love you more than I love my role as a medic.” He kissed her again. “I love you more than I loved the Rayan Skin Restorer.”

“You modified it for me.” That sacrifice had melted her heart.

The heart that had been already his.

“I would do anything for you.” He said that with a mind-melting fervor. “I would kill for you, die for you.”

“I want you to live for me.” She turned her head and kissed his right palm, tasting the metallic flavor of his skin. “Heal for me.” She kissed his left palm also. “And I would never make you choose between me and your role as a medic.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask me to choose.” Cure wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “My choice would be you. Always you.”

Cyra leaned against her big male, relishing the strength in his form.

He loved her. Her cyborg medic loved her.

She wanted him to be happy and fulfilled.

That meant she had to embrace another major change in her lifespan.

“Once we figure out the tumor-elimination process and roll it out to the Cancris, we’ll return to your battle station and you can teach me all about keeping cyborgs healthy.” She would miss Zorelle and Uuppie and the other Cancris.

But her place was by Cure’s side.

And relocating to a new place with new types of patients wasn’t a new experience for her. She’d done exactly that when she came to Cancri B.

That time, she’d been alone.

She’d have the hottie male she loved by her side during the upcoming move. The transition should be much smoother…and sexier.

Her lips curled upward.

“There’s no reason to return to the Dauntless.” Cure ran his hands up and down, up and down her back. “Our medic skills aren’t needed there. Statis has filled my role…adequately.”

“He has?” She studied his handsome countenance.

That was a big admission from her proud male.

And he didn’t appear to be upset about the development.

“He has,” Cure confirmed. “And we’re needed on Cancri B.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, leaving a trail of fizzing on her skin. “It’ll take many solar cycles to repair all the beings’ damage. A settlement this size also requires at least one, preferably two permanent medics. And…” His lips twisted. “Someone has to keep Uuppie away from trouble.”

“He does idolize you.” She grinned.

The boy would follow her male around everywhere if he was allowed to do that.

Cure had been embraced by Uuppie, by all the beings in the settlement.

Their patients adored him. They extended to him the trust she’d spent solar cycles building. And they had grown to feel extremely comfortable around him, telling him much more than she suspected her reserved male wanted to know.

But… “Your brethren would miss you.” She had seen how the crew of the Dauntless interacted with each other. They were like a big family. She would feel guilty if he was separated from that caring. “And your captain values your insights.”

“Captain obtains my insights over the transmission lines.” Cure addressed that issue. “Cyborgs communicate constantly. And there’s a high probability many of my brethren will visit Cancri B.” His tone was dry. “Three cyborgs have located their mates here.”

Cure’s mission partner, Drift, was paired, she was almost certain, with the Rebel Female. Zorelle was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Yum. That cyborg was one of her main topics of chatter.

And Cyra had, of course, found her medic cyborg.

“Will you be happy on Cancri B?” That’s all she truly cared about.

“I’ll be happy wherever you are, my female.” Cure gave her that ambiguous answer.

They gazed at each other for a moment.

She yearned to accept his decision to stay on the planet.

It was her home. She cared for many of the beings on Cancri B, including her patients.

But she wanted her cyborg medic to find joy and have purpose.

“Yuuval has also given me the secrets to a happy lifespan.” Cure’s eyes sparkled. “I plan to breed with my mate at sunrise, drink a fermented beverage every planet rotation, and release a massive wind whenever I’m alone.”

“Oh Fates.” Cyra laughed. “Yuuval’s secrets to happiness are…unique. I kept a solemn expression when she shared the first two tips. But when she chattered at length about the farting, I lost it.”

“She was very passionate about the topic.” Her cyborg’s lips twitched. “I’ve never passed wind. Cyborgs have no need for it. But I question the claim she passed wind for sixty-two heartbeats straight on one occasion. That’s excessive and her digestion system appears normal.”

“She says she’s getting better at it.” Cyra couldn’t hold in her mirth. “As she gets older.”

“That’s a plausible theory.” Cure nodded. “I don’t receive insights like that on the Dauntless. I also don’t have a kill-happy boy asking me how to end a lifespan with a nourishment bar. Or overhear a debate about whether or not the pieces of body armor covering my ass are padded.”

“Oh no. You heard that conversation?” That revelation set Cyra off again.

“I heard it and I addressed it.” Cure held her as she laughed. “All pieces of my body armor have a uniform thickness.”

“Did you tell them—” She had to gasp for breath she was laughing so hard. “—your ass is in spec for a D Model?”

He’d told her that shortly after they met face-to-face.

“I did tell them that.” Her cyborg medic’s solemn tone was belied by his mirth-lit eyes. “They told me they required to see more D Model asses to verify that claim.”

Cyra laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks.

Cure then kissed her skin dry. “We’re staying on Cancri B, my female.”

“We’ll be happy here.” She smiled at him.

“We will be happy here.” He nodded. “It’s our home.”

It was their home. She was glad he felt that way also.

“We have to protect that home.” She sighed. The mission they’d been assigned was…daunting. “Let’s go over how to kill a being with a laser scalpel again. I have to get better at that.”

She might have to end lifespans to save the planet.

* * *

Two planet rotations later, Cyra was forced to admit it was highly unlikely she was killing anyone with a laser scalpel.

“It goes against all my training.” She put the device away. “Medics wield a laser scalpel to heal, not to end lifespans.”

“Let me have your hand.” Cure grasped her wrist and placed it first on the trigger of the gun holstered on his right hip and then on the trigger of the gun holstered on his left hip. “I’ve given you access to these weapons. I’ll never be situated far from you. Use them if you need them.”

Cyra doubted she’d be better at shooting a gun than she was at aiming a laser scalpel. “We’ve tested the lifeform-scan-blocking cloaks.”

Her cyborg would wear one in the land transport as they traveled toward the site.

“We’ve added light pigment to the portals on the ship.” She checked that item off her mental task list.

Cure would be situated in the passenger seat. That chair would be reclined. And the pigment would further conceal him from view.

“We’ve loaded the medic pack with explosives.” She ran down the task list. “The schematics for the structure have been reviewed.”

Cure had obtained that information from Drift, his mission partner.

“We’ve walked through every possible scenario we could think of.” Cyra looked up at Cure. “Are we ready?”

“You’ll wear a white head covering and a white flight suit.” Her cyborg informed her. “As well as your white jacket.”

“That’s a lot of white.” She lifted her now completely-filled-in eyebrows. “I’ll stand out.”

“That’s the objective.” Cure nodded. “Only a medic would wear white on the site of an explosion. It’ll decrease the probability they’ll target you.”

“I’ll store both of those garments in the laboratory.” She would change into them when she entered the space to grab the medic pack. “You’re ditching your white jacket when we get the communication.”

Cure, unlike her, didn’t want to be seen.

“My white jacket will be… ditched . Carefully.” He tapped his right index finger against the tip of her nose.

She blinked. “Right.”

“And we’re completing our mission quickly, my female.” Her male grew solemn. “As soon as we set the explosives, we’re leaving. I’m carrying you far away from there.”

He’d convey her at cyborg speed.

That would increase their probability of escaping unharmed.

“I like it when you carry me.” She loaded her tone with sexual suggestion.

Bolts of energy flashed in his eyes.

Her cyborg wanted her. And she wanted him.

Desperately.

They had proceeded directly to training after seeing their patients, skipping their usual fuck. It was time to rectify that scheduling error.

“I also like it when you let me take care of you.” She lowered to her knees before him.

There was a huge bulge in his body armor. She gripped an edge of that protective garment and tugged.

The pieces held, as it had been designed to do.

“I like that too, my female.” Cure pushed his hips forward.

Cyra tried to remove his body armor again.

She knew she’d be unsuccessful, but she wanted to tease him a little.

Her cyborg’s hips swayed. The deep sexy sound coming from his chest grew louder.

She looked up at him, not moving. Her parted lips were intentionally a breath away from his too rigidly contained cock.

He looked down at her. His jaw jutted.

Silence stretched.

She saw the flash in his eyes as his patience broke.

Her male ripped off his body armor in a flurry of movement. His hands blurred. Pieces of the garment flew everywhere.

His cock sprang free first. He was thrillingly hard.

A mere heartbeat later, his entire form was naked.

Her mouth dried.

Fates. He was beautiful.

She ran her palms up his thighs. His skin was soft. His physique was unyielding. He was all cyborg, organics over a metal frame.

Cyra drifted her fingertips over the vee leading to his groin. His cock bobbed.

“You’re eager.” Her voice was husky.

“For you? Always.” The rest of him remained still.

She explored him with her hands, delving into the dips, navigating the slopes. Her hands had traveled his fit physique many times, yet she was still struck by a sense of awe, of wonder, of gratitude and love.

“My female.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“My male.” She wrapped her fingers around his girth, savoring the thickness of him.

Cure made a sexy hurting noise.

Her touch impacted him that much.

She smiled and stroked him, up and down, up and down. He was warm and rigid against her skin. The veins on his shaft pulsed.

“Good.” Her articulate male was reduced to one-syllable words. “So good.”

She worked him harder, faster.

A bead of pre-cum formed on his slit. It shimmered, reflecting the light, beckoning to her.

She couldn’t resist it. It was too enticing.

He was too enticing.

She extended the tip of her tongue farther and farther.

Cure’s eyes widened. His body stiffened.

She paused.

He curled his fingers into huge fists.

She flicked her flesh over his cockhead.

He jerked violently.

“You taste so good.” She moaned.

His nanocybotics bubbled on her tongue. His unique flavor coated her palate.

“My female.” His eyes were as bright as lasers.

“I need more of you.” She pushed her lips over him, and he vibrated against her. Seeking to hold him in place, she curved her fingers over his hips as she took him deeper and deeper.

Taking all of him was impossible. He was too large.

She covered the rest of his shaft with her fingers.

Then she bobbed over him, advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating. He remained motionless for a moment, allowing her to set the pace. She valued that and him.

Her cyborg had patience. And willpower. And love for her.

Once she had found her groove, he rocked into her. He added a little bit more intensity to that movement with each repetition.

Her lips hummed. Her tongue cradled his length.

She gazed up at him.

His jaw was clenched. His lips had flattened. His eyes glowed.

He looked…fierce. And that turned her on.

But he also looked too…restrained.

She slapped his shaft, attempting to change that.

Her cyborg medic snarled, and he thrust into her mouth so hard his balls smacked her chin.

Cyra retaliated by sucking on his tip.

And he clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.

A laugh escaped her lips. She could taunt him without fear.

Her male would never deliberately hurt her. She knew that in her heart.

And, if he did ever lose control, her finger grip on him would prevent him from going too deep.

They took turns ratcheting up the rhythm until soon he was fucking her mouth with a mind-spinning fervor. And she loved it.

He trusted her with his passion, with the primitive side of him she doubted anyone else ever saw. She was the holder of his most-vivid emotions, of her cyborg’s safeguarded heart.

That stimulated her. Greatly.

It must have stimulated him also. Cure grunted as he pistoned in and out of her. That savage sound wet her pussy.

Connection swirled around them, binding them together.

His cock swelled slightly.

He was close.

She would take him all the way there.

As he drove into her mouth, she gripped his base with one hand and brushed his balls with her fingertips. It was a whisper-light caress.

And it broke her big male completely.

“My female.” He howled. His simulated spine bowed. His eyes went dark. His nanocybotic-infused cum blasted the back of her throat.

She screamed around his shaft. Pleasure hit her from all angles. Warmth filled her mouth. She swallowed, numerous times, not wasting one precious drop.

Her cyborg came again and again and again.

She sucked him dry. His essence bathed her throat and heated her core. Pleasure swept over her.

“Frag. Frag. Frag.” Cure’s legs trembled.

Then he fell.

His cock slipped from her mouth.

His knees hit the tiled floor. Hard.

She winced. That had to hurt.

“My female.” Her male reached out blindly for her.

“I’m here.” She wrapped her arms around his big form. “I have you, my male.” She held him to her. “I love you.”

His head dropped to her shoulder. “Love you,” he mumbled against her neck.

She’d rendered her cyborg medic semi-incoherent.

Cyra smiled.

She had skills.

And she had a male whom she loved and who loved her back.