She was a nurse here and he was a prisoner. No matter what his male instincts and drives were hinting at, nothing was going to happen.
“No. Go ahead. He’s still got the mag-cuffs on. Just shout if you need anything, okay?”
Lyon released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Her footsteps rang out against the deck plating as she made her way to his cell. Lyon found himself listening to them. Light, delicate and precise, they were much like the woman herself.
She stopped at the front to his cell. Lyon kept his eyes closed. He knew she was studying him. He opened them as she released a hiss of frustration, her breath whistling over her teeth.
“Christ. They’ve really given you a good going-over this time, haven’t they?” She snapped off the force field sealing the front of the cell and stepped in. “Now, you have to be a good boy for me. The cams are off again and Hawkins out there is as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. I’d rather treat you without half the marine detachment breathing down my neck.”
She paused in front of him and looked down with a firm expression he found as cute as hell. Lyon surged to his feet. Her gray eyes widened in surprise, but to her credit, she didn’t scream or run. Reaching out with his manacled hands, he tucked a stray curl of her hair back over her ear.
“You’re perfectly safe with me,” he promised. Just not safe from me. “After all, why would I want to hurt someone who’s helping me?”
His onboard sensors registered the hitch in her breathing and the sudden increase in her heart rate. She was standing there looking so calm and collected, but he could tell the effort was costing her. Taking pity, he sat down.
“There. See? Good boy. Happy now? Or do I need to roll over and play dead?”
He had no clue where all these words were coming from. Normally he wasn’t the most garrulous of men. Not by a long shot. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for his squad to go days without getting a full sentence out of him.
She smiled. It was just a hint of a smile, the merest quirk of her lips, but Lyon’s chest filled with triumph. He’d made her smile. It was the highlight of his day.
“No, you’ll do as you are. Let me get a look at those bruises.”
He sat back as she worked, ignoring the sudden cold of the antiseptic spray and the heat of the regenerator as she ran it over the large purple and black bruises covering his torso. The worst damage was on his back, particularly over his kidneys, although why they were bothering to concentrate their blows there he had no idea.
He didn’t have the usual human weaknesses. His bones were laced with duerineium alloy, his joints replaced with cybernetic constructs. His organs, arterial pathways and nerve clusters were all protected by heavy-duty sub-dermal synthmesh that would absorb any blow an unaided human could dish out. He’d been designed to play chicken with a shuttle and still walk away.
They literally couldn’t damage him outside the operating theatre, so the only reason for the beatings was to inflict pain. Some of his people mourned the humanity they’d lost in the in vitro tanks when their cybernetics had been implanted. He didn’t. The more he learned about the race which had created his, the less he liked them. Apart from the pretty little nurse standing in front of him. He liked her way too much for comfort.
She hit a particularly sore section and he flinched. Swearing under her breath, she flicked a glance to his face.
“Sorry, I’ll try to be gentle. I can’t believe they did this, what’s the bloody point?”
The pressure from the regenerator eased up. He breathed a little deeper as the band of pain around his midriff disappeared.
“Making a point. The sheer human joy in causing pain and suffering.” He shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m not human.”
Easing farther down on the bunk, he spread his thighs to get comfortable. Without a break in her movements, she moved between his legs to get at the remaining discoloration on his stomach.
“Bloody stupid. I’d like to get hold of them and give them a taste of their own medicine,” she grumbled, dropping to her knees to look critically at her handiwork.
Heat surged through his body. The touch of her hands was maddeningly soft, heat surging through him before she knelt in such a provocative position. If she leaned forward just a little further… He bit back a groan of lust.
Her gaze shot to his face, worry written all over her delicate features. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, drive a hand into her dark hair as he claimed her lips. He’d hold her still and plunder her mouth. Thrust into the welcoming heat, again and again, f**king her mouth with his tongue. Shuddering, he snapped out of his daze and looked at her.
What was it about this woman? He’d had offers from women of his kind. Strong, capable, cyborg women. Women who could withstand his rough passion. So why did he want one who was so easily breakable?
Closing his eyes, he tried to conceal the effect she had on him. He was lucky he was cyborg, with ultimate control over his body and its reactions. Or she’d be up close and personal with how she was making him feel. A face full of thick c*ck was hard to miss.
“Sorry, I’ll be gentler.”
Her voice was soft and calm; the consummate nurse. They needed medics back at base. All raiding parties were ordered to snatch and grab medically trained staff wherever they could and take them back to Redemption Bay, the cyborg resistance home base.
Lyon shook his head and put the thought from his mind. That way led to madness and a whole heap of trouble. He had a mission here. The sooner he remembered that, and stuck to it, the better off everyone would be.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”
She winced a little. He hardened his heart. No doubt she was wondering how many people he’d killed. That was what humans always assumed of his people. They were killers, born and bred.
“Okay, move your arms for me, please.”
He moved to allow her to reach the bruising on his stomach. Not the easiest thing to treat when his hands were manacled in front of him.
“Who’d you lose to?”
She moved his hands again and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“To end up treating me. I can’t imagine it would be high on the list of dream assignments in the nurses’ bay.”
“Oh.” Understanding filled her eyes. A blush raced across her cheeks.
“No one. I asked for the assignment. Look, this is no good.” She sat back on her heels and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, but I have to put you in the restraints…”
She nodded toward the heavy-duty hooks on the wall above the bed. Used for restraining the most violent cases when the cell had to be cleaned, even he wouldn’t be able to break them.
“It’s that or call a full guard detail in so I can get to the last bit of this. Which would you prefer?”
I’d prefer you on your knees sucking my cock. The thought slipped through before he could censor it. Swallowing, he concentrated on something mundane. Like rewiring maintenance panels for the Chameleon or field-stripping a KL-700 heavy machine gun.
He locked the wayward thought away. Not only had she apologized to him before, she was now giving him a choice. Admittedly it wasn’t much of a choice. Cuffed to the bed or get treated under armed guard, but still, it was a choice.
“The restraints. Please,” he added as an afterthought and ventured a small smile.
She smiled back and stood to draw the restraints together. He lifted his hands. A moment later the mag-cuffs clicked into place and, slowly, his hands were drawn apart.
His hands safely out the way, it only took her a couple of minutes to clear up the remainder of his injuries. Finally she straightened and treated him to a bright smile.
“There you go, all fixed up.”
“Thank you. Are you going to divulge your name or is that classified information?”
He couldn’t stop himself quizzing her as she packed her equipment away.
Everything was handheld and he knew there wasn’t anything with a sharp edge in there. Just in case he managed to escape the three-inch-wide cuffs, which would be a miracle of epic proportions. No, the only way he was getting out of these babies was if his sexy little nurse made a big mistake or if he could charm her into letting him go.
He was rusty, but he could manage a little light flirtation. The full-on Casanova act, though, that was well beyond him.
She flashed him another smile from under lashes so full they had to be illegal. Lyon sucked in a breath at the direct look. How did she manage to look so hot in that utilitarian ship-suit? While it wasn’t fitted, it also wasn’t a sack, but there was no way it could be described as sexy.
“No, not classified information. It’s Samara. Samara Williams,” she said and started to hold out her hand. Halfway through the gesture, she recalled he was chained up and stopped. A deep flush spread over her cheeks.
Lyon inclined his head, ignoring her faux pas, and simply smiled. She blushed so prettily, her mouth a bee-stung pout. He looked away quickly, a wash of heat running rampant over his shoulders and chest all the way down to get all friendly with his cock.
“Pleased to meet you, Samara. Now we’re all introduced, would you mind letting my arms down a little? My fingers are going numb.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. There you go.”
Stepping to the side, she reached up and activated the restraints. This time the mechanism drew Lyon’s wrists together over his head. Hearing the click, she pressed the button to release him and turned around to zip up her kit bag.
Perhaps through sloppiness or inexperience with the equipment, she didn’t check to make sure the sound she’d heard was his mag-cuffs locking together instead of Lyon clicking the cuff against the metal of the wall. He froze for a second when she turned away, hardly daring to believe his ruse had worked.
Testing the theory, he pulled at his wrist. It came away from the wall with a small snick. He blinked, all his attention focused on the woman in the room with him. She’d made a mistake. He was free. What did he do now?
His logical side said he put her out of commission and fight his way off the ship.
Or, nastier, use her as a human shield. She’d been nice to him though. She’d apologized and given him a choice. Treated him like a human being and not the animal the rest of her race branded him.
Was he really going to repay her by proving the rumors right?
Chapter Two
He was hot. No, hot didn’t even cover it. Totally fuckable… Sex on freaking legs.
Samara packed her small med-kit away, trying hard to keep her eyes away from the impressive bulge at her patient’s crotch and not drool at the same time.
It wasn’t right to ogle her patient. In fact, she was breaking several clauses in the intergalactic nurses’ code of conduct even thinking about it. If that were the case, then her dreams last night—all supercharged and highly erotic—would smash them to smithereens.
So intent was she on not staring at his crotch that she missed the sounds of movement behind her. She didn’t realize he’d moved until hard hands closed around her. One over her mouth and the other wrapping around her waist to yank her up against his hard body.