The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg Page 5

  “I changed into my jammies—I’m treating you like a roommate already.”

  “I want you to be comfortable,” he said gravely.

  “What about you? Do you have something comfortable to change into?”

  He hesitated but went with the truth. “I usually just wear my uniform.”

  “Even to sleep?”

  “No.”

  “But—oh.” Her cheeks turned pink as her eyes seemed to drop almost unwillingly to his groin, but she didn’t shrink back. “Would you like some pajama pants? I bought them for Winthrop, but I don’t think he thought they were appropriate. He never wore them.”

  She looked so eager that he didn’t have the heart to refuse.

  “Yes, of course. If you would like me to wear them.”

  “Oh, good. And you can take your shower now as well.” She cast a somewhat doubtful look at his arm. “It’s okay if you get your arm wet?”

  “Yes. It can survive a wide variety of environments.”

  “And you? I mean the rest of you? You can survive too, right?”

  A small frown line appeared between her brows and he couldn’t resist the temptation to smooth away the line.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  For a moment, she almost appeared to sway towards him, and his body froze, but then she gave a determined nod.

  “Good. I’ll just get those pants for you.”

  Standing under a cold shower a few minutes later, he did his best to remind himself that this was a partnership, not a relationship. She was simply lonely and looking for reassurance. But his mind traveled back to the image of her bathing and his cock stiffened. Giving into temptation, he tugged at it, his hand rough and demanding, so unlike Hattie’s long graceful fingers. What would it feel like to have her touch him? To caress his aching flesh or perhaps even to use that small pink tongue on him? The image was too much for him and he came with a hoarse groan. He felt like the randy teenager he had never been. At the age when most young men were discovering girls, he had been fighting for his survival. The few females he had encountered were already worn down, toughened by life on the streets.

  But Hattie…

  Even though he suspected that her life had not been easy, she still retrained a degree of optimism and a sense of hope. He would make sure that wasn’t taken away from her.

  He toweled off and picked up the pants she had provided. Picturing her reserved husband, he found it easy to believe that he hadn’t been a fan of dark-red silk pajamas. For that matter, they weren’t anything he would have chosen either, but he wasn’t about to disappoint her. The silky fabric felt luxurious against his naked skin as he pulled them on, but the loose fabric would do nothing to conceal an erection. He would have to make sure he remained in control.

  Once he was dressed, he realized that without a shirt, his cybernetic parts would be completely revealed. Would she recoil from him? She hadn’t so far, and he decided that it would be foolish to hide—nothing would change him back to the man he had been. Despite his resolve, he still had to gather his courage before reentering the main dome. His earlier resolution to remain in control was immediately tested when Hattie looked up and smiled at him, her gaze appreciative rather than repulsed.

  Chapter Seven

  Oh my. Hattie’s breath caught as Morgan strode into the room. Broad, bare shoulders—the right one merging seamlessly into a fascinating arrangement of bronzed metal—topped a wide muscled chest and a ladder of abdominal muscles leading down to… The burgundy silk pants hung low on his narrow hips, but despite the loose fit, she could clearly see the outline of his cock beneath the thin material, hanging heavily against his thigh. Even as she watched it twitched, starting to thicken, and she hastily snatched her gaze away.

  “Do you want me to put on a shirt? To cover my arm?”

  His voice sounded strained and she looked at him in dismay when she realized he had misinterpreted her averted eyes. “No, of course not. Unless… are you cold without a shirt?”

  “Not at all.” He shrugged one big shoulder, muscles rippling. “I told you I can withstand a wide range of temperatures.”

  “Withstanding and enjoying are not the same thing,” she said tartly. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes. I find this temperature very pleasant.”

  “Good.” She settled back into the couch and smiled at him. “I brought out the plans I made for the next five years if you’d like to take a look.”

  “You made?”

  He sat on the other end of the couch and the large piece of furniture seemed to shrink. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the heat emanating from his big body, of the scent of clean male, but she forced herself to respond to his question.

  “Mainly me, I’m afraid. By the time we were on the journey here, Winthrop had begun to… deteriorate. His limited energies were more concentrated on his role with GenCon. He wasn’t as interested in the day to day details of the homestead.”

  “Unlike you?”

  “Exactly. I am determined to make this place succeed. And on its own—without the need for Lewis money or assistance from GenCon.”

  “You are quite a woman, Hattie,” he said solemnly, and she blushed.

  “I haven’t done it yet. And really, all of this is just based on the information provided to us by Earth Government.” Handing him a sheaf of documents, she began to explain her plans.

  Several hours later, she finally wound to a close. Unlike Winthrop, Morgan had been an interested, involved participant. Once he realized that she wasn’t offended by his comments, he had several interesting suggestions.

  “Do you really think we should devote a section of the greenhouse to grain and hops?” she asked.

  “Yes. We could sell it to one of the bars in town or even set up our own brewery.” He shot her his twisted grin. “If there is one product that is always in demand, it’s alcohol.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Speaking of which, would you like a small glass of brandy? I’ve been saving it for a celebration and somehow this feels like the right moment.”

  When Morgan nodded, she went to retrieve the bottle of brandy and, after a moment’s hesitation, the two cut-crystal glasses that Winthrop had brought along with them.

  “A remnant of civilization in the wilderness,” he had said with his small smile when he told her he planned to bring them.

  “Is that what you think Mars will be? A wilderness?”

  He had sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Why are you doing this, Winthrop? Do you really even want to go?”

  He had swirled the brandy in his glass, looking at the crystalline gold liquid rather than at her.

  “It’s what I must do.” Then he had looked up and lifted his glass to her. “Thank you, Harriet. Thank you for accompanying me. Your… enthusiasm helps to make this easier for me.”

  “I will make sure I do everything I can to make us a home. We will have a good life there.”

  He had smiled and taken a drink, but she wondered once again what he had been thinking. The good life she had promised him had never really happened, but she was still determined to make this a home—a home she would never have to leave.

  Shaking away the memories, she poured a healthy portion of brandy for Morgan and a smaller amount for herself and returned to the couch. Their fingers brushed as she handed him the glass and she had to fight to prevent herself from reacting. She had been overwhelming conscious of him all evening, a constant low hum of arousal running beneath the talk of greenhouses and crops and planting lichen.

  “So, Morgan,” she said, trying for a lighter note. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I was a soldier. Now, I’m a cyborg. And a ranger.” He didn’t look at her, concentrating instead on the crystal snifter, impossibly delicate in his big hand.

  She waited but he didn’t add anything else.

  “And that’s it? No family? No friends?”

  “No family th
at I remember. I was placed in one of the government orphanages at birth.”

  Earth Government had tried—with a limited degree of success—to control population growth. Because of the penalties associated with unlicensed children, many of them were turned over to the government at birth.

  “I was too,” she said quietly. “But my mother adopted me when I was only a few weeks old.”

  “She was good to you?”

  “Very good. She became sick when I was in my early teens and I spent a long time caring for her. But I treasured every moment we had together.” Her lips trembled.

  “I was not adopted.” The stark words fell between them and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t continue, but eventually he sighed. “Almost from the moment I could think for myself I was determined to leave the orphanage. I don’t know how many times I ran away, but they kept hauling me back until I reached the age of twelve. Then they washed their hands of me.”

  “Twelve?” She stared at him in appalled horror. “You were on your own at twelve?”

  “Yes.” A muscle in his cheek flexed. “It was… difficult, but still better than the orphanage. I joined the military as soon as I could.”

  She took a sip of the brandy, relishing the smooth burn sliding over her tongue and down into her stomach. When she looked back at Morgan, she expected him to be gazing off into the distance. Instead, he was looking at her and the heat turning his eyes to gleaming metal made her breath catch. They stared at each other for a moment, then her gaze dropped, snagging on the seam between his chest and his cybernetic arm.

  “Earlier you said you didn’t volunteer to become a cyborg,” she said slowly.

  “No.”

  She waited but this time he didn’t continue. With a slight, impatient noise, he drained his brandy then stood abruptly.

  “The storm has died down. I should go and do a last check.”

  “Now? But it’s so late.”

  “Darkness doesn’t prevent people from misbehaving,” he said dryly.

  “Do you really expect trouble?”

  He took a look at her worried face and seemed to relent. “Probably not. But I would feel better if I took a quick look around.”

  “And then you’ll come back in?”

  “You are sure that is what you want?”

  “Yes, of course.” Trying not to blush, she added, “I meant what I said before. You’re welcome to have the bedroom. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  “Under no circumstances. You go on to bed now and I’ll try not to disturb you when I come back.”

  Before she could respond, he disappeared back into the bathroom and returned moments later, once more clad in his faded black. He headed for the airlock door and she jumped up, catching his arm before he opened it.

  “Please be careful, Morgan.”

  He looked down at her and his stern face finally softened.

  “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” He dropped the briefest of kisses on her lips, no more than a faint touch of warm lips, and was gone.

  Her hand pressed to her mouth, she peered out into the darkness for a long time before she could make herself go to bed. Leaving a light burning in the main room, she was still listening for his return when she finally fell asleep.

  M-231 decided to leave Ghost in the vehicle shed and do a quick patrol on foot instead. As he had told Hattie, he didn’t really expect trouble. The temperature was already well below freezing and most humans didn’t have the resilience to broach the frigid cold. Still, his sense of responsibility drove him to check. That and his sudden discomfort with her questions. She didn’t need to know the kind of life he had led, the horrors he had seen—and committed.

  Sitting in the quiet room, drinking the best liquor he’d ever had from the finest glass, it was all too easy to forget that he was there as her partner because she needed help, not because they were a couple. Pushing aside his longing, he picked up his pace, heading for the ridge where they had stopped earlier at a speed no full human could have matched. Once he reached the vantage point, he surveyed her land—their land.

  The earlier storm had died down completely, leaving only a fresh layer of dust on everything. Even the ever-present wind seemed to have taken a break and silence hung over the small valley. Overhead, millions of stars were clearly visible through the thin atmosphere and only a few ice clouds trailed across the sky. The habitat dome glowed a soft gold and he realized she must have left the light on for him. His chest ached and he rubbed it absently, the feel of metal reminding him that he had no grounds for longing. Still, his steps quickened as he headed back, and he returned even faster than he had left.

  As he let himself quietly back into the habitat, he could hear the soft sound of Hattie’s breathing. She hadn’t even closed the bedroom door, he realized, his chest aching again. How could she trust him that much? Even more determined to protect her, he assumed a position in front of the windows, set his systems to keep watch, and let his body relax into a resting position.

  With his senses on alert, he heard it the moment her breathing quickened. A soft sob followed, and he sprang back to full awareness. When she sobbed again, he could no more have stopped himself from going to her than he could have stopped his heart from beating.

  The light from the main room was enough for him to see her slender body in the middle of the bed, her eyes closed and her cheeks glistening with tears. Another pitiful sob escaped her lips and he eased himself down on the bed next to her, stroking her soft brown hair lightly.

  “Hush, sweetheart.”

  At the first touch of his hand, she stilled, then she grabbed him and buried her head in his chest, sobbing even more loudly.

  “She l-l-left me,” she stuttered. “They all l-l-leave me.”

  “Well, I’m not going to leave you.”

  She tightened her fingers in his shirt and cried even harder. All he could do was hold her and whisper reassurances. Her sobs finally stuttered to a stop and big green eyes opened for a second, looking up at him with tear-soaked desperation.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t,” he promised, and her eyes closed again.

  He wondered if she had even been awake. But her hands were still firmly clutching his shirt, so he carefully eased them both back down on the bed. She sighed and snuggled closer and his cock began to stiffen but he firmly suppressed it. He was here to comfort her, nothing more. But with an armful of warm, soft woman, it was very difficult to remember that. Her soft hair brushed his chin and the dark room wrapped them in an illusion of intimacy. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Eight

  Harriet awoke feeling exhausted, yet somehow lighter than she had in a long time. Her sinuses ached and she suddenly remembered crying—crying for her mother, crying for Winthrop, crying for herself—in a way she had never let herself before. Despite her sorrow, she had felt safe, just as she did now. Safe and warm and… wrapped in Morgan’s arms. Cheeks flaming, she tried to slip away but his arms tightened around her briefly before they loosened.

  “Are you all right?”

  The deep, rumbling voice close to her ear sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine. With a start, she realized that while it had taken her a moment to catch on to where she was, her body hadn’t had any doubts. The tight, aching points of her nipples were pressed against his chest and she could feel the slick warmth between her legs.

  “I’m sorry.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Did I cry all over you last night?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Not really. I just remember being sad and lonely and then… I wasn’t alone.”

  “You begged me not to leave.” He eyed her as if he expected her to object.

  “Thank you for staying with me.”

  “Of course. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

  “My mother.” She looked down, studying his shirt rather than his expression. “I’m not sure that I ever gave myself a chance to grieve. We b
oth knew it was coming and I thought I had accepted it. But perhaps you never do.”

  “No. Death is never easy to accept.”

  He looked at her and for a breathless moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he gently disengaged her and sat up.

  “What do you plan to do today?”

  Hiding her disappointment, she sat up as well and forced a smile. “I want to go back down to the soil farm and make sure everything is all right. I’ll check on the other two greenhouses as well—those two have actual crops. Then I need to do some lichen planting.”

  Part of the homestead requirements was to spread a specially-bred lichen over fifty percent of the claim. The dark lichen was designed to help absorb heat from the sun and to restore bacteria to the soil.

  “I will try and get back in time to assist. But first I want to try and follow the tracks from yesterday to see if I can find out who was attempting to sabotage the claim. Then I need to return to New Arcadia. We left so quickly yesterday that I didn’t get a chance to make arrangements on handling my duties.”

  She bit back her immediate protest to his plans; she had no right to tell him what to do. Instead, she started with the easier subject. “Does that mean you won’t be a ranger anymore?”

  His twisted grin appeared. “I will always be a ranger. I’m just going to change my territory so I can stay close to the claim and do my share.”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you cover the power stations?” She might have done her best to hide her interest in him, but she knew that he frequently took long patrols up to where the huge stations were generating greenhouse gases.

  “I did. But now I intend to be… home here, every night.”

  Ducking her head to hide her delighted smile, she took a deep breath and brought up the other subject.

  “Do you really have to follow those tracks? I’m sure it was just foolish vandalism. You said people might be jealous. Now that you’re here, it probably won’t happen again.”

  “It’s definitely not going to happen again,” he said grimly.