Born

20

The smell of roasting meat woke Cormack from his bizarre dream. The foreign softness beneath him made him sit upright in a hurry, scrambling for the recollection of what had brought him here.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head and caught sight of her sitting in a mammoth chair that seemed ten times too big for her. She had curled her feet up beneath herself and though her position appeared relaxed, he could practically see the tension radiating from her.

Cyborg. The whisper in his mind brought back the earlier scene, Allora crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. The girl that had touched him, shared things with his mind that had overloaded his brain, visions of war and death, even those that had not yet happened. Though the room’s temperature was warm, the memories chilled him to his marrow.

“Are you all right?” Carefully, he maneuvered to the side of the bed. “Where are we?”

“Our new home.” Her tone was bleak, hollow, all her fight spent.

It frightened him more than anything else that had happened. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head and he caught sight of the tears tracking down her face. Dismissing caution, he went to her, needing to comfort her.

“What has upset you so?”

She held his gaze. “I’m like them, a Cyborg.”

Cormack shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“It’s true.” She rose, and then, almost as an afterthought, picked the chair up, with one hand. “I was born with their enhancements. My mother didn’t flee from the Cyborgs—she brought me to the colony so I could find the journal.” Her gaze skittered away as she set the chair down. “And you.”

His heart thundered in his ribcage. “What do you mean?”

A sniffle and then she looked up to him again.

“We are a science experiment. The Cyborgs want to free the Bred, but because of your conditioning they require tangible evidence, proof that the Bred have been lied to all these years.”

“What sort of proof?”

“A child, our child. Evidence that the Bred are not infertile, but are kept sterilized so the Born are in total control of you all, from birth to death.”

“Kept sterilized how?”

“The nutri packets. There is something in them—

” her words cut off on a sob and he had to take her in his arms, hold her while she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. They’re so evil, working the Bred to death, rewarding them with food drugged to keep them sterile. And I helped them.” The horror in her voice couldn’t be faked.

He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. “You didn’t do this, didn’t ask for any of this. Allora, you are just a victim here.”

She shoved against him, hard enough that he was forced to release her. “But I’m one of them, one of your enemies!”

He looked her over once, slowly, surveying her up and down. “I see only my task mistress.”

This time he saw something else in her eyes besides her anguished tears. Hope, bright and unsure, but ready to take root, if he nurtured it.

“Allora, you are everything I’ve ever wanted, a gift. Even if I detest the giver, do you believe I’d return you and go about my life? Now you tell me there is a way for me to help my people, to free them.” His lips curled up. “And all I have to do is keep loving you?

Even if this is some sort of Cyborg scheme, I’ll fall into the net happily.”

Faster than his mind could comprehend it, she threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the bed.

Her lips pressed against his in a feverish kiss and she broke it only long enough to whisper. “I thought you’d hate me.”

“Never,” he announced, fumbling to remove her armor from her body. “You are mine, Task Mistress, and I will cherish you for all time.”

Fingers fumbled with the zipper on his suit, her insistent tugs ratcheting his need up, as he scented her arousal. The plates of armor fell away and he drew her shift over her head, baring her body to him.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to eat—”

“I plan to,” Guiding her up so she straddled his face once more, his tongue darting out to claim the first taste. “I’m starving, Task Mistress. Feed me.”

Her back arched and he gripped her hips. First he explored the soft mystery of the wet folds before lashing her clitoris until she cried out in release.

Tugging lightly on his hair she panted.

“Cormack…I need you inside me.”

Delivering a final stroke to her quivering flesh, he maneuvered her to her hands and knees so he could enter her from behind.

He guided his shaft into the soft, wet heat, letting her body sheath him. Blanketing himself over her back, he cupped her breasts, thrumming the nipples.

“I need to take you hard, Allora.”

“Yes.” She moaned, thrusting back so he moved within her. “I want that.”

His control broke and he seized her hips again, surging forward. She cried out when his cock drove in her even deeper.

The sight of her, spread to him like that, her body taking his inside, the sounds…his hips pistoned madly. The feel of her, like liquid fire.

“Cormack!” Her red locks spilled over the soft blanket. Amethyst eyes grew heavy-lidded as she gazed up at him over her shoulder, lips parted on her cry. He needed to see her face. Withdrawing, he rolled her to her back and waited to enter her again, needing to do something even more important before he drove within her again. “You are mine, Allora, mine to love, mine alone.” He spoke the vow the Bred accepted as the binding ceremony when a male chose his Only One.

Her eyes went wide as she recognized his words.

Threading her fingers through his she whispered. “I am yours, as you are mine. For now, for always.”

Cormack drove his cock home, sealing their union with flesh as tradition demanded. He came at once, but stayed inside her, unwilling to let this moment end. Laying his head against her breast he breathed her name, a smile on his lips.

“Tell me again what you’ll do if I should go mad?”

She laughed, her amusement shaking his resting place. “Shoot you, of course. It’s the only humane thing to do.”

He looked up at her, heart bursting with joy to behold her in this new world of possibility. He knew he wouldn’t go mad, because loving her required all of his time and energy, there would be none left for insanity to claim. “Just so we’re clear.”