The two looked after him in shock as Eoin boosted himself up into the tube, putting himself perilously close to the cutting arc of the boarder. Sparks flew and dropped down around his legs and booted feet. Cael tried not to stare at the brace on his left leg.
No one in the section looked at it directly. They were all uncomfortable that one of their number might be less than physically perfect.
Archon looked back at her, his sinfully full lips quirking. “So what about it, gorgeous? Want to grab a room after this and do the horizontal tango for a night?”
Cael punched his arm in answer. Even female and a Cancer, a class known more for its computing power than brute strength, she was heavily enhanced. Archon rocked back on his heels as he absorbed the power of her blow. He gasped and held his hands over his heart. “Lady, you wound me.”
“Get a derma-bandage.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she followed Eoin into the boarding tube.
* * * * *
The boarding was fast and furious. As soon as the cutter was done, the three cyborgs dropped into the corridor below, rifles at the ready. The Valkyrie was an exploration and fast-response vessel. Cael’s interrogation of the Fleet databases had revealed that there was a marine detachment stationed on board, so there was going to be a certain amount of resistance.
Sure enough, within seconds of them breaching the ship’s hull, the marines were on them. Ignoring the laser bolts whizzing past her head, Cael slid behind Eoin’s bulk, dropped her rifle to the deck and yanked an access panel off the wall. She didn’t have time to search for an unsecured access point, so it would have to be brute force.
Peering into the mass of cables under the panel, she picked out the data cable. Knife in hand, she stripped the protective casing back, ignoring the electrical shock that tingled over her skin. All cyborgs were protected against electrical shock and EM pulse, but none more than Cancers, who were designed to deal with power and data systems. “Gotcha.”
The knife cut the plastic sheath easily. Below it, the tritanium-copper alloy of the data cable winked back at her. Without hesitation, Cael reached in and grabbed it. The metallic access points buried in the palm of her hand like a spider’s web sparked into life and then she was into the system.
“Bypassing firewalls. Shit, they’ve got the TM-twenty-seven,” she announced to the two men providing covering fire. To all intents and purposes, the battle for the ship was taking place in the corridor as the two forces, cyborg and Fleet, exchanged fire. The reality was far different. The battle was in cyberspace, between Cael and the ship’s defense computer.
Eoin flicked a glance over his shoulder. The first time he’d looked at her fully in a long time, since before his accident. “You can do it, babe. I know you can.”
Surprised by the support as well as the warmth and interest in his eyes as he flicked his gaze over her still form, Cael just lay there for a moment. Snapping herself out of it, she rerouted all available processing power to cracking the Valkyrie’s defense net. For long moments her body grew heavy and she even allowed her breathing to stop as she disappeared into cyberspace.
With a crack, the net broke. Whooping in triumph, Cael surged into the computer to take command. Straight away she shut down all the alarms, locked out command access with a mutating algorithm and created an all-access wireless link so she could maintain control even when she let go of the cable.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. “Marine weapons shutdown in three…two…now!”
“That was…amazing.”
Even to Samara, her voice sounded shaky. It should do, she’d just had the most amazing sex in her life. She wrapped her arms around Lyon with tenderness. He was still breathing heavily, his body buried deeply in hers. It was more than the sex, she admitted, stroking his back as she waited for him to calm down. He was a cyborg, the supposed scourge of the galaxy, yet he was trembling in her arms.
He grunted in answer and pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck. Leaning her cheek against him, she allowed her eyes to close and let it all fall away. It didn’t matter that she was nak*d in a cell with a guy she’d only met a couple of days ago. It didn’t matter he was a prisoner.
All that mattered was he was holding her, his big body wrapped around her protectively. An orphan of the Heral system war, she was used to being on her own.
The feeling of being held and protected was an almost forgotten, and very seductive, one.
“Awww. Isn’t this nice?”
She jumped at the sound of a voice from the corridor. They’d been discovered.
Expecting marines to pour into the cell at any moment and tear him away, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. She didn’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be over.
Not yet.
Lyon shifted position slightly, keeping the bulk of his body between her and the open front of the cell, his face still buried in the curve of her neck.
“Archon. Do me a favor and f**k off.”
A wholly masculine chuckle was the reply. “Seems like you’re doing enough of that for the both of us. Want me to leave you two lovebirds to it? I mean, it’s only your own goddamn rescue. Nothing important.”
“I swear to God, I’m going to wring that f**king Gemini’s neck.”
“You know him?” The instant the words slipped from her mouth, Samara wanted to kick herself. Of course Lyon knew him. How else would he know his name?
“Aye. Rescue party. And they’re late. Archon, turn your back.” Lyon’s voice was hard as he looked back over his shoulder.
“Awww, Lyon, man. You’ve gotta be kidding me…”
“Now.”
She jumped at the snapped command. Beyond the broad shoulders which were cutting off her view of the rest of the cell came the sound of boots on the deck and Archon grumbling. Something about never getting to see any action. Samara couldn’t help it, he sounded so much like a sulky teenager that she giggled. Granted it had a note of hysteria, but it was still mostly a sound of amusement.
Lyon slipped out of her, then let her down gently, holding her as her feet touched the floor. She scrambled for her discarded clothing as he pulled his ship-suit into place again. Heat flared over her cheeks as she shoved her arms and legs into the suit, then yanked the zipper up with a sharp movement. He’d taken her while still mostly clothed.
Sliding her feet into her slip-ons, she finally met his eyes. Like a patient cat, he simply watched, green eyes impassive over the small tattoo on his cheek. Rescue party.
He was leaving. Disappointment crashed over her like the waves on a beach. Was she just a quick tumble, a bit of fun while he had a spare five minutes?
The other man stepped into the cell. Like Lyon, he had a tattoo on his cheek, but unlike Lyon, he had a more slender build, with shoulder-length blond hair and looks that would raise the pulse of any red-blooded woman. Apart from Samara…she didn’t feel a thing when she looked at him.
“Boss man, you done with the chick? Because we have a bit of time and if she’s hot—”
Lyon was snarling as he turned. Violence in every line of his body, he grabbed the other cyborg by the throat and propelled him into the wall behind. “No one touches her but me. Understand?”
Archon gasped for breath as Lyon’s hand clamped around his throat. His heels thudded against the metal bulkhead of the cell. Samara gasped and stepped forward without thinking to lay her hand on Lyon’s arm.
“Understand?” Lyon snarled into Archon’s face. His whole body was rigid with tension and fury as he tightened his grip. Archon’s face started to go blue.
“He can’t speak. Let him go. Lyon, please?”
The soft request broke through the red haze of fury. Abruptly Lyon released his hold, letting Archon drop to his knees, coughing and spluttering. All cyborgs were hardy, but none of them could stand up to a Leo for long. The best they could do was hope to outrun the heavier class and stay out of range. Even that was an achievement.
Big as they were, Leos were fast.
“Nanites’ balls, man. I got it. You only needed to say it once, not break my neck to prove it,” Archon gasped as soon as he was able to speak. Rubbing at his neck ruefully, he looked up and smiled as he looked Samara over, an instinctive male reaction to a beautiful woman.
Lyon snarled again. He knew what Archon saw. Samara’s dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her curvy frame filled the ship-suit in a way that would whet any man’s appetite. Particularly a randy Gemini’s. He stepped between Archon and Samara, pushing her behind him.
“Whoa. She’s pretty. That’s all. Not touching, I swear!” Archon protested at Lyon’s challenging look. Why he was reacting this way over a quick shag, he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure…there was no way Archon or any cyborg was laying a hand on her. Not while he had breath in his body.
Archon glanced around, looking at anything other than the woman who was peeking around Lyon’s shoulder. His gaze landed on the cuffs abandoned on the narrow bunk and he grinned. “Pretty and persuadable, it seems.”
“No. Just not familiar with mag-cuffs.”
Lyon turned to Samara, swept a quick eye over her appearance and then sighed.
She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved. With brisk efficient movements, he zipped her suit up as far as he could to conceal her cl**vage. He didn’t want Eoin or Archon drooling over her or he’d have to break some bones.
“Put your hair back up,” he ordered her in a soft tone. Her eyes were wide and dark with apprehension and the tension that hummed through her body was wary now. Not a problem, he’d soon sort that out in his quarters tonight.
As quickly as that, Lyon made his decision. She was coming with them. Human or not, he wasn’t letting her go. His reaction to Archon’s suggestion had proven that. Just the thought of another man touching her, caressing those voluptuous curves, was enough to tip him into fury.
“Do we have control of the ship?” he asked, watching as she picked up the pins he’d scattered over the floor of the cell and started to put her hair up. Latent arousal flared into life as she shook her hair back, then lifted her arms above her head to twist the heavy mass into a plait above her head. The action tightened the fabric over her br**sts. Lyon gritted his teeth as blood pooled in his groin, his c*ck hard in a flash.
What was it about her that affected him so much?
“Yeah, locked down tighter than a Novariam’s horde.”
Good. Where are Eoin and Cael? Confident now that their internal communication net wouldn’t be interrupted, Lyon switched to silent comms. If Cael was aboard, then she had the ship’s computer locked up so tight it would take a team of human experts a month to wrestle control back.
Back aboard the Chameleon . We’re going to need to hurry, boss man. These lanes are heavily patrolled. With this thing dead in the water, we could get pinged any moment…
Archon didn’t need to complete the thought. Taking control of an enemy craft was child’s play for three experienced cyborgs. Even the youngest of their number, Cael, had a list of battle honors longer than Lyon’s arm. But taking on an enemy battleship in their own territory was nothing short of suicide. He’d rather avoid that if he could.