The Cyborg's Stowaway by Eve Langlais

Author:Eve Langlais
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eve Langlais

Chapter 9

He wished she’d stop looking at him like that.

Crank already found it hard enough to ignore her. When she stared at him like that. As if…

I am someone special.

He’d forgotten how good it felt. How dare she make him remember.

The anger burned away the last of his guilt. Because when he’d felt her fall, off balance, he’d felt guilty.

Surprise. He hadn’t thought himself still capable of it.

Fast reflexes meant he turned quick enough to catch her.

And then she looked at him.

Setting her on her feet, he dragged her to a table in the corner. And by drag, he meant he scowled at everyone in his path, and she, with a docile expression he hated, kept pace with him. Her hand resting on his arm.

The occupants of the table took one look at him and hastily removed themselves and their drinks. He parked her on a stool. Dragged the other close and sat, too.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?” He slid his finger on the tabletop, the touchscreen illuminating the menu choices this evening. Since the replicators couldn’t make booze, what they did have was distilled the old-fashioned way or bought in secret when they hit ports.

“Your mind. It’s gone quiet.”

She’d noticed. Good. It meant it worked.

“I am cyborg.” A phrase that, to him, explained everything. He couldn’t put into words or describe the science of how the nanobots accomplished things. Machine and yet sentient beings. They chose their hosts and then adapted them. Encouraged them to get parts that they could meld with their human flesh. Because, while the nanobots could repair, they couldn’t create.

“I could feel you before.”

Mention of the word “feel” brought a flash, a vision of her naked skin. Her lovely shape. His almost complete loss of control.

He’d begged his bots to do something. Anything.

They found a way to prevent her from using her mental projection. The subtle nudges against him stopped, but oddly enough, his attraction toward her didn’t diminish.

“You won’t be using your Jedi mind tricks on me, pixie.”

“The Jedi are extinct.”

“The Jedi are a fairy tale from Earth,” he snorted as a drone arrived, a large platter bolted to the top of its humming, disk-shaped body. It hovered only long enough for him to grab the drinks.

Something pink and frou-frou for the woman. Something strong for him.

She snared his glass before he could explain this.

Ghwenn drained it. Then licked her lips of the clinging foam. “Weak. But palatable. Aren’t you going to have a sip, too?” She pointed to the pink monstrosity.

He eyed it. “I’ll order two more beers.”

Before they arrived, some unfortunate faces did.

Karson dragged a stool over and sat across from him. “If it isn’t a ghost. Nice to see you. And who is this?” His gaze turned to Ghwenn.

“She’s no one. Just cargo the captain asked me to keep an eye on.”

The ship’s doctor raised a brow. “Since when do we transport live cargo? And how was I not informed?”

“I stowed away, and they found me. Now I am a prisoner.

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