Page 30 of A Cyborg for the Alien Mercenary

Jesh blinked as the big alien turned back toward her, his massive hands spread widely in what she hoped was the universal gesture of peace rather than code for “the ship’s about to blow up.” She was in the same medical bay as before, the antiseptic whiff of the sterile air mingling with the alien scent she associated with her rescuer.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked around the room. The thing in her head catalogued any potential weapons within reach with practiced speed. The medical equipment, while advanced, could be repurposed if needed. But escape routes were going to be more of a problem. The air vent in the corner was too small for her to fit through, and it seemed the only way out was through her rescuer.

Her gaze returned to him, and she drank in every detail of his appearance. With people shooting at her earlier, she hadn’t had time to reallylookat him.Now she did.

He towered over her, easily seven feet tall with broad shoulders that seemed to fill the room. His skin held a faint red tinge, and intricate markings crawled down his arms like tattoos. He was solidly built, heavy muscles rippling beneath his skinand hinting at a strength that was beyond anything humanity was capable of. His fingers were tipped with wickedly sharp claws. Talons like that were designed for one purpose only, ripping through flesh and bone. And with his hands out like that, he was a walking paradox—a creature built for war attempting diplomacy.

Whatwashe?

Species unknown, the voice in her head chimed in.Nonhuman. Biomechanical markers and skeletal build suggest similarities to Earth-based primates. Increased height and muscle density indicate probable origin from a high-gravity planet. Proceed with caution.

Not human. No surprise there. She could tell that just by looking at him. Her gaze locked on to the fresh bruise blooming across his chiseled jaw. The purple stood out vividly against his skin, making her wince as it spread and darkened virtually in front of her eyes. Shit. She’d thrown this mountain of an alien across the room as if he weighed nothing. How was that even possible? She was half his size, a David to his Goliath.

The voice in her head chirped again.Neural networks at seventy percent capacity. Self-replicating nanites repairing damage to actuators. Estimated time to full strength: unknown.

It was like trying to decipher an alien language, which, given her current company, wasn’t far from the truth. All that made sense to her of that was that she was operating at seventy percent capacity. If this was her at seventy percent, what would she be like at one hundred percent?

Slowly she slid off the bed. Her toes curled as they touched the cold metal of the floor. Her muscles coiled, tension in every fiber of her being as she assessed the situation. Her clothes had been removed, and the thin paper medical gown—seriously, how the hell had that particular little detail transcended species andcultures—did nothing to protect her from the chill of the room. At least her ass wasn’t hanging out. She pushed the discomfort of the cold aside for the moment, focusing instead on the potential threat before her.

The alien’s hands remained stretched out in front of him, but despite the cautious and pleasant expression on his face—one obviously intended to calm her down—she watched him carefully. She’d tossed him across the room like a rag doll. Hehadto be pissed about that, surely? Her eyes flicked to the door behind him, gauging the distance. Could she make it past him if she needed to?

“Hey, Jesh,” he rumbled, his voice a low, resonant growl that seemed to vibrate down to her very bones.

Her name on his lips unleashed a flood of broken memories. Strong arms holding her, carrying her to safety. The scent that she associated with him enveloped her, like returning home after a lifetime away, and she knew he had carried her. That same scent wrapped around her now, stronger than before, stirring something deep in her core.

Memory fragment: Covak carrying you through ship corridors, eight hours, twenty-three minutes ago,the voice in her head chimed in, flashing timestamps across her vision as the memories flowed through her mind.

“Covak,” she breathed. The name felt right on her tongue.

His eyes widened, and a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The expression transformed his fierce features, softening them, and she sucked a breath in. He wasn’t just handsome when he smiled but devastating. His eyes were mesmerizing… a deep amber color, flecked with gold. They almost seemed to glow under the overhead lights, captivating and alien all at the same time.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse. The words scraped against her dry throat, and she swallowed. She’d neverbeen so thirsty in her life. Well, at least the eight days of it she could remember, that was.

He took a careful step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. She tensed but held her ground. She could hear the soft whir of the medical equipment around them, the distant hum of what must be the ship’s engines. Every sound, every sensation seemed heightened, as if her body was compensating for the gaps in her memory.

“You’re on theLady’s Dream,” he explained. “It’s a mercenary warship.”

Her brows snapped together

“Mercenaries? What do mercenaries want with me? Why would you help me?”

A flicker of… something passed across his face. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it, but she caught it, filing it away for later.

“We received intel that you were being held against your will,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “We were sent in to extract you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t telling her everything. That much was clear. But why? What was he hiding? She studied his face, trying to read past the alienness of his features. Despite his intimidating appearance, something in his eyes spoke of kindness, of concern. It was… disconcerting.

“You were the one who helped me when I was shot. Weren’t you?” she asked, patting over the medical gown as she searched for bandages or wounds. She still had her underwear on under the gown, so he hadn’t stripped her naked to treat her.

Before he could answer, a flash of memory assaulted her… Cold, sterile rooms. The tangy scent of antiseptic. Hard, unfeeling eyes peering down at her from behind surgical masks. Pain, so much pain…

She gasped, shaking her head to clear it. The memories were so real and vivid that she could taste the fear in her mouth, metallic and bitter. But that hadn’t been Covak holding her down, and it wasn’t recent. She knew it wasn’t recent.

“So, what now?” she asked, watching him closely.

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, gesturing around them, “we’re in a medical bay, and I’m not injured anymore. So what happens next?”

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