Page 33 of A Cyborg for the Alien Mercenary

His lip curled slightly at the thought. He had never been built for that life. Had never wanted to share. The idea of being a number in a female’s harem left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was too selfish and possessive for anything like that.

His adolescent years had marked him as different from his peers. While they dreamed of catching the eye of a powerful warlady and being chosen to join her harem, his fantasies had taken a different turn. He yearned for a female to fall in love with him, to choose him alone as her mate.

That need, that longing, had led to his banishment from home. Well, no… hisfightingwith other males had led to his banishment. When Emaliis, his childhood friend, had reached maturity and begun to assemble her harem, she had chosen four of his training team members over him. He hadn’t taken it well. The noses of her four males had taken it even less well.

He’d had to stand in front of their clan warlady, his own mother, as the sentence was read out. He could still see the regret in her eyes as she pronounced his sentence of banishment.

He didn’t regret it, though. Banishment had saved him. It had opened his eyes to the vastness of the universe beyond the hidden planets of the Vorrtan, where his people concealed themselves from the fury of the empire who had cast them off, waiting for the day when, according to the prophecies, the empire would face grave danger and call their soldiers into battle again.

“So,” she asked, pulling him out of his memories and into the present. “What are you?”

He slid her a sideways glance and bit back his grin.

“I’m the medic aboard the ship,” he said with a casual shrug, playing… what had Davis called it… big, dumb, and blond?

Her expression flashed with impatience, and she shook her head. The overhead lights caught the highlights in her hair, and it was all he could do not to step forward and capture some of it in his hand to see if it was as soft as it looked. That and she’d probably spread his nose across his face before he could blink.

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I meant that you’re obviously not human.”

He blinked and made a show of spreading his hands as if seeing his claws for the first time.

“Oh my gods,” he exclaimed, his deep voice rumbling with fake distress. “I’m not! Mom lied to me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and his grin widened. In a bold move, he flashed both his fangs and claws, neither of which he wastechnicallysupposed to display off-planet. Vorrtan were supposed to masquerade as poor Latharian colony farmers when away from home.

He’d never been good at following rules. And anyway, the laws that said any Latharian finding a Vorrtan must kill them on sight were generations old. Most Lathar assumed the last of his kind had died out generations ago.

“No,” he admitted. “I’m Vorrtan. Only Davis on the crew is human.”

His expression creased in thought. “Actually, we didn’t know he was human until just recently. We just thought…” He trailed off, waving a hand in front of his face and gesturing to his eyes. “We just thought all that was a birth defect. Didn’t like to ask, you know… It would have been rude.”

She nodded but didn’t answer as they walked into the galley.

He hummed as he set about preparing food for her.

Exotic spices and standard ship fare mingled in the air, reminding him of countless meals with his crewmates. But he wasn’t thinking about them. Instead, he felt her eyes on him as he moved about the space. Flexing deliberately, he showcased his muscular body to its best advantage. A primal part of him preened under her attention, hoping to impress this fascinating female.

“So…how many are there in your crew? What do they all do?”

Jealousy rolled through him that she was even thinking about the others. But he guessed he could understand it. She was a soldier. It was easy to see that just by looking at her, and she would be curious about her rescuers… whether they presented a threat.

He turned to face her, leaning against the counter in a pose that accentuated his broad chest and powerful arms.

“Well,” he began, ticking off on his fingers, “there’s Ryke, our captain. He’s Latharian… looks human, definitely isn’t. Tough as nails and smart as a whip. Then there’s Rann, our pilot. He’s Latharian too, empire I think, but I’m not sure. Best damn pilot I’ve ever seen. Anson’s a B’Kaar… he’s security aboard.”

He paused, gauging her reaction. Her face remained neutral, but he could see the cogs working behind her eyes as she absorbed everything he told her.

“Davis is our engineer,” he continued. “Human, as I mentioned, but fits in like he was born to be here. And then there’s me, of course. Medic extraordinaire and devastatingly handsome Vorrtan at your service.” He gave an exaggerated bow, drawing a small smile from her that made his heart skip a beat.

Turning back to the food before it had chance to burn, he asked over his shoulder, “Any dietary requirements I should know about?”

“What do you mean? I’m human, so I can eat whatever this Davis can eat. Can’t I?”

He froze for a second as he realized his mistake. She didn’t know that she wasn’t human…. He needed to be careful.

“Of course, of course,” he replied, his mind racing.

“But I’m a cyborg as well,” she said, and he heard the worry creeping into her voice. “Should I have been eating at all, or do I need to plug myself into a wall socket or something?”

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