Page 16 of Kiss of Steel

Steel strode into the main room and took a seat on the sofa. Contrary to the impression Phibious had painted, the domicile was quite luxurious. The chairs around the table appeared too spindly to bear his weight, but the sofa seemed comfortable, and they had hot water and heat, and he’d have an entire sleeping room to himself.

The only downside was Honoria had shoved two of the shit-bricks into the stove and cranked up the heat. It was getting hot. His lips twitched with amusement at her revolted expression upon learning what they were. He’d figured it out right away. What else did they have to work with here? Still, he gave her credit for overcoming her disgust enough to stoke up the stove, although he’d have been better off if she hadn’t.

The idea he might have to have sexual intercourse with a wife had never entered his mind until she brought it up. Thankfully, she was not interested and wouldn’t be bothering him. Humans fucked; cyborgs did not—although they could. He’d been forced to go through the motions once, when the wife of a crime boss had attempted to seduce him. He’d been using her to get close to his target, and if he’d rejected her advances, she might have blown his cover. Like any good cyborg, he’d soldiered through his duty.

He’d mentally disengaged while his body had performed the task. Sex hadn’t been unpleasant, just…mechanical. This is what humans chased like it was all important? What men risked political careers for? Surrendered their freedom for? He didn’t get it.

Although he’d given up a measure of his precious liberty by marrying, it had been a means to a greater end—and it had a termination date. After a year, he would invoke the “escape clause” in the Cosmic Mates contract and walk away unencumbered. And while she’d appeared to be affronted by Phibious’s lecture on self-determinism, it had filled him with optimism. He could create whatever future he desired—all he had to do was work for it. He’d use this year to figure out what to do with his newfound freedom. But topping the list would be jettisoning the wife.

Honoria entered the room, shrugged out of his coat, and deposited it on the sofa arm. “Thanks,” she said. In the kitchenette, she peered into the refrigerator and its attached freezer. From his vantage point, he could see they were empty.

“No food at all,” she muttered. She had a habit of talking to herself, he’d noticed. It didn’t bother him because her voice was pleasant. She opened and closed cabinets and drawers.

“What are you searching for?” he asked.

“I’m checking our supplies.” Her pants stretched taut across her ass as she raised up on tiptoe to reach the top cabinets. He considered helping her, but then he wouldn’t be able to watch her butt cheeks. Finally, she shut the last door.

“Well?” Distracted by her ass, he hadn’t been paying attention to the cupboard contents.

She turned around and planted her hands on her hips, causing his attention to shift to her breasts.Not top-heavy, but ample enough.Ample enough for what? Breast size was apropos of nothing. But his gaze drifted back to the mounds under her shirt.

“They gave us two plates, two bowls, two cups, two glasses, two sets of flatware. We can’t host any dinner parties,” she reported with a wry twist to her mouth.

Thank Haven Ranch’s austerity program! Living with one human was bad enough; having more people over would be pure hell. Not that they’d likely be human. Everyone he’d seen so far had been some race of alien. But that improved the situation only marginally. He disliked people in general; it didn’t matter what they were. He was an equal opportunity misanthrope.

“Unless it’s BYOTSAC,” she amended.

“BYTOSAC?”

“Bring your own table service and chair,” she said.

Shit. Surely that wasn’t a thing?

“I’m going to assume the mess hall has tableware. I’m getting kind of hungry. I’ll take a quick shower and head over to the mess hall. Do you wish to join me?” she asked.

Belatedly, he recognized the pangs in his gut as hunger. Used to sublimating discomfort, he’d given no thought to food at all since landing on Refuge. A cyborg was engineered to go a long time without eating because there were no meal breaks during missions. However, they did require food for energy, so upon returning to base, they would tank up on nutri-sups.

“Are you going to talk?” he asked hopefully. He would enjoy listening to her voice while he ate.

“I might.” She glowered.

“Fine, then,” he replied. What was she annoyed about?

Her breasts jiggled as she stomped to her trunk he’d left by the door. He felt an odd tingle in his groin. Grabbing the handle, she dragged the case into the hall and disappeared around the corner.

If he had to have sex with a woman, he supposed she wouldn’t be as bad as some.

Chapter Eight

“I’m so relieved I packed my coat.” A jacket draped over her arm, Honoria entered in a cloud of the fragrant vanilla scent he’d come to associate with her. Automatically, he inhaled her aromatic essence. She’d done something to her hair, too. It didn’t look quite as choppy.

“You didn’t know you had a coat?”

“I packed months ago. I’d forgotten what I had.”

“You applied for sanctuary that long ago?” He’d gotten the impression it was recent. Hadn’t she signed up for Cosmic Mates to expedite the application?

“No. The trunk was a contingency. I hadn’t expected I’d need it, but then I did. Are you ready to go to dinner?”

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