B Cubed

Book 1: Born

Jenna McCormick

Cassandra’s Journal

November 15, 2011

The new doctor said I need to keep a dream journal, to keep track of my visions. He doesn’t understand they come all the time, whether I’m awake or sleeping. I agreed because I had to, but what he doesn’t know is that I am keeping two. One is make believe, all about ice cream and pony rides, boys I like and mean kids at school. Normal stuff—things he wants to see because then he’ll say I’m fixed and won’t call CPS on Mom and Daddy.

This one is about what I really see. The darkness, the burning buildings and the enormous deserts. In my dreams the Earth doesn’t spin anymore, a machine made it stop, and billions of people spun off into space. Those who remain are nomads, following the darkness so they don’t die from exposure. Using artificial light sources, they set up farming communities near the few freshwater lakes that have not been swallowed up by the polar oceans.

Usually, I float over the scorched landscape, the one great supercontinent surrounded by the two polar oceans. I see the piles of bleached bones on the light side, they span for miles, stretching back through time. Then, I find the survivors. They live in small clusters, the Born colonies as they call themselves. They are the descendants of those that did believe the prophesy and went deep underground. The Bred do all the work though, people grown like crops. The Born are too few, too important to do manual labor. They must carry on their lines and police the Bred.

Last night’s dream was different though. I’ve never been in the dream before, but this time I viewed the world through the eyes of a man. He was tired and sweaty, but his fingers had turned almost blue with tilling a new field for planting. Since the world is dark for half the year there are no real seasons anymore. Light and dark, hot and cold.

Crops are grown year round inside plastic tents.

His job was to prepare the hard ground to take seeds after the structure was enclosed. The shovel burrows into the soil and clangs against something hard. He looks around, but he is the last one left, having given up his meal privileges for one of the children. The Breds must earn their food through work, but he has skipped many earned meals to help feed an ill child. I can feel his hunger, his stomach aches. He’s almost to the point where eating would make him sick and there aren’t any in this camp that would give him a meal. If he grows too weak to work, he will be recycled for usable parts.

Curious, he drops the shovel and uses his hands to dig around the metal thing, finding the edges. It’s a box, like the size of a lunchbox but thicker. The supervisors will have him flogged if he doesn’t report anything out of the ordinary, but he is angry and tired and thinks maybe he was supposed to find this.

There are too many Breds in the barracks at this time of day so he goes to the barn. I can smell the hay and the poop that the animals have made since the last time their stalls were mucked out. The horses have all been tended for the shift, no one else is inside.

Settling down in an empty stall, he runs his dirty hands over the smooth surface. The metal is rough and cold after being in the ground so long. I can feel how fast his heart beats inside his chest and want to beg him to open the box.

“You there! What are you doing?”

He jumps at the sound of her voice and glances up. It’s the woman, the supervisor he’s seen on barracks patrol. She has a reputation for being cruel, but he can tell she is not from the look in her eyes. He has known cruel Borns before, the ones that punish the Bred just because they can.

She is beautiful, with red-gold hair that she keeps tucked inside her warrior’s helmet. He has only seen her without it once but he remembers it vividly, how she looked in front of the bonfire.

Will she have him flogged? He looks down at the box again. If he is going to be whipped, he will give her a reason.

“Don’t!” I scream when he reaches for the latch.

She uncoils the whip from her belt. “You leave me no choice.”

He pivots away from the blow, offering his scarred back, still cradling his treasure. The whip whistles and the sharp crack wakes me up. My back hurts and when I looked in the mirror this morning I have a scar between my shoulder blades.

1

“What are you doing?” The Bred asked Allora as she bent down to examine his back. He was no stranger to a sound lashing, his back an intricate web work of scar tissue that stood out in sharp relief next to his golden skin tone. Shit, she wished he would have just handed over the box when she’d ordered him the first time.

“Patching you up, you ungrateful cur.” His eyes stayed shut as she produced the poultice gel from her utility belt and aimed the dispenser at the throbbing wound. “You ready to hand over your prize?”

He nodded once and she applied the gel immediately. He had not been so cooperative in the past; otherwise the supervisor on duty would have healed him right away. Breds were known to be thick-skulled, the only teacher they respected was pain but Allora saw no reason to let one suffer any longer than necessary.

“I just found it, out in the new field.” Still he didn’t let go.

His big body trembled in relief and she allowed him thirty seconds to regain his composure before making her demand. “Now, hand over the box.”

“I only wanted to see—”

Allora cut him off with a clipped tone. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He shuddered once and extended his hand. She didn’t reach for it right away, that was an ignorant move worthy of a new supervisor, not a second level task mistress. Instead she watched his face. Breds had no control over their emotions and Allora had some proficiency in understanding them.

Which is why I’m still alive.

She expected to see malice or a promise of retribution written across his features, but instead there was only a quiet longing. And he wasn’t staring at the box.

“Please, I want to know what’s in there.” Despite the please, he didn’t beg, just asking for his due.

Allora hesitated. There was no rule against a Bred witnessing a discovery. Oftentimes they were present when a new field yielded surprises. The regs stated that a supervisor rank or higher must control the situation. “All right, you can open it.”

He didn’t thank her, obviously a proud lug. Allora expected nothing more. Politeness was irrelevant as long as he obeyed. She watched him shift to his side gingerly, as if unsure whether her poultice would hold. She noticed the hollows under his cheekbones, the gauntness to his entire frame and asked, “How many meals have you gone without?”

He refused to meet her gaze. “Why do you care?”

She fingered her whip. “Don’t push me, Bred. I don’t want to beat you again, but insubordination will not be tolerated.”

This time he did look up, his bright blue eyes alight with an unholy fire as he stared at her. Allora had to steel her reserve to keep from backing away.

His voice was low as he whispered, “There are those who need it more.”

Holding his stare, she dug into her hip pocket and withdrew a nutri packet. “I agree.”

He frowned, looking from her to the packet and back. She jiggled it impatiently and when he proffered his hand, she dropped it into his grip. He stared at it warily and she sighed, loathed to explain her actions, but knowing he would not eat until she did so.

“There is more than enough food to go around and I see no reason why any ought to starve.”

This time he did surprise her. “Thank you.”

The corners of her mouth curved upward.

“Manners from a Bred? Will wonders never cease?”

“I have a name, Supervisor,” he muttered, opening the packet.

She raised an eyebrow at his distain. “As do I. I’ll give you a hint—it is not Supervisor.”

He nodded once. “I am called Cormack.”

Despite her best judgment, she had to ask. “How old are you, Cormack?”

He finished his meal and swallowed, his shoulders stiffening infinitesimally. “Thirty four.”

Double shit. Allora regretted her need to ask. At almost three and a half decades, Cormack of the bright blue eyes stood on the threshold of a minefield.

Any transgression at all and he would be sent to the draining chamber, broken down into parts which could then be used to sustain Born humans. Or pressed down into the viscous fluid that would incubate a whole new generation of Breds.

“Well, Cormack. I am not a supervisor but a second level task mistress. It would serve you well to recognize the difference.” She tapped the infinity insignia on her lapel.

His eyes went wide. “Task Mistress? I have never encountered one of your designation before. Forgive me.”

Allora ground her teeth together. That was because most who reached the task designations no longer walked the planting fields, letting the supervisors handle the Breds. “It is not a punishable offence.”

Silence reigned between them and almost as though it had been choreographed, they both stared down at the box.

“Go ahead, open it.” Allora put a thin thread of command in her tone, hoping he understood that she was in no mood for games.

Cormack ran his hand lovingly over the grime-encrusted box, his slow caress denoting awe and wonder. Her body tingled in the most unusual places as she watched his long fingers fiddle with the latch, careful not to break it. She scowled, shifting her weight to ease her odd discomfort. What is the matter with me?

The locking mechanism gave way with ease, and Cormack licked his lips as he gripped the top of the strongbox. Allora’s own tongue darted out before she realized it. Glancing from her to the box and back again, Cormack studied her mouth in a most inappropriate way.

The constraints of her thermal gear grew tighter, her skin prickled against the layers of fabric. Her nipples, peaked from the cold, felt sensitive as his tongue emerged again.

“Get on with it already!” she snapped, unwilling to prolong this bizarre encounter. To feel urges for a Bred? The only lowlier disgrace would be to mount a Cyborg.

For a heartbeat she felt sure he would ignore her command and keep eye contact, see how far he could push her. She was too close to him now to use her whip and if he attacked, she’d have no choice but to inject him with the sedative in her gauntlet and have him hauled off to be drained.

Curiosity won out and he raised the lid to the metal box. His eyes went wide and he threw it to the side and scrambled away, curling into a defensive posture in the dust.

“What is it?” Allora frowned.

He flung himself at her feet, forehead touching her boots, hands trembling. “Please, I didn’t know.”

She glanced to where the box had landed and at the clear plastic bag that protected a book. Triple decker shit on a stick.

2

Cormack watched in horror as the task mistress strode to pick up the book, his heart thundering against his ribcage. It had been going so well too, she’d been quick to strike but he understood he’d given her no choice. As a woman, she could not afford to be more lenient, lest the Bred take advantage of her.

Her beauty stunned him. Pale unmarred flesh, amethyst eyes and a curl of brilliant flame-red hair escaping the confines of her helmet. A dream, so vivid compared to the bleak landscape. For the endless moment when their gazes had locked he felt some sort of connection to her. Then he’d opened the blasted box. Even knowing what awaited him—he couldn’t help but stare at it, at her holding it. One quick glimpse of all he ever wanted.

And would never have.

He swallowed once, determined to take his punishment like a man. Perhaps his death would serve as a warning to others who found strange objects from the long deposed civilizations. Curiosity is not worth one’s life.

“Mother puss bucket, this is not my night,” she muttered. Taking off her helmet and setting it down he watched, enraptured as her red gold hair spilled free, lava flowing from a volcano.

In that moment, seeing her irritated expression and contemplating his own death, Cormack realized pride was not one of his strengths. “Please, Task Mistress. I’ll do anything. I am not ready for the journey to be over.”

She heaved a sigh, as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “You know the law, Cormack. Any Bred found in possession of a book is to be recycled immediately. I may not agree with it, but I am its servant, my sole purpose to enforce for the greater good of this colony.”

He cast about wildly for anything he might have to barter. “Can’t we just…pretend this never happened? No one else has to know.”

A muscle jumped in her jaw. “I’ll know.”

Crawling to her on hands and knees, he swallowed before offering, “I’ll service you.”

She didn’t speak. He dared to glance up. Her unusual eyes revealed nothing of what she thought or felt—if she felt anything at all.

Taking her silence as a positive sign, he pushed forward, reaching out until one hand grasped her calf through the leather of her boot. “Have you never wondered what it would be like, to be pleasured by a Bred? No man would work as hard to bring you satisfaction. I vow it.”

“Do you do this often, Cormack? Barter your sexual services to the supervisors so they turn a blind eye?” Her tone was colder than outside the protective shield around the barn. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh hay and aroused woman with his keen senses. She needed what he could give and oh, how he wanted to give it. All had not been lost yet, he could see her hesitation when she breathed, “I am not a man with an unruly cock to be tempted by such a proposal.”

“This would be the first time for me.” His fingers crept up to where the thin material of her stockings peeped out over the boot. Boldly, he caressed the delicate crease at the back of her knee for he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. “Can’t you imagine how incredible it would feel, to be tongue-fucked by a man desperate to please you?”

Because he touched her, he felt her tremble. So, she had been affected by his offer. He would not have made it with any other Born, but his task mistress…he could already taste her essence on his lips, imagine the silk of her wet flesh, hear her gasps and moans as he brought her to climax again and again.

“Release me,” she ordered. He lifted his head, staring up over her thermal plated armor. It had been molded to her curvaceous form and his hands itched to undress her, see all of her. His face was even with her groin and he breathed deeply, enjoying her feminine scent. If I’m going to be damned, I will damn well earn it.

Breds wore thin thermal cloth to cover their skin, not this hefty armament. It took him a moment to discover where the ties to her garments were located.

She trembled in his arms. One of the horses whickered softly.

“I don’t want this,” she protested, but her body told a different tale. The ties gave way and her armor clattered to the ground. Beneath it she wore only a thin layer of fabric, too sheer to be thermally charged.

The armor had hidden the full lushness of her curves beneath its bulk, the delicate flare of her round hips, the gentle swells of her breasts. She still wore her boots and the gauntlets. He feared she might stop him if he tried to remove either. And he wanted this taste of her, more than his next breath.

“Yes, you do.” Guided by instinct more primal than time herself, he dared to argue, nuzzling her mound through the fabric, moving slowly so as not to startle her, as if gentling a wild mare. Would her pubic hair be the same color as the flaming tresses above, or would they be darker, hiding the mysteries of her sex?

His hands slowly bunched the fabric until he’d gathered it to her waist. Red, the same vivid red curls.

He moved in even closer, letting his breath fall on her sensitive flesh.

She gasped and her gauntlets clattered to the ground, the book with them. Triumph roared through him along with an unbelievable giddiness. He wanted to fall on her like a ravening beast, part her folds and lick her madly. But he’d promised her a unique and incomparable experience.

An empty crate sat nearby. Turning it over he guided one of her boots to the top so he had enough room to maneuver between her parted thighs. Letting go of the dress, fabric billowed down, trapping him in paradise. He ran his fingers along the silk of her leg, his gaze fixed on her sex.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as his thumbs parted her wider. “My mouth is watering to kiss you, to lap up your sweet juices.”

“You shouldn’t,” she whispered, but there was need in her tone as well.

He stared at his calloused hands, rough and cold from hard labor. She practically steamed with liquid heat. He sucked one finger into his mouth, warming and wetting the digit with his saliva as best he could.

No, not good enough. His tongue was softer and he had to have a taste.

He touched her wet core first, groaning at his first perception of her sweet lube. She cried out in response and he went deeper, probing the entrance to her body before lashing her clitoris in a rapid fire rhythm. Cormack had performed this act countless times with countless lovers and yet this was a first for him. He wanted the taste and smell of her invading his senses as much as he wanted to live.

Her legs trembled and instinct took over as he gripped the swells of her ass, keeping her upright and holding her to him while he feasted on her sex. He looked up through the transparent swath of fabric and drank in every detail. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she gasped for breath. Her chest heaved, large luscious breasts tipped with erect nipples. Her belly quivered as did her thighs. His cock ached for release but he ignored it, determined to send her even higher.

“My delicious task mistress,” he whispered, dragging a finger down through her saturated flesh to swirl around her opening. He watched in fascination as her sex clenched, her breaths becoming shallower.

His words turned her on as much as his touch.

“Cormack.” Her eyelids fluttered open and that sizzle of connection burned through him, just like before. Groaning, he swirled his tongue over her folds again, working a finger into her snug channel.

Cormack didn’t understand when his penetration of her sex stopped. His fingertip brushed what felt like a barrier, halting his exploration. What is this? He frowned and thrust harder. She gasped, her body tensing as pleasure drained out of her. His heart rate kicked up as he thought, she’s a virgin? Whatever he did next could mean life or death.

If she’d been one of the Bred he would suck her clit until she came then fuck her hard and fast, keeping her riding the peak waves to orgasm. She wasn’t of his kind though and he had no idea what the protocol might be. Don’t overthink it, just react.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, withdrawing himself from beneath her skirts.

She shook her head once, her breaths ragged.

“Get out and tell no one of this.”

Lowering his eyes, he nodded and fled.

3

Allora watched Cormack go, fighting to reclaim control over her body. For a moment the phantom of his mouth caressed her sex again. Stubble scraping her inner thigh, his groan of ecstasy filling her ears as he pleasured her. His wet heat manipulating her own before cold air invaded, snapping her out of her stupor. Nothing felt as it ought, her heartbeat too fast, breaths shallow and her stomach filled with liquid fire. What have I done?

Wobbling on shaky legs, she retrieved her armor, righting her clothing as best she could without her maid. The hour had grown late and with any luck everyone would be busy feasting in the main hall so she could slip back to her room and wash away the evidence of this encounter.

He has to be drained. Bad enough that she’s let him take such liberties on her traitorous body, but she could not allow him to tell others of what had happened. Her reputation aside, if the Breds started offering sex in exchange for leniency, the Borns would lose control over their creations and no one would do the work they had precious little time to do.

Donning her helmet, she strode from the stable and headed toward the servant’s entrance to the tunnels the Born lived in this time of year, all the while compiling a list of reasons why Cormack had to die. It’s almost his time—his life will be over soon enough. A Bred who can’t work isn’t worth the sheets he sleeps in. The book sealed his fate.

The book.

Damn, she’d forgotten all about it, so lost in the new sensations cascading through her. Pivoting on her heel, she picked up her pace to a fast trot, needing to retrieve the cursed object before another Bred stumbled across it and shared in Cormack’s unfortunate fate.

Wind buffeted against her face as she struggled with the barn door. The shield must have failed again.

Shivering, Allora could not help but wonder how much longer they could survive on the surface.

Reports of glaciers forming had come in from a few of the northern colonies and even now, Breds dug tunnels beneath the surface, aiming for the earth’s beating heart, the only real source of natural heat left to them. And other dangers lurked below the liquid mantel. Could the planet sustain them? So many species were already dead or dying, the food chain crumbling from the bottom and working its way up.

Horses started as the door blew shut behind her, the wind shield flickering from lack of solar power.

The splintered wood had been thoroughly warped from the six months of nonstop sun that had just ended and was barely any sort of barricade for the violent winds sweeping down from the north to buffet the structure. Some of the larger settlements had dug subterranean stalls for their livestock but with only a few dozen Bred doing the heavy lifting, Allora knew her colony couldn’t spare the laborers for such a task until the barn would no longer suffice.

Bending down, she scooped up the book. It was not an official publication, which would immediately have to be catalogued by the Born librarian for historical purposes. No, the cover had not been emblazoned with a title and when she opened it, saw that the words were not computer generated but written in a spidery scrawl. She flipped to a random page.

December 7, 2017

I know you are reading this, Allora.

She blinked, fumbling the book, dropping the bag altogether . No way could I have read that right.

Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened the book and started again.

Yes, Task Mistress Allora, I’ve seen you and your discovery of my journal.

By the time you read this, my time will have ended. Your time is about to begin.

“’Tis madness,” though she whispered aloud, Allora couldn’t look away, enraptured by the words on the page.

I know nothing that I write within these pages will convince you immediately, I could not even convince my own parents that I saw the future. It is my curse, to see what is to come and live on unable to change it. From this point on, your purpose is murky, your decisions yet unmade.

There are many possible futures for the world, Allora.

And all of them start with you.

For now, take my journal and hide it. No one else needs to shoulder this burden than the ones that already do. Hurry, now, before the overlord finds you.

The mention of the overlord jerked her out of the surreal haze that seemed to engulf her ever since she’d entered the barn. Slipping the book back in the plastic sheath, she hid it inside her armor and sprinted for the tunnel.

The clattering of clay dishes and cups was a dull roar compared to the jovial sounds of the colonists. As per usual, Borns sat and talked and laughed while Breds scurried about doing their bidding. Allora kept her head turned away, but she was not fast enough.

“Where have you been?” The thunderous boom of Overlord Mag’s voice echoed throughout the caverns.

Even the torches appeared to flicker at the question, as though they too feared displeasing her adopted father.

Squaring her shoulders, she whirled to face Mag.

His fat, trout-like lips curled in disgust and she could smell the liquor on his breath. How he could sleep, when every day he consumed her weight in alcohol while Bred children cried themselves to sleep from hunger was beyond her.

“Doing the rounds, Overlord.” The last time she’d used his name he’d struck her so hard, her jaw had been dislocated. Mag deserved her obedience, but she would prefer to be as far away from his stench as possible. “There were reports of wild dogs raiding the harvest bins and—”

A slashing motion of his hand cut her off before she could make up a phony report. “I’d hope you would have dressed for dinner, since we have company. But the soldier maiden is not without her virtues, eh, Gaul?”

Gritting her teeth together, Allora turned to face the bulbous blond who reached no higher than her chin. And that was without her boots. Gaul smirked up at her. “We were just discussing our possible colony merger. It seems that your group has a bounty of untapped…assets.” He looked directly at her breastplate as he formed the last.

Forcing herself to endure this humiliation, Allora lifted her chin. Would Mag ever tire of playing matchmaker for this swollen troll? Gaul must hold something of value, for every Born woman in the colony had been offered to him as soon as she came of age. First Allora’s two adopted sisters, who had found Born husbands of their choosing, much to Gaul’s irritation. Now, it was her turn.

Turning her cool gaze on Mag she said, “May I consult with you in private, sir?”

He nodded once, blustering out orders to Breds who scurried about refilling food troughs, and clay goblets.

Not even a week back in this place and already the Borns had settled in to their typical sloth-like lifestyles. Allora shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could say to change his stance and knowing she needed to try just the same. “Father, why do you not change the supervisor rotation? We have more than enough—”

Mag slammed his goblet down on a stone table and whirled to face her, backing her up against the tunnel wall. “Shut up or I’ll cut out your impertinent tongue! Born women are not supposed to work at anything other than pleasing their men. We have Bred to do the work and the men will supervise the Bred.”

Allora lifted her chin, though she wasn’t about to meet his bloodshot gaze. “So why was I allowed to be appointed Task Mistress?” She cringed as the question came out, wishing she could call the words back inside and tuck them away.

“Because no Born male in his right mind would have you and your odd ideas!” Mag sniffed and gripped her shoulder. “Lucky for us, Gaul has no mind and a large hive of tunnels we could access if a civil union was in place. Stupid sod sees nothing but a pair of big titties. A word of warning, daughter—learn to curb your tongue because if you ruin my merger I will cut it out.”

Her suspicions confirmed, Allora shrank from his touch. “So I am to be sold off like some prize heifer?”

He wagged his index finger in her face. “You are to be married off in a joining of clans. We are holding a banquet tomorrow night. The official announcement will be made then, so long as all the arrangements have been reached by that time.”

Allora swallowed. “What if I have no wish to wed?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “By colony law, that is your right. But, you will be disowned from my family.

I doubt any would take in a rootless wench with no kin.” His gaze roved over her in an assessing manner, his sneer telling he found her lacking in every possible way. “Wear something appropriate to your station because you are about to be promoted from Task Mistress to fiancé.”

4

Cormack couldn’t help but follow the task mistress. From the shadows of perpetual midnight he watched her stride to the tunnels. As a field laborer, he had no right to be there, but snaring a cloak from one of the many stowed on the table by the entrance hid the designation tattoos on his arms and neck.

The fire snapped and danced in the grates, though this region of the earth remained warm from the sunny season. Soon enough the constant darkness would lead to permafrost and the fires would be kept blazing, the smoke rising from the ground in huge billowing tendrils warming the Born while the Bred were forced to huddle together in clusters. The weak and the sick would die off and be recycled, while the Born grew plusher with every turn of the planet.

The sounds of drunken revelry broke him from his morose thoughts and Cormack had to intentionally unclench his fists. Rage would not further his aim and he wanted to see her again, could feel her pull like the poles drawing at the oceans after the great stillness came leaving landmasses bare.

Though he knew it was foolishly arrogant of him, he felt as though she needed him in some way.

Ridiculous to think a beautiful Born woman would turn to a lowly field laborer, but then who would believe he’d licked her luscious cunny only an hour before? And she hadn’t ordered his death yet.

Perhaps he would pursue her until she either fell into his arms or removed his head from his shoulders.

’Tis the madness. Even as the thoughts coalesced in his fevered brain, Cormack considered that he might be on the verge of deconstruction. Breds had a shelf life, no more than forty years, tops before their brain and body chemistry started breaking down.

Bodily functions would quit, systems shutting down one at a time. The lucky ones suffered heart failure without ever feeling a twinge. Others decayed, bit by bit, becoming phantoms of their former selves before begging the Born to end them. Some simply went mad, sometimes taking other Breds out with them.

He knew which demise he preferred.

Yet even as he weighed the risks of seeking her out, his feet carried him forward. Believing it to be safer to settle in and wait for news of her, he stowed away in an empty room. This section of the tunnels had been dug by Breds, probably the first Breds ever to roam the planet. He touched the perfectly squared off wall, that had been dug with handheld tools, since machines were never to be trusted. The cool rock had no give, just like Cormack—a man without a purpose, merely existing for the use of the Borns.

A gasp sounded behind him and he turned to see a scantily clad Bred woman wielding an empty pitcher as though it were a sword. “What are you doing in here?”

Cormack heaved a sigh, more relieved than he’d like to admit in seeing a familiar face. “Lara.”

He let the cowl drop away from his face and she gasped. “My stars, Cormack. What are you doing in here?”

Cormack thought furiously, not wanting to link his task mistress to his name, in case he was found out. “Some of the litt’uns cry from hunger. I thought I could make off with a few extra packets.”

A smile stole over her face, her dark brown hair swinging loosely as she nodded. “You picked a good time for it too, what with all the strangers around.”

“Strangers? I hadn’t heard any were expected.”

Lara shrugged her slim shoulders. “They weren’t, just showed up. Come on to the kitchen and I’ll set you up right.” She winked at him and Cormack kept the smile plastered on his face until she turned her back. Damn, he hoped Lara wouldn’t renew her special interest in him after this. Sure, they’d fucked a few times, but he’d never intended to make her his Only One. Truth be known, he enjoyed her body heat and her womanly bits, but her incessant chatter about every minutiae happening in the Born hold made him want to recycle himself.

She was certainly no task mistress.

As if the thought conjured her, he heard her voice from one of the turnoffs. It took everything he had not to follow her husky cadence, but continue on behind Lara. He cast about for something to say, while mapping the location in his mind. “What did the strangers bring to trade?” And more importantly, what did they want in return?

“I was attending the House Mistress and did not hear anything directly.” Lara stopped shy of the opening to the kitchen and lowered her voice. “But her ladyship said her youngest daughter, the troubled one, is to be wed.”

For once Cormack wished he’d paid attention to the gossip that spilled from Lara’s lips. “I thought the overlord’s get had already been married off.”

She smacked his arm, playfully. “Cormack, you must not absorb one thing I’ve told you! It’s the changeling, the one he took in despite the prophecy.”

He started in amazement. “She is old enough to be married?” Vividly, he recalled the night when the bedraggled Born woman came upon the wagon train as the colony traveled, forever chasing the light but keeping to the darkness. The thunder of hooves as a strange rider appeared on horseback with a bundle in her arms. Her offspring. Mortally wounded, the mother had begged the overlord to take the child in, rear her in safety. Barely five old calendar years in age Cormack had overheard the exchange, recalling how he’d wiped the sweat from his brow, his back aching as he carried a satchel intended for a full grown, not a half grown lad, to see the dying woman riding into view. Blood stained her clothing and her skin had turned nasty shades of red when she’d fled across the sun-baked desert to escape the Cyborgs that had held her hostage.

Some had believed the baby to be an omen of bad things to come, but for some unknown reason, the overlord took the child and ordered his house mistress to raise her as his own. “I haven’t seen the girl in years. I thought she’d fallen ill and perished.”

“No, she’s very much alive, to her ladyship’s great displeasure. But she is wrong somehow and the overlord has hidden her away with some menial task or another.”

Cormack envisioned some of the Bred experiments gone wrong, where the subjects came out malformed and were recycled immediately. How disgusting that this child had been allowed to continue living, consuming food and ordering Breds about when his people were slaughtered in droves.

Lara sidled up close to him, pressing her heavy breasts against his arm. “Here, this is all I could take without being noticed.” She dropped several packets into his coat pocket.

“Thank you.” Anxious to find the task mistress once more, he tried to pivot away but Lara clutched him tightly.

“I will see you later.” Her gaze burned with sexual promise. His cock didn’t so much as twitch, but he nodded so she would release him.

Ducking his head, he strode quickly away from the kitchen, back to the split tunnel where he’d last heard her voice.

Perhaps he’d been wrong because not a cough or a footstep echoed through this hallway. His jaw clenched. He would not give up, not until he had to.

His next shift didn’t start for several hours and the only things waiting for him back at the barracks were the cries of hungry children, the groans of rutting Breds and the promise of Lara to come.

Better to spend his night roaming these halls, with the taste of the task mistress still on his lips.

For what felt like hours he wandered the labyrinth of connecting tunnels, hoping for a glimpse of her.

Other Breds scurried past him but in his pilfered cloak, he must have been mistaken for one of the strange visitors. Breds didn’t disturb Borns, ever. For once that fact gave him solace instead of fury.

“You called for me, milady?”

Cormack stopped short, cursing his distraction.

He’d almost wandered into an occupied chamber.

Holding his breath he turned to go when he heard her.

“Yes, I require your assistance.”

His shoulders sagged in relief. For a spell he’d feared she didn’t exist, that he truly had gone mad and imagined their encounter. But her voice, sweet and husky caressed him from the inside out. He must see her again, no matter what price he’d be forced to pay.

“What can I do for you?” The Bred with her sounded young, no more than twenty, but mature enough to know her station.

There was a pause, and a shuffling of fabrics as if she changed her clothing. He sank his teeth into his fist to keep from groaning aloud. But her reply brought him up short.

“I need you to help me escape.”

5

The young Bred’s eyes went wide in her elfin face and for a moment Allora considered bringing Mel with her. Having someone to accompany her would make the task more bearable. But a Bred caught abandoning the community would be recycled immediately, with no one bothering to find out the why of it. Mel was young, with many years of life ahead of her and while she seemed loyal to Allora now, the task mistress recognized the Bred’s credo of love the one you’re with would prevail in the end.

Allora held still as Mel removed her armor, staring down at the small hot spring, wishing she could linger within, enjoy the wet heat. She would not think of what she’d allowed Cormack to do to her, would not think about how he was most likely doing the same even now to a Bred woman out in the barracks, his strong hands gripping an experienced woman’s thighs, holding her open to his ministrations. Or worse, rutting within her until both shouted from relief. Relief Allora had seen countless times while patrolling the barracks, but had not experienced for herself. I have bigger problems than irrational jealousy right now.

She touched Mel’s arm and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “Go to the kitchen and tell the cook I need a hot dinner. While she is preparing it, steal as many nutri packets as your apron pockets can hold.”

The girl shook her blond head and stammered,

“I’ll…they’ll catch me and I’ll be flogged.” She cleared her throat, obviously retrenching back into her normal bawdy self. “Under the right circumstances I might enjoy having my backside tanned, but not over a few packets.”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was another way. But there isn’t, because tomorrow the overlord will announce my betrothal.”

Mel’s face lit up with understanding. “You fear unification? Or is it the wedding night that has you so stirred up? I told you to take a Bred lover to do the dirty work of capturing your maidenhead. It’s what we are made for.”

Allora grit her teeth. “This is not about rutting, it’s about my life.”

Mel tsked softly. “You would shirk your duties because you fear some man’s cock? Don’t let him hear, for you will never be able to deflate that ego, no matter the state of his equipment.”

She groaned and sank back onto her pallet.

Though she was a full decade older than the Bred, Mel had done things that Born woman four times her age couldn’t imagine. In the girl’s experience everything boiled down to sex, and claiming otherwise was futile.

“They will strip me of my position. Born women married to overlords cannot be task mistresses.”

Mel cast a sly smile at her as she laid out a fresh shift. “Don’t throw out the boots and whip just yet—you still might have hours of fun with them.”

Defeated, Allora shuffled to the side of the pool.

Casting her dirty shift to the floor, she shivered, cold air raising goosebumps on her skin. “Please, go fetch me a dinner tray.” She would just have to figure out another way to acquire what she needed.

Mel touched her arm, a small gesture that would see her whipped if the overlord ever saw it. “"Twill be all right, milady. It only hurts for a moment and then, never again. And you will have a child from the ordeal.

Think of how wonderful to cradle a babe to your breast.” The Bred’s gaze glossed over.

Allora didn’t know what to say. Voicing that she had no use for a child would only hurt the girl’s feelings. Breds could not reproduce—another safeguard to control their population with an iron fist.

Some of the nursemaids Allora had endured didn’t acknowledge the loss, but Mel spent all of her free time in the Bred nursery, where the new hatchlings were kept for the first year of life.

Luckily, Mel snapped herself out of the trance and hurried off. Allora sagged, the weight of the day pressing her flat. Sinking down until the water covered her shoulders; she closed her eyes and tried to force her mind to come up with a plan. Eventually she could get the packets, but where would she go?

This community, these people, were the only family she’d ever known. Didn’t she owe it to them to consider doing as the overlord demanded?

Though she heard no footsteps, she sensed a presence behind her. “Back already, Mel?”

“No, my Task Mistress.”

Her eyes flew open and she jolted up out of the water. “Cormack? What are you doing here?”

His blue-eyed gaze burned into her, locked on her face. The bottom of the pool was shallow but even still, he towered over her, her head aligned with his groin. She couldn’t help but notice the giant bulge there. “I wanted to see you.”

The steam from the spring rose up, swathing him in an ethereal halo, as if the rest of the world faded away while he looked at her. His gaze slid downward.

Her heart thumped inside her chest. She could feel the intensity of his stare and it made her burn.

“So this is why the Borns are always so clean. I often wondered how you could stand washing in buckets of cold water so often.”

His snide remark bristled, and mustering her dignity Allora marched toward him, water still sluicing down her body. “Do you wish to file a formal complaint? Because as your task mistress I would take it into consideration before having you executed for taking such liberties. These are my private chambers.”

A small smile curved his lips. “I’ve already invaded more private places on you, this seems tame in comparison.”

The look on his face, the intimate tone of his voice made her sex clench even as shame washed over her.

“That shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He moved in closer, until she felt the heat from his body. The scent of male perspiration and spice invaded her senses until she could almost taste him.

“You were not thinking, you were needing, letting your body dictate your actions. Too bad you didn’t let me finish.”

Unlike the first time he touched her, his hand didn’t shake as he reached out. Allora sucked in an unsteady breath as he cupped her breasts, one thumb stroking over her beaded nipple. Pleasure so intense it almost brought her to her knees spiraled from that small movement, rippling outward.

“I’ve marred you now, Task Mistress, left my filthy Bred mark on you.” He caressed the smear of what looked like ash on her pale breast. She glanced over to the unlit fireplace, where the grate had been removed before meeting his clever gaze. “You’ll never be the same.”

“Why are you doing this?” And why am I allowing this madness to continue?

He shrugged the gesture of a man who had no cares. “I have very little time left. Might as well go out with a bang.”

“So you plan to rape me?” Such an act was punishable by death but Cormack was right— they could only kill him once.

His eyes glittered as he pressed his palm against her flat belly. “I plan to seduce you, Task Mistress. I plan to imprint myself on you so deeply that I will still live within you long after I am gone.”

She swallowed hard, swaying on her feet, lust clawing deep rivets on her. “We can’t. It is forbidden.”

He pulled her closer, nuzzling the hair by her ear.

“Everything worth doing is.”

Allora had never thought she was the sort to give in to temptation. Yet Cormack redefined the word for her. Was it the lure of the forbidden like he said? Or the burning desire to know exactly what she’d been missing?

His hands reached around to grip her ass, pulling her flush against him. The coarse fabric from his thermal shirt abraded her aching nipples. “Your maid said you need a Bred lover, to ease you in. I’m volunteering for this assignment, Task Mistress. Use me in any way that pleases you.”

The feel of his rock hard body and throbbing erection pressing into her, making her ache and yield to him as a woman’s flesh was designed to do, blotted out all thoughts of anything else. Until reality called out to her.

“Allora, have you finished with your bath yet?”

Mel asked from beyond the curtain. Cormack’s eyes dared her to shout for help, betting she would betray him instead of take him up on his offer.

Did she really want to save herself for Gaul? Let him be the one to capture her maidenhead? She envisioned his globular body dripping sour sweat as he rutted atop her. Would that be her only acquaintance with sex?

Not if I can help it.

Staring into his eyes, Allora raised her voice. “No Mel, I plan to linger here for some time to come. I will not require anything more from you tonight.”

6

Allora. Cormack’s lips twitched as he studied her from the crown of her head to her delectable little toes, and all the luscious bits in between. She certainly was alluring, with her flashing amethyst eyes and thick mane of red hair. He wanted her, was determined to claim her this night.

“Are you sure, milady?”

Cormack froze. As soon as the damned nursemaid leaves.

“I don’t mind staying, if you wish to talk. I know how difficult you find it to eat whilst by yourself. ”

Allora glanced up at him, a beautiful heat staining her cheeks. He stroked his thumb along it, mystified. How could a Born female ever want for company? The Borns gathered in great clusters to eat and entertain one another, so why would this angelic creature take meals with her Bred servant?

She cleared her throat. “Not tonight, Mel.”

The chit would not leave well enough alone. “Are you angry with me, about spoiling your plan?”

Allora’s eyes shut, her shoulders slumping. Low, so only he could hear she whispered, “She is like a dog with a bone. She will not be satisfied until I go out there and talk to her.”

“Then go,” he murmured back. “For I will not be satisfied until I have you all to myself.”

She shivered and bent to scoop up her discarded shift, covering the smudges he’d left on her pale flesh.

Cormack faded back into the shadows, as she parted the curtain and stepped into the adjoining chamber.

His genetically enhanced Bred senses let him hear every step as she padded across the floor, the scrape of the chair she sat in.

“Do you not wish to don clean clothing?”

A pause, as if she took a sip of some liquid and required time to swallow. “I plan to continue my bath after I have finished here.”

His cock throbbed, imagining helping her clean every inch of her perfect body.

“What is on your face?” Mel asked.

Shit. Cormack glanced down at his filthy hands.

Well that had been a stupid maneuver, one he should have never indulged in. What had he been hoping to prove?

“It must have been on my shift, from dropping it too near the hearth.” Allora said. The falsehood sounded weak and reedy to him and he regretted his actions.

Yet he would not take it back, not when the most magnificent female he had ever laid eyes on had agreed to be his. Something about him appealed to her, it had from the start. His task mistress was not the type to dally with males. Hell, until a few hours ago she had still been untouched, a virgin.

Cormack had deflowered virgins before, but even untouched Bred woman were never as innocent as Allora. Listening to adults the next cot over rut on an hourly basis had a way of maturing a soul long before the body was capable.

She hadn’t been raised like that however, her nights were filled with quiet, perhaps even a romanticized longing for the way a man and woman could come together, the way he had long ago, before some Bred woman had decided he was old enough to rut with. Cormack shook his head, not wanting to think about how awful it had been. Her calloused hands on his body, her complaints when he stumbled or stalled, her shriek of rage when his erection faltered before she could climax.

“What is wrong with you?” She’d seethed at him and stormed away. Hours later, everyone in the barracks knew he had been unable to perform.

Nowhere had been safe from the taunts, the sly comments and knowing looks.

She’d been recycled soon after that. Determined to end the rumors, Cormack picked another Bred woman, this one closer to his own age and fucked her.

When she was spent, and with his cock still slick from her sheath, he took another and after her, two more, fueled by burning humiliation and the need to bury the rumors forever.

It had worked, his reputation as a virile male solidified. But at what cost?

“This is very good.” Allora’s voice woke him from his melancholy. “Would you care for some?”

She would share her plate with a Bred?

Wonderment and jealousy dueled within him, marveling at her generosity, yet wishing he could be the one to break bread with her. Sharing the food from her own plate was quite different than tossing a packet of paste at him. His stomach rumbled and he reached for one of the packets Lara had given him, sucking back the nutrients before the nursemaid heard and came to investigate.

“I am fine. Do you wish to talk about—?”

“No,” The vehemence in her voice startled him. “I need time to absorb it all. Tell no one what I asked from you.”

“Of course not, Allora. It will all work out for the best, you will see.”

“Will you come with me? If I am forced to go with him?”

Cormack’s heart skipped a beat, just as it had when he’d first overheard her say she planned to leave. What was worse, imagining her fighting for her life, trying to cross scorching lands under the unrelenting sun or in the arms of another man?”

It will not matter to you; you will be recycled soon enough. He nodded, accepting his fate. If that were the case, then Allora should be safe and protected, with Mel to confide in.

He could have nothing beyond this one night, could ask nothing more from his task mistress. She’d kept his secrets so far, and enjoyed his touch.

Cormack would give her a night to remember, blaze the trail so whenever she thought of sex in the future, it would be him she recalled.

What better legacy could a bred possibly hope to leave behind?

Allora yawned, and even from a distance it sounded feigned. “I wish to continue my bath and retire for the night. Leave the plate „til morning.”

In his mind’s eye, he could picture Mel curtsying and let out a sigh of relief when she left.

No sound from the other room. Was she waiting for him to go out there and claim her or had she changed her mind? The nutri packet turned to a mass of oily snakes in his gut. Did I come so close only to have her refuse me now?

Hands fisted at his sides, he decided he would just have to convince her again. Striding to the curtain, he shoved the swath of heavy fabric aside to meet her startled gaze. She held the tray, with half her meal still steaming upon it.

“I…I thought you might be hungry.”

His mouth fell open. She would share her meal with me? Of course, she’d offered to do the same with Mel, but her consideration touched him nonetheless.

“Ravenous, thank you.”

She led him back to the table and gestured for him to sit in the one chair. He eyed the uncovered entrance to her chamber. “Anyone passing by could see me.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “No one will pass by—I am the only occupant of this dead-end tunnel. Sit, eat.”

Though she commanded him like a dog, he couldn’t help but obey. Actual fresh bread, spiced with some kind of herb, and a thick slab of meat beckoned to him. It took all his will not to stuff it all in his mouth at once. Instead he picked up the fork she’d placed beside the dish and used it to separate a small bit of the meat from the bone. Stabbing the red chunk, he brought it to his lips, inhaling the scent until his mouth watered for the first taste.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he opened his mouth and inserted the fork. His taste buds exploded with pleasure and he moaned aloud. “This is unbelievable.”

“You act as though you’ve never had meat before.”

He met her gaze. “I haven’t.”

Her eyes went wide. “But as a field laborer you are entitled to high end protein—

“I never ate it.” He didn’t wish to talk about this and it would be a crime to let such a meal grow cold.

He cut off another bite, and hauled her into his lap.

Soft, warm curves pressed up against him. Raising the fork to her lips he asked, “Share this with me?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve had my fill, you should eat.”

How to make her understand? “Please? It is…important to me to share this with you.”

With such a limited time he wanted to share everything he possibly could with her.

And only her.

She searched his features then parted her lips, taking the morsel of food. He watched her chew it slowly, enjoying each flicker of emotion, taking a mental picture of how she looked as she savored it.

Swallowing, she licked her lips. “Satisfied?”

The scent of her hair, the touch of her body, the dulcet cadence of her voice, the look of playful teasing on her beautiful face. More than I’ve ever been in my entire life. “Not by a long shot.”

7

The way he looks at me. Allora had to remind herself to breathe, to blink, for it was so easy to get lost inside Cormack’s penetrating stare. She felt as though she had no secrets left, was more exposed than when she’d been naked.

“Finish it,” she gestured toward the plate, made a move to get up.

His arm held her in place. “Only if you stay right where you are.”

Nodding her head, she studied him while he ate with manners better than most Borns. She’d expected him to wolf the meal down, but he savored each bite chewing slowly, eyelids low but still watching her.

This close, she could tell he carried not an extra ounce of fat on his lean frame and his ribs pressed into her side where he held her close. She wanted to ask why he had never eaten the meat his hard labor earned him. Any other man would have without thinking twice, taking what he saw as his due, whether Bred or Born.

His hard shaft prodded her, a reminder that he had come here to finish what they’d started in the barn. But the dynamic between them had changed.

Soon, she would no longer be a task mistress. Should she tell him she’d been stripped of rank?

What if he no longer wanted her? Perhaps part of the appeal for him was commanding one of those who ordered him about. His pride was one of the first traits she’d noticed in him and he’d risked everything to come after her, when other, more experienced women waited in the barracks. She had lashed him with her whip, what if he was only trying to get her into a compromising position before exacting his revenge?

No, she couldn’t believe that. Cormack knew the score, had not harmed her in the barn. In fact, she’d stake her life that he’d enjoyed touching as much as she’d loved being touched. Need unfurled in her belly, a flower blooming for him and him alone. She pressed her aching breasts more fully against him.

His tongue darted out, much the same way as he had before opening the box, as though anticipating all the possibilities. The cupid’s bow of his lips entranced her, his lips masculine and so very different from her own. She shivered, imaging what he might taste like, how it would feel to explore his mouth, to give her hands the freedom to roam over his body. Will he kiss me now?

Setting the plate aside, he shifted her on his lap, so her legs splayed over his rock hard thighs. Her shift rode up to just above her sex and his fingers clamped down on her backside, pushing her exposed nether bits against his jutting shaft. They both gasped at the contact. Allora arched her back, grinding her pelvis more fully against him, letting her hair spill over his hands, reveling in the heat of the moment.

His tongue traced up her neck. “My sweet Task Mistress,” he breathed in her ear. “I have never wanted anything the way I want you.” One hand slid over her leg to explore her nest of curls. She jerked in his lap when he pinched the swollen bud, desire pooling within.

“Then take me, show me what it is to love.” She panted, straightening her spine so she could look him in the eye as he continued to pet her. Nothing had ever felt as intimate as conversing while he stroked her and she ground against his cock.

His eyebrows drew down, as though he was in excruciating pain. “I want to, but not like this.”

Sucking in a deep lungful of air he pushed her away.

The ache between her legs grew unbearable.

“Cormack?”

His eyes pierced her as he stood back from the table. “Let me bathe you, Task Mistress.”

Allora didn’t understand. “Why?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and again she got the feeling that he didn’t like explaining his thought process. The idea of seeing his naked body in the spring, of letting him touch her while they swam was enough motivation to return to the bathing chamber.

Instead of doffing her shift, Allora placed her hands on her hips and waited, one eyebrow raised in expectation. She could postpone her needs—patience was her trademark. She’d once remained in the barn for three days to catch the Bred who stole feed from the horses. Living on packets and emptying her bladder into a bucket so she did not have to leave her perch, she had eventually brought the thief to justice.

She saw the moment Cormack recognized that she would not back down on this point and smiled when he began stripping off his clothing. Her grin faded when she caught sight of the massive scar patterns covering his chest, arms and shoulders.

Cormack had not been merely punished for his pride—someone had tried to beat it out of him. With a shaking hand, she reached out and traced the lines.

“Who did this to you?”

He caught her hand and held it right above his heart. “That does not matter now.”

She held his gaze. “It does to me. The whip is meant to protect the supervisors, not abuse the work force. If you were being as obstinate as you were with me, I can understand a lash, but you should have been healed directly afterward.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will not speak of this. It wastes time, changes nothing.”

Understanding dawned. “You think it will make you appear weak.” Her throat closed up as he glanced away, confirming her suspicion. “Cormack, you are one of the strongest men I’ve ever known, Bred or Born. When someone wields a weapon and you have only your bare hands, it is not weak to lose.”

“So says the woman who holds the whip.” His hand fisted in her hair, tugging lightly, not to hurt her but to force her gaze to meet his. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be utterly powerless, to have no control over your own life?”

Clearly he knew nothing of her. “Yes, Cormack. I believe I do.”

His chest heaved, waves of raw emotion buffeting over her, like he was the stone and she floated on the pond he’d disturbed, a ripple effect she couldn’t ignore, couldn’t stop, and just had to hang on until the calm settled over them once more.

“That’s right—you are the daughter of the overlord.” He released his iron fisted grip, and cupped the back of her head. “I heard you are to be betrothed.

Is that why you planned to escape?”

She jerked in surprise that he had stood out in the hallway and listened to her. “It was a foolish thought.”

He simply stared at her and she added, “I am sick of feeling trapped because of the oddness of my arrival here. The overlord banished me to patrol the barracks rather than look at me in the great hall.”

He nodded in what she thought was understanding. “That’s why you take your meals in your room. Because of this shoddy treatment you would rather take your chances, stumbling across the Bright Side than marry? Makes sense to me. Borns treat their married women no better than they do the Bred.” His thumb stroked across her nipple and she cried out. “I wouldn’t wish that fate on you, Allora.

Not in a million lifetimes.”

He withdrew again and this time she followed, ready to strip his clothes from him with her teeth.

This nonstop teasing made her legs shake and the wetness between her thighs demanded his attention.

“Cormack, I need—”

“Shhh,” he placed a finger over her lips. “Soon, beauty. I want to relish this time and intend to savor you.”

Just as he had the meal. Allora would never last that long. The fully formed protest died on her lips though when he stripped off his pants. Her lips parted in shock as she marveled at the rod of flesh jutting proudly toward her. „ Tis as long as my forearm and half again as thick! She’d seen horses mate, as well as some of the more indiscreet Bred, but imagining that monster inside her body…. He’d rend her in two.

Gripping her chin with his index finger, Cormack raised her eyes to meet his. “Do not worry overmuch about that now. Our flesh will fit together. By the time I am through with you, you will beg to have me inside you.”

Allora could not imagine ever wanting that, no matter what Mel and some of her other Bred nursemaids had said. “Will you be angry if I don’t?”

Cormack shook his head, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “No. Disappointed perhaps, but not angry.” Sinking down to one knee, he gripped the hemline of her shift and tugged it over her head in one smooth motion.

Placing his big calloused hands on her shoulders he steered her to the edge of the pool. Water lapped at her toes first and she took a step farther in, until it reached her naval. Glancing over her shoulder she saw he had closed his eyes. His feet were barely wet. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, eyes still shut tight. “I am in heaven.”

Never would she have imagined the Breds felt so deprived. She tried to envision an existence without meat or hot baths, two of her only creature comforts, and found she didn’t want to even picture it. “You may stay as long as you like.”

His gaze fixed on hers. “And you, angel? Will you stay here with me?”

“I am not an angel, Cormack. Or do you need me to retrieve my whip and jog your memory?”

Kicking up a great deal more water than she did, he moved deeper within the pool, until he could sink down behind her. “You do not hurt the undeserving. I bet you would rescue us all if given half a chance.”

Allora glanced away. “People cannot be rescued from themselves.”

His hands snaked around her and he pulled her flush against him. His bare front aligned with her naked back, his erection nestled almost between the cleft of her cheeks, but there was no demand evident in his embrace. In fact, he began massaging her tense shoulders, his movements unhurried. “They can if they truly wish to be. I believe that.”

As the tension leeched from her stiff muscles, her mind wandered. Allora still hadn’t given up on her plan to abandon the colony. Perhaps find a vacant settlement. Being on her own could not be any more difficult than being shunned by the Borns, feared by the Breds. If she fit in nowhere, then she had to carve out her own existence.

Yet the thought of never resting for fear someone would discover her and kill her in her sleep loomed.

Already she had to watch where she traveled in the lines, as many of the Borns would try and trip her.

Mel secretly tasted her food for toxins, lest one of the kitchen supervisors tried to poison her again. She would have to do without hot baths and meat, probably live on paste for years until she could harvest her own crops. And then there were the Cyborgs…

I’ll never know a touch like this again. Unless…

“Come with me.” The words flew out of her mouth before her brain had time to process the thought.

His hands stilled. “What did you say?”

She turned to face him. “I cannot stay here, cannot tie myself to Gaul for the good of the colony.

And if I refuse his suit the overlord will withdraw his protection. I must escape. You have much to gain too.

Please Cormack, I do not wish to go alone.”

He didn’t respond, possibly considering her offer, perhaps deciding that he was better off going back to the barracks to rut with a female who hadn’t lost her mind. Desperate to make him see the possibilities, she pressed onward. “Cormack, you know your time is almost up. You told me earlier that you were not ready for the journey to be over. Help me find another place where we can live in peace.”

He shook his head, as if trying to wake from a daydream. “To have that sort of existence, where I answered only to myself…, but it’s too dangerous for you.”

Lifting her chin, Allora stared at him. “My mind is made up, I’m going. The only question is—do you want to come with me?”

8

Cormack’s heart stutter-stepped in his chest. She wanted him, not just his body pleasing hers for the night, but to venture out with her. Fear mixed with excitement inside him, as though she had lit a fuse and he waited to see if fireworks or a bomb waited on the other end. He could be with her, just her, living as his own master, never to be whipped again. To die of old age, like a Born. Perhaps he had already been recycled, for surely this couldn’t be real.

“What of the Bred madness? What would you do if I turned on you?”

She blinked up at him, her adorable mouth drawing down at the edges. “Shoot you, of course. It is the only humane thing to do when the madness comes.”

His hands shook as he held her still. “Would you teach me to read?”

She nodded, smiling. “If that is your wish.”

“My task mistress,” he drew her closer, needing to hold her and assure himself that she was in fact real. “Who knew the day you beat me would be the best of my life?”

She smiled up at him and he could wait no longer to taste her berry ripe lips. Angling his head down, he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. She moved closer, her wet torso sliding against his, pebbled nipples pressing into his chest, her pelvis aligning her sex with his.

He gasped and her tongue took advantage, invading his mouth, tangling with his own, even as she worked herself against his aching cock, riding him. With only a slight shifting of his hips he could plunge inside her, be surrounded by her wet heat, let her channel milk him dry.

His hands were already braced on her hips, positioning her so the sensitive tip penetrated her entrance when he felt her stiffen. She is untouched, you cannot claim her yet.

Nor could he take the time to do so. They needed to plan, to prepare for their flight. Even as the necessity of it consumed him, he couldn’t help but touch her sex, the pads of his fingers gliding over her clitoris, before delving deeper into her saturated folds.

His mouth watered, just as it had for the meat. “You’re so soft, so wet. Did you like it when I tasted you here?”

Full lips parted and she breathed, “Oh yes.”

He circled her opening, but didn’t try to penetrate her, remembering how she’d stiffened up before.

Making her come was his top priority right now and he bent his head, licking her hard nipple, “I will do that for hours. Lie on my back with you astride my face, my tongue licking your wetness, exploring all of your secrets until you beg for mercy.”

Amethyst eyes glittered in the dim lighting as she held his gaze. “Will you show me any?”

Slowly, he shook his head, stroking her harder, deeper. His cock throbbed, but he ignored the ache, intent on bringing her off. “No. Your body will not release until I let you.”

“Cormack,” she panted, rotating her hips in time to his ministrations.

Lifting his head, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, tonguing the hardened peak. She cried out, trying to sink down harder on his fingers but he removed his hand. Moaning in protest she gripped his shoulders and he cupped her gently, easing her need.

Her whole body shook, demanding release. “Together, Allora. We will come together this first time.”

“Show me what to do.” His task mistress delivered it as an order, not a request.

Taking her soft hand in his calloused one, he wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Angling his cock so the length of him pressed up against the delicate folds, he gripped her hips, showing her how to move so his sex caressed hers. “Ride me.”

She threw her head back and he groaned when her thumb rotated over the slit. Pre come beaded and she spread it around the sensitive crown. He groaned against her neck, fighting the release climbing his shaft. “How does it feel?”

Her eyes were closed and she shook her head almost violently as her hips pistoned up and down in a frenzy.

“Allora, look at me,” he ordered. “Share your pleasure with me.”

Slowly her eyelids lifted to haft mast, as if they had been weighed down. He saw her desire, and a hint of panic as her body moved faster than her mind could process.

“Let yourself go, my task mistress. I will catch you.”

With a cry she did, coming in a rush. The bite of her fingernails sinking into his shoulders, the wet friction from the warm water, the scent of her skin, the soft spill of her hair, eyes wide open as she rode the wave. Cormack knew he would recall how she looked forever, lost in the throes of ecstasy, even as he let go and came across her belly.

She collapsed against him, sobbing in great gasping breaths. “I had no…, no idea.”

Neither had he. Holding her against his chest, he stroked her hair soothing her as best he could. “You’ve never felt that before? Surely you’ve touched yourself.”

She shook her head, sniffling. “"Tis forbidden—a sin for Born woman to do so. That right is reserved for their husbands alone.”

Pride unfurled in his chest. He’d helped her achieve orgasm for the first time. „Twas only fair, since he had never known the depths of pleasure until he’d touched her.

Embracing her while the water lapped at his skin was a type of heaven he had never imagined. He was a greedy bastard though, always craving more. “Let me wash you.”

Lifting her head, she offered him a mischievous smile. “Only if I can return the favor.”

She wanted to touch him? To get to know his body the way he yearned to explore hers? Who was he to say no?

It was impossible for him to miss the way she lit up from the inside as she scrambled off his lap, excitement radiating from every pore. Cormack reclined onto his elbows and enjoyed the view of her shapely backside, the wet ends of her red hair swaying just above the curve of her ass.

She gathered a cloth and a bar of soap, a dear commodity that she would soon have to do without. In spite of his recent release and building hope for a future, Cormack felt a heavy burden weighing on his shoulders. Did she have any idea how difficult it would be, doing without the things she was used to having? Regular meals, a comfortable place to sleep, enough water to bathe in….

As a Bred, Cormack had gone without for most of his life, both by design and even, at times, by choice.

Scraping any sort of life together outside the stability of the colony would not be easy and there were only so many supplies they could afford to steal before someone noticed. Again the sheer amount of planning involved in their scheme pressed down on him.

“What’s the matter?” Allora worked a thick lather from the soap, distributing it between both hands before reaching for his chest.

“I was thinking of all we need to do, to prepare.

There is only so much we can carry ourselves and it will have to be food and water, perhaps some medical supplies.” Savoring her touch, he allowed his eyes to drift shut, more relaxed than he’d ever been, even with all his worries.

“And the journal.” Her hands moved in slow, methodical circles, soaping his abdomen, up his sides, beneath his arms. The cloth followed, dragging across his skin in a sweet lick of wet fabric.

Sighing, he watched her face, totally devoted to her task, even as he mulled over her meaning. “What is a journal?”

“The book you found. It had a note to me within.”

He’d forgotten all about the discovery. “But it was buried in the earth, had been for many years. How could that be?”

Her white teeth sank into her fleshy lower lip and he raised his hand to ease the worry away. “It was written by a girl named Cassandra.”

Cormack blinked, sure he had misheard. “You don’t think it’s the Cassandra, the prophetess who foresaw the day the world ceased turning and beyond?”

She shrugged, a delicate gesture choreographing her uncertainty as words could not. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to think. If this is one of the Cassandra’s written records, I have an obligation as task mistress to report it directly to my overlord.” Her eyes lifted to his and his heart stopped in his chest. “As well as all those who have seen it.”

9

Cormack had gone ramrod stiff, the expression of bliss sliding off his handsome face. Did he actually think she intended to betray him now? From the rigid set of his shoulders, as though bracing for a hit, he must. “That’s why we must take it. If they search my chamber and find it, the overlord will not stop until he catches up with me and demands an explanation as to how I found it.”

He took a great, shuddering breath, as though he had momentarily forgotten how to fill his lungs.

“Where is the journal now?”

She reached for him again, wanting to ease the distance that had sprouted up between them. “Hidden away, where no one would think to look. Did you really think I was about to betray you, after what we have shared?”

Strong arms came around her. “I don’t know what to think. I am not use to getting what I want, Allora, and betrayal lurks around every corner.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean. But I vow to you, Cormack. I have told no one about our discovery. The overlord would have me married off before breakfast and you….”

She fell silent and they shared the stillness, thinking the same thought. They both knew he would be drained and recycled just as quickly. Lifting her head, she cupped his face in her hands. “We both have too much to lose at this point. We’re in it together, until the end.”

The tightness in his shoulders abated and he held her for several moments. Sighing, she pulled away. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He stared at her again, that all-consuming look that started at the crown of her head, taking in every feature in turn. “I am glad I can be here with you now.

Even though reaching beyond my station is asking for punishment.”

Allora didn’t know what to say, so she busied herself again with the soap. “I need you to stand so I can finish bathing you.”

He did immediately, water sluicing down from his torso, dripping onto that massive shaft. Allora wondered if he would enjoy her kissing him there the way she had reveled in the feel of his mouth on her.

First though she wanted to explore all the contours of his body, discover all the differences.

Strong, smooth cords of ropy muscle pulled taut wherever she touched. Nothing about Cormack was without economy, from his lean whip-like build to the careful way he spoke, as if excess was totally foreign to him.

Starting at the bottom, she knelt and urged him to lift one foot out of the water. Using the cloth, she washed between his toes, up over the arch and down to the sole, meticulous in learning him, pleasing him.

When she finished she turned to the other side and began anew. Intermittently she glanced up to find his attention fixed on her, pupils dilated and lips parted.

As she washed up over his muscular calves, she stole a peek at his erection. He’d told her not to worry about it but how could she not? She wanted to experience sex, to feel what it was like to take a man inside. If it was half as good as what they had done before, it would be well worth doing.

Caressing his body made her doubly aware of her own, the ache in her heavy breasts and between her legs. She wanted to touch herself there, wanted him to show her how to capture that pleasure. By the time she made her way up to his knees her breath was coming out in short, sharp pants.

His hands ghosted over her cheeks, then threaded through her hair. “You have no idea how much this sight pleases me. You’re a vision, Allora.”

She stared up into his eyes, even as her hands roved over the thick bulge of his thigh muscles. “You are the first to ever think so.”

Dark hair swung back and forth as he shook his head. “No. Born men cannot be such great fools that they do not see your loveliness, body and soul.”

The excessive compliment, so unlike his sparse nature, pleased her even as heat crept up her cheeks.

“I think you are just enjoying my supplication.”

His eyes burned as he asked. “And what is it you would beg for?”

Since you asked… Licking her lips, she lowered her gaze to his cock.

His fingers tightened on the back of her head.

“Wash me there first. Like a baptism, clean me before you take me between your sweet lips.”

Using the last of the soap, she cupped his sac first—letting her thumb explore his stones. Soft and hard all at once. She weighed them in her palm, glancing up to judge his reaction. Though his lips didn’t move, his eyes begged for more.

Squeezing once again, she let her fingers crawl up either side of his groin without touching his throbbing flesh. The tip wept again, just as it had the first time she had touched him there.

“Allora,” he rasped, his big body starting to shake.

Giving in, she worked her soapy hands over him, starting at the base and smoothing her way up. His skin was like the softest velvet, covering the iron rod beneath. When she reached the crown she hesitated, not wanting to waste what his body had yielded for her. Her tongue darted out, licking it up and he shouted, hips bucking toward her. Scooping water in her palms, she cupped it over him, washing the soap away as he quaked.

Remembering what he had said about her begging, she blew her hot breath across his wet shaft and he made a sound suspiciously close to a whimper.

“Allora, please. Suck me into your sweet mouth, make me yours.”

His words sent a spike of desire through her and holding his gaze she used both hands to position his cock before taking him into her mouth.

Cormack shouted again, his hips bucking, forcing her to take more. He was huge, and her jaw stretched to an uncomfortable angle. Now what? She looked to him for direction.

“Use your tongue to stroke,” he directed, his chest heaving. She saw him still his hips, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Your hands too.”

That she could do. Gripping him again she pulled back, letting her tongue flirt over the protruding vein.

When he had all but slipped from her lips she laved the crown, getting another taste of his essence.

“Yessss…” he hissed as she slid back down, farther this time. His fingers dug into the back of her skull but she didn’t mind, loving the feel of possession, of closeness as if this action wove the two of them together.

Seeing the absolute control she wielded over his body gave her a rush of power, unlike anything she had ever known. Like wielding her whip to command, except instead of fear of pain, he was hers by way of pleasure.

Cupping his stones again, she noted how they seemed even tighter than before, as if drawing up.

That was where his seed came from. She stroked them with her thumb, purring as he rocked to her motions.

Now getting used to the rhythm, her throat relaxed and she was able to taken him deeper still.

“Stop,” he groaned but Allora ignored him, wanting to feel his release, to swallow him, the same way he was consuming her. I don’t know where he ends and I begin. Stranger still, she didn’t care, wanted nothing but to please him, and herself as well.

“Allora!” His shout echoed off the walls as he came in her mouth so hard she was sure she would have gagged if she hadn’t been so excited that she swallowed everything he gave her.

Staggering back he splashed down in the water, drawing her up next to him.

She rested her head over his heart, reveling in the thundering tattoo, more content than she’d ever been before. And we’re only half done—he still has to wash me. She shivered in expectation.

“What the bleeding hell is going on here?”

She met Cormack’s startled gaze an instant before her happiness shattered and they both turned to face the overlord.

10

Cormack shoved Allora behind him, using his naked body to hide hers from the overlord’s condemning stare. Timing is everything.

“Task Mistress Allora, explain your actions, now!”

He felt Allora stiffen behind him, her iron will surfacing. “I owe you no explanations,” she paused before adding “Father.”

The overlord stared at Cormack with hatred blazing in his eyes. “Ungrateful slut, this is the thanks I get for taking you in, sheltering you all these years.

You spread your legs for a filthy Bred!”

Cormack lunged for the other man’s throat. “Do not speak of her that way!”

Before he could make contact pain erupted from somewhere deep inside his head. He tried to push past it, but it was no use. Groaning in agony, he crumpled to the ground, retching.  What the hell had happened?

“Stop it!” Allora rushed past him but the overlord blocked her path.

“Listen to me, you filthy whore. You will put on your armor and escort this Bred to the draining chamber. He attacked the colony overlord and if not for the nonviolent conditioning he had received during gestation, I would have been physically assaulted. His makeup is flawed and he is scheduled for immediate recycling. You will watch him die. Then you will report back to me, immediately, where I shall decide your fate.” He leveled his gaze on her. “Pray I am in a merciful mood.”

Allora squared her shoulders. “Overlord, you wouldn’t recognize mercy if I booted it up your ass.”

For a moment Cormack thought the overlord was having an apoplectic fit, his color had turned a mottled purple hue. His hand drew back and struck Allora across the face. Cormack's vision went red before he attempted to attack the other man once more. But his legs refused to support his weight. The fine dinner he’d shared with his task mistress charged back up, his stomach spasming violently.

The overlord laughed at his misery, striding to where Cormack had curled into the fetal position.

“Foolish Bred. Don’t you know your very name means designed? As far as you are concerned, I am God, the creator. And you would dare touch one of the Born, no matter how wretched she may be?”

“Kkk-kkiiiillll yooouuu.” Cormack stuttered through chattering teeth.

“Keep it up. Enough violent thoughts and your brain will aneurysm until it bursts. Then your darling task mistress will drag your corpse to the recycling chamber, saving us a walk to the draining tube.” The overlord smirked at him. “Don’t you understand?

Breds are meant to serve us.”

“Cormack, stop.” Allora crawled across the floor to reach him. “You must stop this or you will die.”

He tried focusing on nothing but her amethyst eyes, but all he could see were her tears, the livid mark that beast had left on her pale cheek. His instincts warred with his conditioning, as though his body waged a war on itself, both fronts equally convinced of being in the right.

Nothing would remain of the battleground.

The overlord kicked Allora away from where he suffered. “You have your orders, Task Mistress.

Follow them or you will hold him up during draining.”

“Ggggg…ggooo,” He managed to tell her as his shaking increased, teeth rattling together in painful connection. He would die for her because he refused to see her die for nothing.

Allora nodded once and scurried for the other room. Cormack’s sight wavered in and out but he kept his eyes on the overlord, hating every breath the man took. Here was evil, in a fine suit of cloth. He’d won the genetic lottery, being Born instead of created and somehow thought that power made him invincible.

The source of his power, controlling those he saw as beneath him.

It might have been minutes or hours but the agony lessoned, his muscles going lax. Allora returned, dressed in her boots and armor. She bent to pick up Cormack’s discarded clothing but the overlord stopped her. “He won’t need his thermals. We’ll give them to a worthier Bred, a new and improved model.”

Allora’s eyes went wide. “He’ll freeze to death in minutes with no gear.”

“Do as I say!” The overlord roared and stormed out. He felt her pulling on him, tugging him to his feet.

Her voice was so low he had to strain to make out her rushed vow. “We’ll figure something out.”

A calm lethargy descended over Cormack. “It was a nice dream, while it lasted.” Weak as a newborn babe, he rested all of his weight on Allora and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

A sea of armored guards had been lined up in the hallway. “Bred whore.” One hissed and spat at her.

Cormack lunged for the man and was knocked down like a toddler just learning how to walk, his blasted conditioning flaring up. Allora wiped the saliva from her cheek and helped him up. A wave of sadness descended upon him. “So many dreams,” he whispered.

Allora shook him, her strength incredible. “Don’t you give up on me! Cormack, I will not watch you die.”

He smiled, nodding once not wanting to contradict her impassioned speech. “Maybe you will like being married.” Glancing down at the red curls escaping from her helmet he said, “I would have chosen you for my Only One.”

His foot caught on an uneven patch of grounds and he stumbled. She caught him around the waist to keep him from landing flat on his face. “Quit the maudlin goodbye routine and help me look for a way out of this. Fight, damn you. ”

How he wished he  could fight, that adrenaline would surge through his body until he took on the Born army, stopping the atrocities that his people suffered once and for all. Freeing them, so they could scrape by on their own, without waiting for whatever handouts the Born saw fit to pass down.

The draining chamber was located deep within the tunnels. Torches were fewer and farther in-between here, as less eyes demanded less light. “This is the last fork,” Allora hissed, casting a look behind them. Cormack didn’t bother—he knew the Borns followed them down, eager for a show. They would watch the life be sucked out of him and then return to their gluttonous feasting.

The overlord stopped them at the opening to the draining chamber. “It seems as though there is a backup, many naughty Breds acting out today. I’m glad I came down here to bump you up the waiting list. There’s one who just started, so it’ll be an hour or so, depending on how much life is left in the shell.

Don’t worry though, you’re next in line.”

Hatred welled deep within, but it was his old familiar loathing for the Born who abused their powers. “This will not last forever, Overlord. One day the Bred will rise up like a nightmare to pay you back in kind.” He leveled his gaze at the other man. “On that day, we will meet again.”

11

Allora propped Cormack up against the wall to wipe sweat from her eyes. It was sweat, damn it, not tears. She didn’t have time for emotion, had to figure out a way to get Cormack to the surface, find him some protective gear and get the hell away from the overlord’s grasp.

They had no provisions, nowhere to run, no plan in place. And precious little time left.

The Bred in the draining pod was a woman.

Younger than Cormack but older than herself, she knelt on the floor of the glass tube, blond hair covering her face. Allora glanced to the indicator screen, seeing that the draining had been going on for several minutes. On the accusation board the plaintiff had written, stole nutri packets from the kitchen.

Allora frowned, momentarily startled out of her frenetic mindset. Surly that must be wrong. Since when were the Bred recycled for stealing food?

A row of Born stood watching, the mortician who would take the body for recycling, garbed in his outdoor armor and leaning idly on his gurney. The kitchen supervisor, who must have reported the theft, looked over to where they stood, examining Cormack’s genitals with sick interest. Allora stepped in front of him and glared until the woman looked away. Beside her, the doctor tapped his foot, waiting to declare that the soul had been properly harvested.

The minister mumbled in a monotone voice, passionlessly entreating the universe to care for the departed. Not a single one of them stirred so much as a hair when the woman threw back her head and shrieked.

“Lara,” Cormack breathed, staggering forward.

His gaze locked on the suffering Bred dying by the will of the overlord.

Allora blocked his path, using all of her strength to push against him. If he hadn’t been so weakened from his attacks on the overlord, she never would have succeeded in restraining him. “There is nothing you can do for her.”

He looked down at her, his expression inscrutable. “She did it for me. I asked her to take the packets.”

She squeezed his arm, filled with fear that she would soon have to watch him die the same way.

It’s not over until it’s over.

Behind Cormack’s left shoulder, a cage rattled as one of the waiting Bred lost his composure. “My turn next! No cutsies, no cutsies, no cutsies!” Bloodshot eyes with expanded pupils glared at them.

The madness has claimed him. It truly was a crime to make this man wait any longer to die. If she had seen him in the barracks or anywhere else in the compound she would have slit his throat. A grin split his dirty face and he nodded eagerly at her, as though he had read her mind and liked her conclusion. Chills shook her to the soul and she turned away, sickened.

A weapon, we need something to fight with.

Though Cormack physically couldn’t help her and there were too many for Allora to best on her own.

She eyed the lock on the Bred cage, wondering if there was any way she could set them free so she and Cormack could escape in the chaos.

Yet where could they go? More than a mile of labyrinth tunnels stood between them and the surface and countless Born troops might patrol in between.

Well over six feet tall and completely naked, Cormack would draw interest even if he wasn’t an escaping prisoner.

If they did make it to the surface, they had no supplies, no animals to speed them away from here.

Without fresh water they might wander for days until ultimately dying from dehydration. Cormack had no clothes and would be at the mercy of the elements.

Come on, Allora, if you are ever going to think up something brilliant, now is the time!

Lara shrieked again, blood gushing from her nose and mouth on rivers of red. Cormack let out an answering bellow, as though he felt her agony. Allora squeezed his arm and wished she could comfort him or take him from this place of death and destruction—he’d known so much of it already. Hell, as long as she were wishing maybe she ought to wish the world had never stopped turning, that water and food were plentiful once more, that human beings had never created A.I."s and the Bred to do their work for them.

The blond Bred crumpled to the bottom of the chamber. Cormack sagged against her even as a rush of adrenaline shot through Allora’s body. If she was to make a move she had to do it now.

Yet nothing had changed—her circumstances were just as dire. Armed only with her whip and the chamber too small to use such a weapon accurately.

They were greatly outnumbered and even if the onlookers didn’t try to stop them, the guards standing sentinel in front of the Bred cage would. Her flare of panic morphed into a full-blown wildfire. No way out.

The draining supervisor strode in and opened the door to the tube, admitting the doctor. Bending down he checked for a pulse and called out, “Draining successful, this one is ready for recycling.”

The mad Bred howled, an eerie sound Allora had never heard from a human throat before. He rattled the cage again, hissing “My, turn, my turn, my turn!”

Hefting his great bulk forward, the mortician angled his cart so the guards could load Lara’s body.

She was slight as a bird, her wrist no larger than a child’s. It dangled over the side when the guards dropped her onto the gurney. Her eyes stared sightlessly at them until the mortician activated the opaque bio-casing which would start breaking down her molecular structure into water and salt.

Two of the primary ingredients in the protein packs she’d been wrongly accused of stealing.

“Get back, you dogs, the overlord is here!” The Born supervisor shoved the soldiers out of the way, eager to kiss up to Mag, maybe even get promoted off this thankless detail.

Her foster father swept in, Gaul by his side.

Allora frowned as Gaul undressed her with his eyes.

Mag’s own stare left her cold and behind her Cormack tensed.

“Put him in the tube.” The overlord ordered her.

“Overlord, it is not ready for another draining, the tube needs time to recharge—” the supervisor’s protests cut off abruptly as Mag sent him a quelling look.

Gaul has a weapon. Praying that Cormack would stay put until she came for him, Allora guided him to the tube. Unable to stand on his own, he sank to one knee, hands braced against the glass. How she wished there was some way to convey her thoughts to him, to let him know what she planned. But it was too dangerous. Stepping out of the tube, she hurried toward the overlord and his guest.

She had no idea whether word of her indiscretion with a Bred had reached her intended’s ear, but he seemed just as fascinated by her as ever, his stare transfixed on her chest.

“My Lord Gaul.”

Timing herself until she was well within reach of them she dipped her head in what she hoped was some semblance of a respectful manner, until she was at eye level with the sword, calculating the right angle so she could draw it from its sheath in one, quick motion.

“Task Mistress,” Gaul addressed her and she stood, well within his grip. The predictable fiend reached for her, snaking one of his beefy tentacles around her waist, pulling her close. “The overlord has you working late today, no?"

Cutting her eyes to Mag, she watched as he shook his head once. No, he had not told Gaul about finding her with a Bred—he still hoped to marry her off to this scabby excuse for a man.

Allora decided right then she would rather be drained in the tube alongside Cormack.

Gaul pulled her even closer, his fetid breath falling on her face, one hand slithering down to cup her ass, in front of the entire room.

“My turn! No cutsies, no cutsies, no cutsies!”

“No,” Cormack wheezed from behind her.

Forcing herself not to look over at him, she reached up toward the sword, determined to slit Gaul’s throat first, then hold Mag as a hostage until Cormack could be released.

The ground shook beneath their feet. Just a tremor at first, then coming stronger and more consistently. Allora lost her balance and fell backward, hitting her head on the stone floor. Groaning, she rolled to her stomach and looked up to see hurt and betrayal burning in Cormack’s eyes.

She opened her mouth to explain, but a whine filled the shaking chamber, cutting off her words.

The maddened Bred grew calm. His words spoken in a grave tone, “Something’s coming.”

12

Even though the draining device had not yet been turned on, something died inside of Cormack as he watched Allora sidled up to the overlord and his companion. She didn’t even look at him once the tube had sealed behind her. What did you expect, you foolish Bred?

He’d almost believed her words, that she wanted him to run away with her, but he’d been no more than a curiosity to her. Something to do, to pass the time—the forbidden fruit. She’d played with him as a barn cat would an injured rodent, until her owner had come along to scoop her up and step on the pest.

For a moment he believed the shaking was coming from within him, that he would crumble into dust from the agony of losing the only thing he’d never possessed, yet was unable to live without. But when Allora hit the floor and cracks formed in the chamber’s bedrock walls, he realized the source, smelled the gasoline being sucked through an engine, only to be spit out again as a cloud of death.

The Bred were forbidden to build machines and the Born were too afraid of possible repercussions.

His eyes went wide as he realized what was coming.

Earth mounded up at a forty-five degree angle, big chunks of rock displaced by something larger, more demanding. Trapped inside the shatter-proof tube, Cormack could only watch as the tip of a sub terrain drill emerged from the hole, its helix nose whirring faster than even his Bred eyesight could see.

The Born audience trampled one another in a rush for the doorway. The mortician abandoned Lara’s body and shoved the kitchen supervisor into the path of the drill. Her scream cut off as the metal nose tunneled through her chest, raising her bulbous body up into the air and whirling it around like a propeller.

Allora had rolled onto her stomach, her hand pressed against the glass tube, her lips moving. The commotion was too great for him to hear her words.

More lies, more games. His chest ached and he forced himself to look away from her.

The engine cut off mid-whine and the metal hatch opened with a hiss. With a creak of leather a Cyborg rose from the cockpit and stared at the dead woman impaled by his digging machine. “That’s the last time you drive, Rothguard.”

“Sorry, sir, haven’t quite got the hang of it yet.”

Rothguard rose as well and made a face at the dead woman. “Orders, Commander Tuck?”

The first one stared out of his mechanical eyes.

Cormack had never seen such a chilling look. “Get that shit cleaned up before it corrodes the burrower.”

“Yes, Sir.” Rothguard saluted and jumped over the side, landing with the grace of a cat. Kicking rubble away from his boots, he agilely scrambled up the mound of rock and gripped the corpse by the ankle. One tug and the body flew across the room, leaving a dent in the opposing wall.

Commander Tuck disembarked as well, rolling over the side as though rolling out of bed instead of falling twenty feet. From what Cormack could see he was more machine than man, with an artificial arm, both legs, both eyes and one ear. And that was just what was readily visible. His expression inscrutable, he stared down at a device embedded in his mechanical arm while circling around the tube that held Cormack. He stopped directly in front of Allora, metal feet inches from her.

“You, what is your designation?”

She clamped her jaw shut, undoubtedly falling back on her training. The Cyborgs thrived off of information and the only weapon human kind had against their superior strength and advanced technology was to slow the flow of usable data until they could escape.

As was typical with Cyborgs, he showed no feeling as he bulldozed ahead. “My readout indicates you are the one we are seeking. Is your name Allora and are you twenty nine years old?”

A pit of ice formed in Cormack’s gut. “What do you want with her?”

The coating over the Cyborg’s eyes made them appear totally white, no iris or pupil to speak of, yet Cormack felt sure Commander Tuck could see better than he could, gauging pulse, respiration, perspiration with a single glance. A walking lie detector, who could act as judge, jury and executioner within the span of a heartbeat.

“She possesses what we seek.” Unlike the humans, the machine abominations did not withhold information if they thought sharing would further their aims. “It was prophesized by Cassandra that we were to claim her as one of us, making a crucial move to end the war between the three factions.”

Cormack’s mouth fell open. He never, in a million years would have thought the Cyborgs would believe in Cassandra’s prophesies. And that Allora was part of one? What could she possess that would unite the Bred, the Born and the Cyborgs?

The journal.

That must be it. And the Cyborgs would torture her until she told them where to find it. His hands clenched into fists, hating her and needing to protect her from this threat all at once. If he could escape the tube, he could fight the Cyborgs. The Breds had been created to combat them in the first place, and no overlord would choose to breed that ability from them.

He raised his hands and pounded on the thick glass of his prison. “Let me out of here and I will tell you where to find what you seek.”

“Irrelevant, I have the means to discover her identity. I only asked because it was the polite thing to do.” Said the creature that could dole out death to every Born in this network of tunnels without a second thought. The Bred were skilled enough that every living one close enough to help had been imprisoned.

Tuck bent down and grabbed Allora’s arm. She cried out and struggled, fighting to reclaim her hand.

Cormack growled a warning, unable to contain his base response. “Do not touch her!”

The commander glanced up at him, still holding her arm. “She is your mate?”

Refusing to answer, as lying was not an option Cormack repeated his demand. “Release her now.”

Though the Cyborg wars had ended long before his gestation, Cormack felt the predator within stir, a mongoose staring down a king cobra, confident he would be victorious.

“I am not your enemy, Bred, no matter what those that hatched you said.” Tuck turned back to face Allora, pressing her thumb against a flat metal plate in his arm. His eyelids drifted shut and he released her.

“Yes, you are the one I want.”

Cormack pounded on the glass again. “Allora, release me.” Regardless of her deception, he would protect her from these monsters, as he had been bred to do.

Scrambling to her feet she pounded from the outside. “The mechanism is jammed—I can’t get it to open.”

Tuck rose up, looming over her, glacial eyes zoned in on his target. Cormack assessed the threat, noted the weakness in his enemy, ready to strike the moment he got free.

That moment didn’t arrive.

“Cormack!” Helpless to do anything but bloody his fists as he pounded on the glass and watch as the Cyborg scooped her up and started back towards his vehicle. After dumping Allora inside, he called to the other one and the cockpit closed with a hiss, cutting off her screams.

The digger whirred to life, backing down the tunnel, kicking up exhaust as it sped away.

13

Please, I’ll give you whatever you want.” The offer spilled out of her mouth before she thought it through and she could have bitten her own tongue off at her stupidity. The Cyborgs were notorious for their raunchy sexual appetites. She’d overheard several of the kitchen supervisors snickering over the lewd use they had for farm animals left unattended by careless Breds. Luckily, both the driver and the commander ignored her, facing forward as they dove deeper into the planet’s crust.

Allora though her heart might explode, it beat so fast. Once the Cyborg had secured her in the tunneling vehicle, they both ignored her. Turning she looked out the back, through the same glass-tique material used to construct the draining tube. Thin as her hand, but virtually impenetrable.

Some sort of scooper mechanism filled in the tunnel behind them, leaving an obvious but impassible trail. Not that Allora expected anyone to rescue her. The only one that might attempt it was left at the mercy of the overlord.

Bits of rock pinged against the metal hull but the ride was surprisingly smooth. Allora wanted to ask where they were taking her, but figured they would ignore that inquiry as well. Instead of worrying about her own hide, she fretted over Cormack. He had been alone, trapped in the draining tube. She would never forget how he looked, on his knees, his expression fierce as he eyeballed her. Gone was the tender lover she had dallied with in her bathing chamber. She looked into the eyes of a man bred to kill. Not all the Breds were capable of taking out a Cyborg, most were designed to be laborers, but Allora didn’t doubt that if Cormack had escaped, he would manage to kill every Cyborg he could find.

The arrival of the Cyborgs had chased the Borns from the chamber, but eventually, Mag would give the order to investigate. With a flick of a switch Cormack would be as good as dead. Her throat closed up as guilt swallowed her whole. I put him in there, abandoned him.

She thought over what the Cyborg commander had said to Cormack. He was after her because of the Cassandra prophesy. Could it be a coincidence that he showed up to nab her on the heels of her discovering one of Cassandra’s journals? Allora believed in fate and destiny and with the belief came the acceptance that there was no such thing as a coincidence.

Clearing her throat, she raised her voice, hoping to project authority. These Cyborgs were no different than some ornery Breds who’d distilled and drank the grain they were supposed to be harvesting, men full of themselves and not able to see beyond the moment.

“I found one of Cassandra’s journals. If you take me back, I’ll show you where I’ve hidden it.”

Commander Tuck turned to face her, those eerie white eyeballs completely still in his face as he studied her. “You speak the truth. But why would you wish to return to the stronghold where you’ve been held captive all these years? Your father wishes to see you.”

Her lips parted in shock and outrage but she was to overcome with emotion to speak right away. Tuck waited, the perfect statue and his nonchalance over such an emotionally booby-trapped subject enraged her. “My father was Cyborg scum that captured my mother, raped her repeatedly. She fled across the Light Side to escape him.”

Though the commander’s expression didn’t change, the driver, Rothguard, let out a hearty guffaw.

“Some has been telling you lies, little girl. Did they brainwash you into thinking that Borns are superior beings, the pinnacle of God’s creation and all that happy horseshit?”

“They aren’t lies. Man was the most evolved creature ever to walk the face of the earth.”

Rothguard cast a smirk to Tuck. “Betcha she still believes in Santa Claus too.”

“My mother gave her life to see me safe from you monsters.” A sacrifice it seemed only delayed the inevitable.

The commander either didn’t know or didn’t care that she was on the emotional skids, heading straight for hell. “Tell me where the journal is and we will get it forthwith.”

“Set me free first.”

Tuck turned away. “Impossible. That violates mission parameters.”

Her jaw dropped. They would rather have her than Cassandra’s journal? If they didn’t free her, she couldn’t free Cormack.

“Then go back and get the man trapped in the draining tube.” At his blank stare, she added “My…mate.” She barely hesitated over the word.

Borns were married in traditional human fashion.

Breds chose Only Ones, forsaking all others.

Cyborgs mated, like animals.

Now was not the time to have a pissing contest over semantics. They needed to understand Cormack’s importance to her. Clearly her father held some great rank, though she couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about him at the moment. He’d waited twenty-nine years; he could wait a bit longer if the difference meant Cormack’s life.

“Very well, if you will cooperate with us, then we will retrieve him.”

Allora blinked. Surely it couldn’t be so easy? But Rothguard angled the ship around in a half circle, the spinning helix grinding up the rock they had just replaced.

“Do you have anything that will cut through the glass-tique? The lock was jammed and I couldn’t open it before.”

“We won’t need to go through the tube, just pray Rothguard can stop in time.”

“In time for what?” Allora said and gasped as the bottom of Cormack’s prison gave way. Her Bred dropped through the hole and caught the nose of the vehicle just as it stopped spinning.

Allora gasped, envisioning him impaled on the giant bit like the kitchen supervisor had been. And he was not out of danger yet because if he dropped through the hole he’d fall down the long tunnel they had created.

“Help him!” She lurched forward, as if she could grab Cormack through the windshield.

The commander shoved her back in place. “It’s what we intend to do, Allora. If you wouldn’t mind switching places with me for a moment?” Gripping her by the seat of her pants he stuffed her into his seat then did a flip over the top to land where she had been sitting.

“Showoff,” Rothguard mumbled, though his gaze stayed put. With a start, Allora realized Cormack was coming closer to her as the spiral nose of the vehicle retracted. Tuck had demolished the seat to get to the trap door beneath. Propping it open with one booted foot, he stood poised to grab for Cormack the second the Bred was pulled into view.

He didn’t have to.

With an unholy roar Cormack launched himself into the vehicle taking Tuck down to the floor. She screamed his name but he didn’t so much as look in her direction as he pummeled Tuck again and again.

Blood spattered the interior as blows were exchanged.

Allora gripped the other Cyborg’s arm. “Stop them, they’ll kill each other!”

Rothguard sighed and shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

When he didn’t move quickly enough, Allora vaulted over the seat, whip in hand. Gripping a bit with each hand she created a chokehold around Cormack’s neck. “Stop this at once!”

He struggled against her hold and wheezed “Traitorous bitch,” before going limp and crumpling to the deck.

14

Gentle fingers stroked across his cheek and a low, husky voice called out softly, “Cormack, can you hear me?”

He didn’t want to wake up, to leave this dream world where her touch held concern instead of greed, tenderness in place of selfishness. Then he remembered the Cyborgs. Forcing his eyelids open he took in Allora, clad only in her shift, red gold hair spilling free down her back. The soft look on her face combined with her calming caress made him ache deep inside, her beauty unfathomable. The feel of her skin maddened him. He needed her to back off at the same time he craved more, her whole body pressed against him. Throat dry he rasped, “Don’t touch me.”

Her hand jerked back as though he’d burned her.

Expression shifting from concerned to remorseful in an instant. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

Yes, but not in the way you think. “I can stomach no more of your teasing, witch.”

“What are you talking about?”

Someone had covered him with a thermal blanket and bound his hands above his head. From the rawness on his throat, he knew which someone to blame. “Where are they?”

She blinked, as if his question surprised her. “Are you talking about the Cyborgs that brought us here?

They have been gone for hours, left us right in the vehicle. I already tried to start it but it’s coded to their thumbprints. We’ve been  secured for the night.”

“So I am chained for your pleasure then, Task Mistress?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You are chained because you attacked your rescuers and cursed at me when you left me no choice but to stop you. I wanted to make sure you had come to your senses before I let you up.”

In a hard tone he gritted out, “Forgive me, for I was Bred to kill Cyborgs and don’t know how to react when the woman I am bound to protect runs off with them!”

Slinging a leg over his torso, she straddled him, bent low over his face. “I must have damaged your brain when I cut off your air. I did not run off with them.”

The feel of her soft, smooth skin against his sides, her hair spilling around his face, brought forth his baser urges. She invaded every sense, her essence being absorbed through his pores, setting his libido on fire. Struggling against his desire, the need binding him in even thicker chains, but he was determined not to go under again. “What did you intend, Task Mistress? Was I to be your personal whipping boy, the creature you tormented when you couldn’t fight back?

Or perhaps a love slave, hidden away and only allowed out of shackles to pleasure you when you grew wet and needy between your shapely thighs. I know which fate I would prefer.”

The air escaped her lungs as though he’d socked her in the abdomen. “Is that what you think? That I would use you to fill my needs then toss you aside like so much trash?”

Cormack didn’t reply.

“For your information, I had to negotiate to get them to rescue you.” She bent to the side, her hot core sliding across his stomach as she fumbled with her discarded armor. Her fingers groped with a loose thermal plate that did not nest against the others as it should. Wiggling it free, she let it clatter to the floor, and then withdrew a flat object. “They sought this.”

The journal, just as he had believed. “Then why do they not have it now?”

Her lips twitched, as though a smile lurked just beneath the surface. “Because I didn’t tell them where it was yet.”

The craftiness on her face stirred his desire, whipping it up to a fever pitch. He was a sick bastard for delighting in her darkness, for wanting her even though he knew she would hurt him time and again without fail. Allora had proven she was only out for herself, would manipulate whichever man offered her the biggest prize. He stared at her mouth, yearning for another taste. “Let me up.”

Her amethyst eyes glinted again with a secret fire.

“I’m not sure that I want to.”

His cock went from acutely aware of her, to throbbing painfully, begging for her attention. The blanket tented around him, the warm fabric creating a maddening friction on his sensitive shaft. “What do you want?”

Even white teeth sank into her fleshy lower lip as she traced her palms lightly over his shoulders. “To assure myself that you are alive, to touch you.”

“Do it then,” Bucking wildly beneath her, all the pain and humiliation burned to ash in the fire of his lust. She owed him this, damn it, for betraying him twice in one day.

The look in her eyes caressed him, as she studied every feature. “I thought you were going to die, that we both would.” Her thumbs flicked over his nipples and he hissed out a breath.

Do not fall under her spell again! “We still might, Allora. Do you know why they want you?”  Stay focused!

Nodding her head, she skimmed her palms back up over his pectorals, just as when she’d bathed him.

“They said my father wants to see me.” Her head lowered and he gasped as the wet heat of her mouth closed over his nipple. Heels digging into the cold metal floor, his hips jerked up and the blanket slid over his throbbing shaft.

Don’t surrender to her. The fog of need clouded his mind, making reasoning nigh impossible. The scent of her arousal filled the small space, slipping through the cracks in his resolve, widening them so his foundation started to crumble as she licked her way up his neck.

“And what of your betrothed? How many times do you suppose he will forgive your indiscretions?”

She pulled back, and he bit back a groan, seeing her nipples puckered against the thin fabric. “Are you talking about Gaul? I was going for his sword.”

“Yes, but now his sword isn’t here so you’ll have to make due with mine. If I hadn’t felt the evidence of your virginity myself, I’d never believe it, for you seem to find a man wherever you go.”

Her lips parted in shock, and she said nothing, just stared down at him for a full minute. Grinding his molars together he refused to lessen the silence.

Hurting her was the only option left to him—he needed her to stop before she claimed his heart with her lies.

“I can’t figure you out, Cormack. You say you don’t want to die, then go quietly to the draining chamber, begging me to go on without you. Now you’re vile to me because you mistakenly believe I was prepared to do exactly that. Even though I was ready to die with you, that I traded the most valuable object I have ever possessed to rescue you!”

How I want to believe. Cormack felt a tearing, as though his heart burst from his chest to go to her.

Panicking, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“So are you going to fuck me or not?"

He’d hope his crassness would shock her, but his task mistress was not so easily cowed. “Is that what you want, for me to fuck you?” Reaching around behind her back she made contact with his blanket covered cock, gripping him so hard he shouted out loud.

Her eyes glowed, studying his face for his reaction as her fingers slowly stroked over the length of him.

“Do you know what I think? I think you like to push me, provoke me until I’m rough with you. Is that what you want, to be gentle with me while I dominate you?”

At her words, his balls drew up tight and he fought his release even as the seed climbed his shaft.

The vivid memory of a whip across his back, helped cool his ardor to manageable levels and he gasped.

“No pain.”

“No pain,” she confirmed. Throwing off the blanket she looked over her shoulder at his throbbing erection. Gripping him directly, skin to skin she ordered, “You will not come until I tell you to come.”

His entire body shook with the need for release but he gave a jerky nod. “Yes.”

Thumbing the slit on the head of his cock she asked “Yes, who?”

“Yes, Task Mistress.”

She nodded crisply and let him go. Fisting the fabric of her shift, she hauled it up over her head and tossed it on the floor. Seeing her astride him naked and totally in control, he let his heart go.

Truthfully, he’d never had a choice in the matter.

15

Though Allora had strode through the Bred barracks on a daily basis, whip coiled on her belt, gauntlets ready to take out an unruly foe, never had she felt more powerful than perched naked atop Cormack. The tendons in his arms and neck stood out in sharp relief, as though he struggled against the shackles. With her weight pinning him to the floor, he wasn’t going anywhere, until she decided to let him up. He has to earn that privilege. She thought wickedly. Since his cock looked ready to expel its seed, she decided to ignore it and indulge herself instead.

Sliding her hands first up over her thighs, then across her belly to cup her breasts. He licked his lips as she rolled her hard nipples—eyes fixated on her every movement.

“Tell me what you are thinking.” The commanding tone came so naturally to her and his body tensed as though on the verge of orgasm.

Gaze sliding from her breasts to her face he rasped, “I want to taste you there.”

Could she trust him not to hurt her? He’d been livid only moments before and perhaps tormenting Cormack sexually had not been the best plan. She stared into his eyes, searching his soul for the gentle lover that had brought her more pleasure than she had ever known.

“No pain.” She reiterated his earlier words.

Bright blue eyes concurred with his vow. “Only pleasure between us.”

Bracing her hands on either side of his head, she leaned forward until her right breast aligned with his mouth. Heaving a shaky breath she hoped she made the right decision.

His tongue darted out, swirling over the taut bud again and again. Moaning his name she leaned down, urging him to take her breast between his lips. He did so, sucking greedily. His teeth scraped gently over the pebbled nipple and her need increased. How she wanted to free his hands so he could stroke between her legs the way he had done before.

He released her with a wet sounding pop, only to turn his head and latch on to the other breast. Allora threw her head back, grinding her aching sex against his firm stomach muscles.

With a final lick he shuddered beneath her. “Move up, so I can taste you between your legs again.”

Ignoring that he had given her the command, she did as he asked and slid upward until her knees had been planted on either side of his face.

Hot breath fell against her sensitive flesh. “Hold your lips open for me.”

She did, vowing this would be the last command she’d take from him.

His first caress was light, barely perceptible and yet her sex clenched, aching for his possession.

Another hard, wet stroke delivered to the sensitive nub then he dragged his tongue down to circle the opening to her body.

“More,” she begged. He pressed a little harder, following the same maddening path, not driving her hard the way she needed but teasing her, tormenting her.

Glancing down, she gasped to realize he stared up, cataloging her reactions to his every move. He drew a lazy figure eight across her folds then sucked the tip of her index finger between his lips.

Does he want me to beg? With a start Allora realized that was exactly what he wanted, her at his mercy, even though the odds had been stacked heavily in her favor. Breds didn’t get to win, weren’t allowed to keep anything they found, expected to lose any small bit of fortune that came to them.

He wanted to be mastered, but not without a fight. Running her hand through his thick, dark hair she whispered, “Please, Cormack. I need you.”

With a groan he let go of his control, thrusting his tongue deep inside her, licking madly. Orgasm exploded from within as she rode the wave of pleasure, basking in every vivid detail, the scrape of his stubble as his jaw worked furiously, the trembling in her hands as she held herself open to his onslaught.

The wet heat that invaded her, possessed her, branded her his.

All the starch went out of her spine and she rolled to one side. He followed, nuzzling against her pubic hair. “Do you yield so easily, my task mistress?”

Allora didn’t answer, still lost in sensation.

Tremors spiraled out from her core and she wondered how much more her body could take. The answer that presented itself made her clench up, on the verge of another release. All of him.

With a shaking hand, she reached up to unfasten the cuffs, typing in her code until the tumbler released. Gaze steady he watched her every move. Had her arms been bound above her head for hours, she would have required some time to allow the blood flow to return. Cormack didn’t hesitate as he pinned her hips, wedging his broad shoulders between her thighs. In a tone that mixed incredulity with sheer awe he murmured, “I will be inside you this night.”

Nodding, she reached out to stroke his face. “I ache for your possession.”

Drawing a finger down her sex, he explored what her body offered. “You’re beautiful, the way you glisten with need. Love how soft and slick you are, the way you melt against my tongue. I want to glut myself on you until you beg me to stop. Only then will I claim you.”

Though she shook from his description she hid her anticipation, even managed to raise an eyebrow in silent taunt. “Only then will I let you.”

He moved more slowly this time, delving deeper as he explored her folds with his lips and tongue. One finger slid up inside her channel, and she stiffened, anticipating the discomfort but he did not try to breach the barrier of her maidenhood, instead stroking the soft walls in an intimate massage.

Lazily, he flicked over her clit. “What have you decided, Task Mistress, will you let me live?”

“Not if you stop,” she panted.

A deep masculine chuckle rumbled from him. “A pack of Cyborgs couldn’t drag me away from you now.” His head dipped again and he sucked her sensitized bud into his mouth.

Another release shattered her, deeper, more intense than before and she bucked wildly.

“Cormack!”

He raised his head long enough to demand,

“Again, Allora, come for me again.” The sharp scrape of his teeth on her tender flesh sent her higher and distantly she was aware when he worked a second finger inside her. The stretching in her sheath added to her pleasure and she rocked her hips wildly, seeking him out.

The tearing sensation startled her, a sharp flare of pain deep inside, but he’d wound her up too tight to stop now. “More, Cormack, I need more.”

Instead of giving her what she craved he pulled away, reaching for the blanket. “You’ll get it.” He dragged the fabric across her sex and she shivered. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing to make love to my task mistress.” He showed her, the evidence of her virgin’s blood, vivid against the shiny fabric.

Her lips parted as she watched him finish cleaning her. His swollen shaft bobbed but he ignored it, concentrating on her. When he said no pain, he really meant it, had driven her wild, delaying his own pleasure to ease her into readiness.

“Come inside me now,” she held out her hand willing him to take it, to take her.

Dropping the blanket, he crawled up her body, looming over her. His cock head brushed against her core but he didn’t plunge inside her. “Are you sure?”

Instead of replying out loud, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing the crown of him in to her sheath. He threw back his head and plunged forward.

She gasped as his thickness impaled her. He stretched her beyond the point of comfort and though she had wanted this, her body wasn’t ready for such a brutal invasion. Tears welled in her eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming feelings he’d whipped to life. No one can stand feeling so much at one time.

Cormack nuzzled her cheek. “Allora,” The tender devotion in the way he said her name relaxed her.

“What can I do to ease you?”

He would stop if I asked it. Accepting the truth of his nature made her want him all the more. Cormack would do whatever she asked him to. Though his thickness was still foreign to her body, she wanted him to stay right there. “Call me your task mistress again.”

Blue eyes filled with emotion caressed her face in total devotion. “My task mistress, this moment makes my life worthwhile.” Flexing his arms so his lower body remained absolutely still he feathered his lips over hers.

His burning and all-encompassing desire for her fueled her own lusts. This man who had risked everything to be with her, who took such pains to care for her, protected her from all harm, no matter the cost to himself. So when he whispered, “Tell me what to do, Allora,” she didn’t hesitate to respond.

“Do not stop loving me.”

16

“Never,” Cormack rasped, even as his cock swelled inside her. The divine sanctuary of her wet heat gloving him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He wanted to thrust, to pound between her legs, craved hearing her call his name as he spilled inside of her. First though, he had to ease the tension that held her stiff and wary in his arms.

Dipping his head, he licked a rosy nipple, delighting in her gasp of pleasure. She enjoyed his mouth as much as he loved having it on her. He could withdraw and go down on her again, perhaps while she licked and sucked his shaft. Yet he didn’t want to lose this closeness, the incredible sensation of being buried deep inside her. Instinct told him she wanted it too. She was just too innocent in her own body’s responses to know what to do.

So you need to help her. The idea formed, and the picture his mind painted almost caused him to come right then. Borns taught their young that self-pleasure was evil, something only Breds and Cyborgs indulged in. Perhaps that was the reason so many supervisors took Bred women to their beds, leaving their Born wives as soon as they’d procreated.

Allora had admitted that she’d never achieved orgasm before he’d touched her. For her sake, as much as for his own ease he needed to ask. “Would you stroke yourself for me?”

If anything her tension increased, body stiffening as though she’d been starched. Her eyebrows pulled down. “Why?”

She hadn’t said no yet and he pressed on. “You need to come, to ease my way so I don’t hurt you. I could withdraw and finger you myself, but I want to see you do it, to feel you orgasm around my cock.”

The words alone made her grip him tighter and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Every time he expressed his desire for her, she flushed with delight.

Now he knew what it felt like from deep inside.

Color flooded her cheeks. “I don’t know how.”

Her contradictions tied him in knots, so naïve and scorching hot all at the same time. “I’ll talk you through it. Think of how incredible it will feel to touch where our bodies unite.”

She bit her lip, clearly torn between what she had been taught not to indulge in and the curiosity his suggestion unearthed.

Another sweet tug on his shaft and he had to fight the instinct to rock his hips. “Please, my task mistress.”

The hand she had cupped around his shoulder slid down between their joined bodies. Pride filled him, and joy that she would trust him above her schooling. Lowering himself so that he could lick her lips, he whispered, “You have a gorgeous cunny, so pink and puffy. Can you feel how slick it is?”

Blushing furiously, she nodded. “This is difficult for me.”

“Do not feel embarrassed with me, Allora—your pleasure amazes me. Feel how hard I am?”

He groaned when her fingertip explored the base of his shaft and then lower, where their bodies united.

“Because of me?”

He didn’t possess the wherewithal to explain how often males became erect. Surely she’d seen enough when patrolling the Bred barracks to understand basic biology. All she needed to know was that she caused this reaction in him. “For you. Now, find your clit and rub some of that sweet lube over it.”

Another pull on his cock as her excitement milked his body. The back of her short nails drew against him as she worked her pleasure from the spot. He studied her face intently. Allora’s eyes were heavy-lidded, cheeks hot and flushed with desire, lips parted in sweet invitation. He traced his tongue along the lines of her mouth before delving for a deeper taste. Her tongue mated with his, stroking, dancing, luring him deeper. For a moment he lost himself in her kiss alone, his heart thudding against his ribcage. “How do you feel?”

She shook her head back and forth, clearly aching.

“Like I’m poised on the edge of something.”

He knew exactly what she meant, he was barely holding on to the ledge by his fingernails. “Allora, look at me.”

Obeying him, she did, locking her gaze on his. The hot combination of his command and the sizzling connection fused between them sent her over. Hot slickness coated his shaft in a fresh wave and without meaning to, he glided deeper into heaven.

She moaned and arched beneath him. “What was that? It felt  incredible.”

His balls had drawn up tight at her gasp, he was so ready to come he thought his cock would explode.

“Are you ready for me now?”

Eyes wide, she nodded. Rearing back he withdrew and plunged inside her, as deep as he could go.

She cried out and for a moment he feared he’d hurt her. But then her fingers worked her nub faster and he knew it was ecstasy she had gotten lost in.

With a yell, he let himself go, bucking wildly, glorying in the sounds and scent of sex for the first time in his life.

Again and again, her hot little sheath milked his cock, but he resisted the pull, wanting to savor this moment in time with her.

Sweat slicked their skin, dripped from his hair onto her breasts. His arms shook. Rearing back, he gripped her hips and position her higher so he could angle himself to penetrate her deeper.

“Yes, Cormack, oh, yes!” Her hand abandoned her clit so she could sink her nails into the muscles of his buttocks. Tears tracked down her face, even as her amethyst eyes glowed up at him with the same wonder he felt.

Release hit him with the impact of a boulder nudged off a cliff and he shouted out her name, spending inside her, gaze still locked with hers.

She went wild beneath him, as though experiencing his orgasm had ignited her own.

Writhing, bucking, demanding that he give her everything he had, all that he was.

Shuddering, he did so, not wanting to exist if it meant denying her anything. He collapsed on top of her spent and blissed out of his mind.

“Cormack,” a smile laced her voice when she breathed his name. “Is it always like that?”

“Never,” he rasped, unable to articulate further.

Basking in the afterglow, he snuggled to her, resting his head between her breasts, listening to the steady thrumming of her heartbeat. They were in uncharted territory, possibly surrounded by Cyborgs, yet he had never felt more content.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I will endure.

17

Allora could have easily fallen asleep with Cormack acting as her blanket. All too soon, he moved off of her, shifting his weight to help her up. “You should get dressed, be prepared for when they come to get us.”

Propping herself up on her elbows she winked at him. “Had enough of me, already?”

“Never.” Gaze locked on hers, he spoke the word with smoldering intensity.

Her smile faded. “I don’t know what the Cyborgs want with me, what they’ll do to me. If you can find some way to escape—”

“I’ll go nowhere without you.” Retrieving her shift from the floor, he tugged it over her head. “This is not the end, my task mistress.”

His absolute certainty filled the dark shadowy places inside her. “The best thing we can do for ourselves is be prepared for whatever comes for us.”

Cormack’s face closed up, “I’ll kill any Cyborg that dares touch you.”

Worrying her lower lip, Allora thought about her interactions with the machine-men. “I don’t think they want to hurt me. They had plenty of opportunity to do so already. And they weren’t after the journal until I mentioned it.”

Her lover scowled. “They wanted you specifically, had a record of your thumbprint to scan. How is that possible?”

“I was born in Cyborg territory. My biological father is one of them.”

Cormack tensed and she feared he would look on her with disgust. After all, she had witnessed his hatred for the Cyborgs. But he reached out and took her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing gesture. He was so different than the Born, who would crucify a child for the sins of the parents.

“How is that possible? From everything I’ve ever heard, the Cyborgs cannot reproduce, they assimilate others, raid communities and steal children to propagate.”

Shrugging helplessly, Allora murmured, “I wish I had answers for you. Was my mother captured and brainwashed? I always thought a Cyborg had raped her, that she’d been taken prisoner, but after meeting them…”

“What?” He prompted.

“I do not think they are prone to violence the way we have always been told. They seem too calculating, too detached for such acts.”

“And how many have you met? I’ve heard stories that would cause ice crystals to take shape in your blood. First generation Breds fought them during the wars, were captured and tortured for information.

Emotionally stunted does not mean stable or safe.” He caressed her cheek. “Borns are funny about parents, about connection, but please Allora, be wary, just like when you were on patrol.”

“But these questions have dogged me my entire life.”

“All we can do is wait and see.” He bent his head, dropping a kiss on to her lips. Cormack helped her finish donning her armor then wrapped himself in the blanket stained with her virgin’s blood. Holding the journal she snuggled into his embrace, smiling. “The first thing we need is to go find you some pants.”

Burying his face in her still unbound hair he murmured, “Yes, my task mistress.”

Would she ever stop shivering when he called her that? Ignoring the tingling in her breasts and between her thighs, Allora opened the journal and began to read aloud.

Most of the entries described their world, as well as the alien one young Cassandra had lived in. With every page, she grew more and more convinced that the book her Bred had unearthed was the first chronicle in the Cassandra Prophesies. The girl never saw what the machines had done to make the earth stop spinning, but she did warn of the machine sympathizers, people who related to the cold mechanical intelligence better than their own kind.

In great cities below the mantel of the planet, the Cyborgs live and thrive. Using technology and letting it use them, they are an offshoot from the natural progression of the human species, the one Borns fear because they cannot stop evolution, the ones they will give anything to stop.

“This can’t be right.” Allora murmured, just as the hatch to the vehicle cracked open. Rothguard glanced in at them, cocking his head to the side.

“We need to leave now.”

Allora rose to her feet and didn’t bother asking why. If the Cyborg wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

“Cormack needs something to wear.”

“Yes.” He tossed in a baggy flight suit. Allora frowned at the thin fabric. “It’s not thermally lined.”

“No need.” The Cyborg smirked at her. “Was he worth sleeping in the shuttle for?”

For the second time in her life, Allora felt her cheeks heat with total burning humiliation. Cormack stared at her and she held out her hands, explaining.

“I didn’t want them to move you while you were still unconscious.”

“I appreciate your consideration, Task Mistress.”

His eyes promised he would thank her privately later.

Stepping in front of Cormack so he could dress she faced the Cyborg. “We require sustenance as well.”

“Noted.”

The eerie stillness of the Cyborg might have unnerved some people. There was no shifting in either body or gaze, just a patience defying natural order. He waited for Cormack to move alongside her, wrapping a hand around her waist in a reassuring and possessive maneuver. It would have been more subtle for him to shout, she is mine, as he glared at the Cyborg. Allora didn’t mind at all, even looking over at him adoringly to underscore the point. She’d already announced that they were mated, so why hide affection she felt?

Rothguard appeared unfazed by the display.

Allora didn’t doubt that the machine man experienced sentiment, he just chose when and where to show it.

They probably didn’t even rate as a blip on his emotional radar. He inclined his head and led them out of the open vehicle.

Allora stopped dead in her tracks so quickly that Cormack slammed into her back. The tunneling vehicle had stopped on a hilltop overlooking what appeared to be a series of lakes. Boats floated on the water, a thoroughfare between several settlements teaming with life. What looked like great palaces had been carved out of the rock, the architecture making a mockery of the paltry chambers the Born lived in.

God, the heat down here. Perspiration formed immediately on her brow, under her hair and ran down between her breasts. They must be near the center of the planet, for this sultry moist air to be sustained like a tropical jungle from the old stories.

And water, so much water, more than enough to hydrate the world anew. She yearned to strip off her armor and dive in, the sapphire blue the same hue as Cormack’s irises.

Careful, Task Mistress. You can’t afford to turn into a sap.

Beside her Cormack stiffened. “Is that fresh water?”

Allora laughed at the absurdity of the notion, but her amusement cut off when Rothguard said,

“Indeed.”

“How is that possible?” Glancing down from the steep elevation of landing zone she could not take in all the blue. “The great lakes were engulfed by the northern polar ocean. There are no other source of freshwater on the planet this large.”

Rothguard surveyed her neutrally. “Is there a question coming?”

Wiseass Cyborg. Squaring off her shoulders she lifted her chin and ordered, “Lead on.”

Her eyes had to redefine color to take it all in, the vividness foreign yet so much more natural than the grays and reds and blacks she had known. Everything felt cleaner, brighter, bioluminescent plants in every color of the rainbow, including some she had no name for. No artificial light source sustained them, yet they flourished between cracks in the rocks, in the sandy soil, everywhere. She looked to Cormack, wanting nothing more than to explore this spectacular new world, buried deep within their old one, with him.

“Where’s the commander?” She asked, referring to Rothguard's cohort.

Rothguard didn’t slow his steady pace, leading them toward some sort of building that stood separate from all the others. “Home, with his family unit.”

This time Cormack anticipated her abrupt halt and stopped with her. Allora couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “You live within a family structure?”

“To some extent. Please, hurry she is waiting.”

“I thought we were going to see my father?”

As they neared the structure, Allora made out words written in the old language. Translating for Cormack she read, “For those who chose to step out of the shadows of ignorance and into the light.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Some sort of house of worship. I thought Cyborgs were atheists.”

Another familiar set of characters caught her eye.

“Not just any temple, one erected to Cassandra.”

18

“Is this some sort of joke?” Cormack tensed, ready for a battle. How dare the Cyborgs make a mockery of the prophecies! Allora fisted her hands on her hips and stared down the Cyborg. If the bastard sent her even a disrespectful look, Cormack would end his miserable half-life. Already he had sensed a leaking valve attached to the back of the creature’s neck. His first—and last—strike would land there.

The ocular implant swiveled to the temple while his one real eye remained on them. “The answers await you within.” The Cyborg spoke in a monotone, an oddly low key delivery for such a cryptic statement.

Cormack didn’t shudder at the words, but he wanted to. He shook his head, thinking of how wrong to have a place full of beauty inhabited by those who would deform themselves in such a barbaric manner.

Reaching for his hand, Allora turned to face him.

“You don’t have to come with me if this bothers you.”

It would bother me more to be separated from you. While he understood she was being considerate, neither would he leave her alone while they were in enemy territory. He’d been anticipating an attack since the door had opened on the shuttle, and he found himself wishing it would just come already.

This waiting gnawed on him like a rabid wolf trapped in his ribcage, consuming him from the inside out.

“Let’s get this over with.”

After ascending at least a thousand steps carved out of the igneous rock they reached the closed temple doors. Allora reached out a hand, probably intending to push them open but Cormack yanked her away.

“Let him go first.”

The monstrosity stared at him, its soft words revealing nothing useful. “No trap awaits you, but what lies within can be just as deadly if you do not receive it in the right frame of mind.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Allora shiver.

His task mistress perceived the threat like an oncoming storm, just as he had. Unfortunately, they had no ground to go to, no cover to take.

Rothguard pushed open both doors at once and Cormack made sure to block Allora’s body with his.

Her soft hand landed on his shoulder, her warm breath falling on his ear as she said, “If they wanted us dead, we never would have left the Born stronghold.

Let’s hear them out.”

Her lack of apprehension concerned him—he needed her on her guard for he could not kill Cyborgs and protect her at the same time. “Did no one teach you it is unwise to trust a Cyborg? They care about one thing only, annihilating us to continue their own depraved existence.”

“And who taught you that, soldier?” The male voice who challenged him rumbled from the shadows.

“It is wise to always look to the source of your information before blindly accepting it as truth.”

“Step into the light.” Allora commanded. Though her hands shook, her voice rang out clear as a bell.

Cormack’s chest swelled with pride. Was there ever such a woman?

The new Cyborg did, moving slowly, methodically until his face was illuminated by the overhead lighting. His hair was white blond in color, his eyes a familiar shade of purple. He wore no implants on his face or hands, no evidence that he was a Cyborg other than his placid mien.

“Who are you?” Allora stepped past Cormack.

“My name is Vitrolith. I am the one you would call father, Task Mistress.”

Her shoulders stiffened as though bracing for a hit. “You don’t look like a Cyborg.”

He didn’t even twitch. “Neither do you.”

Allora flinched, eyes blazing. “I am a Born woman, not one of your kind!”

“Actually, Allora, you are both.” Another voice said from high above them. Cormack looked up into the rafters, where a girl stood. Before he could ask how she got up there, she stepped off the ledge, plummeting thirty feet down until she stood stock still before him, absorbing the impact with only the slightest bend to her knees.

“Hello, soldier.” The child said, offering him a brilliant smile. “I’m happy to see it is all working out as it should.”

Like the one who called himself Vitrolith, this girl had white-blond hair and no visible implants. Though the way she’d managed that fall made Cormack believe she had some sort of biomechanical enhancement going on, even if his super keen senses couldn’t detect them.

Dismissing him, the girl turned to face Allora. “Do you know who I am?”

“Cassandra?” Allora shook her head. “”Tis not possible—you died when the world stopped spinning.”

“Who told you that, daughter?” Vitrolith raised an eyebrow. “I see the Borns are still spreading their lies, just as they did with your mother.”

“You will not speak to me of her!” Allora snapped, hand dropping to the whip on her belt. Cormack moved to her other side, providing her physical and emotional back-up.

Seemingly unaware of the danger to herself, the girl took one of Allora’s gauntleted hands in both of hers. “The soldiers told me you found the missing journal, the first one Cassandra ever wrote.”

Cormack scowled down at her. “I thought  you were Cassandra.”

The girl grinned at him. “I’m only a replica, an incomplete copy of she who beheld what would be. My function is to interpret events that the real Cassandra saw and based on those prophesies; guide the survivors past this time of turmoil.”

“Then, you’re not real?” He couldn’t believe it, every pore, every wisp of hair, even her scent told him that this child was as alive as he was.

She shrugged. “What is real, soldier? Something that your senses tell you is there? The way one comes into this world? The knowledge we pass on, is all that real? I live, as you do, can die as you one day will. But I was engineered, not born or bred, same as my father.” Her gaze fell on Allora, who collapsed to her knees, her head bowed, shoulders shaking. “And my sister.”

Cormack shook his head. “Lies! I have seen her hurt, seen her bleed. Felt her body! She is no Cyborg!”

Allora said nothing.

He gripped her by the shoulders, shook her. “Tell them! Tell them about your mother.”

“My mother….” Her eyes had gone unfocused, and he shook her again, until her head wobbled. Damn it, she had to tell them!

“Soldier, it will be all right.” The child said, slipping her arm around his. “She is just as you’ve always known her, the same as you’ve always loved.

Does it matter so much how she came into being?

Would the world be a better place if she did not exist?”

His vision blurred as he stared at Allora, still lost in a daze, so far away from him, so far he could never hope to reach her again.

“Cassandra…,” Vitrolith warned.

The girl held Cormack’s arm in a vice-like grip.

“Be at ease, my sire. We need him as much as we do her.”

“He’s losing it, he might hurt you.”

Cormack shook uncontrollably and fell to his knees. My task mistress is a Cyborg creation? It must be false, he would have sensed it about her, the same way he did the others.

“He needs to see the truth. Only then will he accept what is rightfully his.” She kissed his cheek and the world went fuzzy and dark.

19

When Allora saw Cormack fall flat on his face, she came out of the odd trance Cassandra had cast over her with her touch. Nothing was as she’d believed it to be, not even herself. Memories of things that happened before her birth vied for her attention, shouting inside her own head, but she locked them all away, needing to help Cormack. “What did you do to him?”

“She is beginning to see.” Cassandra straightened her shoulders and stepped back toward Vitrolith. “In time you will accept it as truth instead of the lies you were fed from infancy.”

Questions plagued her and as she leaned over Cormack, checking for his pulse she had to ask, “Why did you come for me now, after all these years?” The answer doesn’t matter, she told herself even as she braced for impact. Just like the overlord, these people needed something from her. She’d be a fool to give it to them just because they claimed to be the family she never thought she’d have.

Cormack’s heartbeat was strong, his breathing steady. She stroked his face while staring up at Vitrolith as he responded to her question.

“It was prophesized that your mother must take you to a Born colony, where you were to be raised as one of them.”

“Cyborgs can’t reproduce sexually—they feel no drive toward anything but power.”

“Really, Allora, is that what you feel when you look at him? Only the need to take, to assert your power over him?”

He shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I am not a Cyborg.”

“Dearest sister, do you even know what a Cyborg is? We have been around since well before the earth stopped turning. Anyone with a pacemaker or hearing aid used technology to enhance his way of life. This colony is made up of scientists, who used our technological know-how to better our lives. Look around you, Allora. What do you see?”

Despite herself she looked through the open doors, out at the utopia beyond. A real civilization, people not at the mercy of the weather, with art and culture far more advanced than any she had ever seen before. And I have their memories.

“The Borns are afraid of us, Allora, not because of what we do, but because of who we are and what we represent. Control over our lives, the ability to heal the sick and injured, to level the playing field so that those born to power would be no more important than the Bred who picks through the trash for scraps.” He glanced down at Cormack.

“They created the Bred to seek us out and destroy us so we would never be able to undo what they did.

The wars saw the death of many of our kind, people who were not trained for battle the way your soldier has been. A senseless waste of life on both sides by those who would keep you all under their thumbs.”

She shuddered as a new wave of memories broke over her, Cyborgs lined up on a field of battle, dying one by one. A small child, a boy watched the slaughter as Breds took them out efficiently and then returned to their masters for more abuse. He stayed hidden from view and collected their memory chips to add to the collective.

Cassandra knelt down beside her. “What did you see?”

Haltingly, Allora relayed the vision, stroking Cormack’s cheek to ground herself as much as reassure him.

Vitrolith grunted, and as Allora watched, disgust showed on his face. “They created the Bred to be guard dogs as well as slaves, cutting them down in their prime, neutering them with those packets. They could be our greatest allies, have the most to gain with reunification and instead they react with violence whenever they see us.”

“Neutering? Breds are infertile by design.”

Vitrolith crouched down so their eyes were level.

“Can you see the double standards here, Allora? The way they use technology as they see fit, for draining, for engineering a whole new race of people and feeding them nutrients which will keep them strong but not allowing them to spawn of their own accord.

There is plenty of water and warmth down here but above people still die of thirst, from exposure. Basic economics of supply and demand, those who have what is rare, hold all the cards. And because of their innate hatred of us, we have not been able to explain it to them.”

“But Cormack didn’t know I was one of you, he never attacked me.”

“You are new, Allora, a new generation of us. Your enhancements are all internal. Though you don’t know it, your senses are as acute as a Bred’s, genetically compatible in every way. The only difference, you were born instead of created.”

“Even now, sister, there are programs inside your head, ready to be used to make you stronger, faster, able to heal more quickly. All you need to do is access them.” Cassandra grinned at her. “Do you have my journal? I would like to add it to my archives.”

Hands shaking, Allora dug inside her armor for it.

She didn’t even glance at it as she handed the book over. Cormack groaned, and she muttered nonsense designed to soothe him even as she withdrew. “He will never accept what I am.”

“He already has.” Cassandra held the journal in front of her face. She scanned the words, hope fluttering low in her stomach.

Cormack loves you, Allora, never give up on him.

“Let’s take him somewhere where he can rest more comfortably.” Vitrolith suggested. “He’ll be less likely to hear us out if he awakens with a crick in his neck.” A quick motion with his hand and Rothguard stepped forward but Allora waved him off.

“I’ll do it.”

They backed off and taking in a deep breath for fortitude, Allora bent and heft Cormack over her shoulder in one smooth motion. She blinked unable to believe she had actually been able to do it. Meeting Vitrolith’s—her father’s—gaze he nodded once. “Show me where.”

The room they led her to had an actual door that Rothguard opened. Allora placed her unconscious Bred down on the mattress, rolling her shoulders though there was no muscle strain. Lush green growing things covered the wall and she breathed in the sweetly scented air. “Tell me why I was sent away from here.”

Cassandra had followed them inside. “You needed to follow the path destiny laid out for you. Everything happens for a reason Allora, by design.”

“Your design? Or your predecessor’s?”

Cassandra hopped up on the railing overlooking the lavish garden beneath. “Neither. She saw more of the grand design than most, but she was not its architect.”

Allora nodded, thinking it over. “Now here I am, and Cormack too, because without me there to find the book, another supervisor would have taken it from him and he would have been recycled. So what, we were your cosmic delivery service?”

Vitrolith shook his head. “You are so much more than that, Allora. You are the first to successfully join two of our three factions, the Cyborgs and the born.”

Frowning she gestured to him and Cassandra.

“What about the two of you?”

He grinned at her, opened the leather vest covering his torso so she could see the thick tubes bubbling with a purple viscous fluid that matched the color of his eyes. “Chronic kidney and liver failure. I was enhanced at birth, not born with enhancements.”

“And I’m a clone of the original Cassandra’s DNA, with a few tweaks to make me…sturdier.”

“So I’m a freak of nature, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“No, you’re a step toward what we all need to become. Unifying the Born, the Cyborg…” His gaze wandered to the bed, “And the Bred.”

“You have to feed him, to eat food yourself. No more of those nutri packets for either of you. We need your baby as evidence that the Bred can procreate.

Only with living proof will they believe us.”

She needed to sit down. Luckily a large armchair waited nearby. Her heart thundered against her ribcage. “A baby? You want my baby?” It sounded like some twisted fairytale gone amuck.

“His baby.” Vitrolith nodded to Cormack. “Even then there will be some who resist, but we will face that challenge when we come to it.”

Allora didn’t know what to think. “This is too much, these memories eating at me and all this pressure. You can’t expect me to just—”

Cassandra placed her small hand over Allora’s mouth. “All we expect is for you to live here, with him, in peace. You belong together.”

Tears filled her eyes. “If only it were so simple.”

“It can be, if you accept it.” She glanced to where Cormack stirred in his sleep. “But you better hurry because if you can’t accept it, he never will.”

20

The smell of roasting meat woke Cormack from his bizarre dream. The foreign softness beneath him made him sit upright in a hurry, scrambling for the recollection of what had brought him here.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head and caught sight of her sitting in a mammoth chair that seemed ten times too big for her. She had curled her feet up beneath herself and though her position appeared relaxed, he could practically see the tension radiating from her.

Cyborg. The whisper in his mind brought back the earlier scene, Allora crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. The girl that had touched him, shared things with his mind that had overloaded his brain, visions of war and death, even those that had not yet happened. Though the room’s temperature was warm, the memories chilled him to his marrow.

“Are you all right?” Carefully, he maneuvered to the side of the bed. “Where are we?”

“Our new home.” Her tone was bleak, hollow, all her fight spent.

It frightened him more than anything else that had happened. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head and he caught sight of the tears tracking down her face. Dismissing caution, he went to her, needing to comfort her.

“What has upset you so?”

She held his gaze. “I’m like them, a Cyborg.”

Cormack shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“It’s true.” She rose, and then, almost as an afterthought, picked the chair up, with one hand. “I was born with their enhancements. My mother didn’t flee from the Cyborgs—she brought me to the colony so I could find the journal.” Her gaze skittered away as she set the chair down. “And you.”

His heart thundered in his ribcage. “What do you mean?”

A sniffle and then she looked up to him again.

“We are a science experiment. The Cyborgs want to free the Bred, but because of your conditioning they require tangible evidence, proof that the Bred have been lied to all these years.”

“What sort of proof?”

“A child, our child. Evidence that the Bred are not infertile, but are kept sterilized so the Born are in total control of you all, from birth to death.”

“Kept sterilized how?”

“The nutri packets. There is something in them—

” her words cut off on a sob and he had to take her in his arms, hold her while she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. They’re so evil, working the Bred to death, rewarding them with food drugged to keep them sterile. And I  helped them.” The horror in her voice couldn’t be faked.

He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. “You didn’t do this, didn’t ask for any of this. Allora, you are just a victim here.”

She shoved against him, hard enough that he was forced to release her. “But I’m one of them, one of your enemies!”

He looked her over once, slowly, surveying her up and down. “I see only my task mistress.”

This time he saw something else in her eyes besides her anguished tears. Hope, bright and unsure, but ready to take root, if he nurtured it.

“Allora, you are everything I’ve ever wanted, a gift. Even if I detest the giver, do you believe I’d return you and go about my life? Now you tell me there is a way for me to help my people, to free them.” His lips curled up. “And all I have to do is keep loving you?

Even if this is some sort of Cyborg scheme, I’ll fall into the net happily.”

Faster than his mind could comprehend it, she threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the bed.

Her lips pressed against his in a feverish kiss and she broke it only long enough to whisper. “I thought you’d hate me.”

“Never,” he announced, fumbling to remove her armor from her body. “You are mine, Task Mistress, and I will cherish you for all time.”

Fingers fumbled with the zipper on his suit, her insistent tugs ratcheting his need up, as he scented her arousal. The plates of armor fell away and he drew her shift over her head, baring her body to him.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to eat—”

“I plan to,” Guiding her up so she straddled his face once more, his tongue darting out to claim the first taste. “I’m starving, Task Mistress. Feed me.”

Her back arched and he gripped her hips. First he explored the soft mystery of the wet folds before lashing her clitoris until she cried out in release.

Tugging lightly on his hair she panted.

“Cormack…I need you inside me.”

Delivering a final stroke to her quivering flesh, he maneuvered her to her hands and knees so he could enter her from behind.

He guided his shaft into the soft, wet heat, letting her body sheath him. Blanketing himself over her back, he cupped her breasts, thrumming the nipples.

“I need to take you hard, Allora.”

“Yes.” She moaned, thrusting back so he moved within her. “I want that.”

His control broke and he seized her hips again, surging forward. She cried out when his cock drove in her even deeper.

The sight of her, spread to him like that, her body taking his inside, the sounds…his hips pistoned madly. The feel of her, like liquid fire.

“Cormack!” Her red locks spilled over the soft blanket. Amethyst eyes grew heavy-lidded as she gazed up at him over her shoulder, lips parted on her cry. He needed to see her face. Withdrawing, he rolled her to her back and waited to enter her again, needing to do something even more important before he drove within her again. “You are mine, Allora, mine to love, mine alone.” He spoke the vow the Bred accepted as the binding ceremony when a male chose his Only One.

Her eyes went wide as she recognized his words.

Threading her fingers through his she whispered. “I am yours, as you are mine. For now, for always.”

Cormack drove his cock home, sealing their union with flesh as tradition demanded. He came at once, but stayed inside her, unwilling to let this moment end. Laying his head against her breast he breathed her name, a smile on his lips.

“Tell me again what you’ll do if I should go mad?”

She laughed, her amusement shaking his resting place. “Shoot you, of course. It’s the only humane thing to do.”

He looked up at her, heart bursting with joy to behold her in this new world of possibility. He knew he wouldn’t go mad, because loving her required all of his time and energy, there would be none left for insanity to claim. “Just so we’re clear.”

Content

B Cubed
Book 1: Born
Jenna McCormick

Cassandra’s Journal

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