Ghost of a Machine Read online

  Ghost flung himself forward, tucking his female under him as he fell, covering her smaller form with his larger body. A wave of heat, of pain, whooshed over him, stripping his flight suit, shaving off layers of his skin, burning his back, his ass, his scalp to his metal frame.

  The agony was too much to endure. His human brain blacked out. Ghost transferred all of his functions to his processors, relying on his machine to stay conscious.

  He had to protect his female.

  She twitched. He pushed her arms closer to her body, covering them with his.

  The torturous heat finally stopped.

  Ghost lifted himself upward. His female’s gaze met his. Her eyes widened. Her face paled. Her bottom lip trembled.

  She was horrified by his appearance but she was alive, her chest heaving, her blonde hair charred at the ends.

  He cradled her in his arms and forced himself to his feet. Moving was torment. Hunks of his flesh fell to the ground with every step.

  Must. Protect. Female. He placed one foot in front of the other. The Rebels might arrive, seeking to kill the survivors. He had to safeguard her.

  His speed increased. The pain was excruciating. Only his primitive need to shelter his female from harm drove him onward. That was the sole thought in his battered processors.

  Ghost rushed with her across the battle-beaten terrain, looking for shelter, for a place to hide, to repair. Domiciles had been demolished, some partially, some razed to the ground. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere. Fires burned in the remains, the black putrid-smelling plumes of smoke billowing upward.

  Gray ash fluttered like falling vegetation downward, coating every exposed surface area. The scents of blood, of rotting flesh, of battle could be detected through the smoke.

  The mix appealed to him. It was familiar, what he knew. Much of his lifespan had been spent on battlefields. But his mission on this planet rotation wasn’t to kill. It was to save.

  Save his female.

  He scanned his surroundings, evaluating threats, searching for refuge.

  In the distance, ships hovered above the planet’s surface, pummeling those beings below them with missiles, the debris around him trembling with each strike.

  Ghost ran in the opposite direction, carrying his female away from the fighting.

  The structures were flattened, the area already thoroughly bombed. The Humanoid Alliance was unlikely to return to it soon. He sprinted. There were survivors but not many.

  A female offspring, a local Deneb judging by her green skin and green hair, stood in the rubble, crying. Tear tracks marked her dirty cheeks. She clasped a severed hand.

  Her sobs tugged at his big cyborg heart. She was female, offspring, alone.

  But she wasn’t his. Ghost forced himself to continue moving, to run past her. Another being could protect the offspring. Only he could save his female.

  The sound of gunfire grew louder.

  He detected the source. Two factions of beings hid behind partially destroyed walls. They exchanged projectiles, intent on killing each other.

  The beings didn’t aim at him. He traveled at cyborg speeds. To the humanoids, he would be merely a blur, a shadow streaking across the debris.

  Ghost surveyed every demolished domicile he passed, looking for safety. At the one hundred and forty-second domicile, he found what he was looking for–a flat slab of stone on the ground. The covering was split, revealing the hidden subterranean storage chamber.

  He held his female with one hand, pushed the stone to the side with the other. A grooved ramp led downward, the bryophyte-slickened surface made more navigable by the ash. Ghost descended with his little human, pushing the slab back into place above them.

  His vision system adjusted to the decreased illumination. The space smelled musty but the air was cool and breathable. Multi-level supports filled most of the chamber, an eclectic collection of items displayed on the horizontal surfaces.

  Ghost saw no weapons. Those would have to be obtained elsewhere.

  First, he had to repair. He shoved some multi-level supports to the side with one hand, making room, and gently laid his female on the stone floor, cupping her head to ensure she didn’t bang it against the hard surface.

  When he pulled away, a piece of his arm remained with her.

  He hurt all over but she was safe. For now. “Mine.”

  She gazed up at him. “Ghost.” Her teeth clattered.

  That was a sign of strain.

  His heart pounded with alarm. “Damaged?” Had she been hurt? His gaze swept over her.

  The arms and legs of her uniform had been partially burned, the exposed skin covered with red welts. His female had been damaged. Outrage surged up Ghost’s chest, made more acute by his sense of failure.

  She was his and he’d allowed her to be hurt.

  He clamped his lips together, ruthlessly containing his roar. The enemy was positioned all around them. He couldn’t draw them to their location.

  He had to keep his female safe, heal her fragile body. “Breed.” That was the solution.

  He ripped off the remnants of his flight suit, removing some of his flesh with it.

  She stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin white line. His female was in shock.

  He’d repair her damage, ease her pain the quickest way possible—with his nanocybotics. “Stay with me, Mine.”

  He shredded her uniform, revealing her quivering curves. Her dagger clattered to the stone floor. They had one weapon. His female was always armed.

  “Hurts,” she whimpered.

  “Repair.” He spread her legs. Even with her pain, with her trauma, her body responded to his presence, her pink pussy lips wetting, her scent reaching out to him.

  She was alive. He would heal her. He hadn’t failed her as he had failed the others.

  Ghost positioned himself at her entrance. His balls had been singed, that damage minor compared to the rest of his form. His cock was intact, not impacted by the explosion.

  He gripped her hips with his fingers, holding her in place, and eased inside her, pushing deeper and deeper. Frag. His eyes rolled back in his head. She was wet, tight, warm.

  She was also still, too still, his normally active female docile under him.

  Ghost pumped her once, twice, breeding with her as gently as he was able. His balls swayed. Her inner walls enveloped him, an intimate hug for his tattered soul.

  She was made for him, was his in all ways.

  He would repair her. Ghost gritted his teeth and forced his release, flooding her form with his healing nanocybotics, his bliss tempered by his concern.

  Coming zapped much of his remaining energy levels. Blackness licked at his vision system. His big physique throbbed with the most acute agony.

  Ghost clenched his jaw, holding back the darkness with pure willpower, and he surveyed his female’s form. Her eyes were closed, her blonde eyelashes fluttering against her golden skin. The lines around her lips remained.

  Her wounds were lighter in color, pink, not red, and the welts had flattened. Yet they hadn’t disappeared. She wasn’t completely healed.

  His female needed more and, being a cyborg with a cyborg’s recovery time, he wouldn’t deny her. She was the very best part of him, the only being holding his shattered pieces together. Without her, his lifespan wasn’t worth living.

  “Mine.” His voice was faint, unrecognizable to his own auditory system.

  “Ghost.” She sighed, her eyes remaining closed. His female knew about his past, knew about his failures yet she trusted him to keep her safe, to stop her from hurting.

  Ghost would never betray her trust. Preparing to give his female another round of breeding, he gathered the last lingering fragments of energy within him.

  His arms and legs shook as he drew his hips back. The chamber spun around him.

  He thrust once more. That was all he had, all he was capable of doing. He groaned, coming, giving everything he had to her, every final bit of himself.
r />   He had nothing left, his balls empty, his vision system flashing light and dark.

  His arms and legs shook, threatening to fold. That would damage his fragile human female.

  Needing to protect her, even from himself, Ghost pushed his huge, hulking, heavy physique away from her motionless form. He rolled to the side.

  His ravaged back hit the cold stone floor and pain flooded his senses, acute, harsh, unforgiving.

  Fraggin’ hole. Ghost swallowed his bellow and continued rolling.

  His undamaged chest touched the hard rock. The agony eased. He turned his head to face his female, rested his cheek on the makeshift floor.

  She was so beautiful, her hair glowing like a comet against her face, her lips parted, her curves rounded, all of her soft. Ghost reached out and grasped her hand, needing to touch her, to assure himself she was close, safe.

  “Mine.” He had her, would never let her go.

  Assured she was protected, Ghost stopped fighting the darkness.

  His processors shut down and his world went black.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lethe groaned. She was stiff, her muscles ached, but she no longer felt the excruciating, mind-dissolving pain. That was gone. Ghost had taken it away.

  “Ghost.” Her voice was a croak.

  There was no answer.

  He gripped her hand. Tightly. She knew he was with her.

  Lethe opened her eyes. Ash danced on the tips of her eyelashes. She blinked it away. Her surroundings were dimly lit. Light slanted into the space from a crack in the stone.

  That stone was above her. She was in an underground chamber.

  Lethe looked to the left. Multi-level supports reached the ceiling.

  She moved her gaze to the right. Silver metal gleamed through marred burned flesh.

  It took her a couple of heartbeats to realize what she was looking at.

  Who she was looking at.

  “Ghost.” Lethe carefully slipped her fingers out of what remained of his hand and sat.

  She was nude except for the boots on her feet. Strips of fabric lay on the floor, along with what appeared to be a hunk of flesh. That wasn’t her flesh.

  It had to be his. Her cyborg had been injured, could be—

  No. She couldn’t think of that could be.

  “Ghost.” She crawled to him, her head light. “You made me believe in forever. Don’t you dare take that away from me.”

  He had to be alive. He had to be. She couldn’t survive without him. Even if she was rescued, if she physically lived, she would emotionally perish. She’d be dead in her heart.

  “Ghost.” Lethe cupped her hands over his mouth. His breath wafted over her palms. She exhaled raggedly. “You’re alive.” She hadn’t lost him, like she lost everyone else she loved. “Thank the stars.”

  Because she did love him.

  Lethe had realized that as they were crashing, when he had wrapped his form around hers, trying to protect her. He was her always, her forever.

  He was now severely injured. She surveyed his big body. Her cyborg had been burned from his head to his boots. Chunks of him were missing, his frame showing.

  “You need pain inhibitors.” If they were on her warship, she’d grab a medic pack but her beautiful warship was gone, blown to pieces.

  She scrambled to her feet and frantically searched the multi-level supports. They were filled with what appeared to be rations, garments, antiquated and non-functioning devices and dust.

  The chamber shook. Some of that dust flew into the air. She twitched. The Humanoid Alliance were continuing to bomb the planet.

  She cared only about her cyborg. There were no medic packs, no pain inhibitors.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Lethe returned to him. She had to help him. He had helped her.

  He had helped her.

  Ghost had fucked her, transferring the nanocybotics in his cum, nanocybotics that he now needed to heal himself. She gazed at him, warmth spreading across her chest. He could have walked away. She had nothing to offer him, nothing that would prolong his lifespan or allow him to leave the battered planet. Yet he’d stayed. He’d saved her, sacrificing a part of himself.

  Fucking him would do nothing except take more from him. She bent over Ghost. His nanocybotics fizzed on her tongue. She could give some of those back to him.

  “I love you, Ghost.” The words slipped out of her mouth.

  She stiffened. She hadn’t meant to say that.

  Ghost didn’t move. Her cyborg was unconscious. He hadn’t heard her admission.

  The knot in her stomach unraveled. “I would only do this for you.” She licked the edge of his burn. He tasted of ash, charcoal and blood, the combination making her gag.

  Her efforts were effective, however. The redness faded. The torn skin pulled together.

  “I love you.” Lethe would ease his agony as much as she could. She laved more of his back.

  The moisture on her tongue, in her mouth and throat evaporated. Tears pricked her eyes. She remembered that dryness, not having enough saliva to swallow. She had nightmares about it, had sworn to herself that she would never experience it again.

  For Ghost, she would suffer through it. She swept her tongue over him.

  The effectiveness of that action decreased. He healed slower.

  “Your nanocybotics must need wetness to work.” She removed her boots. “Fortunately for you, I’m prepared.”

  She opened the hidden compartments in the heels. These were her emergency packets of liquid. They could be the only remaining source of consumable beverage on the planet.

  She didn’t know when or if they would be rescued. Using the liquid to heal Ghost might result in her own death.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, cyborg.” She opened a packet. “I’ll do my best to heal you and you’ll live. Deal?”

  He said nothing.

  “Deal,” she answered for him. Lethe sucked a few drops from the packet, holding the liquid in her mouth, and she flicked her tongue over his shoulders.

  He healed a little bit more.

  She drank and licked, drank and licked, opening packet after packet. A thin layer of new skin formed over his battered form. His breathing deepened. Ghost didn’t open his eyes.

  He couldn’t leave her. A sense of wild desperation filled her. She cared for him.

  “You have to survive, Ghost.” Lethe grasped the last packet. “That’s our deal.”

  She’d lived most of her lifespan alone. She wouldn’t live the rest of her lifespan without him.

  Lethe opened the packet, sucked the liquid into her mouth, and laved his torched skin with the flat of her tongue, focusing on him, the male she loved, applying herself to the last task she might ever undertake, hoping it would make a difference, hoping it would save his life.

  Hers would be worthless without his. They were a team. They belonged together.

  Lethe’s mouth dried too soon. She hadn’t licked all of him. He wasn’t yet healed.

  “That will have to do.” She slumped to the stone floor, lying beside him, their faces a kiss apart, and she gazed at his primitive profile, not seeing the burns or the blood, seeing him, the cyborg she loved.

  The chamber shook again, harder this time. That missile had landed closer to them.

  She could die in the next heartbeat. Or it could take two planet rotations for her lifespan to end. Lethe had no way of predicting the timing of her death.

  But she knew she’d be with her cyborg. Always.

  “Even if I realized then how this would all end.” Her voice was a croak. “I would have still made that first deal with you.” She’d traded her body for the warship, giving herself to him completely. “It was the best one I’ve ever crafted.”

  Lethe wished he’d open his eyes. She longed to see that brilliant blue again.

  “I love you, Ghost.” She gazed at him until her eyeballs ached, savoring every last moment with him.

  Then she closed her eyes and drifted into
sleep.

  * * *

  “Drink, Mine.” Warm liquid splashed over her lips.

  Lethe gulped. This must be that afterlife her parents believed in. There was plenty of liquid and her cyborg was with her, her version of a perfect place.

  “Ghost.” She opened her eyes, looked into the dazzling blue of her dreams.

  He kneeled beside her, naked, his face, neck, chest patchy, his skin different shades of gray. There were bald spots in his shaggy black hair.

  He sealed the small container he held in his right hand. His silver frame was detectable under the thin layer of skin on his knuckles.

  According to her parents, in the afterlife, no one would be damaged or in pain. He was both. Which meant…

  “You’re alive.” She burrowed her face against his chest, her body trembling with relief. “I thought I had lost you.”

  “Cyborg.” He set the container on the stone floor and ran his big hands up and down her bare back. “Repair.”

  “There was a lot of damage.” Her laugh was shaky.

  He was alive. She pressed her lips against his skin, savoring his heat. He held her to him as though he shared the same wonder, the same joy of living.

  “Where did you find the beverage?” There had been no containers stored on the multi-level supports.

  Ghost tapped his thigh. A compartment opened. There was another container hidden inside the small space.

  “You carry beverage with you?” She frowned at him. “But cyborgs don’t require much liquid.” They had internal processing systems.

  “For you.” He brushed his fingers over her surprisingly wet cheeks. She must have cried. She hadn’t noticed, too enthralled with him. “Safe. Always.”

  Her cyborg carried containers of beverage inside his body for her, to ensure she never lacked liquid, never again suffered from dehydration. Lethe sniffled, touched by his actions, his thoughtfulness. Without being asked, without saying a word, he’d taken that step, easing her fears.

  “You’re a good male,” she murmured.

  He grunted. She’d learned how to read his animalistic noises. That one told her he didn’t believe he was a good male.

  “You are.” He had a big heart and she loved him for it.