Chasing Mayhem by Cynthia Sax

damage you, my female.”
    Her gaze slid from his. “And if you’re not there?”
    “I will never leave you.” He’d decided that.
    “You won’t have a choice.”
    “Ah.” His processors finally computed what she was saying. She planned to capture him, to return him to the Humanoid Alliance.
    Mayhem wanted to ask why. Why did she hunt rebels, beings who were merely trying to survive, who sought to make their own rules, live their lifespans as they wish, where they wish? Why did she carry a severed finger in her breast covering? Why was she denying their connection, the bond of a female to her male?
    But his Imee had been damaged and demanding those answers might cause her more pain. “There is always a choice,” was all he said as he changed his route, circling the structure to enter the back doors.
    They were guarded by a large winged male. His numbering sequence was similar to the green gatekeeper’s, his origins and species unknown. The stranger nodded to him and stepped aside, not uttering a word.
    The interior was dimly light. Mayhem’s vision system adjusted immediately. His female squinted. “My chamber is--”
    “To the left.” He turned in that direction, tilting her upward to not bang her head against the wall of the narrow corridor. “I smell you.” Her distinct scent was imprinted on both his humanlike brain and his machinelike processors. He followed its trail through the structure.
    “And you can see in the dark.” She rubbed her thighs together. Leather brushed against leather. The musk of her arousal filled his nostrils. She wanted him as he wanted her. “Are all of your senses enhanced?”
    “Compared to a human’s?” The door to the chamber was manual also. It creaked as he pushed it open. “Yes. I could track you with my eyes closed, my female.”
    She breathed deeply, her generous chest rising. “I can’t smell you.”
    “I have no scent.” Scent was a weakness. It allowed beings to locate him.
    Mayhem gently set Imee on the sleeping support. The surface was wide enough for both of them, covered with fabric almost as decadently luxurious as her skin. In the privacy of her chamber, his tough little female indulged in her preference for softness.
    The rest of the space was plain, the walls bare, the furnishings comfortably sparse. Cyborgs had very few material possessions, only their body armor and their walking arsenal of guns, daggers, swords. He wasn’t accustomed to being surrounded by objects. “You have no weapons.”
    “I have none on display.” Imee reached under the sleeping support and extracted a gun. “Weapons are no use to me if my enemies can find them.”
    “You’re a clever female.” Mayhem smiled, pleased at her resourcefulness.
    “You won’t think I’m clever when I shoot you.” She pointed the gun at him. The setting was on stun, telling him that his little Retriever preferred not to kill beings, even her enemies. Her heart, he suspected, was as soft as her sleeping support.
    Which made her role as a Retriever even more illogical.
    “We’ll play with your weapons later.” He leaned over her, bracing himself upward with his arms. “First, I must repair you.”
    Bruises shadowed her cheek, the damage greater around her neck.
    “How do you plan to repair me?” She pressed the gun’s muzzle against his chest. “With your nanocybotics?”
    “They’re concentrated in my saliva.” He traced the darkness on her cheek with the tip of his tongue and she trembled under him. “And in my cum.”
    Her eyes deepened in color until they were almost black. “You must be popular with the females.” She brushed the muzzle on her gun over his chin back and forth, back and forth.
    “There are no females.” He laved her cheek, covering her with his healing nanocybotics, with his scent, marking her as his. “Only you.”
    Her lips parted and her eyelids partially lowered. She was so fraggin’ beautiful, with her black hair and golden skin, her scar a