UNIT 78: RESCUED (CyBRG Files Book 2) Read online

  “The Breeding Chamber,” Rich finished for her, grimacing. “Goddamn it. What is wrong with you people?”

  “We are only trying to spread the light of Tr’Low and his breeding wisdom throughout the galaxy.” Sister Yancy folded her hands over her black robes piously. “Now, will you come and administer the antidote to our queen yourself…or must we let a lesser male do it?”

  Her eyes fell on the still-scowling Father Tr’Ayer and then flicked down the corridor, to where a company of breeding males had gathered, eyeing Kyrin hungrily.

  Kyrin wondered dully if they could smell her heat the way they scented it on the other fertile females. Then another stabbing pain struck between her legs and she couldn’t hold back the whimper of agony that rose in her throat as she doubled over.

  “Kyrin? Sweetheart?” Bending down, Rich scooped her into his arms and cuddled her close to his broad chest.

  “Please,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Please don’t let…anyone else have me. Please, Rich.”

  “Of course not.” His grip on her tightened until it was almost painful but Kyrin welcomed the distraction. Anything was better than concentrating on the searing emptiness she felt inside—the black hole of need that seemed to have opened between her thighs.

  “Please,” she whispered, shifting restlessly in his arms. “Please, I need…need…”

  She didn’t know how to put her need into words, but Rich seemed to understand her. He dropped his head to hers, hiding his mouth in her hair as he whispered in her ear.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart—everything is going to be okay. I’m going to give you what you need and then we’re going to get out of here. Okay?”

  Kyrin was desperately afraid they were never getting out but she had no choice but to trust him.

  “All right,” she whispered but her words ended in a whimper of pain. “Please,” she gasped again, looking up at him. “Please, Rich, I need you. Need you…inside me.”

  He cursed softly under his breath but his actions were gentle when he kissed her forehead.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured to her. “I’m going to give you what you need. I swear it.”

  Then he raised his head and glared at Sister Yancy.

  “All right,” he growled. “Take us to the fucking Breeding Chamber.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rich strode through the corridors of the breeding compound, Kyrin held securely in his arms. He snarled at the nuns and breeding males they passed, his temper at breaking point. When they were done here and he’d gotten her away to safety, he was coming back and killing every last motherfucking one of them. He’d bring fire and retribution down on them from orbit and make them rue the day they’d ever heard the name Tr’Low.

  “In here, metal man,” Yancy ordered, sweeping another set of gauzy drapes aside and hurrying down a large set of wide steps.

  “Fuck you,” Rich snarled, his voice tinged with worry as Kyrin cried out in pain again. He dropped his voice to reassure her. “Not long now, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer.”

  The breeding chamber was an amphitheater. He sucked a breath in as he registered the setup on the stage at the bottom of the steps, surrounded by low, wide seating. Even now the seats had begun to fill with Tr’Low’s devotees. Sick bastards.

  “Please… Rich…” Kyrin whimpered again and he redoubled his speed, barging past Yancy at the bottom of the steps.

  “Do not be in such a hurry, metal man.” Suddenly the Tr’Low nun was at his elbow. “Your breeding will do no good unless you take the antidote to the Lust Serum.”

  She held out a narrow glass vial filled to the top with a fizzing blue liquid. It looked more like some kind of industrial strength cleaner than an antidote to Rich, but he raised it to his lips anyway.

  “That is right—drink deeply, metal man.” Sister Yancy’s eyes glowed with fanatical glee. “Not only will this mixture increase the motility of your sperm, it will also cause the queen’s womb to open for your seed.”

  “Just shut up and let me drink it,” Rich growled and downed the foaming blue stuff in one gulp. It tasted foul—like salt and motor oil—but if it was the only way to save Kyrin, what choice did he have?

  “Good…good.” Sister Yancy nodded, watching avidly as he drank the last drop and tossed the vial away. “Now your body will have time to metabolize the antidote while you strap the queen into place on the breeding altar.” She pointed to the center of the stage.

  “While I what?”

  Rich turned to see what she was pointing at and recoiled in disgust as he reached the “breeding altar.” It was little more than a piece of bondage equipment—a metal frame with black leather straps to hold the woman unfortunate enough to be placed upon it in place.

  “What the fuck is that?” he demanded. “I’m not putting her in that thing.”

  “You must! The queen must be restrained!” Yancy announced. She came forward, as though to start strapping Kyrin to the “altar” herself.

  “Touch her and fucking die,” Rich’s snarl was low and full of menace, stopping the nun in her tracks. She turned a wide-eyed expression toward him.

  “Surely you don’t want to see your queen suffer?” the nun demanded. “The breeding fever will make her thrash and hurt herself. It is better she is restrained.”

  He clenched his jaw, feeling the tiny muscle in the corner tick with sheer fury. The situation was far too close to bondage for his liking.

  “Please, Rich,” Kyrin gasped, her back arched as she moaned again. “I trust you…”

  She trusted him. The words and their meaning slammed into him. He hadn’t managed to get her out of here yet, but still she trusted him. Him—a half-metal monstrosity.

  It’s the drugs, the unwelcome little voice in the back of his head chimed in. She’s desperate for cock and you’re just a handy piece of meat.

  He ignored it, holding her gaze with his as he reached for the straps by her head. “Keep looking at me,” he ordered softly. “Just me, nothing else. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, sweetheart.”

  Reaching for her hand, he kissed her palm and then her wrist before gently pulling it over her head and clasping it in place with the thick leather cuff. He did the same with the other, his kisses gentle as he ignored the hiss of gas being released from the base of the altar. His cybernetic systems pinged warnings but he silenced them.

  He had to do this—it was the only way to save her.

  “Her nectar needs to be released!” Yancy commanded, reaching for his shirt, which Kyrin still wore.

  “Fucking touch her and die!” His snarl was enough to stop the nun in her tracks again, sudden fear in her eyes as she read her own death in the big cyborg’s eyes.

  Yeah, get with the program, bitch, he mentally snarled. Sow the wind and you’ll reap nothing but a whirlwind of death and destruction.

  “The nectar needs to flow and mix with your seed as you fill her, injecting her with the antidote to the Lust Serum,” Yancy said, recovering her voice. “Or she will die.”

  Fuckers. Could they have heaped anymore depravity on their victims? Because he was under no illusion—the women they used as breeders were victims of the highest order. He added more death and destruction to his mental list of vengeance.

  Reaching out, he altered the construction of one of his metal fingers, releasing a blade from the inside. Hooking it inside the neck of his shirt, he sliced down the center, baring Kyrin’s curvy body.

  She gasped in relief as the fabric fell away from her full breasts, the sodden washcloths pulling away with it. As he watched, the nectar oozed thickly from her nipples, flowing down her body in a thick vee toward the apex of her thighs.

  “Please…” she begged again, parting her thighs restlessly. Inviting his touch. No, begging for his touch. He soothed her with soft murmurs as he lifted her legs and locked her ankles into place. Heat hit him, his cock throbbing and stiff as a flagpole, as he looked at the sig