The communication came midway through the rest cycle. The machine was agitated, Picton had relayed. She had requested she be notified. He was notifying her.
Illona had feigned surprise, had told him she would be there soon. But she had expected the message. She had threatened the guard’s cozy position with the Humanoid Alliance.
He would seek to eliminate her, would think it humorous to use whom he considered to be her favorite test subject to do that.
She mussed her hair, unfastened and sloppily refastened her flight suit, giving the impression she’d been roused from a deep sleep. The pockets of her medic jacket had already been stocked with her mini medic pack, the unlocked laser scalpel, other supplies she might need. She donned the garment, left her private chambers, strode along the hallways.
Malice might kill her.
The injection of the latest nanocybotics-boosting formula was harsher than she’d expected. A shiver rolled down her spine as she remembered the agony in his eyes. She had worried for a couple heartbeats she’d permanently damaged him.
Ending his lifespan hadn’t been a possibility. She’d tested it on herself first. But it could have terminated all of his nanocybotics, and that would have weakened him tremendously.
Instead, it appeared to have strengthened him. She’d been successful. Finally. She couldn’t allow her elation to show. If the Humanoid Alliance realized it worked, they would have no further need for their cyborg test subjects, for her.
One of the Resurrected flung herself at the clear partition lining the hallway. Illona jerked. They were the beings her uncaring overlords would next test the formula on.
Body after body smacked against the portals. She would never become accustomed to their desperation, to their palpable pain.
And strengthening the Resurrected’s version of nanocybotics wouldn’t stop their agony. They would continue to rot, their bodies unceasingly dying. It would merely make them appear less decayed, allow them to possibly hold weapons, making them more useful to the Humanoid Alliance.
She’d die before she allowed the Humanoid Alliance to leverage her formula to create an army of the undead. The formula she’d entered into the system deviated greatly from the one she’d injected into Malice.
Whether her lifespan ended in a couple moments, at the cyborg’s enhanced hands, or at sunrise, when she was standing beside her friend, Medic Febris, the result would be the same—the formula would perish with her.
Her unwilling test subjects would also have a greater chance to escape.
Someone would leave this horrific place. Stars. She hated the lab and everything it stood for.
The only bright spots were her too-brief conversations with Medic Febris, a friend who would soon die, and her frustration-filled moments with Malice, a male who loathed her.
Picton smirked as he stood by the door to the C Model’s chamber. His minion, Nelson, loitered nearby.
The head guard thought he was being so damn clever, tricking her into venturing into a dangerous situation.
The male didn’t know she had long embraced death, wished for it, and there was no one she would rather deliver her demise than Malice.
If he complied with the guard’s not-so-stealthy plan, the last view she’d see was the cyborg’s handsome face. The last being she’d touch was the single soul whose brutish caresses she craved.
She longed for that end, was prepared for it. Illona slipped one of her hands into the pocket of her jacket, curled her fingers around the laser scalpel hidden there.
“The machine is agitated.” Picton’s voice lilted with a demented glee.
“I’ll take care of it.” She feigned a yawn. “Go back to whatever you were doing.”
She waved her hands, dismissing the guard.
That angered him, as she had intended. His face turned a nasty shade of red. “You should have been nicer to me, Medic.” His voice lowered.
“You should do your role and keep your few thoughts to yourself.” She smacked one of her palms against the control panel.
The door opened. She stepped forward.
“Kill the human female, C589632. Slowly.” Picton issued that order before the door closed.
She gazed ahead of her. The sleeping support was empty, as she suspected it would be.
Her nipples were tight and her pussy was wet. Her reaction told her Malice was somewhere in the chamber.
The cyborg, a male who had many, many reasons to hate her, to want her dead, was not at all restrained.
Picton would expect her to be surprised, to panic.
Illona turned and rapped her knuckles against the door. “Open the door. He hasn’t been stunned. Open it.”
There was silence. The door didn’t open.
The guards had likely left, but she continued with her acting. “Open the door, Picton.” She smacked the metal surface.
“Picton isn’t coming to your rescue this time, Medic.” Malice’s decadently deep voice coiled around her. “You’re at my mercy now.”
She trembled…with fear, with anticipation, with desire.
The cyborg’s tone told her he didn’t have any mercy. Not for her.
Warm breath wafted against her nape. The tiny hairs on her skin lifted.
Malice was directly behind her.
She froze in place. Her heart pounded.
They remained that way for a moment, with her facing the door, with him blowing over the back on her neck. He didn’t say anything more, didn’t take any other action.
It was arousing…and terrifying. Sweat trickled down her spine.
She’d thought she wouldn’t be scared, thought she’d serenely accept her death. That had been bovine shit thinking. She was frightened out of her mind.
“Aren’t you going to beg for your life?” His lips brushed over her skin.
She quivered. “Would that make a difference?” She turned slowly.
He stood in front of her, excitingly close and thrillingly naked.
She tilted her head back, looked up, up, up. Stars. He was huge, tall, and broad-shouldered, his muscles defined, flexed, hard.
His jaw was clenched. His lips were set in a flat, grim line. His brilliant blue eyes glowed.
“No.” His right arm moved so quickly his form blurred. He wrapped his fingers around her neck. “It won’t make a difference.” Malice lifted her until her gaze was level with his, and her booted feet dangled above the floor. “Nothing you say will stop me from killing you.”
Her hands raised. She stopped that instinctual reaction, wouldn’t fight her death. There were other things she had to do before he ended her life.
He leaned closer to her. “Most humans offer some sort of resistance.” His nostrils flared and energy flashed in his eyes.
Most humans hadn’t her knowledge of his kind. If the cyborg wanted to kill her—and she believed he did—there was nothing she could do to stop that.
Her gaze flicked toward the monitoring equipment. The light on it wasn’t illuminated.
Malice looked at it also. “You won’t get any help from them either.” He tightened his grip on her. Darkness rimmed her vision. “Picton deactivated it before you entered.”
She assumed the guard would do that.
Not having any witnesses served her purposes also. She shrugged out of her jacket. It dropped with a thud to the tiles.
Malice’s hard cock twitched against her right thigh. “Offering me your body won’t stop your death.”