Grace Goodwin - Cyborg Fever

I wasn’t normally one to enjoy violence, but I had to hit my thighs with fists to keep myself from standing, from yelling at the Atlan to end him. I knew my Atlan was going to be impressive. His size. His strength. The intensity in his eyes. I wanted him to be powerful. I needed him to be magnificent. The need was shocking, but pounding through my blood like a low level electrical current. Like a pulse. And I couldn’t look away.

I held my breath and waited for the first strike. This was going to be quite a match.

The Atlan came about so he faced us once again. His eyes were on his opponent, laser sharp. His left leg was forward, his left hand up, open handed, his right lower and guarding his center.

“Yes! Go, go go! Do it!” The words exploded out of me with a violence that was shocking. I wanted to hear the strike of his fist on the Prillon’s flesh. I suspected I was losing my mind a bit, maybe overreacting because of all the stress I’d been under the last few months, but I felt wild. Totally out of control. I needed the satisfaction of watching my Atlan pound his opponent into dust.

My pussy wanted it too, so hot and wet I was throbbing with need, like this was foreplay, not a pit fight on what amounted to an alien prison colony.

For some reason, he glanced away, into the stands. He smiled, said something to the other fighter. I didn’t have to hear the words to know it was a taunt and I wished I could hear what he’d said. Right or wrong, I knew it would turn me on.

Once again, he looked to the audience, this time though, his eyes met mine.

Held.

My heart skipped a beat. It was that weird feeling, like riding in a car and going over a rise, the plummeting sensation that makes one’s skin hot, sweat breaking out on a cool brow.

“Holy shit,” Melody mumbled. I felt her grip my elbow, dig her fingers in, but I didn’t turn my head. I couldn’t.

Those dark eyes looked at me. Saw me. Held me pinned in place. My breath was trapped in my lungs. My breasts were heavy and hot and I couldn’t move.

“Um, Dahl. He’s looking at you.”

No shit.

The Atlan, seemingly brought out of his stupor over me—which was ridiculous because I was far from exciting in my plain uniform, my hair pulled back in the usual low ponytail—began to move again, doing that circling thing once more, but he continued to watch me.

Me!

“He’s going to get knocked out if he doesn’t focus on the match,” I murmured. I bit my lip, suddenly worried for the big guy. Distraction was not what he needed at the moment.

My ovaries liked that I was his distraction though. My pussy clenched, my nipples got hard from the way he was watching me. God, it was powerful. Was this what the Everians felt like when their marks awakened?

No, this wasn’t like that. I didn’t feel it in my soul. This I felt in all my female parts. Every single one of them. This was pure lust. I was aroused by him. Seriously turned on. I wanted him. Not to keep, but to make this ache go away. And if he was as big everywhere as Melody had been joking about, then it would be an amazing ride.

I did have twelve hours free and clear of my duties. No teaching, no missions for the I.C. Nothing but downtime where I could relieve this ache that was growing by the second. And I wanted the Atlan to take care of it for me.

If he didn’t end up in the med unit first.

The Prillon let out a bellow and attacked. I sucked in a breath as he charged, fists at the ready. The Atlan didn’t look away from me until the Prillon landed a punch. I grimaced at the sound of the two brutes colliding, but the Atlan barely seemed to notice the attack. Lightning fast, he retaliated.

The crunching sound of bone breaking could be heard over the din of the crowd. Blood spurted from the Prillon’s nose as he fell, like a redwood in the forest, to the ground. His arms didn’t go up to stop his fall, indicating he’d been knocked unconscious immediately.

One punch. That was all it took. The fight was over.

The Atlan took a deep breath, let it out, and I watched the ripple of his eight-pack abs as he did so. He gave the Prillon a quick look, glanced at the medical team, who was already running toward the fallen warrior, then looked back at me.

He strode across the pit and to the edge of the stands, straight toward me, like we were connected by a wire.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses and they turned to see what held the Atlan’s attention. Behind him, the Prillon was being assisted and I could see he was coming to, his blood staining the dirt. His jaw at an awkward angle, obviously broken.

Ouch.

“Um, Dahl, he’s really staring at you.”

I glanced at the others who had come to watch the fights and they were all looking at me, too.

When I looked back at the Atlan, he had his hand up and he curled his finger. Beckoning me.

I gulped. Swallowed. Was he really talking to me?

I looked around. Everyone was watching me, waiting to see what I would do.

Oh, shit. All me. I wasn’t imagining things.

Melody pushed me and I stumbled forward. “Go, woman!”

I stepped down a row, closer to him, glanced back at Melody. She had a sly smile on her face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Well, no, do a whole bunch of things I wouldn’t do.” She nodded her head, giving me some kind of reassurance for going after the Atlan.

I licked my lips, looked at the Atlan again. Oh yeah, I wanted him and he obviously wanted me.

His skin had a slick sheen of sweat that only highlighted each and every one of his rippling muscles. He turned his hand over, palm up, saying without words that I should take it.

I went down the rows, one after the other until I stood before him. He was so damned big, well over a foot taller than I was, closer to two.

Pheromones must be pumping from him because all I wanted to do was lick his neck and taste his salty skin. Run my palms over his torso and lower to the button on his pants. To grip his cock, stroke it. Rule him.

I wanted to own him. Pet him. Ride him. I wanted him, all of him, just for me. Filling me up. Making me beg. Making me come all over his huge—

His fingers came up, stroked over my cheek and I held my breath. The feel of the gentle caress was unnerving and surprising considering his size.

“Mine,” he said, his voice loud, as if he were telling everyone who could hear that I was off the market. I thought of the crestfallen looks that were probably gracing the faces of the two Prillon warriors behind me and stifled a smile.

For now, for tonight, he was all mine.

So I put my hand in his, ready to spend a wild night with an Atlan—and hopefully, his beast.

Warlord Anghar, The Colony

My beast was raging. The Prillon standing across from me in the fighting pit had not chosen a second to fight beside him. Either the poor bastard was an idiot, or this stubborn Prillon hadn’t been in The Colony long enough to choose one.

I would place a wager on the second. I saw the need in his eyes. The need to rage.

To hurt.

He wanted to come at me. To fight. To hold nothing back. I knew that feeling, that desperate, clawing need to punch, kick. Beat.

To hurt. To bleed. To feel something real.

I missed the rush of battle, the elation of victory. When we fought the Hive, we were important to the Coalition. Protecting others. Doing important work.

Now? We mined for the transport system. We counted the days and fought off boredom with every waking breath. Irrelevance. We were nothing now, and that was like swallowing a blade. It hurt, all the way through.