Grace Goodwin - Cyborg's Secret Baby

Cyborg’s Secret Baby: Copyright © 2019 by Grace Goodwin

Interstellar Brides® is a registered trademark

of KSA Publishing Consultants Inc.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

Published by KSA Publishers

Goodwin, Grace

Cover design copyright 2019 by Grace Goodwin

Images/Photo Credit: Deposit Photos: imagedb_seller, Improvisor, Angela_Harburn

Publisher’s Note:

This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

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Atlan Warlord Jorik, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Florida, Earth

My beast had stirred at the sight of her walking past the gated entry to the Interstellar Brides Processing Center. With her curvy body swaying seductively, a human guard had stared intently, obviously enjoying the sassy sway of her rounded hips and the jiggle of her large breasts. She wore what the humans called shorts, which showed off long, shapely legs and too much soft skin. Her hair fell halfway down her spine, a shimmering pool of liquid black. So straight. So dark the light flashed in odd shades of the deepest blue when the sunlight hit it just right.

Next to me, Sergeant Derik Gatski, a brute of a man—for a human—whistled under his breath, but I heard him. Loud and clear. “How about some fries with that shake?”

Before he’d finished the sentence, I had his neck in my hand, his feet dangling beneath him. “You will not disrespect that female. Ever.”

His blue eyes widened in fear as he stared at me but knew better than to reach for the ion blaster strapped to his hip. Wisely, he held his hands up in the air, palms out. “My apologies, Warlord, I didn’t realize she was yours.”

I didn’t correct him—she was not mine…yet—but I did settle him back onto his feet without crushing the fragile windpipe beneath my palm. His grin was annoying, but I turned away from the knowing look in his eyes and craned my neck for one last view of my future mate.

She was going to be mine. I’d been courting her for weeks, going as often as I could to her ice cream store to speak to her. The first time she’d seen me, she’d been shocked. Afraid. Of my size. My deep voice. My strength. Of me.

That was not what I needed. I needed her hot and willing, her soft body pressed to mine, my cock buried deep, her cries of pleasure driving my beast wild.

I didn’t want her to fear me. I hoped for more. I was nearly ready to press my claim. My beast was more than eager, angry that I was taking so damn long to ease his need.

But I was not out of control, not yet. I did not suffer from Mating Fever. I still had a choice. And I chose her.

Mine.

My beast growled the single word inside my mind as she hurried across the street, avoiding the protestors marching on the other end of the building. Her haste, no doubt, because she would be late for her clock. She’d said something about clocking in once, but I didn’t understand why she would wish to be inside a clock. Antiquated human technology, clocks. And most were far from accurate.

I had no idea what my female was referring to half of the time we talked, but I liked what I saw. What I heard. Everything about her. Not liked. That was a weak word. An Earth word. I craved. My cock lengthened and my balls ached to fill her. My palms itched to grip those wide hips and make her mine.

Oh yes, mine.

I wanted the fries and the shake.

My beast agreed. The primitive side of me had awakened the first day I saw her, not because of her delectable curves, but because of her scent. Each day when she walked past on her way to work, we caught her unique sweetness in the air. Cookies and vanilla. I knew of neither of those Earth things before my arrival here a few months ago, but my beast really liked them. In our visits to her store, man and beast had become addicted to the taste of both. My mouth watered, wondering if she’d be as sweet tasting as her ice cream… everywhere.

At ten each morning, she walked past, her T-shirt—which didn’t hide the full swells of her breasts—had the words Sweet Treats written across the back. I had since learned Sweet Treats Ice Cream Shop was a frozen dessert store a few blocks from the processing center, but I preferred to think the words on her clothing referred to her specifically. I wanted her to be my sweet treat.

I wanted to hear her say my name. I ached for her.

I’d been stationed on Earth for four months now. While we were allowed to leave the compound, we were also given a perimeter of five miles in which to travel. The presence of alien guards working at the Bride Processing Center was well-known, but we were only familiar to those who lived and worked nearby. If we ventured too far, Earth’s governments believed the presence of seven-foot, gold and bronze Prillon giants, or an eight-foot Atlan in his beast form might cause a public panic. The human government had grudgingly allowed alien guards to man the perimeters of the seven processing centers on Earth. Brides and soldiers came through these doors, and we needed both. After the humans had proven themselves incapable of keeping spies and traitors out of the centers, Prime Nial had demanded better security.