Cyborg’s Secret Baby

Chapter 1

1

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 c**k 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 c**k 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.

Earth’s governments had reluctantly agreed, but demanded we work with the humans. Hence the male guard who had dared disrespect my female, and the human female behind him. The two Earth soldiers were my constant companions when I was on guard duty, my human liaisons.

Keepers, more like, to keep the big bad Atlan from turning into a monster and eating babies.

Duty held me at the processing center for another two hours, and I spent every single minute thinking of her. Not the paranoid humans who paced on the sidewalk across the street while holding strangely worded signs. I’d given up attempting to make sense of their words long ago. Slogans such as ‘E.T. Go Home!’, ‘Aliens are STEALING our women!’—the addition of the larger letters a source of many jokes within the guards’ quarters each day—and ‘Your daughter should not be an alien s*x slave.’

Sex slave?

I thought of the female I wanted to make my own and cringed. Humanity had a lot to learn. Our females were revered. Respected. Treated with the utmost care and treasured for what they truly were… precious.

We did not torture or kill them in fits of rage or jealousy. We did not take their bodies without permission, beat them or shame them. Any child was valued, regardless of who the father had been. The sign-carrying humans accused us—the Coalition worlds—of being savages.

Based on what I’d seen on this world’s news and entertainment screens, every single woman on planet Earth would be better off somewhere else.

Maybe we should take all the females and let the Hive take the rest of them.

My beast growled in agreement, ready to emerge and beat every single one of those i***t humans senseless. More often than not these days, my beast had just one word running on repeat in my mind. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Hey, Jorik. You with me?” The human guard who’d grinned at me two hours ago slapped me on the arm to get my attention. “Jorik? We’ve got incoming.”

I stood in silence, waiting for the human male who reeked of alcohol and tobacco smoke to come closer.

“Looks like he’s high. Can’t even walk.” Derik took a step forward, his small body more annoyance than effective deterrent should I choose to throw the human off the grounds. Still, I was content to allow Derik to deal with this problematic member of his own species. “Let me handle him. This guy’s stoned out of his mind. Don’t go beast on him, Jor—”

I f*****g hated that nickname.

Behind the would-be intruder, Warden Morda walked toward the security gate for her shift, badge in hand—a hand that was shaking so badly she attempted to scan her card three times without success.

Was the quiet female so terrified of the smelly human that she could barely function? If she was this nervous, here, where the guards were ready to protect and defend her, how afraid was she elsewhere?

Enough of this.

I walked to the gate, gently removed the badge from Warden Morda’s hand and scanned her through myself, holding the gate open for her and using my large frame to block her view of the drunken i***t currently in a screaming match with Derik.

The warden glanced up at me, then quickly away, as always. She was nothing like Warden Egara. Where Egara was fierce and fearless, this small female seemed to be frightened of her own shadow. She barely spoke and would not often look at the warriors who would gladly lay down their lives to protect her. She was a Warden of the Interstellar Brides Program. She gave hope to warriors fighting across the entire galaxy that they may be matched.

“Greetings, Warden Morda. Do not allow this foolish drunkard to frighten you. I would never allow him to hurt you.”

She jumped, as if I’d startled her with an act of common courtesy. “Thank you, Warlord Jorik.” She smiled shyly and hurried inside.

Strange female, that one. And her scent was heavy with some sort of cloying flower I did not find pleasant in the least. But she was important to the warriors in the Coalition Fleet, to Earth’s protection, to many lives. She was small, fragile and female. That was all I needed to know to offer her my protection.

Once Derik chased away the i***t, our relief arrived, and I wasted not a single moment making my way to the one female I could not stop thinking about.

We were not allowed to carry weapons off the grounds and locked mine away in the guard station, but my body was the only weapon I needed.

Even within the perimeter of allowed travel, I was an oddity. People stared. Cars slammed on their brakes. It had been obvious within a few minutes of my first exploration of the area there were no seven-foot-plus Earth people. If there were, I hadn’t seen them. It was not easy for me to blend in, unlike the Everian who was also a guard in the evenings, or even the Viken who’d been transferred home last week. At least I spoke the language; fluency in English was a requirement to be stationed at this Earth center, since humans weren’t given NPUs in infancy like newly born infants from other Coalition planets.

The first time I’d entered the ice cream store, I’d just stood there and breathed in the scent. Sugar and baked goods, vanilla and… f**k, her. Standing behind the counter, she’d looked at me, and I was done for.

Today, she smiled. “Hi, Jorik. What will it be this time? I have a new flavor that might interest you.”

There was only one flavor that interested me, but I stepped forward, glad the shop was empty but for the two of us. “And what flavor is that?” Your wet p***y? Your soft skin? I’ll take one of everything…

“Monster Mash.” She laughed, teasing me. My beast growled mine and I agreed. Her dark eyes held warmth, no fear at me being almost twice her size. Since she walked by the Processing Center on her way to work, she’d seen various alien guards. Knew of them. Didn’t cross the street in fear. But that was when we were safely at our posts. At work. Here, in her place of business, I was relieved I no longer frightened her.

I didn’t. She smiled again. “It’s Neapolitan with gummy bears for monsters. The kids love it.”

When she turned, I nearly sighed in relief as the strange plastic rectangle affixed to her T-shirt came into view. One word was there, in bold black letters. Finally. A name. Gabriela.

“Thank you, Gabriela.”

“How do you know my name?” Her grin was pure happiness, and my beast all but preened.

I pointed. “You wear it on the small white rectangle.”

She looked down at her large breasts, a slight pink flush entering her cheeks as she looked back up at me—found me staring.

“Oh right, they’re new. The owner just got them in.”

I wanted to run my hand over her sleek black hair, feel the strands between my fingers. I wanted to nuzzle my nose into her neck, breathe in her scent, lick the pulse point. Then lower… f**k, I wanted to lick my way down her body, drown in her softness, taste her very essence. No doubt she’d be slick and wet, all hot and sticky for me to lick right up. And as I ran my tongue along the top of the ice cream she’d handed me, I was not thinking about the food item. I’d put my tongue on her, swirl it around. Lick. Taste. Devour.