Rogue Cyborg (Interstellar Brides®: The Colony Book 6)

  Rogue Cyborg

  Interstellar Brides®: The Colony - Book 6

  Grace Goodwin

  Rogue Cyborg: Copyright © 2018 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

  Rogue Cyborg, Interstellar Brides®: The Colony Book 6

  Cover design copyright 2018 by Grace Goodwin, Author

  Images/Photo Credit: Deposit Photos: ArtemFurman; BigStock: forplayday

  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.

  Contents

  Interstellar Brides® Program

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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

  Epilogue

  Find Your Match!

  Connect With Grace

  About Grace

  Also by Grace Goodwin

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  Chapter 1

  Makarios Kronos of Rogue 5, The Colony, Fighting Pits

  Raging, lust-soaked warriors faced one another in the fighting pits below. Sitting next to me in the stands, Warlord Braun pulled one hundred credits from his pocket and tossed the money to a large Prillon male seated three rows below us.

  “Hey, Stone. One hundred on the Atlan, Tane.”

  The others called him Stone due to his complete lack of facial expressions. No emotion whatsoever. I could relate. The man was more machine than male, but I was not one to judge. I was a monster, even when compared to him.

  Stone nodded and entered the data onto the tablet in his hand. The betting had begun hours ago, the moment the Prillon warrior bellowing in the pits issued his initial challenge. Seven warriors had answered his call. The tournament was set to begin. Eight cyborgs would fight until one remained. Eight would become four. Four, two. And the final two would fight to the end for the ultimate prize.

  A battle, to the death if necessary, where the winner was granted the right to claim the female Gwendolyn of Earth as his own. She was a beauty. A woman warrior. Her body was toned and strong yet curved. My fingers would twitch with the need to reach out and touch her every time she walked near me. Her gaze was unrelenting, full of challenge, a challenge many warriors here were eager to answer. Like me and Stone, she barely showed emotion. No, that wasn’t true. She showed emotion: anger, rage, fury, disdain. A female like her should smile, her eyes should show happiness. I’d give my right nut to hear her laugh. Fuck, to hear her scream in pleasure. She’d most likely had none since her arrival here—sexual or otherwise—like so many of us. She’d been a soldier before she was taken by the Hive. Before she was integrated. Changed.

  Dark hair fell in waves down her back. It shimmered in the light and looked soft. I imagined wrapping my fist around it and holding her in place as I…

  Fuck. No. I stopped the thought before my cock could respond. That way lay destruction. For both of us, even if I wanted to be the one to give her… feelings. Feelings besides the kind that roiled in your gut, churned and burned until there was nothing left.

  Braun clapped me on the shoulder, breaking me from my thoughts. “Why are you not in the pit, my friend?”

  “After you,” I quickly countered, raising my hand as if to direct him down to the central fighting area for his own turn.

  The Atlans here had adopted me as one of their own, but even they didn’t know my secret, the truth behind why I wasn’t going down there to beat the shit out of those eight males. To claim what I wanted with an ache in the vicinity of my heart—and definitely my balls—that hadn’t gone away since I first laid eyes on her. Gwen.

  But the truth wasn’t something easily understood. It was the reason I could never dare take a mate for my own. And true, my ancestral world of Forsia, and Braun’s planet, Atlan, were considered pseudo-cousins, orbiting in neighboring sectors of space, but I wasn’t truly—or completely—Forsian. No, I was born on Rogue 5, making me the ruthless combination of part Hyperion animal and Forsian warrior. I might look similar in size to Braun and other Atlans, but that was where the similarities ended. My Hyperion/Forsian bloodline was so rare that officially, my kind didn’t exist. As far as I knew, there were only three of us alive. All male. All unmated. All destined to die alone. Never father children. Which was a blessing. I would not wish my existence on an enemy, much less a son.

  The last half-breed monster on Rogue 5 who’d tried to take a mate had accidentally killed her during their official claiming. The unique venom in our bite had entered her bloodstream and she’d died in his arms, unable to separate because his mating cock had grown within her and locked them together. Her body and her blood, infected by the poison unique to our rare mixed heritage, hadn’t been able to adapt. She’d died and he’d wasted away, destroyed from within by guilt and self-hatred.

  Despair. He’d known the possibility of killing her existed, but the urge to bite, to claim… to mate, had been too strong. He’d taken a chance and lost everything.

  No. I would never claim a mate. Never fit in. Never belong. Not on Rogue 5 among my legion, the Kronos. Not on Forsia, where I wasn’t wanted. Not here, on the Colony, among my exiled Atlan cousins. I was happier alone, on my trading vessel, wandering the stars as I’d done for most of my life.

  Until the traitor caused my capture by the Coalition Fleet. My chest rumbled with the usual rage and heads turned my way. A quick, slicing glance had them turning away, eyes back on the pit.

  Fucking traitor. When I found him…

  If being handed over to the fucking Coalition hadn’t been enough, they’d had shit for deflection shields and the entire fucking ship had been captured by the Hive while I rotted in the brig. But the Hive didn’t care who was on board, Coalition fighters or Rogue 5 smugglers like me. We were all biological assets to be tortured and turned, assimilated into their war. Made into mindless drones. With me and a few others, they’d almost succeeded. Hell, with many, they had. We’d been the lucky ones to escape. Lucky ones to spend the rest of our existence here on the Colony, changed. Partially integrated and living in exile. Trapped. Trapped living on the same Colony base with the only female I’d ever wanted, but couldn’t have.

  Braun chuckled, his rumbling laughter pulling me from the darkness of my thoughts. His massive frame shook with amusement. “They are fools. They are fighting ove
r a human female, but they know nothing of how to win her heart.”

  “And you do?” I asked.

  Braun, Tane and I were the only survivors from that Coalition ship. Three out of over two hundred. Alive, but contaminated. Our torture and escape bonded us as brothers, despite the fact that we came from different worlds. Everyone on the Colony assumed I was just an over-sized Atlan who maintained ruthless control, never going into beast mode. I wasn’t an Atlan. I did not lose control or transform into a beast. No, my loss of control was more intimate, but every bit as life threatening to any female unlucky enough to ride my cock.

  Braun and Tane had not felt the need to enlighten the rest of the warriors here about my true origins. Only the governor and the doctors knew that I wasn’t Atlan at all, which suited me just fine. The less they knew, hells, the more they believed I could turn into a huge, raving killer at any moment, the better.

  Braun was smiling now, his look almost wistful. “I have watched the governor and Ryston with their mate, Rachel. I have watched Hunt and Tyran with Kristin. The Everian Hunter with the human female, Lindsey. Caroline with Rezz. I watch all of them with their human mates, and I learn.” Braun waved his hand at the eight warriors facing off in the arena, speaking among themselves, deciding on an order for battle. Rules. Ridiculous since they were all ready to kill each other for a female who had shown no interest in any male on the planet. “Gwendolyn will refuse them all. Even our brother, Tane. His victory will be empty.”

  “Tane will not win,” I added, referring to the fight, not gaining Gwen’s hand. “They will attempt to cripple him with their rules, refuse him the right to fight as a beast.”

  If a female was the prize, however, the rules would be forgotten the moment the challenge began. Apparently, Braun thought similarly and said, “A beast does not follow the rule of others. He will win.”

  I leaned back, assessing the warriors before us in the dirt arena. None of them were fucking good enough for Gwen. Not one, not even Tane. I hoped Braun was right, that she would refuse them all, regardless of the victor, and hopefully before one of them died. She didn’t need to be haunted by a death match as well as the implants left in her body by the Hive.

  “So, my friend, if you truly watch the human females, what have you learned?” Curiosity made me ask. That was all.

  He gave a small grunt and I wasn’t sure if it was frustration or crankiness. “Human females like to believe they are independent. A mate must protect his Earth female without her realizing he does so.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused. “It is a mate’s duty and right to protect his mate.”

  He held up his hand. “To claim a human female, a warrior must be very careful, plan well ahead. They are fierce and fearless mates. They will charge into battle against the Hive if they feel the need to protect their mate or children. They are too brave for their small, soft bodies. Too fierce for their own good,” he practically growled. “They are fragile in body, but strong in will. They will risk too much, yet love completely. They are truly a mystery. Wild. Passionate. They need very strong, patient males to tame them.”

  Yes, that was the word. Tame. Gwen needed someone to tame her. Soothe her. Fuck her into oblivion so all her worries were gone. “And you want to tame Gwendolyn?” I was afraid of his answer but knew the truth. All males on the Colony wanted her. Lusted after her. Craved her.

  Braun nodded, his gaze on the first fight beginning below. “Who would not?” Braun’s smile was all hungry male. “She is magnificent. I will fuck her until she screams my name so many times, all other words have been forgotten.”

  It seemed our thoughts were aligned on many things. I doubted he was the only other male to imagine fucking her. Claiming her. Filling her tight pussy with his seed so she was marked. His and his alone. If I did it, she would most likely die. For anyone else on the Colony, she would have nothing but pleasure.

  Fuck. I could not deny my friend his desires.

  “She’s a cyborg,” I said. “A warrior. She will not be like the other human mates, the perfectly matched Interstellar Brides who came directly from Earth through the testing center instead of a Hive prison. She will be different.” I pointed out the obvious, not because I thought her anything less than perfect, but because I didn’t dare admit my interest aloud.

  Braun lifted a brow in disgust and looked at me. “Do you insult the female?” The growl of his beast was in his voice, the bones of his face shifting under the skin as he fought off beast mode.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Good. Do not.” He instantly calmed. Braun didn’t say, she’s mine, but he warned me off all the same. The monster within me rose in answer, but I held onto control with an iron fist, giving nothing away. I had no rights over the female. Never would. Nothing could change that. Better a good male, like Braun, win her than another, lesser male. I would do my best not to hate him for touching her. Braun had been through hell and back. Tortured. Survived. He deserved happiness. If not on Atlan, then here, on the Colony. The planet for outcasts and the contaminated. The forgotten and fallen warriors from the Hive war.

  Since Prime Nial, the ruler of Prillon Prime and commander of the Coalition Fleet, had lifted the ban on the contaminated returning to their home worlds, a few had chosen to leave the Colony and return to their old lives as best they could. The Prillons and Viken, the Trion and Everian, all could return home. But the humans here were not welcomed back on Earth with their Hive enhancements. That planet barely believed the Hive even existed. The governments wanted no proof of the merciless alien terror walking among their people. Never had I heard of leaders so afraid to speak the truth.

  The Atlans could not return home either, their terrifying mating fever and beast mode too unpredictable. Normally, an Atlan was damn hard to kill. Filled with Cyborg tech, they were killing machines. The risk to their people on the home world would be too great should one go into mating fever and lose control of his beast.

  And me? I knew my legion on Rogue 5 would take me in with open arms, but our leader, Kronos, would put me to use. He was nothing if not practical, and a Hive enhanced Forsian descendant would be the most terrifying weapon he would have. He would not hesitate to use it. Use me. And that was why I’d lived roaming space on my trading vessel instead of settling onto any specific planet. Until now.

  I didn’t kill on demand.

  I didn’t fight or steal on demand.

  I didn’t fuck on demand, either.

  I owed none but Kronos a shred of loyalty, and even that had come at too high a cost.

  I was here, still paying it. I ran my ship fast and hot, avoiding Hive and Coalition forces alike, getting Kronos what he needed from all corners of the galaxy. Until now.

  Someone had given the Coalition news of my imminent arrival, and notice of the precious load of transport tech and weapons I’d been carrying. The Coalition’s newest designs, and some illegal rifles manufactured on a non-Coalition world were among my cargo.

  Guess it was the rifles that got me into that Coalition brig. And a captive of the Hive. And now, still a prisoner on the Colony, left to rot for decades, work in the mines, and die. The governor, a hard-ass named Maxim, wouldn’t even allow me to leave the surface, go on a single mission off planet. He was afraid I’d escape.

  He was right. But nothing he did would stop me. I simply waited for the right set of circumstances to arrive. The plan I’d had in place for weeks.

  Despite Governor Rone’s wishes, I refused to take a mate, to be tested for a bride. The truth was my own, my curse. I respected his frustration with me but was unable to comply with his demand that I mate. I just wanted to get back into space and mind my own fucking business. To be free, unchained to anyone or anything.

  Taking a mate and leaving her behind? Not possible. The very idea made me growl again, the sound masked by the roar of the spectators as the first fight began and a Prillon in the pit landed a hard blow to his opponent. No, I was a smuggler, a rogue, a rebelli
ous male who refused to follow commands, but I was not without honor. Even if our official claiming wouldn’t physically kill her, I refused to hurt a female’s tender heart in such a way.

  A female was not just a huge risk, but a liability I couldn’t afford.

  The governor and the rest of the Coalition leadership had decided I was too unstable. Too much of a menace. Rogue 5. Hyperion. Forsian. Cyborg. I was a fucking freak among freaks. And the governor believed only a mate would calm me, anchor me to this planet and their war against the Hive. Ensure my loyalty to the Coalition cause.

  But I was not Coalition born. I was Rogue 5. And I truly was a prisoner on this planet. Which made it hard to be grateful. Some days, I would have preferred to be dead, the need to escape making me feel like I was coming out of my skin.

  The crowd roared and I turned my attention to the fighting pit once again. The large Prillon warrior was being hauled away unconscious as another stood with his arms raised in sweaty victory. The winner stepped aside and two fresh fighters entered the center of the ring. One, an Atlan I knew well. The other a Prillon warrior who was about to get his head broken.

  “Smash him, Tane!” Braun’s bellow was easily heard above the crown and our friend, Tane, looked up briefly and lifted his head in acknowledgement of Braun’s encouragement.

  “You cheer for him, but believe his fight is futile?”