Taste of Cyn

I’ll be sharing the first chapter from Defying Death over the next few weeks.

Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/04/20/first-scene-from-defying-death/

Here is the final scene

***
Why is that transfer of responsibility required? Why do you want this mission?

He wanted Tifara. She might, as Crash’s female stated, find his personality too grim, his manner too violent, but she was his and he would have her. Does it matter why I want this mission? I’m free, as you often state. I can do what I wish and I wish to be the warrior to retrieve her. I have earned that right.

Crash’s face hardened. You can’t do what you wish with Tifara. I don’t know what you’re planning but it won’t involve my female’s friend. She’s not yours, Death. You can’t force a link where there is none.

There was a link. Death felt the connection. Give me this mission. Have I not proved my worth over and over again?

You have. That’s why I chose other warriors for this mission. You’re too valuable to utilize.

Anger rolled inside Death. And Tifara isn’t valuable? She was everything to him yet merely a secondary consideration to the E model.

You’re required elsewhere. Your brethren need you. I need you. Crash played upon his sense of responsibility.

Death was tired of putting others first. You don’t need me. Killing was his strength. There would be no killing in the Homeland.

I do, Crash insisted. I need you to lead the J Models, to represent them with the cyborg council. The J Models trust you. Allow Ace and Thrasher to retrieve Tifara. They’re capable warriors.

Capable isn’t skilled enough. I’m retrieving Tifara.

My friend—

Don’t call me that. Death wouldn’t be manipulated by emotion. This is my mission. I’m taking it. With or without Crash’s approval.

The E model gazed at him. Death gazed back, determined to win the standoff.

You’re not taking this mission. You will accompany us to the Homeland. That decision has been made. Crash’s tone signaled that the discussion was closed.

Tension stretched across Death’s shoulders. So much for being free.

“Ace and Thrasher will retrieve Tifara,” Crash announced to the group. “The rest of us will voyage to the Homeland.”

The cyborgs looked toward Death.

Death showed none of his rage, none of his frustration. His disagreement was between Crash and himself. He wouldn’t undermine the E model’s authority by making it public.

Mayhem’s eyes narrowed, the warrior not fooled by Death’s lack of expression.

Crash ignored the discontented murmurings and talked about administrative issues. Death drifted farther and farther into the crowd, edging his way toward the doors. The E model tried to include him in the decisions. He didn’t answer Crash’s queries.

A youngster asked about obtaining body armor. Death slipped out of the chamber and accelerated, moving through the hallways at cyborg speed, faster than any human male could.

His first stop was Safyre’s ship.

The small vessel was the female’s home. She had formed an emotional attachment to it and he would never take it from her, would never cause her that pain.

Safyre was a precious female, to be treasured, protected.

But he would take Tifara’s scarf. Death unwound the white fabric and stuffed it between his body armor and his chest. A wave of scent wafted upward, hardening his cock.

He ignored his reaction and exited.

Fraggin’ hole. He stifled a groan.

Menace, that irritatingly observant cyborg, waited in front of the ramp to the second ship, a vessel Death had privately claimed for himself. “Crash has access to the auditory system of the council. If you rebel against his orders, they could block you from reaching the Homeland.”

When he rebelled, they would do more than that. The council couldn’t risk cyborgs operating on their own, mixing unmonitored with other species. The humans could realize cyborgs weren’t as easily controlled as they believed. Humans would decommission, kill, millions of his not-yet-freed brethren.

To prevent that from happening, the council would send warriors after him. If caught, he’d be executed, his death discouraging other warriors from rebelling.

One moment of happiness with Tifara was worth that fate.

“Step aside, Menace.”

“I know why you’re doing this.” The warrior didn’t move. “Crash doesn’t, and he also doesn’t have our history. He doesn’t trust you as I do. He’ll assume your processors have gone offline.”

That might be the truth. Desperation to reach Tifara welled up inside Death.

“Let me speak to the E model.”

“It’s too late for that.” And he didn’t want another warrior to plead his case. “Crash made the announcement.” Even E model cyborgs had pride. Crash wouldn’t change his decision.

“Then I’ll go with you. Mayhem will distract Crash and then catch up with us.” Menace moved to the side and grasped his pack. It was ready, waiting. The warrior had obviously decided on that action before Death arrived. “One warrior rebelling looks like a processor malfunction. Two, eventually three, warriors rebelling will have a logical cause.”

Menace and Mayhem would risk exile and death to assist him.

Death couldn’t allow the males to make that sacrifice. “You’re not coming with me.” He stomped up the ramp.

“I am.” Menace followed him closely, too closely for the door to close between them. “We’ll retrieve her together.”

“No, we won’t.” Death turned, pulled his guns, slid the levers to stun. “Back away from the ship, Menace. This isn’t your mission.”

“You’d assist me.” The warrior lifted his chin, undaunted by the threat. “I’m assisting you.”

Frag the cyborg. He’d force him to do this. “You’re staying here.”

Death pressed the trigger.

Light zapped around Menace. He jerked, his eyes widening. You stunned me, he transmitted, disbelief wrapped around the words.

And now I’m pushing you over. Death proceeded to do exactly that, shoving the warrior off the ramp. Menace landed on his face, cursing him through the line. Tell Crash I forgive him for any action he has to take. I regret nothing.

You’re a stubborn ass.

Death grunted and closed the door, aware that he’d likely never see the warrior, the closest being he had for a friend, again. He was leaving his brethren and any possibility of reaching the Homeland behind him.

His Tifara was worth the sacrifice.

He hurried to the bridge, smacking his palms on the control pads. Engines purred to life, the floor vibrating under his boots. There was no time to waste. Menace could prevent his escape with one command to the docking bay doors.

Death guided the ship out of freighter.

His exit remained open.

He gritted his teeth as he was shot into the open blackness of space.

No guns fired upon him.

The coordinates for the battle station had already been entered into the system. The ship headed in the direction of his female. Anticipation pulsed through his circuits.

It was edged with gratitude. Menace hadn’t raised the alarm. Death listened to the warrior grumble, over the transmission lines, about obstinate males and missing all the excitement.

It didn’t take long for Crash to find Menace. The E model interrogated him. Menace stubbornly said nothing.

His assumption had been correct. Crash believed Death’s processors had malfunctioned. There was chatter of retrieving him, of informing the council.

They hailed him.

Death switched off all transmissions, severing that constant connection with his brethren, ensuring they couldn’t track him through the link.

To combat the eerie silence, he played the footage he’d collected of Tifara on his main viewscreen. Her beautiful face shone down on him, surrounded by the darkness of space. Her light, bubbly laughter filled his auditory system.

Death removed the scarf he’d taken. His female’s scent filled his nostrils. He wrapped the cloth around the right armrest of his chair, placed his palm on top of it.

All of his precautions to hide his presence would merely delay his fate, earning him more time but not forever. The cyborgs would catch him and, when they did that, they’d end his lifespan.

Before that happened, he’d touch his female, kiss her, might even breed with her. She’d smile at him, her eyes soft with caring, with love, and for one wonderful moment, he’d be happy.

His lips curled upward.

He was a fortunate warrior.

***

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Defying Death

He’ll risk it all for one moment of happiness.

Cyborgs don’t show emotion. Death learned that lesson early in his long lifespan. To survive, he hides his fierce passions behind a stoic wall. He calls no warrior friend. He never admits to caring for any being.

Even the human female he’s destined to love.

Tifara is Death’s obsession, his sole opportunity for happiness, to express the all-consuming passion burning brightly inside him. He’ll do anything to obtain the curvaceous medic: defy a direct order, abduct Tifara from her battle station, and wage war on his fellow cyborgs.

To earn her love, he’ll have to risk much, much more.

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Defying-Death-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B01D6OUQS2/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-defyingdeath-2001671-147.html

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/defying-death-cynthia-sax/1123562659

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/defying-death-2