Page 5 of Her Alien Cyborgs (The Drift: Haven Colony #10)

“Hello?” she called out in Galactic Standard. It was common knowledge that cyborgs were programmed to understand and speak every known language, but why make it complicated? Galactic Standard was exactly as the name declared, a standardized language used by all the known species.

“Are you from the IAF?” The voice was low, deep, and male.

“Sort of. They’re here, and I came on one of their ships, but I’m not military. I represent another group.”

“Explain.” The voice sounded the same, but something told her it wasn’t coming from the same being.

She raised her hands, palms out, and moved toward the voices.

“My name is Hezza. I’m here because some friends asked me to come.

I think you and they probably have a lot in common.

They were kept in a place like this once.

They’re free now, though, and they want you to know you aren’t alone anymore. ”

“Why would they care about us?”

She reached the front of the cell and turned to face the inhabitants. She’d been about to explain that her friends were cyborgs, but the words died unspoken.

She’d met cyborgs before. Plenty of them. But these two were nothing like the others. For one thing, they weren’t based on human DNA.

“Oh fraxx . You’re Vardarian.” She eyed the two captive males in disbelieve. This was not at all what she’d expected.

It was so much worse.

The pair were identical, so much so that she assumed they were clones.

Both were large and heavily muscled, which was typical for cyborgs.

They had silver scales, with the familiar barcode style marking on their wrists.

Every cyborg she’d ever met had one. Apparently, the assholes running this research base hadn’t felt the need to change their identification protocols when they’d added a new species to their research.

They were Vardarian, no doubt about it, though she’d never seen any look quite this… primal. Their dark blond hair and beards were long and wild, as if they’d never met a barber before in their lives. Given their situation, that was probably true.

She considered them for a heartbeat and then two. Her first impression was that the two were viscerally beautiful and more than a little feral. She’d have to be careful.

“We’re not Vardarian,” one of them said. He stood next to the bars of his cell, his gray-blue eyes locked on her.

“We’re cyborgs,” the other continued. He stood in the back corner of their cell with his massive arms crossed over an equally huge chest. “We’re not the same species as our donor DNA.”

That was interesting. The cyborgs she knew saw themselves in the same way. They referred to themselves as cyborgs. Never as humans.

“The beings I represent are cyborgs, too. They care because they’re the same as you in some ways, and they would like to offer you a safe place to recover.” She gestured around them. “From all this.”

The one closest to the bars stiffened, his head snapping up to stare at the door. “Someone else is coming. Several beings, and they’re in a hurry.”

Veth . She needed more time. Would closing the hatch slow them down? Probably not. One of them would think to look for the passcode, just as she had.

“They’re IAF soldiers. They won’t hurt you, but they’ll likely shout orders and try to boss you around. Me too. Do me a favor and stay calm. I have friends on their way. We’ll get this sorted out.”

She took a deep breath to center herself. But instead of helping her focus, her pulse sped up, and a sudden rush of heat washed over her.

She ignored it.

Instinct told her she needed to put herself between the two captives and the incoming soldiers. She moved before she could consider the ramifications, placing herself less than a meter outside the bars, and then turned to face the hatch.

“What are you doing?” the nearest male asked.

“Giving them a reason to stop and think before they do something stupid.”

The male growled. “You would risk yourself for us?”

“Apparently,” she said, only paying partial attention to what she said. Most of her focus was on the hatchway and the hammer of boots on the deck.

The first soldier came through the door a few seconds later, their weapon already trained on the two in the cell behind her. The combat armor and helmet made it hard to be sure, but she thought it was a woman.

“Ma’am, you need to step away from the prisoners. Now.” The soldier’s voice was amplified through her helmet’s speakers.

“I’m not moving,” Hezza said in her calmest, most rational tone. “At least not until you stop pointing that weapon at me and my new friends.”

The response was not what she had hoped for. Instead of relaxing, the group of soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, and the few who hadn’t raised their guns to the ready position did so.

Fraxx .

She opened her mouth to protest, but instead of a rational statement, all she uttered was a startled yelp as a barrier of metal snapped out in front of her. She tried to push her way clear, but it closed in around her, forcing her back against the bars.

It took her baffled brain a few seconds to understand what had happened. The metal wall surrounding her was actually a wing , complete with overlapping strips that reminded her of feathers.

She couldn’t see the soldiers, but she could still hear them.

Several were cursing while the woman who had spoken before shouted.

“Let the woman go. Taking a hostage isn’t going to help you.”

Hezza snorted. This one was even worse at diplomacy than she was. “I’m not a hostage, and the only ones causing issues are all of you. You’re on a fraxxing rescue mission. Remember? We’re here to save these beings not threaten them.”

The room went silent for several long seconds, and then the woman spoke again. “Point taken, ma’am. Everyone, lower your weapons.”

“Thank you,” Hezza said. Then she twisted herself around to face the cyborg who had shielded her. “You need to let go of me.”

“No.” The male’s voice rolled through her like a sonic boom. She craned her neck until she could see his face. Well, not really, because his beard obscured most of his features. She could see enough, though, to know he was angry and more than a little confused.

Without thinking, she reached up and smoothed her fingers across the furrows in his brow. The moment of connection hit her like a comet strike. Her heart raced, her knees went weak, and a sense of pure, unadulterated need tore through her.

“What is this?” the male demanded. “What are you doing to me?” His wing tightened around her, pressing her against the bars of the cell.

“You’re crushing me,” she protested. “Let go.”

“Not until you explain.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as heat began to burn behind his eyes.

“Yes, explain.” The other male moved into view. “Why do you smell like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, confused for a second. Then understanding dawned. Hell’s bells and gravity wells. Seriously?

Hezza didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or curse. For a long moment she stared at the two males and then burst out laughing. “ Fraxxing really? Now? Them?” She directed her questions to the universe at large.

“Why are you laughing?” the first male asked.

“Answer my question,” the other demanded.

“I’m laughing because if I don’t, I’m going to swear until the paint peels off the walls.” She let her gaze move between the two males as she struggled to find the words to explain.

“Did your captors ever tell you about something called the sharhal ?” she asked.

They both looked at her with blank expressions. That would be a no. Alright then. Nothing for it but to fly straight at the truth and hope to survive the impact.

“The sharhal is the Vardarian word for it. We humans call it a mating fever. It happens when your species meets someone who shares the same biochemical signature. Or something like that. I’m not an expert.

It’s not something we can ignore either.

If we go too long without uh, dealing with these feelings, it can do serious mental and physical damage. ”

She opted to gloss over the fact that it likely meant the three of them were destined to be lifelong mates.

She really was not ready to face that possibility.

There had to be a way to undo this. She didn’t want mates, and these two deserved a chance to enjoy a real life before settling down with a female. Preferably one their own age.

“You want to mate with us?” the closest one asked.

She really needed to learn their names. It seemed like the least she could do, all things considered.

Names first. Then… She slammed the brakes on that line of thought. That was a problem for later. They had other issues to deal with first. Preferably before the annoying colonel showed up and made things worse.

“What the hell is going on here?” a new voice demanded.

Of course, it was Barrios. With her luck? She’d probably summoned him like a mythical creature just by thinking of him.

“You need to lower your wing and let them see me before someone does something stupid.” As she spoke, she reached up to grasp the top line of his wing. Even using most of her weight, she couldn’t make it move.

Frustration and worry replaced the other more carnal thoughts dancing through her head. “Please. Only enough for them to see my face.”

That did it. The wing lowered enough for her to see the group crowded into the corridor. Some of the soldiers had moved back to allow Barrios and several others to take their places.

“Hey, Phylomenia. Look what I found.”

The other woman shot her a rueful look. “I should have remembered that was one of your talents.” Phylomenia turned to look at her husbands. “She always did have a knack for finding trouble.”

Hezza glanced back at the two males standing behind her. Trouble didn’t begin to describe the situation. It was a fraxxed-up mess with no easy solutions and a biological clock that had already started ticking.

She needed to get these two out of their cell and somewhere safe before anything else went wrong.

The way this day was going, Hezza figured she had about five fraxxing minutes until that happened. Maybe less.