Hijacked by Lolita Lopez
Chapter Four
This is not happening.
Camila tried to convince herself this was just a bizarre and unending nightmare, but she knew better. This was reality. I’m a hostage.
Dangling over the cyborg’s shoulder yet again, she tried to quell the nausea from being jostled so harshly. “If you don’t want me to puke all over your back, you had better stop flopping me around up here.”
“Would you rather walk on those injured feet?” he shot back, still climbing the stairs at top speed.
“If it means not having you touch me? Yes!”
He huffed in frustration and manhandled her into a bridal carry. Glaring down at her, he snarled, “Better?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, you’re so gallant. My hero!”
“You are a very mouthy woman,” he muttered, taking the stairs even faster now.
“Like you’re the first to tell me that,” she snapped. Even as she debated whether or not she could tear out his jugular with her acrylic nails, she couldn’t shake the flutter of butterflies in her lower belly. He was big and dumb and annoying, but he there was something alluring about his powerful body hauling her around like this. She wasn’t used to anyone treating her the way he did, as if she were some regular nobody. Strangely, she liked it.
I’m losing my mind. There is no way I’m getting turned on by my captor!
Except.
Well.
Maybe she was.
Still trying to process that confusing reaction, she was surprised when Misko cupped the back of her head, gently pushing it toward his shoulder so it wouldn’t slam into the narrow doorway at the end of the stairwell. How he could go from threatening to cut out her eyes to protecting her from a bump on the head confounded her. Was the mean badass act just bravado? Did he think that was the best way to get her to comply? To scare the absolute shit out of her?
When they reached her cabin, he carried her inside and seemed startled by the size of it. “This whole space is yours alone?”
“Obviously,” she answered waspishly.
“It’s obscene.” His upper lip curled as he scanned her room. “No person needs this type of accommodation.”
“You’re right,” she said, drawing a surprised glance from him. “I don’t need it. I want it—and I always get what I want.”
“Not anymore,” he grumbled and crossed the cabin toward her bed where he tossed her without warning.
Fear rocketed from the pit of her stomach to her heart. Misko must have seen the terror on her face because he stepped back quicky. “I’m not going to force myself on you!”
She eyed him warily. “I’m pretty sure that’s what all rapists say before they commit the act.”
He bristled. “I would never touch a woman without her consent.”
She raised her bloody hand. “I didn’t consent to this!”
“You engaged in hand-to-hand combat! The consent is implicit as is the acceptance of the risk of injury!”
“Is that part of your protocol? Some kind of legal software upgrade so you can weasel out of trouble?”
“I do not weasel!”
Seeing that she had hit a sore spot, she repeated her barb. “Weasel.”
“Woman,” he warned.
“Coward.”
His nostrils flared. “I have never in my life displayed cowardice!”
“Whatever you say you outdated pile of scrap parts,” she hissed nastily.
Misko reared back as if she had slapped him. Instantly, she felt regret at that one. There was a glimmer of feeling on his face, the shadow of hurt. Her stomach twisted, and she forced herself to apologize. “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”
“I would expect nothing else from a woman like you.”
She wasn’t sure why, but that one hurt. A lot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He ignored her question and left her there on the bed. She considered making a run for the door, but her feet hurt so much she didn’t think she would make it very far. He disappeared into the bathroom, and she could only imagine how much the size of it would add to his disdain for her.
Not that she cared what he thought about her.
At all.
Obviously.
When he returned from the bathroom, he had the first aid kit in his hand. He gestured to the edge of the bed, and she reluctantly scooted closer to him. He knelt down, but still dwarfed her. Wordlessly, he began to treat her injuries. She took advantage of his focus on her feet to study him. He had the look of a Kirsian about him, especially in the eyes and nose, but there was something unfamiliar about the strong cut of his jaw and his height.
“Where are you from?” She winced as he tugged the shard of glass from her left foot. Immediate relief followed, and she ignored the sting of antiseptic.
“The same place you are,” he said, not bothering to meet her curious gaze.
“Not all of you,” she argued, certain she was correct. Boldly, she reached out and ruffled his red hair. “This isn’t from Kirs. At least, not the old blood lines,” she qualified.
He tensed when she touched his hair, and she couldn’t decide if he wanted her to stop or keep going. He jerked his head away from her, and she lowered her hand. He was a bit rougher as he checked her other foot. “My father came from Bionus.”
His answer surprised her, and she asked. “So, you were fighting against your own people in the campaign there?”
“My people are cyborgs.”
“You were fully human once,” she insisted.
“Once,” he agreed, “but not anymore.”
She doubted it was that simple, but didn’t press. She had clearly touched a sore spot. As vulnerable as she was, goading him wasn’t a good idea. They lapsed into silence as he finished treating her right foot and then moved on to her hand.
“This will not need stitches,” he decided after examining the gash for a moment. “Your nanobots are already hard at work.” He frowned. “I do not recognize the signature of these bots.”
“They’re unreleased.”
His frown deepened. “They’re untested.”
“Technically, they’re currently being tested.” She tried to tug her hand free, but he held tight.
“This is reckless in the extreme. Human biotech trials are highly restricted for a reason.” He scrutinized her hand. “I should remove these.”
“No!” She finally managed to pull her hand away from him. “They’re for my sister!”
“Your sister?” Realization dawned on his face. “Willa Velders? The scientist?”
“Yes. These are Willa’s, and I trust them.”
He narrowed his eyes and scanned her hand again. “They are not actively transmitting.”
“She downloads the data when I visit.” The discussion of nanobots had her more curious about the fresh brand on his face. She tried to poke it, but he flinched away and glowered. “Why isn’t that healing?”
He self-consciously reached up and brushed his fingers over the letters burned into his face. “The emperor used some new tech that disabled the tissue regeneration in our bodies.”
“Figures,” she muttered. “Shui is such a twat.”
He seemed taken aback by her remark. “You’re family.”
“Not by choice,” she said. “If I could take a chainsaw to that entire branch of my family tree, I would. He’s a sociopath!”
“Psychopath,” he corrected and opened an antiseptic wipe packet. “A mix of distempered, charismatic and egocentrically-impulsive psychopathy,” he added as if reading a medical report.
“Is that from your ‘Is My Boss A Lunatic?’ upgrade?” she asked sassily.
He actually smiled. Smiled! And, oh, stars, but it made her stomach do a wild flip. He had absolutely no business being that handsome. At all!
“Something like that,” he said finally. He finished cleaning her wound and placed a pliant, waterproof bandage over it. “That should help the wound heal quickly.”
“Thank you,” she said without a trace of resentment.
He held her gaze for a moment, making her feel all sorts of confusing things. “You’re welcome.”
She watched as he rose to his full height. He took a step back from the bed and then pointed to the floor in front of him. “Stand and strip.”
“What?” Her fledgling interest in him fled. The cold panic returned. “No.”
He frowned down at her. “I’m not going to touch you. I have to check you for hidden tech that you might use to contact help.”
Instead of climbing off the bed, she scuttled back across the mattress. “I don’t have any tech on me.” She paled as his dark gaze roamed her bare legs and arms. She felt suddenly underdressed in her comfy loungewear of shorts and a fitted camisole. Scared he meant to be more thorough in his search, she forcefully added, “I don’t have any tech inside me either!”
The implication of what she was insinuating hit him like a brick to the face. He went stiff. “I would never—”
She didn’t give him a chance to prove it. She scrambled off the bed and bolted for the door. His footfalls thundered behind her as he gave chase. At the last moment, she veered sharply to the right toward the safe room hidden behind the built-in floor to ceiling shelves. If she could just get the door open and grab her weapon!
His boots squealed on the floor as he shifted course, and she tried to move faster. She shrieked when his big hand clamped hard on her shoulder and whirled her around to face him. She lost her balance and gripped his shirt, desperate not to fall. He caught her, but the momentum was too much. Her flailing sent him tumbling forward on top of her.
Gasping, she stiffened in anticipation of slamming her head against the floor. The pain never came. They hit the floor, but his hands cradled her head, bearing the brunt of the impact and saving her skull. His protective hold surprised her, but she didn’t trust his concern. She was only useful as a hostage if she remained alive and safe.
Trapped between his much heavier, larger body and the floor, she tried to wiggle free. When he didn’t move, she wrapped her thighs around his waist and tried to buck him off, arching her back and thrusting into him in vain. He was immovable.
Except.
Wait.
Was that...?
Her eyes widened at the feel of something very big and very hard jutting against her inner thigh. Certain that couldn’t be what she thought it was, she shifted slightly, and he grunted at the sensation of her body sliding along his. He sucked in a harsh breath, as if in pain, and looked down at her in panic. His face turned red, making his eyelashes seem even paler and his irises a softer sea green.
Embarrassed, he clambered off of her. Standing quickly, he panted and turned his back toward her, his shoulders slumping slightly. She pressed up onto her elbows, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. He seemed confused by his body’s reaction to hers. It didn’t make sense to her. She knew plenty of women and men who had relationships—very intimate relationships—with cyborgs. As good looking as he was, he must have had his pick of any man or woman he desired. Right?
Still facing away from her, he said, “I apologize, Miss Velders. I do not know why my body—” He inhaled raggedly and spun to face her. “You will stay in these quarters until I return.”
She snorted. “Fat chance, super soldier.”
He sighed and seemed to finally accept that she wasn’t going to be an obedient hostage. “Then you leave me no choice.”
He hauled her up off the floor, flexing his powerful arms as he captured her. She pushed on his chest, trying to break free, but he shot her a look that warned he was done being nice. She glared right back, daring him to be harsh with her. When he tossed her onto the bed and crawled over her, she tried to kick him with both feet. He swatted her legs away and pinned her to the bed with one hand. No matter how hard she fought, he wouldn’t budge.
He snatched the long roll of bandages from the first aid kit and expertly lashed her wrists together and then to the intricately carved headboard. Suddenly, she really regretted her choice of furniture. If she’d gone with the plush upholstered headboard, this wouldn’t be possible.
“The more you pull, the more they’ll tighten,” he warned. “Pull hard enough, and you’ll cut off all blood flow to your fingers.”
“I’m your hostage! You can’t hurt me!”
“I’ll give your father a discount if we have to remove your hands,” he offered coldly.
“Bastard!”
“Brat!” He blocked her kicking legs again and repeated the process, binding her ankles together and then to the foot of the bed.
Secured as his prisoner, she scowled at him. “I hate you!”
“I’m sure the feeling will be mutual by the end our journey,” he coolly replied. He climbed off he bed and stared at her. “I will return. Until then, you will rest. If you behave, I will feed you.”
“Oh, wow! You’re such a humanitarian!”
He ignored her snotty remark and spun on his heel, leaving her there. When the door closed behind him, she let loose a string of insults, certain his heightened hearing would pick up every single one. He didn’t return to the room to scold her, and she slumped back against the pillows. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
The bottle of wine and the aftermath of all that adrenaline started to take hold. Drowsy, she decided it wouldn’t hurt if she took a nap. A really short one. Just enough to regain her strength for Misko’s return.
And if she dreamed about what might have happened if she had kissed him instead of fighting him when he had her pinned to the floor, well, that was her little secret.
